11: [Action] I Want You to Want Me

[dashboardlite]

[[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."

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[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Of course. One should never compare anything to Heaven when offering it to an actual denizen of the goddam- Ah...damn...place. "Yeah, well," Dean pops one in his own mouth, chewing and speaking at the same time, as he is typically wont to do. "Tastes pretty friggin' good to me. 'Scuse me for not knowing what Heaven's flavor is."

Turning on his heel to face the fairly-decent fire they have going, Dean cocks his head over one shoulder to look at Cas. He feels as though he has to keep an eye on him at all times, now. "Roast it," He explains and then crouches, nudging the grate aside to extend the hanger-plus-marshmallow over the top of the flame, holding it there and rotating very, very carefully. His tongue sticks out one side of his mouth in concentration.

It's an art form.

When the marshmallow itself is nicely browned on every side, he pulls it back and swings his arm around to Cas, offering him the fruits of his labors with another quirk of his eyebrow and a tiny smile.

"It's better now. Try this one."

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Cas doesn't see how charring the thing will make it taste better, but it wasn't awful before, and after all, humans do cook the flesh of animals before consuming it. Perhaps this is a similar situation.

Before it has a chance to get cold, he reaches out and pulls the marshmallow from the proffered coat hanger. Most of it comes away in his hand, but a fair amount sticks, gooey, on the hanger. He eyes it like it's misbehaved. In the meantime though, he puts the roasted part in his mouth, chewing again.

And... huh. Much better. Better enough that he licks the sticky parts off his fingers, and eyes the miscreant remains on the hanger. Then he leans forward and licks that too, steadying it with one hand on the wire.

"That was far superior," he says.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean watches with a bright smile as Castiel meticulously pries the marshmallow from the end of the bent hanger. Resisting the urge to snort in good humor at the other's petulant expression, he opens his mouth to make a snarky remark about giving things second chances and then snaps it shut again, eyes wide. Castiel is...licking the hanger. And his fingers. Clearing his throat and ducking his head awkwardly, Dean exhales an uneasy laugh.

"Toldja so," He remarks, chuckling nervously. Slowly pulling the hanger back, he considers shoving it in the fire to sterilize it before deciding that he doesn't really care. He grabs another marshmallow and skewers it deftly, moving it into the fireplace once more. "You gotta trust me on these things, Cas," Dean says with some fondness, "I know what I'm doing most of the time."

So distracted by his new roommate, Dean doesn't notice that his marshmallow is on fire until he smells something burning. "...oh, shit!" He yanks the thing out of the fireplace and closer to his mouth, blowing out the flames and making a face as he's left with a crispy, blackened husk.

"...gross."