There’s a lot of hysterical side plots happening in Check Please right now and honestly the entire dynamic of the Haus after Bitty leaves is killing me but right now my FAVORITE part is that Tango and Ford might be sharing a room. Like I have no confirmation of this beyond someone telling me Ngozi said so and I’m just gonna accept that as the truth because it’s so goddamn funny. This is unlimited comedic potential.
Tony Tango “The Slut” Tangredi is gonna share an attic room with either a curtain or a very flimsily built wall separating him from Ford and that’s just gonna be a thing they deal with. The option for Whiskey and Tango to share a room -the obvious choice- was right there but Bitty HAD to connect to Whiskey in some way before he left so he doomed Ford to this shit. Whiskey refuses to switch. Denise “I would have banged a LAX bro too if I knew it meant I got my own room” Ford.
It doesn’t matter if Ford is straight, bi, a lesbian, or ace, because no matter what the situation is this is an absolute nightmare. She doesn’t even know where he finds all these girls. He’s somehow at once both the dumbest and smoothest man she has ever met and she knows WAY too much about his personal life. He had a threesome one time. She didn’t even know that happened in real life outside of Hollywood coke parties.
Nursey: I haven’t gotten laid in forever
Tango: Haha me neither.
Ford: It’s been five days.
Tango: Oh wow I didn’t think it had been that long.
Dex offers to try to turn the shed out back into another room. She considers it.
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I want you.
The words are stuck somewhere on the walls inside Dean’s head. Sometimes they make it to his tongue, only to be flipped over and switched out with a different verb.
“I need you.”
Even when Cas leaves again, he justifies himself in his word choice. Because isn’t need more powerful anyway? It screams the desperation that clings to him the way a bad cologne sinks into the skin of a man on a first date. And yet his so called friend robs him of the security he’s begging for.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
His throat burns, the whiskey in his stomach trying to make it’s way back up the hatch as he throws out a hand to grasp the sleeve of the trench coat in front of him. With an apologetic tilt of the head, Cas disappears. The rough calluses of Dean’s own fingers are all he feels as his hand goes to grip the fabric once there.
“Where are you?”
It’s a never ending summer night, the heat and humidity colliding into a wet blanket that settles over Dean as he tries to sleep. A ruffling of feathers comes from behind him. He thinks of throwing the warm bottle of beer on the nightstand at the sound but the light touch of a hand on his shoulder freezes him. The touch is unexpected and he loses his train of thought. Words he had spelled out are now scattered. Before his mind catches up to the beat of his heart, he places his hand on top of the angel’s.
It’s choked and it’s rough and it begs to be put back into his mouth, but the word works. The angel stays through the night. He pulls Dean in close, his grace working to keep them both cooled down as the hunter sleeps.
Cas’s presence isn’t indefinite, as evidenced by the empty side of the bed Dean wakes to, but it is a start. With time, words start to tumble out, catching the angel before he leaves. Slowly they string together a promise, one that builds a routine of soft embraces and hushed whispers in morning light.
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