This is from some time ago, but hey, who never had a crush like this once in his life?
There he is, covered in dirt, looking right at me. He is desperate and stubbornly trying to hide it. He is on the verge of tears, but his face is a hard mask fighting not to fall apart. I can see his clenched jaw and could trace every tense muscle. All his energy put into this effort to keep it together even though he experienced all kinds of horrors. He lost too many: guilt is chewing his insides up.
I feel compelled to comfort him. My body stretches to reach out for him; my arms open to welcome him in a tight hug. I can already hear my voice drop to a soothing whisper: ‘It’s gonna be ok’. And I’m sure he would shrug me off with a badass line and a sarcastic comment.
But the shiny, cold surface of the TV screen separates me from Dean Winchester. What should I do but laugh at such a childish crush?