#its on my dash
“You really don’t think I love you?” Dean asked.
Something in Cas’ expression shifted. The anger bottled up and poured out as fresh tears. He had to have been expecting Dean to say it— after everything— but the words still wrapped him tight. Bloomed new color in his cheeks even as that flinch of emotion drew him thinner. So Dean said it again. Repeated it as much for himself as for Cas.
“Of course I love you, you idiot. It sure as hell can’t be anything else.”
That’s right, a 17K+ post-canon fix-it from the tortured artist who brought you this piece because I definitely couldn’t leave them like that (unlike some people…) and SURPRISE! I write sometimes too.
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