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"I had to draw all them perfectly," Cas insists, and Dean suddenly can't get rid of the image of Cas, clutching on to a Crayola washable marker, jamming it into his skin forcefully like a little kid mashes his markers on the paper in a vehement attempt to make the color deeper.
"And now you're insulted 'cause I don't appreciate 'em?" Dean asks, bewildered.
"No," Cas lies petulantly.
"Huh." The stubborn child version of Cas Dean has painted in his mind is now clutching his paper possessively, shielding it from scrutiny.
They drive in silence for a while.
"Thank you for making my freckles," Dean grouses finally, knowing that it's the only way Cas will forgive him.
((((OR, IN WHICH CAS LIKES DEAN AND HIS FRECKLES, AND DEAN IS STUBBORNLY HETEROSEXUAL))))