Dean shuffles awkwardly on his feet as his lips stretch into a smile that’s quickly making his flushed cheeks numb. He looks up at the guy in front of him- messy dark hair sticking up in all sorts of directions, grinning at the cameraman to their right and the woman standing next to him.
"Are you filming this?", he asks, with a voice much deeper than Dean expected, and the woman giggles and says that yes, they are, and that they’re free to take their time and get comfortable.
It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether.
Well, this is the best party I’ve been to in years.
Who should sit on the Iron Throne? [x]