DEAN'S REACTION AFTER CASTIEL AND MEG KISS
I CAN'T, I'M DYING
hE'S literally like "damn... that was hot..."
Dean used to read to Sam when he was little......
something something get a man who can do both.
“my baby boy” i whisper to a screencap of a forty year old man
At five years old, "Happy Birthday" is a hostess cake and a pixie stick at a roadside stop. Dad hands you a little metal box to light your own candle. "Something to know for later," he mutters. You lick the chocolate from your thumb, but it doesn't erase the bite of the metal.
At six years old, "Happy Birthday" is just a song sung in the car as the world leaves you behind again. Your baby brother doesn't even know the words yet.
At eight years old, "Happy Birthday" is the ugliest homemade chocolate cake you've ever seen (you haven't seen many). But it has the right number of candles, and it gets all over your face. Thank god for uncles.
At 17, "Happy Birthday" is a dismissal. You wish he would have just forgotten, like last year. Your stomach aches for days.
At 26, "Happy Birthday" is something you scoff to yourself in the mirror, alone. Your baby brother sings that song to other people you've never met.
At 30, "Happy Birthday" is surely a joke. But hey, at least you made this far. If that's even a good thing anymore.
By 40, "Happy Birthday" is just one more thing you don't let yourself think about. You wish you didn't know what day it was. Sometimes you don't.
At 41, "Happy Birthday" dares to be cautiously optimistic. You make your own desserts, in your own kitchen, with your own family. You smile when it gets all over the boy's face.
The day you turn 43, "Happy Birthday" is almost too overwhelming to hold. Your life is gentle; there is love. You watch the sunrise, and you're glad to be here. You think of all the people you have been. You are glad to be this one now.