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11: [Action] I Want You to Want Me
Dec. 16th, 2010 12:49 am[[ooc; Closed to everyone but Cas and Dean.]]
Dean shifts uncomfortably in his chair, prodding the coffee table with the toe of his leather biker boot. A small stack of magazines slides haphazardly to one side and off onto the floor with a muffled thump. He doesn't bother to pick them up. He's not in the mood. Something in the man's stomach is writhing, and it's not the Mexican food he'd asked the kitchen for a couple hours ago. It's not even intestinally-related. He knows that feeling - it's slightly nauseating, and it's a good indicator of having the unnecessary urge to be with someone for every waking moment.
It's been a while since Dean's had this feeling, too, so it makes him even more nervous with regard to the fact that aside from his new, angelic roommate, there aren't many others around he could possibly latch onto. Impending loneliness isn't the issue at hand, either.
It's just a need.
Shooting a disgruntled look at the record player in the corner for playing Baby, It's Cold Outside on a loop, Dean turns his green-eyed gaze to the windows outside, and he watches the snow quietly in the dim light of the motel-style room. He'd strung Christmas lights along the walls earlier in an attempt to be festive, and now it only highlights the emptiness of the season when there isn't anyone to share it with.
"Bah, humbug," He grunts, too lazy to ask the closet for liquor and too comfortable where he is. "'Tis the season to be Grinchy."
Dean shifts uncomfortably in his chair, prodding the coffee table with the toe of his leather biker boot. A small stack of magazines slides haphazardly to one side and off onto the floor with a muffled thump. He doesn't bother to pick them up. He's not in the mood. Something in the man's stomach is writhing, and it's not the Mexican food he'd asked the kitchen for a couple hours ago. It's not even intestinally-related. He knows that feeling - it's slightly nauseating, and it's a good indicator of having the unnecessary urge to be with someone for every waking moment.
It's been a while since Dean's had this feeling, too, so it makes him even more nervous with regard to the fact that aside from his new, angelic roommate, there aren't many others around he could possibly latch onto. Impending loneliness isn't the issue at hand, either.
It's just a need.
Shooting a disgruntled look at the record player in the corner for playing Baby, It's Cold Outside on a loop, Dean turns his green-eyed gaze to the windows outside, and he watches the snow quietly in the dim light of the motel-style room. He'd strung Christmas lights along the walls earlier in an attempt to be festive, and now it only highlights the emptiness of the season when there isn't anyone to share it with.
"Bah, humbug," He grunts, too lazy to ask the closet for liquor and too comfortable where he is. "'Tis the season to be Grinchy."
