#hellcarved

            “Hey man, you good? You’ve done like- one annoying thing all day. Usually we’re up to at least..... four by now.” 

          bright blue eyes blink not once, not twice, but three times as she tries to take in exactly what just came out of his mouth. whit? brows wrinkle finally as she shakes her head, lips pursing briefly before speaking.   "that is in no way, shape, or form a word. and i have to ask you never to use it again in my personal bubble."   sometimes dean said the weirdest things, and this was one of them. whit. what the fuck was that, even?

“ Has anyone ever told you that you are the  worst  passenger? ”         It’s not every day that he’d experienced backseat road-rage,  anyway.   He hadn’t thought of himself as a very tame  driver either,  but the way Dean’s acting,  he might as well have been 80 years old.        “ You wanna drive?  No?  Then leave the yelling to me . ”

“You bought this for me?”  Tate looked down at the single slice of yellow cake topped with chocolate icing; It was just one of those from a grocery store bakery, the $3.99 label still on top of it, but it was more than anyone else had ever done for him. Tate had mentioned his birthday coming up some time ago and - Dean must have made mental note of it. Went out of his way to come spend time with him, bring him a gift. Tate swallowed down the lump in his throat as tears creeped up in the wells of his eyes. (He’d always been such a crier.)  “Thank you...”  He leaned forward to just affectionately nudge his head against Dean, lean his weight into him. A hug that didn’t actually involve his arms.