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“That can’t be right.” Sam murmurs, standing up from his chair and walking to Dean’s side of the table.
Dean rolls his eyes, passing his character sheet to his brother. “It was a natural 20! On stealth!”
“Oh, okay, yeah,” Sam gives the sheet back, knocking on the wood of the table for no reason at all. “I forgot you got the cape.”
“He made a joke about being Batman for weeks.” Charlie reminds Sam, laughing at the face he makes over the memory. “He’s gonna start up again.”
“God, he’s gonna do the voice. I need to burn that cape.”
It dissolves, for a couple of seconds, into poor imitations of Dean’s deep tone and complaints, with Sam taking back his chair as a subtle background noise they are all used to hearing. The scrap of the chair being pulled towards the table has started to feel like a signal for out of character chatter to be stopped.
“Kilgore, you move swiftly ahead, secured in the knowledge that no one seems to have noticed you moving.The rest of the party doesn’t-”
“I tug on Kora’s sleeve, letting him know I’m about to leave.” Dean interrupts, glazing at Cas. “Not gonna risk another party split because of me.”
“Oh, come on, Dean!” Charlie says, leaning on the table. “Castiel wasn’t about to leave the party just to… No, wait, you’re right, we would’ve been down a rogue and a cleric.”
“Aren’t you gonna defend your honor, man?” Ash asks, mostly for show, as he chorus with the rest of them when they say, “what honor?”
“I grab his wrist before he leaves.” Castiel tells the table, before turning towards Dean. “I’m watching. Good luck.” He says it so seriously that Dean almost misses the “I cast guidance on him before he goes.”
Castiel leans and explains in undertones what that entails to Dean, as Sam proceeds with the story, following Dean’s character. “The tunnel is dark, but your darkvision makes gray what was pitch black, letting you navigate the space easier. It echoes, or it should, if you hadn’t fucking rolled that.” Charlie laughs, and Dean clicks his tongue, making her laugh harder. “As it is, the loudest sound is the quiet conversation between the guards up front.”
“How many of them?” Dean makes himself ask, one too many mistakes haunting his choices to not make sure.
“Just two.”
“Hm. Can I scan to see if anyone is hiding or some shit? Couldn’t live with myself if Jeff the guard came back from the cave bathroom and ruined everything.”
“Sure, man, give me a perception check.”
Dean rolls his die, does his math and it’s about to call his number when Cas puts a d4 in front of him.
“It only lasts a minute,” Cas reminds him. “You might as well use it.”
“Sure,” Dean takes the die, rolls it in his hand. The urge to ask Castiel to blow on the die for good luck is so high that Dean overcompensates by joking, “Come on, pal, give it a little pizzazz. What does it feel? Does it give me the tingles?”
A mistake on Dean’s part, really, because now Castiel has his thinking face on. He shoos Dean a bit from staring, silently asking him to roll first. Dean does, whopping at the plus 4 he gets.
“16.” Dean announces, watching Sam nod before looking back at Cas and raising one of his eyebrows, challenging.
Castiel breathes. “It feels like…” Castiel raises his hand, molasses-like, reaching towards Dean. Dean’s breath catches, as does the rest of his body, unmoving as Cas’ fingers gently move his head towards the left. “that.” He whispers. “A warm touch and softly guiding fingers to point you to the places you might’ve missed.”
They look at each other. Dean nods, he thinks. Turns back to his brother and their grand adventure, but his focus is shot. All there is Castiel’s hand, cupping his jaw, whispering about missed places, as if Dean’s life hasn’t been looking looking looking. Later, he will ghost his own fingers over the forever-gone touch, blushing stupidly at both the action and at the silly thought of whenever Castiel enjoyed the feeling of scruff under his fingertips or not.