Sleeping in his childhood room was odd. It should have been familiar enough, but he had already viewed it as something that he had escaped. He had, briefly, been a fully functioning, living on his own, somewhat dying, actually really dying, adult. This room was a retreat to childhood that he was unwilling to make. He could smell the coffee brewing downstairs though, and he was certainly ready to partake in that bit of joy.

He had laid out the clothes that he would wear to the city, a long sleeved, loose-fitting navy blue t-shirt. It was distressed a little and that made it soft. He also thought that it looked nice. It especially covered up his scar, which was not the easiest thing to accomplish with some of his old clothes. He chose a faded pair of black jeans to go with it. They were tight, but not uncomfortable. He gave himself a once over in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a little wild, but he thought that it might be attractive. He considered the effort that he was making. He certainly wanted to impress the property manager. He knew that he could easily afford the apartment. His parents paid a generous salary. He also thought that maybe the property manager wasn't the only one that he could impress.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He scooped it up and saw that he had gotten a text from Dean. So, I got you an appointment for 11:30 to do the tour. Is that okay?

He hadn't even called yet, so the fact that Dean was proactive on his behalf was rather helpful. Yes, totally okay.

Cas cupped the phone in his hands and started to walk to the door when another text came through from Dean. Oh, good. I was thinking that I overstepped. Text me when you get here.

Will do.

Cas took the stairs two at a time and actually jumped down the last three, landing with a resounding smack on the hardwood floor. He practically skipped into the dining room just off the kitchen, early morning light blanketing everything in a warm glow. He leaned into his mom's side and gave her a kiss on the cheek, snatching a piece of toast fresh out of the toaster.

"Hey, bucko. That was going to be mine," His dad said around a smile from his seat at the table.

"Ha, ya snooze you lose, daddio." Cas sat down next to him and poured a cup of coffee for himself. He scooped up a spoonful of sugar and added milk until it was a palomino tan. He stirred it, and the white tendrils of milk blended in a bit more. He hummed a happy little tune and began buttering his stolen toast. He looked up to find that his father was sitting back watching him. "What?"

"Sleep well?" Chuck picked up his own mug of coffee and sipped from it.

"Yeah, surprisingly." He started chomping on the toast, little crumbs snowing down on his plate and lap.

"Well, good. Talked with Charlie a bit last night. She said that she's ready for a read through on her draft. Said she left it in your office."

"Yeah, saw it. I'm gonna start it tonight."

"Not this afternoon? Usually you dive headlong into her stuff." Chuck took another sip and Becky joined them with her bowl of oatmeal and fruit. She handed Chuck a slice of toast.

"Got plans." He was reluctant to elaborate.

"Really, what're you doing?" Becky looked at him over her own mug of coffee, just as doctored up as Cas' was.

"I'm meeting Dean in the city. Gonna do lunch at his aunt's place. Well, I think she's his aunt. Can't remember for sure. Anyway, should be back later in the evening. You don't need to wait for me for dinner or anything." He distracted himself with a bowl and some cereal on the table. He poured the cereal into the bowl rather noisily and then looked up at his mom.

"So, one day here and you're already heading back to the city?" Her tone was saying something more. He felt his nerves coiling up in his stomach.

"Yep." He looked to his dad for help.

"So, ya wanna borrow my car? Seems like a nice day for a ride in the convertible." Chuck winked at Cas just before Becky turned to him.

"You think he should be running around in the city so soon?"

"I think he's a grown man that can run around in the city if he so chooses."

Oh, shit, shit, shit. Don't fight. "I am totally going to take it easy, mom. Look." He reached over and rested a hand on her arm. "No stressful activities. Promise." He ran his finger over his chest in an X and then added, "Cross my heart."

She looked a little less upset then. "I just worry. I guess I need to try not to do that so much."

"I seriously feel like a million bucks, mom. I promise not to do anything though that would freak you out if you were right there with me. So, no skydiving, or high-speed dancing." Cas smiled as he spoke, hoping to calm her nerves with his tone.

"High-speed dancing, huh?" Chuck tipped his head with the question. "Is that a thing?"

"Totally. All the cool kids are doing it. I am not a cool kid, so I'll refrain. Plus, no dancing partner. Kinda a requirement." Cas started shoveling massive spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth as if he needed to hurry. He didn't. There were hours to kill, but he had an idea kicking around in his head, and he was ready to get to it.

"So, Dean's meeting you?" Becky's question was quiet and said something more than the mere words.

"Yes. I think I said that." Cas shifted a bit, and scooped up another heaping spoonful of cereal.

"So, is it weird spending time with him?" She watched him as she asked.

"Should be. He kinda asked the same thing the other night. I feel kinda like it is normal, like if we just don't think about whose heart is in here," he rested his hand on his chest, feeling the bass drum of it, "then it is not weird at all."

"I think your mom wants to know something more, but she isn't asking it. So, I'll just ask for her. Are you spending time with Dean today as a friend or as a something else?"

The question caused him to choke on his final giant bite of cereal, and no way in Hell was he going to have a conversation like this. No way, no how. He pushed back from the table then and took his mug of half drunk coffee with him. He stopped. This will not be enough coffee. He refilled it, and silently cursed himself for messing up the precise blend of milk, to sugar, to coffee ratio. It'll never be right. "Dean is a slightly more than an acquaintance, that may become a person that I refer to as a friend should he not think too much about the fact that I'm toting around his brother's heart. So, seriously, do not go acting all weird about this, okay?"

"You don't need to be defensive. We just wanted to know how to think about the situation." Becky turned in her seat to fully face him as he stood there.

"You don't have to think about this. Really. Nothing to think about. I know that it is weird for me to do the whole friend thing, but honestly this is like the healthiest thing I've done in years. You should be happy. I didn't want friends 'cause I was going to die. I want a friend now, because I'm planning to live." He started to move from the table, coffee in hand.

Becky got up and hugged him, coffee sloshed out a little at his side. "I love you, Cas. I'm so happy, and I just love the Hell out of you." She leaned away and pressed a hard kiss to his forehead. "You go have fun in the city." Cas stepped back and Chuck held out the keys to the convertible.

"Thanks dad, mom." He took the keys and added, "I'm gonna be out in the office for a bit first. I'll likely head out in an hour or two."

"Have fun," Chuck said as Cas headed for the door, a warm flood of emotions pooling up in his chest. As he stepped out onto the porch he felt himself pass through a cold patch that reminded him of his dream, the very reason that he wanted to go to the office.

During the night he woke up at 3:00 a.m. again. It was like it had been in the hospital. There was a coldness and his coins had been knocked over. He had also had a dream. He would normally just throw himself back into sleep again, but this time he didn't. He had instead scooped up the phone and wrote down some notes on what the dream had been. He knew that if he didn't he'd forget it all.

He pulled open the door to the side of the barn office and made his way inside and to his cozy space. He set aside Charlie's manuscript and opened up his laptop. He had written a few stories before, nothing big. He had even posted some short stuff online under a pseudonym. People liked him, and he had a fairly large group of followers for being such an infrequent poster. Most of what he did though was write beginnings. He often didn't finish what he started, as if the endings were too much to deal with.

He opened up a new document and started typing. He had his phone next to him on the desk. He didn't need to look at the notes though. All of the dream was still fresh. There was a fire, so he started with that. He had had the dream before, in the hospital. He wasn't sure if it was, at first, born out of some sort of guilt over living while Sam had died. It hardly mattered, though. Writing could be therapy, and he was fine with using it as such.

His fingers blazed a trail over the keyboard. The descriptions flowed. He wasn't sure where he was going with it, but he felt like there was certainly something there. He described the office building, a bank, and the high windows that framed the one side of the space that Sam occupied. The room seemed like it glowed in silver. The whole place was clean in that clinical way that one often finds in hospitals or the homes owned by the very wealthy. He described the desk and its meticulous array of items, a placard with his name, a container of pens, a computer monitor, and a small stack of files.

He dove into a different scene. He knew that the scenes were not in the right order yet, but he wanted to get them written before he lost the feel of them. He described the way that Sam met Ruby. He typed her name and realized that he would have to change that. He would also have to change Sam's name too. He contemplated the possible substitutions then settled on Meg and Adam.

He had to close his eyes for a second as he remembered the way that it had played out in the dream. Sam had opted to go to lunch. He rode the elevator down to the first level, planning to go to a diner down the street. There was a brunette in the elevator. He'd seen her before. She worked on the 21st floor; he worked on the 20th. They often rode the elevator at the same time. He noted that she was heading to the 1st floor too. He focused on the doors in front of him, giving her space too. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her. She was looking at him. He returned his focus to the doors. She spoke. "Seems as though we should know each other's names, seeing as we ride the elevator together so often." That small sentence chipped a crack in the dam that had been keeping them apart.

The rest was all a discovery of commonalities and shared laughs over lunch. She shared details about her job, and more importantly her hobby. She wrote food review blogs in her spare time. At work she was knee deep in insurance claims, most days. The food blogs were a welcome reprieve. He shared his love of accounting and an equal love for yoga. He told her that the yoga detail was a secret since his brother would likely never let him hear the end of it.

Cas felt the scene flowing from his fingertips. It felt real and like the tangible beginnings of love. There's something so intimate about that first meal together and maybe the second too. The way that you just get nervous about a possible spill of a drink, or a piece of lettuce hanging out in your teeth. There's the talking too, the worry that something might come out all wrong past a bite of something. He made sure to include those feelings for Sam as he described him sitting there across from Ruby.

He considered other meals from which he could draw experiences that could fill the scene. He thought back on his most recent meal out. It had been with Dean. He remembered the way that Dean popped french fries in his mouth one by one, as if each one was deserving of a private audience there. Occasionally, little bits of salt were found lingering on his bottom lip. Dean would swipe them away with a flick of his tongue. The memory was something that he thought he could repurpose for Ruby and Sam. So he did. The room grew cold as he typed this part though, and he found himself stopping to check his phone. He hadn't noticed the time before. He'd been writing for two solid hours. He did a quick word count check and saw that he had managed just over 3,000 words. He let out a huff of air into the cold room and said aloud, "Wow, new personal best."

He got up and tucked his phone into his pocket. He would have to drive a little quickly if he was going to get to the apartment on time. He grabbed a jacket from the back of the chair and made his way out to the car. He had the keys already in hand as he tossed his coat in. The top was down and he was sure that he would look absolutely wind blown by the time he got to the city. He considered raising the top, but that would kill the point of driving the convertible. He got in and lowered the visor, finding his father's sunglasses tucked away there. They were a pair of gold aviator sunglasses with a slight amber tint to them. He put them on and got the car going.

The wind was refreshing. He loved the site of the world rushing by him. He maybe drove a bit too fast. The country soon gave way to highway walls and buildings. He zipped in and out of traffic. He had a sense of where he was going, but ended up at the hospital instead. He pulled over and typed in the address to the apartment, only to find a text from Dean. Totally hovering at the apartment. See you when you get here.

He opted not to reply, but he was happy that he wouldn't have to do the tour alone. He wondered if he should try to check out some of the other apartments in the magazine. Truth be told though, he wasn't interested in them so much. The G.P.S. on the phone was ready to guide him, so he slipped it into its holder. The friendly voice pulled him along his route to Dean, to the apartment.

He was getting close. When he rounded what should have been the last corner, he saw Dean holding up a doorframe with his shoulder. Cas slowed up and pulled to the curb. He called out, "So, you know of any apartments for rent in the area?" He smiled. Cheesy.

Dean straightened up and walked over to the car. He leaned on the passenger door and said, "Heard about this awesome place. You should totally check it out." He opened the door and got into the passenger seat. "You can't park here," he added by way of explaining his presence in the car. "Head that way." He pointed ahead and Cas followed his directions to a nearby parking garage. "Nice car. Jaguar?"

"Yeah, my dad tossed me the keys this morning. Caught him in a good mood, I guess." Cas found a spot and parked. They got out and stared down at the car for a moment. "You think it is fairly safe in here?"

"Meh. Shit happens everywhere. Hopefully it'll be fine." Cas hit the alarm button, and Dean rounded the car to his side. "If you get a place at the apartment complex, then you get a parking spot guaranteed in here. It'll cost you a little extra, but it is worth it. I park my car here."

"You sound like you are assuming that I'll get this place. I'm sure they have other potential candidates for the place." They made their way to the building, and Cas quietly enjoyed the way their arms were close, like fabric coming into contact close. He glanced at Dean from time to time and noted the outfit that he wore. His shirt was nothing spectacular, just a white button up. He noted it though, because it didn't seem like something that one wore to a job as a firefighter. The jeans were also noted, but they seemed appropriate. They were well-worn, faded blue jeans, tight in all the right places. He stopped glancing at Dean and focused on the walk to the apartment.

"I am so charming that I will have the property manager eating out of my hand on your behalf. Trust me." Dean skipped a few steps up to the front door and opened it for Cas. "Age before beauty."

"Hey, I am so not older than you."

"Bet you are. Plus, I am way more good looking." Dean waved a hand into the hall.

Cas made his way in and laughed at him. "I look damn good." He spun around in the hall holding out his hands. "Seriously, look at this hotness. I got the windblown hair thing, and I showed up in a fine ride. Doesn't get hotter than this." Dean laughed at him and moved back to his side as they walked down the hall.

"You're a riot. Just when I think I'm hanging out with an introvert, you go and pull out the confidence." And the brush of their arms as they walked along felt like static.

"It's all just smoke and mirrors to mask my total lack of confidence. You know, fake it 'til you make it." He turned to Dean a little. "Speaking of appearances and all, do you always wear such nice clothing when you work at the firehouse?"

Dean tipped his head a little and seemed to struggle for an answer. "Uh, this isn't all that nice."

"Really?" Cas paused a little in his walking and took in the view that was Dean Winchester again. No, it was more that nice, it was downright gorgeous, but he was not going to say that. Button up shirts have that long line of buttons as a reminder that they can be unbuttoned, slowly, carefully. They make you think about what is just past that little stretch of fabric.

"Really. It was just hanging out in my closet. Could have just as easily worn one of my old concert shirts." Dean started walking again.

"So, you changed after you got home this afternoon?" Cas smiled at him as he poked at Dean's carefully maintained facade of indifference.

"Maybe. You wouldn't want me messing up your chances with the property manager, would you?" They rounded a corner and Dean gave the first door a little knock. The door opened and a woman stepped into the frame. "Hey, Pam. Brought you the potential renter. You up for the tour?"

Pam angled her head to the side. Cas reached out his hand, "I'm Cas Shurley. Pleasure to meet you."

She reached out, but didn't quite get to his hand. "You're gonna have to meet me halfway sugar. I kinda got this whole blindness thing going on, and I wouldn't want to accidentally grab you in a funny way." Her lip curled up into a half grin as she said it which told Cas that she was way too happy about the prospect of grabbing him in a 'funny way.'

He took her hand and gave it a quick shake. She reached up to his face and let her fingers graze his features. She settled her fingers on his forehead and he said, "Welcome to my face."

"Thanks. So, you gonna be a respectable tenant, no loud parties or whatnot?"

"Yeah, if you think you want to rent to me. Dean has said that the place is awesome."

"Well, let's take you up to see if you like it." She let go of his face then and turned to Dean. "Well, you brought me an honest one at least."

"So his face didn't do the liar wrinkle?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Got some other questions you want me to ask him?" She laughed as they made their way to the elevator at the end of the hall.

"So you were reading my face just then?"

"Maybe."

"Cool. Glad you didn't ask me anything embarrassing." Cas stepped aside as Dean stopped at a door.

She pulled out some keys and then reached out to Cas' face again and asked. "So, why do you want to live in this place?"

He looked at Dean and knew exactly why he wanted to live in this place. "I'm ready to get out of my parent's place. I've been there for roughly 18 hours and that is enough. Dean made this place sound kinda great, and I can think of worse neighbors than firefighters."

She smiled, "Yeah, Dean would be a good neighbor." She turned and unlocked the door. She stepped in first and turned on the lights. Cas felt Dean's hand on his back directing him through the door, as if he needed that. He needed that.

"Wow. This place does look great." He took in the small kitchen to the right, with the white cabinets and brushed nickel hardware. He noted the hardwood floors and the the one wall that was brick. He made his way in and peeked out the window at the courtyard on the other side. "Wow."

Dean stepped up to his side. "I know, right?" He pointed off to the right of the window. "That one over there is my place. Pam hosts little gatherings in the courtyard once a month."

"Tenant mixers," she said.

"Yeah, she runs these little paper lanterns across the space and usually has a band, dancing, and food. So much food." Dean looked like he was suddenly starving.

"Let's get this tour done and you fed." Cas stepped away and wandered off to look at the bedroom and bathroom. The place was perfect. He liked that it wasn't huge, and yet it also had enough space for what he needed. He was already mapping out where he would put his office stuff, his couch that he didn't own yet, his bed that maybe would be brand new, because his one at home was hella small. He turned to Pam and said, "So, how do I convince you that I need to be your tenant?"

"You already did. I do need to get your extra information though. I'm convinced so long as you pass the credit check and such. Can you afford the place?"

"I can. Plus, my parents have offered to co-sign should you think that is necessary. I assure you that I have a respectable income."

"What do you do?" Pam asked as they made their way back to the door.

"I edit novels for my family's publishing company."

"He edits Charlie Bradbury, Pam," Dean chimed in as he moved to the door beside Cas.

She came to an abrupt stop and said, "The Charlie Bradbury? Like the Charlie Bradbury?"

"Yes, the one and only. I take it you're a fan?" Cas smiled at the way that Pam looked in that moment, like she was about to vibrate right out of her skin with excitement.

"Tell me that you have her over from time to time and that you introduce her to your friends like it's no big deal." She had her hands to her mouth now.

Dean said, "Well, he introduced her to me and acted like it was no big thing. Of course he and I are like besties now, so…"

"Okay, Cas, so this might sound a bit forward, but you are like my literal best friend right now. This Dean guy may say that he is your bestie, but seriously, me, so me." Dean laughed as she went on. Cas joined him in the laughing.

"Pam, I'll have her over for something in the near future, and I'll make a point of introducing you to her. She'll love it. I don't think that she gets just what a ginormous celebrity she is. Kinda funny that you knew that she was a female. She doesn't share personal details like at all." Cas paused at the door as they were about to leave.

"Well, I am pretty adept at reading between the lines. She hid some clues in her magazine interviews and in her audiobook. You do know that she was the reader for that right?" Pam was beaming a little as she spoke.

"I knew. I just didn't think that anyone else knew. Guess she might not be anonymous for much longer." Cas moved out the door and into the hall. The others followed him. They took the elevator down to the ground level. They stopped in at Pam's place, and Cas filled out papers on his financial history. When they finished, he and Dean headed out to the street and lunch. He felt Dean's hand at his back again as they made their way through the door, as if Dean had a fear of doors or something.

"So, lunch now, right?" Dean said.

"Oh, definitely. You look like you are fading fast." Cas kicked up the pace. "Of course, I have no clue where I am going. You should be leading."

"You're doing fine. Straight ahead. I'll tell you if you make a wrong turn." Dean's hand fell from his back and they were back to strolling along, side by side. It was a good ten minutes before they were standing in front of the diner. It was one of those '50s themed places complete with the metal siding. There were large windows framing the front of the space, and the inside was illuminated in the normal overhead lights and the neon signage in the window. Cas felt a magnetic pull into the place. "So, this is it."

"It's neat. I can't wait to try the food." Dean reached for the door, but Cas beat him to it. "Age before beauty." Dean smirked and edged past him into the restaurant.

"Smooth, Cas." He called out to the back, "Hey, Ash." A long haired guy leaned into the space that opened up to the kitchen.

"Yo, hey, Dean! Two times in one day?"

"Stop making such good food, and I'll stay away." Ellen came over to them as they settled into a booth by the window.

"Now we wouldn't want you staying away." She leaned down and kissed Dean on the top of his head. "So, you brought this one in huh?"

"Hello Ellen." Cas reached out and shook her hand.

"Glad to see you out of the hospital, Cas. Now, if I remember right, you wanted a burger of some sorts."

"That would be great. Maybe a Coke too." Cas drummed his fingers on the formica tabletop.

"You want the usual, Dean?" Ellen smiled.

"You know me. Super predictable." He smiled back at her.

"Two cheeseburgers coming up then." She made her way to the kitchen. Cas could hear her telling Ash the order. Cas kept drumming away at the tabletop in time with the tune that was on the speakers, something from Elvis. The table had little flecks of gold on the white. He was focusing on it, forming patterns in his imagination.

"So, you really happy with the apartment?" Dean started drumming along on the table too.

"Yeah, it's downright perfect." He forced himself to stop drumming on the table and lowered his hands to his lap to just make sure that he was controlling himself. "So, when is the next mixer?"

"Couple of weeks still. We literally just had one last Friday."

"Does Pam let the tenants bring a guest to those things?"

Dean looked like he was considering the question a little before he answered. "Yeah, no one is policing it or anything. You got a date in mind?"

Cas swallowed a little at the way the question sounded. "Uh, no, nothing like that. I just thought that I would ask Charlie to come by. She could meet Pam."

Dean let out a breath and said, "Oh, she'd like that."

They sat there quietly for a spell and Cas felt a cool puff of air wash over him as the front door opened and closed, letting in some customers. Dean watched him but didn't say anything. "So, when do you have to be back at the station?"

"I don't. I got my phone on me though, just in case. They have been pretty easygoing about me taking time off here and there as I need it." Dean's look darkened a little, and Cas knew that he was thinking about Sam.

Cas redirected, "You didn't show me your place. We should stop there before I go back to the country. I'd like to see how you have your furniture all laid out. I have a mental plan for my place already cooking, but inspiration would be good to add to this."

"Uh, not sure that you will find my place inspiring anything but horror."

"Oh, why?"

"I, uh, just kinda don't think that you should see it just yet. I'd like to tidy up a bit first."

"Really not gonna judge. You did see my room and all."

Dean ran a hand back up into his hair and gazed out the window. "I'm just thinking no. Next time though. Now you have a reason to come back before the big move."

"I didn't need an extra reason." Cas wasn't sure how he planned to finish that thought, so he gazed out the window when Dean's face snapped back to his.

"You were already planning to come back out?"

"Well, yeah. Unless you're kinda over our little budding friendship thing here. I think that we should have lunch again and maybe more of the whole casual conversation stuff." Cas focused on Dean again.

"I'd like that."

"Good." Cas let his lip curl up into a slow grin and Dean's lips did the same. The way the light spilled in through the window gave Dean a kind of ethereal glow. Cas liked the way that Dean looked more golden in this light, like the sun just couldn't do anything but cover him from head to toe in her embrace. It amused Cas that they could just sit together for lengthy spells of time without saying anything, while at the same time, it felt like they were saying a whole lot.

"When do you have to head back to the country?"

Cas looked at his watch and said, "After lunch. I have to read Charlie's manuscript, and I'm hoping to work on a private project a bit more too."

"Oh, what's the private project?"

"That would be private."

"I'm good with secrets."

"Nope." Cas started drumming on the table again. Their food came to the table. Ellen slid it to them and then departed to get their forgotten drinks.

"That look like everything to you boys?" She asked when she returned.

"Looks great, Ellen," Dean said for both of them. Dean started with his french fries, plucking up one at a time and slipping them into his mouth. "Tell me about the project."

Cas stared at him, the salt on his lip was captivating. Dean licked it away, but Cas still focused. "I write a little."

"You're a writer too. Shit, I feel like an absolute slacker now." Dean picked up his burger and started eating it.

"Yes, Dean, you are a slacker. I can't imagine anything more slackerish than a firefighter. I think that you have some funny notions about what it means to write and edit things."

"Makes you way more clever."

"I'm not a published writer or anything. I just do it as a hobby. Besides, the editing isn't clever. I just know how to make corrections to other people's cleverness." He picked up his own burger now and started eating. Dean watched him for a moment as he did so. Cas felt nervous, like he might inadvertently squeeze out half the burger's contents into his lap. He leaned over the plate a little more in anticipation of that inevitability.

"You think that I might get to read it? I mean the project piece." Dean took a sip from his soda, the straw lingering on his lip even when he had finished.

"Uh, nope. Like I said, it isn't something that I do for a job. I am really not that good. I just like making up stories for me. If I thought for a second that someone I knew was reading it, I'd probably die." He was watching Dean's reaction to that, and he felt a little bad about the hyperbole. Have to make a better effort about not mentioning death and dying. Shit, he looks sad. "Sorry. I don't think that you would be all judgemental or anything. I just don't think that I could handle the rest of what I would feel if I knew you were reading my writing."

The sun was settled on Dean's face in a way that kicked up the color pallette of his eyes. Cas was pretty sure that they were more than green. They were a little golden too. There were stories in Dean's eyes, and he would love to write volumes about them. He spoke, "What do you mean?"

"Huh?"

"About the part where you said that you would be uncomfortable with how you would feel, knowing that I was reading your stuff."

"Oh, I just think I would be really anxious. I'd wonder what you thought of certain lines, and if you thought I was hokey. I'd wonder if you thought I was insipid or a bit of a jerk. I'd also become insufferable. I'd want to talk about it with you until the very moment that you came to regret ever wanting to read any of it. I'd hate myself every minute of it, knowing that I was being crazy obsessed with your opinion, but I wouldn't stop wanting it." He took a breath and realized that he was sounding a little ridiculous.

"Well, then." Dean laughed and ate a couple of fries. "At least I know now what you think." He laughed again. "Just so you know, I wouldn't think you were a jerk or insipid, and if you started acting like a nutter, I'd likely tell you to shut it. We'd survive."