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“You can tell me to stop,” Cas says quietly.
Dean swallows. His throat feels raw. “I won’t.”
Cas’s gaze sharpens. “That is not what I asked.”
Dean’s jaw tightens. He hates this part—hates being dragged into honesty when all he wants is relief.
“Yeah,” Dean grits out. “I can tell you to stop.”
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You don't get to love someone at the end of the world. You barely get to care. What's one more good luck ritual anyways?Bookmarked by dks48
22 Jun 2026
