( dude. you're never too old for kids' movies. granted, since he and sam were as far apart in years as they are, dean's exposure to the kid flicks of their youth counts for way more than he thinks it should – but there's nothing wrong with letting some fun into your life, especially when you're still young enough to actually enjoy things like cartoons for what they really are. ( and, so … maybe he'd had a thing for loony toons when he was younger. and that babs bunny … man, don't even get him started. )
but we digress.
it amazes him, sometimes, just how easy it is for the other to get that wistful look on his face – even when he isn't thinking primarily about the stars above his head. to lose himself in thought, whether of the past or present or even the future is enough for that look to flicker across his face, for his gaze to lose focus and, for the smallest moment, for him to lose contact with reality altogether. he sees it often enough that it doesn't surprise him so much anymore, but the tone of his voice when he finally speaks up again is something that has him hesitating in making any further comment, because castiel doesn't talk about his past like any normal person would. no stories about family, friends, early college life –
and that can only mean that it hadn't been the best time for him, that maybe something had happened that he doesn't want to remember, or that it's merely something better kept where the memories matter the most. dean can't fault him for that, that's for sure, and he doesn't press, even if he finds himself just the slightest bit curious on who else would tell him that his dreams are worth actualizing no matter the cost.
so – ) That's the spirit. Half-assed optimism. ( his grin is a bit tighter, if only because he finds himself treading lightly so as not to ruin the moment they're building here. he takes a sip of his beer, lets the taste of it linger on his tongue for a scant second or two before he swallows. )
no subject
but we digress.
it amazes him, sometimes, just how easy it is for the other to get that wistful look on his face – even when he isn't thinking primarily about the stars above his head. to lose himself in thought, whether of the past or present or even the future is enough for that look to flicker across his face, for his gaze to lose focus and, for the smallest moment, for him to lose contact with reality altogether. he sees it often enough that it doesn't surprise him so much anymore, but the tone of his voice when he finally speaks up again is something that has him hesitating in making any further comment, because castiel doesn't talk about his past like any normal person would. no stories about family, friends, early college life –
and that can only mean that it hadn't been the best time for him, that maybe something had happened that he doesn't want to remember, or that it's merely something better kept where the memories matter the most. dean can't fault him for that, that's for sure, and he doesn't press, even if he finds himself just the slightest bit curious on who else would tell him that his dreams are worth actualizing no matter the cost.
so – ) That's the spirit. Half-assed optimism. ( his grin is a bit tighter, if only because he finds himself treading lightly so as not to ruin the moment they're building here. he takes a sip of his beer, lets the taste of it linger on his tongue for a scant second or two before he swallows. )
You should listen to 'em, whoever said it.