Work Text:
Dean snickered.
“What?” Sam asked, head ducked down so he could see where he was driving. A sign flashed past in the darkness, signalling the ten-mile mark: they were almost back at the bunker. Sam glanced over at the passenger seat where Dean sat, his attention still absorbed by his phone. “Dean, what’s so funny?”
“Nothin’,” Dean said, grinning. Then he chuckled.
Sam turned his eyes to the road again. If Dean wasn’t up for sharing, then it (whatever ‘it’ was) probably wasn’t as hilarious as all that. Sam drove the Impala around a corner, careful on the slippery leaves that scattered the roadway.
“Cas just sent me a photo,” Dean said eventually, smiling so much his cheeks rounded at the peaks. “I texted him, asking what he did while we were off on our hunt, and... jeez.” Dean got distracted again, tapping his thumbs on the screen. Then he yawned, wide and loud, the backs of his fingers covering his mouth.
Sam caught Dean’s yawn and succumbed to a deep inhale, as much as he wanted to fight it. He struggled to keep his eyes open, not wanting to take his attention off the road the way Dean often did when he drove.
“So?” Sam asked, when he’d caught his breath. “What did Cas do? What was the photo?”
“He baked cupcakes,” Dean said, thumbs moving lightning-fast on the glowing touch screen. “With, like, cartoon elephant faces made out of icing.”
“Elephants?” Sam smirked, looking over at Dean, then back to the road. “Why elephants?”
“Because – and I quote— Hang on, let me do the voice.” Dean cleared his throat, then dropped his voice an octave and read in monotone: “Elephant families coexist in a matriarchy. The oldest female leads the herd. They also exhibit social interactive behaviour comparative to that of humans. But elephants do not understand why you drove all night any more than I do.”
Sam grinned, hearing Dean tapping out a reply. “What are you saying to him?”
“I’m telling him we drove all night ‘cause I couldn’t wait to see his pretty angel face again, what d’you think?” Dean said derisively.
Sam raised his eyebrows, eyes darting to Dean. “Really?”
Dean snorted, poking the phone’s power button to black the screen out. “No. I told him the truth.”
“Which was?” Sam listened for Dean’s answer, curious. “You never told me why it was so important we get back to the bunker tonight. You let me drive— No, scratch that – you made me drive. Why the rush?”
“I just wanted to get home, there a crime in that?” Dean spoke gruffly, his head down, fingers fiddling with his phone. “C’mon, man, I’m tired, I’m dirty, my phone battery’s dying, I’m hungry—”
“All right, all right, I get your point,” Sam said, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’re only a few minutes away now.”
Dean’s phone buzzed, and he moved instantly to check his messages. He chuckled, one hand rising to touch his hair. “Cas says elephant hair is incredibly strong and majestic.”
“My hair is strong and majestic,” Sam said.
“Your hair is abominable,” Dean corrected, shaking his head. He began reading aloud what he typed in reply. “Elephaaant hair... is... better... than... Sam’s... hair.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you have a real conversation, Dean? Talk about something that actually matters.”
“We have too many of those conversations,” Dean said carelessly. “Cas is fun to talk about pointless crap with. Unlike you.”
“I am a delight to converse with,” Sam disagreed.
“Sure you are.” Dean paused. “Dammit,” he sighed. “My battery’s flashing. Sorry... man... gotta... go... Battery’s... drained. See you in a... couple... minutes.”
His thumbs moved quickly, and he let out a quiet “hee” as he sent the message. Then he gasped. “Crap! Nononono—”
“What?” Sam looked at Dean and then back at the road, slowing down out of worry.
“Nothing— It’s nothing,” Dean said, cupping a hand over his mouth and breathing through his parted fingers. “Shit.”
“Dean, what?”
Dean swallowed, eyes darting towards Sam. “It’s stupid. Don’t slow down. I just sent the wrong emoticon. And then my battery died so I can’t tell him I hit the wrong one.”
Sam snorted out loud. “Seriously?”
Dean huffed in a stressed way, palming at his forehead as he glared at his phone. “God. Why’d they have to cram all those tiny symbols so close to each other, anyway?”
“So what’s the big deal, what did you send him?”
Dean clenched his jaw. “A stupid – kiss emoticon.”
“A kiss? You sent Cas a kiss?!”
“By accident!” Dean said, very loudly and very clearly, making sure Sam understood. “I was aiming for that little shifty-eyed grumpy-face one! The kiss one’s diagonal to it, I hit it by mistake.”
“Nawww,” Sam sang. “You sent Cas a kissy-face.”
“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said, sulking back in his seat and folding his arms. “Everyone’s done it. I bet you’ve done it.”
“I don’t use emoticons,” Sam said smugly.
“Well, neither do I!” Dean said defensively. “I only use ‘em with Cas because Cas uses them all the freaking time and I’d – y’know. I’d look boring in comparison if I didn’t use them.”
“Oh, oh, I see,” Sam said, in a tone of mock understanding. “You care whether he thinks you’re boring when you text.”
“I don’t— That isn’t—” Dean seethed. “Freakin’— God, just shut your trap, would you?”
Sam grinned. While Dean went on simmering quietly, Sam beamed all the way back to the bunker.
··· ♥ ···
Dean barged into the bunker’s kitchen steps ahead of Sam, dropping his duffel bag on the concrete floor. “Hey, Cas,” he announced, going up to Castiel and clapping him on the back. “Damn, those look good.”
“They’re not finished yet, I still need to add details,” Castiel said. “How was your drive?”
“Long,” Dean shrugged. “Uneventful.” His hand was still on Castiel’s back.
“Let’s have a look at these cupcakes then,” Sam said, pushing up to Castiel’s other shoulder, peering at the rows and rows of fresh cakes on the kitchen counter, all of which had a diameter of three inches and a shiny pool of icing spreading out on top. There was a second batch of more complete cakes behind the new ones. They weren’t all an elephantine grey; some were a muted purple, or blue, or green. A few were even pink, and one or two were yellow. Sam smiled, admiring the colourful animal faces with their cartoon eyes, big ears and curved trunks. “Wow,” he said quietly. “You made enough to feed a small army.”
“The two of you are a small army,” Castiel said, loosening the apron from his lower back, smiling at Sam, then turning back to Dean. “Dean, you’re covered in dirt, and this is a kitchen. Why are you in here?”
“I’m on my way to wash up,” Dean complained, disliking the accusatory way Castiel spoke to him. “I just—” Dean closed his mouth in an angry pout, eyes darting nervously to Sam, then to the floor. “Whatever. I’m going.” He turned around and marched out of the kitchen, stomping up the steps with his shoulders hunched.
Sam sighed, watching him go. “Did you get the last message he sent before his phone died? The emoticon?”
“Yes,” Castiel smiled.
“And?” Sam looked at Castiel, expecting to hear something personal about Dean in reply.
“And, Sam, you’re also covered in dirt,” Castiel frowned. “Next time you leave and go around putting ghosts to rest, I’m coming with you. I’ve stayed here and conserved my powers enough. At the very least, we could share the grave-digging between three of us instead of two. Maybe if I were with you, you wouldn’t come in here covered in cuts and bruises, either.”
Sam nodded, pressing an apologetic smile between his lips. “It would be easier with you.” He watched Castiel grab Dean’s bacon-patterned oven mitt from the counter, fanning steam away when he opened the oven.
“Anyway,” Sam said thoughtfully, “I think Dean missed you while we were gone. He was in a huge rush to get here tonight.”
“Understandable,” Castiel said bluntly, turning away and crouching to take another tray of un-iced cupcakes out of Dean’s oven. “My baked goods are hard to resist.”
Sam smirked, patting Castiel on the back as he moved past. “Honestly, Cas?” He grabbed Dean’s duffel bag off the floor, then turned around to meet Castiel’s gaze across the kitchen. “I think he finds a whole lot more of you irresistible than just your baking. Food for thought.”
Castiel smiled, like he already knew.
··· ♥ ···
Dean scrubbed his towel through his damp hair, shuffling his socked feet across the marble floor as he finally made it back to his bedroom. He went straight to his nightstand, poking his charging phone back to life. He stood there, drying his hair as he waited for the software to load up.
As soon as he could access his messages, Dean scrolled down to find his last-sent text. He paused on the screen as soon as he saw it. There it was, the thing he’d been dreading. A small yellow circle of a face, one eyebrow up, lips pursed out to the side, blowing a tiny red heart.
“Goddammit,” Dean uttered, shaking his head. He was about to tap out another message, intending to explain to Cas that the emoticon was a typo, and no, he didn’t mean to blow Cas a digital kiss – but then Dean scrolled down one message more, and his eyes widened.
Following the kiss he’d sent by mistake, the next line was filled with kiss emoticons. Dean chilled all over. He must’ve sent a lot more emoticons than he originally thought. How the hell did that happen?!
But, when he took another look... No. This was something else entirely.
These other emoticons were contained in one big grey speech bubble, not a green one, which meant Cas was the one who sent them.
“What?” Dean said, frowning as he scrolled up and down, but the message log ended with those emoticons. He flushed with panic, feeling a cold sweat bead in the palms of his hands. “Cas... What?”
He looked at the message Cas had sent, still wide-eyed and frowning, half-expecting the images to change into something else as he stared. With a pang of both anxiety and relief, Dean noted that they weren’t all kissy-faces. First was a smiling, blushy-face, then a face with hearts for eyes...
Okay, this wasn’t better than kissy-faces. This was worse.
Next came a blushing kissy-face, no floating heart – then the same one Dean had used, with the floating heart—
Then came an actual heart. It was big and red and there was no mistaking what that meant. Then, there was another heart, this one pink, surrounded by sparkles.
And then – finally, thank God, it was the last one – there was a heart with an arrow shot through the middle of it.
Dean sat down heavily on the edge of his tidy bed, staring at the line of emoticons. He put a hand over his mouth, feeling his lips tremble. Then his hand trembled, and his phone slipped from his fingers and bounced onto his bare knee, toppling to the floor. Dean let it fall. He covered his face with both hands and breathed.
He felt all shaky and tingly and his heart was thumping in his ears, practically galloping, like he had a tiny racetrack inside him populated by one very fast, slightly overweight pony.
There was no way Cas could’ve misunderstood the meaning of any of these emoticons. He’d sent Dean a very clear message.
Funny, Dean thought, how two people who often struggled to express their feelings had gone and found a simpler way.
Only— Wait. No. Dean had sent a kiss by mistake. He’d forgotten for a second. For one short moment of his life, he’d really thought he’d sent the kiss on purpose, because he loved Cas and... and what? Wanted to kiss him?
Dean groaned and flopped back on his bed, separating his hands so he could stare at the ceiling.
This was a terrible, terrible way to realise he was in love with his best friend. Thankfully, this wasn’t a true realisation. It was just the kick Dean needed to acknowledge reality. He’d known for a while. Years. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.
Dean made a real kissy-face, lips pursed. He shut his eyes, pretending his lips touched Castiel’s cheek. He relaxed his face again, eyes opening slowly.
Life’s too short, Dean thought sadly. If he wasn’t going to confront his feelings now, tonight, while he was dead tired, kinda dopey, and more than a little hungry, when was he going to do it? Perhaps he would someday, at the exact moment before his life left him. Last-second love confessions. That was Dean’s style. But Dean’s life might go on from now until forever. In his line of work, anything could happen. Mortality meant both everything and nothing.
But, Dean decided, unless Death felt a sudden fancy to claim him right here, right now, there was no better time to accept a little love into his life. Dean was going to get up from his bed, pull his robe on properly, march back down to the kitchen, take one of those delicious-looking elephant cupcakes, eat it, then kiss Castiel like he meant it.
··· ♥ ···
Dean crammed a cupcake in his mouth.
Sam looked up from the kitchen table, slowly stirring his cereal. He watched Dean struggling to chew his cupcake, pink icing around his upper lip, a deep scowl between his eyebrows. Dean glared at nothing, the way he did when there was a thunderstorm of thoughts inside his head. While it seemed clear he was having a hard time, given how tasty the cupcakes were, Sam couldn’t imagine Dean’s pain was caused by the small sugar elephant stuck to his palate.
Dean swallowed and licked his lips furiously, then turned his eyes on Castiel, who stood by the toaster, waiting tiredly for his toast to pop up. Like Sam, Castiel was of the opinion that breakfast food was perfect for a night-time snack before bed.
“Cas,” Dean said, a somewhat breathless note on the name.
“Yes, Dean?” Castiel asked, turning around with his eyebrows raised.
“I—” Dean shut his mouth and exhaled through his nose, then tried again. “I got your text.”
“Oh,” Castiel said pleasantly, turning back to the toaster with an air of muted interest. “Did you like it?”
Dean gaped for a moment, fidgeting with the rope tie of his dead-guy robe. “Um.”
Castiel looked over his shoulder, curious.
Sam put his spoon down into his bowl in absolute silence. Fifty small, cute, colourful baked elephants may have greatly outnumbered the larger elephant, but indeed, there was a spectacularly enormous elephant in the room. It was a tense and brooding beast, years old, and it was formed of longing looks, half-expressed motions of fondness, and the current silence that lingered in the kitchen in the space between Dean and Castiel.
“What,” Dean started, eyes darting to Sam, then back to Castiel. “What did it... mean? Your message.”
Sam wondered if he should leave. Why hadn’t Dean pulled Cas aside to speak to him privately? Was Sam here as a mediator? A chaperone? Was he here so Dean could pretend his and Castiel’s relationship was still a fully platonic phenomenon firmly rooted in brotherly friendship?
“What do you suppose it meant, Dean?” Castiel asked, wiping his sugar-dusted hands on a dishcloth, turning to face Dean properly. “I showed Sam; he seemed to understand. What part escapes your grasp?”
Dean breathed. “It— It just seemed, like, I mean... sort of...”
Castiel sighed in his long-suffering way. “It was an expression of affection. You sent me a kiss so I responded the way I felt when I saw your message. In order.”
Dean frowned. He pulled his phone out of his robe pocket and looked at the screen, his lips parting.
It went like this: blushy-face, heart-eyed smiley-face, blushing kissy-face, kissy-face with a floating heart, followed by a big red heart, a sparkly pink heart, then the heart with an arrow through it. Sam despised the fact he’d memorised the order after one look at Castiel’s phone, but after years of studying patterns and pictographic languages, that was how his brain worked.
Dean swallowed, then looked up. His hand shook visibly, and he slipped his phone back into his pocket before he could drop it on his slippers or the tiles beneath.
“H-Hate to break it to ya, Cas, but I, uh, sent that kiss by accident. You went into an emoticon meltdown over a... a meaningless typo.” Dean gulped hard, his eyes shining as he gazed across the kitchen at Castiel.
Castiel’s smile seemed soft and understanding. He slipped off his apron and hung it over the bar on the oven door, then he went up to Dean, moving slowly on bare feet, padding forward until he was toe-to-toe with Dean. Castiel’s smile hadn’t changed: he had that gentle, kind way about him. Nobody would ever feel lonely if someone looked at them the way Castiel looked at Dean now. And there was no way they’d ever feel unloved, if someone touched their cheek the way Castiel touched Dean’s.
“If you say it was an accident, I’ll accept that,” Castiel said softly.
And he let go of Dean’s cheek, and turned back for the oven. His expression was neither sad nor happy, but perhaps disappointed.
“That’s it?” Dean said.
Castiel squinted at the toast as it popped up then dove straight back into the toaster. “Were you expecting something else?”
“...No,” Dean muttered. He did look disappointed, however.
Dean licked his lips, lingering for a few more seconds. Then he turned around and left.
When Sam was sure Dean was gone, he got up from the table and went to Castiel’s side, staring at his face while he buttered his toast. “Was that really it?”
Castiel turned his blue eyes on Sam. “What were you expecting?”
Sam huffed. “A kiss. A real one.”
Castiel smiled, shaking his head as he reached for the strawberry jelly. “I think Dean’s elephants have a bit of stampeding to do before he’s ready for that.”
··· ♥ ···
Dean stomped up to one wall of his bedroom. He huffed. Then he swung around and stomped back the other way. He kicked the wall. Then he stomped back again.
He went back and forth more times than he cared to count, then he roared in exhaustion and frustration and whatever other -tions there were to be mad at, and he flopped face-first onto his bed. He yelled into his memory foam mattress, then he sobbed.
He’d had such a long day. Being this tired was practically the same as being drunk, which made the present moment a bad, bad time to pull out his phone and read over his last conversation with Castiel.
They talked about so much shit. Pointless, irrelevant, childish shit. But Cas made Dean laugh and their conversations made him forget the harrowing lives they led, just for a while. Dean couldn’t ask for a better way to blow off steam than to text Cas about nothing for a couple of hours.
Dean looked over that grey speech bubble filled with yellow and pink emoticons, and he smiled, feeling warm in the vague region of his heart. He imagined Cas acting out those symbols – first seeing Dean’s kiss and blushing, maybe with a hand on his cheek like ladies did in old movies. Then he’d get that soft, gooey feeling deep in his belly, and like Dean did sometimes when he saw Cas, he’d feel like he had lovehearts in his eyes. It happened all the time in Looney Tunes, and Cas loved Looney Tunes as much as Dean did. There was no confusing that feeling for another; it was a tight-chested, melty kind of love.
Then Cas would want to kiss Dean back, but couldn’t through a phone, so he’d sent the two kissy-faces, then the heart... So much heart. He would’ve felt sparkly inside, like Dean did when Cas touched him or looked at him, and so the pink sparkly heart was the obvious choice.
The best part, Dean supposed, was the last emoticon. The heart with the arrow through it. It was romantic love; nobody ever used that symbol for anything else, not unless prehistoric murder came up in conversation. But this was Cas. He was the gentlest little honeybug to ever stalk the mortal planes and bring down showers of lightning to show off his broken wings. He was power and grace and absolute fury, and always would be – but those old memories of terror had become replaced with soft feelings, settled right next to awe in Dean’s helplessly adoring heart.
Dean sighed, scratching at his forehead with a thumb, then rubbing at a stinging eye. He was totally awake enough to send a message. He’d fought battles this fatigued and come out fine. Compared to that, texting his angel buddy ought to be no problem.
Dean sniffed, then tapped out a message. He re-read it twice to make sure it contained only what he meant to say. Satisfied, he hit send.
··· ♥ ···
Castiel had just gotten into his striped blue pyjamas and had buttoned them all the way to the collar when his phone buzzed. He ran a hand through his scruffy hair and reached into the pocket of his discarded jeans. He felt himself smile when he saw Dean’s message appear.
I did send it by mistake. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it.
Castiel sat on his bed and curled up his toes, feeling a happy smile plaster itself securely to his face. His belly fluttered with delight and his head buzzed with the hums of happy bees, but he couldn’t think of anything decent to say in reply.
As he stared at the screen, another message popped up.
It was a kissy-face emoticon.
Castiel’s eyebrows raised, and his lips parted. Was this another mistake? Almost immediately after the thought crossed his mind, Dean sent another message:
Thats a goodnight kiss
Castiel’s breath went shallow, and he set his fingers over his lips. He pressed his lips, partly out of shock, but partly because he wanted to put Dean’s kiss against his mouth and feel it there always.
Come give me a real one if u want Cas
Castiel’s mouth opened. “Dean,” he breathed, thoroughly shaken.
you comin?
Castiel chuckled. Oh, yes. He didn’t need to be asked twice.
··· ♥ ···
A knock sounded on Dean’s bedroom door. Dean saw bare feet through the vent at the base of the door and knew right away it wasn’t Sam. He opened the door with an unsteady hand, but gave his bravest smile when he looked upon the most hopeful fallen angel who ever did live.
··· ♥ ···
“I believe I was invited in,” Castiel said quietly, his blue eyes wide, feeling small and innocent now that he was faced with this exciting new chapter of his life. Dean offered a shaky smile, but rather than trust himself to speak, he reached forward and took Castiel by the lapel and tugged him into the bedroom.
Castiel and Dean stood by the closed door, too near for friends, too far apart for lovers. They breathed and their warmth mingled, but they didn’t touch.
“Um,” Castiel said. “I came to wish you a good night.”
“Yeah, I uh... Goodnight, I guess,” Dean said. He peered at Castiel’s lips.
Did Dean want to know what Castiel’s lips felt like as much as Castiel yearned for the touch of Dean’s?
“Goodnight,” Castiel echoed.
Dean licked his lips with the very tip of his tongue, and a thin sheen of saliva was left behind. He exhaled. Then he leaned closer, moving in unsure inches.
Castiel leaned closer too, taking one step into Dean’s space.
Dean moved swiftly, kissing Castiel in a rush, one smack on the lips. He pulled away and stepped back, pink on the cheeks. “Uh. Well, g’night! See you tomorrow.”
“Wait, wait,” Castiel said, refusing to be manhandled out of the door when Dean opened it. “Was that it?”
Dean stopped shoving Castiel’s shoulders, and he stood quietly, biting his lower lip. “What were you expecting, exactly?”
Castiel sighed, looking down at Dean’s hands. Castiel lifted his left hand and he curled it around Dean’s. “I don’t know,” Castiel said quietly.
Dean sagged a bit. “Not a satisfied customer, huh?”
“Not in the slightest.” Castiel met Dean’s eyes, giving him a stern stare.
“Uh,” Dean said. “Okay. Well, how about this?” He hesitated. But then he leaned in, and with closed eyes, he put a soft, tempered kiss on Castiel’s mouth.
This kiss wasn’t pushy or rushed; it went on for several seconds... then longer. As it went on, it filled Castiel up with excitement – which was odd, since the pressure was also bizarrely relaxing. Dean’s breath was warm on Castiel’s upper lip, and his skin smelled floral, like that scented moisturiser Castiel kept seeing in their shared bathroom. Dean tilted his head slightly, and his lips parted...
Oh. Castiel raised his eyebrows, feeling Dean’s tongue slip against his lips. Warm... wet. Shockingly intimate. Castiel’s fingers curled into Dean’s t-shirt, wanting him to lick again. Dean did, and Castiel felt a shiver. A little noise escaped Dean’s throat, a sigh of relief or a quiet cry of pleasure, Castiel couldn’t be sure. But the sound invoked a flare of heat coursing through Castiel’s body, and he smiled with his mouth open, nosing forward against Dean.
Dean slid one hand up to hold the back of Castiel’s head. Castiel wasn’t expecting the touch, and he gasped, air rushing into his throat past Dean’s lips. Now made dizzy by his breathlessness, Castiel had to lower his chin, breaking away from Dean only enough to breathe. Their exhales stuttered in a shared arousal, hot on their lips.
When Dean slid his hand down and pulled his face away, Castiel smiled.
“That was... thrilling,” Castiel said, hearing his own surprise.
“Yeah.” Dean slowly rolled his lower lip under his tongue, his attention switching back and forth between Castiel’s eyes.
“Now I should kiss you,” Castiel said.
Dean let him. He smiled and shut his eyes, hands touching Castiel’s waist as Castiel kissed his cheek, pushing his nose and chin into Dean’s warm, clean, freshly-shaven but noticeably bristly skin.
When Castiel sank back, Dean was bright-eyed and bashful, not at all like the heavy-shouldered fellow who’d come bursting into the kitchen in demand of elephant cakes. Although, there was no denying that this Dean and that Dean were the same Dean. Sometimes he just got lost inside the armour he wore. He walked around with an elephant’s thick skin, trumpeting about things that only he thought made him weak.
Castiel ran his hand through Dean’s hair, mindful of Dean’s shame and how much he didn’t like to be known to have feelings.
“I know what you’re thinking, Dean,” Castiel said to him, stroking his smooth, blushing cheek. “You’re not weak for wanting this.”
Dean blinked a few times in surprise, not having expected those words of comfort. When Castiel cupped his ear between his spread fingers, Dean bowed his head and let Castiel kiss his forehead, one press, long and slow and breathy.
“I’ll let you get to sleep,” Castiel smiled, letting Dean go.
“‘Kay,” Dean said, tucking his hands under his arms. He was exhausted; it showed under his eyes and it showed in his lopsided smile, but he was still as beautiful as ever. Castiel patted Dean’s arm reassuringly, then backed willingly from the room.
Dean gave a farewell wave, and he stood watching until Castiel turned to head to his own room.
The door closed between them. Castiel let out a breath. Did that really happen?
Castiel went straight to his bedroom and curled up under the mounds of blankets in his bed, pulling his phone into the darkness. He accessed the messages between him and Dean, and he beamed at the too-bright screen, loving every silly expression they’d shared.
Wanting one last kiss (for kisses were still new and special), Castiel sent one more emoticon to Dean.
··· ♥ ···
Dean stretched out in his bed on his back, holding the phone over his face. He saw Castiel’s kissy-face emoticon appear, and he grinned like he intended to grin forever. His toes curled up and his butt clenched, and he felt those magical sparkles all over him, from his head to his heart to his toes.
He brought his phone down to his lips and gave it a kiss. Then, because he’d typed the elephant emoticon with his nose, and it was kinda perfect, he left it there. With a grin, he added one more symbol.
A red heart with an arrow through it.
Gross, soppy, romantic love.
Well, it was about time they talked about something important. Sometimes, though, the most important things in life were easier to talk about without using any words at all.
{ ♥ }
