[ It's not yet the question that Dean is truly waiting for, whether or not he's surviving this - that unto itself seems to be a thing that doesn't matter nearly as much as the words he knows are coming. He'll get over himself one day, he thinks, be able to stop fighting against it all quite so viciously. Because where Cas is accommodating and willing, Dean is stubborn and bullheaded, immovable in a way Cas isn't remotely. It's not something he's jealous about, but he truly wishes he was more capable of adapting. And yet he isn't - so be it.
Instead, that is the question he's been waiting for, the one that makes it impossible to breath and infinitely harder to not push away from. Dean wants to put space between himself and what happened and maybe it only contributes to his inability to move past it, an inability to think of nothing but what happened. Still, he doesn't want to have this conversation. Because he doesn't want Cas to know just how badly he failed.
It's not so much an embarrassment as it is a failure and Cas is going to see straight through it in an instant.
Dean almost wants to scramble upright, but he remains still, muscles going tighter with resonating fear. He hasn't even begun to think through what he wants to say, even though he knows he should have, should've been prepared for this. He can only wish he had a script prepared in his mind, staring off to his side and attempting to remain ever the stoic man. ]
How much do you want to know.
[ He's going to crack, he already knows it; he knows. But if he can just put up one more escape, one more second between what he has to say and the moment he falls, then he'll do it. ]
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Instead, that is the question he's been waiting for, the one that makes it impossible to breath and infinitely harder to not push away from. Dean wants to put space between himself and what happened and maybe it only contributes to his inability to move past it, an inability to think of nothing but what happened. Still, he doesn't want to have this conversation. Because he doesn't want Cas to know just how badly he failed.
It's not so much an embarrassment as it is a failure and Cas is going to see straight through it in an instant.
Dean almost wants to scramble upright, but he remains still, muscles going tighter with resonating fear. He hasn't even begun to think through what he wants to say, even though he knows he should have, should've been prepared for this. He can only wish he had a script prepared in his mind, staring off to his side and attempting to remain ever the stoic man. ]
How much do you want to know.
[ He's going to crack, he already knows it; he knows. But if he can just put up one more escape, one more second between what he has to say and the moment he falls, then he'll do it. ]