11: [Action] I Want You to Want Me

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[[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

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[out_of_minutes]

Castiel enters the room. Uses the door, even. He is finishing the last of what appears to be a burger, before reaching into a rumpled paper sack and withdrawing another.

"Dean," he says by way of greeting, his mouth partially full as he talks, "thank you for advising me about the dining hall. I was a little surprised to find it would prepare these for me." He chews a moment longer and swallows, and is clearer when he finishes, "They are very satisfying."

At Dean's lack of response he looks closer, and notices something is... off about him.

"You look... discontent," he says, and reaches into the bag again, pulling out another burger and offering it in Dean's direction.

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He almost gives himself whiplash yanking his head up as quickly as he does. Door or not, Castiel has the tendency to sneak into whatever room he enters as quietly as humanly (angelically?) possibly. Dean stares at the other for a long moment, eyes flickering between the proffered burger and the other's earnest, eager gaze.

"Discontent?" Dean repeats rather belatedly, distracted, and feels his stomach flip again. There it was. He knows that feeling now, backwards and forwards. The only question is why is it surfacing in the first place? Dean feels like his thoughts are disjointed and the singular train that has every car - including the caboose - is the one that wants Castiel to stay.

No matter what.

"...uh." Dean grabs for his own drink, glancing up to Castiel with a slightly worried expression. "You're not going anywhere soon, are you?" Even as he says the words and knows he needs the company, desperately, Dean can't help but feel a little upset with himself. It's not like him to be this co-dependent

[out_of_minutes]

Castiel has no other particular plans for the evening, and is certainly not averse to the idea of staying with Dean; he wants to learn this version of him better after all, this Dean he never got to meet back in his own time in their shared reality.

He tilts his head, regarding him for a moment before answering, "Very well."

He sits down in a chair near Dean: convenient, how the room doubled the furniture in it on its own once Castiel accepted Dean's offer to board with him. He pus his hands on his knees and looks at Dean, and if his repose has a note of expectancy in it, well, he's curious what 'hanging out' means, exactly.

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"Great! Awesome."

It's like having an out-of-body experience, only he's had those before and they were way different. He can control everything he's doing...and yet he can't. Dean is positive that if he wanted to, he could simply get up, walk over to the bed, and get some well-deserved shut eye.

The problem is, he doesn't want to.

What he wants to do is scoot closer to Castiel in his own chair - he does so - and flash another quirky, disarming smile before ducking his head sheepishly, berating himself. What the Hell are you doing, he probably thinks you're freakin' nuts.

Clearing his throat almost nervously, Dean lifts his gaze again. "...so, uh. How's your...how've things been lately, huh? Good?" This small-talk is starting to sound more and more like an anxious teenager trying to pick up a chick way out of his league.