FrogsGiveMeHope
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You spend enough time with someone, spend enough time talking to them, fighting with them, fighting next to them, saving and being saved by them -- you stop an apocalypse with someone and you get to thinking you know them.
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Bookmarked by FrogsGiveMeHope
14 Feb 2017
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She looks like new; you can’t tell there’s anything wrong underneath the hood.
He runs his hands across her steering wheel. His hands say he’s sorry. He doesn’t know what else to say.
Bookmarked by FrogsGiveMeHope
04 Feb 2017
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Dean never picks up guys in bars—that’s rule number one.
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Bookmarked by FrogsGiveMeHope
03 Feb 2017
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Dean never ran out of gas. He never ran out of gas. He’d criss-crossed the country like a spider building a web and never once, not even once, had he ever run out of gas before.
He could feel Cas watching him from the passenger seat, the sunset blushing red with embarrassment over the wide, open fields around them. There were no buildings in sight, no people; not even a large and conveniently-placed full can of gasoline by the side of the road. Ten minutes ago, Dean had been smiling out at the spread of space around them, the peace of the road resting like a softness over the corners of his soul. And Cas had been talking quietly about something scientific and strange, and his voice had been so gentle, so familiar, and it hadn’t mattered at all that Dean had barely understood a word.
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When they're left stranded in the middle of nowhere together, Dean and Cas talk about stars, and birthdays, and becoming someone new.Bookmarked by FrogsGiveMeHope
02 Feb 2017
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Dean’s chair had glue on it. He’d sat down on it without realising, and now he was completely stuck.
That had to be it. There was no other reason that he’d still be sitting here two whole hours after he first sat down, right? No reason whatsoever. Dean wasn’t exactly a stare-into-space type. He wasn’t into crappy romantic shit, and he wasn’t… dreamy, and he wasn’t… he wasn’t… it had nothing to do with the fact that Cas was sitting right across the room, OK. Wearing soft pyjamas and a smile, buried in a book. Looking – well – good. Cas looked good in the lamplight, which smoothed over his skin and honeyed the lines of his face, left dabs of ochre shadow under his eyes.
Obviously it wasn’t that which had kept Dean sitting in his chair for two hours, though. Look, he’d always been on the verge of getting up, alright? But – well, somehow he’d never quite made it. He’d wanted to, really, but every time he made up his mind to do so, Cas would do something distracting - like yawn, or shift his legs on the sofa, or sigh gently in a way that had Dean’s heart squeezing. But the point was, the point was… it couldn’t be Cas that had him stuck here.Bookmarked by FrogsGiveMeHope
02 Feb 2017