#mo drabble

Dean didn’t miss the dirty motels.  He didn’t miss life endlessly on the road.  He didn’t miss the vagabond, running-for-your-life sort of deal he once had.  Maybe it had been okay when he was younger, but he was ready to settle down.

He settled in, nuzzling into Cas’ shoulder and humming lightly as he waited for sleep to come.

Sam looked irritated.  Castiel was stilling at the table across from him the bunker’s library, drumming his fingers.  It was a sound that Sam often heard; it shouldn’t have been that annoying.

Except it was.

Maybe it was because Sam hadn’t gotten as much sleep as he would have liked.  But, Sam had gotten a solid 6 hours and that was pretty damn good given their lifestyle choices.

Maybe...

Just as a test, Sam did the same with his own fingers on his side of the table.  The dull thuds of fleshy fingertip hitting wood wasn’t nearly as grating.  Maybe it was because Castiel’s fingernails had grown long enough to click against the tabletop.

Click, click, click, click.  Click, click, click, click.

“Could you stop that?”  Sam really didn’t want to sound like a hard-ass, but, for whatever reason, he could NOT concentrate while Castiel did that.

Cocking his head to the side, Castiel froze for a moment.  “Stop what?”

Sam gestured to Castiel’s hand resting limp on the table.  “The drumming.”

Looking down at his hand, Castiel still looked confused.  He drummed his fingers once and peeked up at Sam.

Whatever look Sam was wearing said what needed to be said, because Castiel looked sheepish as he dragged his hand off of the table and tucked it into the other one in his lap.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just not right now.  Maybe,” was this an asshole sort of comment? “cut your fingernails, so that the sound isn’t as annoying.”  Determined to focus, Sam turned back to the screen of his laptop and tried to muster up the ever elusive motivation to work.

It was just a murmur, but Sam caught it in the quiet space.  “I can’t cut my nails.  Dean likes it when I scratch him.”

Slapping the laptop closed, Sam jolted up.  His face had immediately grown red and he suddenly had a very vivid picture of Castiel and his brother... doing things.

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He was pouting his lips while breathing my air.  He pretended like I was putting him at a disadvantage.  

I couldn’t be.  It was him who was stealing the moment from me, not the other way around.

His lips were pink; they were soft.  I knew that from the last time we kissed. That was only seconds ago.

Leaning toward him, I tried to take back some of the air he'd stolen from me. He smirked instead. "Needy," he whispered.

I didn't feel needy. I simply wanted to survive him.

I wanted to outlive him.

I wanted to

Anna rolled her eyes at her brother.  “You can’t go around taking back decisions like this.”

The wind rustled Castiel’s jacket.  “I cannot decide if humans are worth staying here for.  They are irrational and thirst for violence.”

“So do angels; we just pretend that we don’t.”  Anna waved a hand in a nonchalant gesture.  “Find something, someone, one human worth doing this for and follow that human, make this decision with that one human in mind.  Can you do that?”

Sam gripped his backpack straps together at his chest, “How do I know this isn’t some trick?”  

Shaking his head, Dean reached out a hand to comfort his brother.  “Dude, I know it’s kinda crazy; but, we’re leaving tonight.  Pack your stuff.”  Dean didn’t want to leave either; the eighth grade winter social was only 3 days away.  Dean let his face go stoic and threw the duffle in Sam’s direction, “You get the bathroom; I got the kitchen.”