She hated sitting here, waiting for him to finish, waiting for him to finally tell her what the fuck was going on in that dumb angel head of his.
But there he was, being his smug ass self, humming while twining flowers together and pausing, turning his head to look at her with a ridiculous smile before returning to his damn flower craft.
She had half a mind to set it on fire but she knew he'd probably kill her or worse; and almost every time he looked at her she wanted to punch it off his face.
Ignoring the blood rivets on his hands that seemed to heal instantly on their own, he kept twisting the flowers until they connected into little circles, artistically woven vines at times rolling out in little curls at the sides.
"I can assure you," he mumbled finally, "that the thorns are removed."
"Super. And why are you telling me this?"
"Well, I made this one for you."
"Jesus, Castiel. Getting a bit hobby-lobby on me."
"It's a distraction."
"Huh," she watched him from the opposite side of the Letter's meeting table. "Well, I think you can see how I find that a little bit rude there."
"No, that's…not what I meant…"
"What's the fucking point of these things anyway?"
Castiel shrugged. "I don't really know. They're just pretty. And lovely. Like you."
"Shut up."
"Will you wear it?" he asked, holding up one of the crowns, the flowers dried so that the flowers were wilted, stems brown and stiff.
"It's dead."
"They all die when they're natural," he explained. "I would have made them out of faux but Dean hasn't been grocery shopping in a long while."
The way he was looking at her, that tilted head with those damn fucking eyes only served to piss her off more.
"If I do, will you stop looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like… fuck I don't know!" she yelled, snatching the crown from his hands, not even caring she felt a slight crunch of the flower stems. She shoved it on her head, still glaring at him when she fell back in the chair, arms folded.
And there he was, still smiling at her. "What?"
"You look nice."
"You always say that, Clarence."
"I know, but you're in something I made," he appeared in the chair beside her, apparently back to loving his zapping around, looking at her with that dumb face. "It's crooked, though."
"Hell what I wouldn't give for Cray Cas to be back."
"I don't understand why you would want that," he muttered, carefully adjusting the crown. "Pacifist. Afraid. Childish."
"You act like that was a bad thing."
He scoffed. "I didn't know you liked that."
When he finished messing with it he looked up at her, apparently satisfied with his results. "You look lovely."
"No sense in sugar coating me, Clarence."
"It's true," that dumb way he was looking at her was almost too much, and with a silent tilt of his head he kissed her, forehead brushing the flower crown she wore, almost cracking the brittle stems.
She returned it almost eagerly, trying to hide it but unfortunately Castiel already noticed and she felt him grin against her lips.
"Meg?" he asked her when she broke off.
"How fun," she started brushing against his neck, "Do you think these will be in bed?"