“So, hypothetically speakin’, if you were interested in dudes… What would you be attracted to?” Dean regrets having opened his mouth the second it closes, but he’s already said it and he’s never done things by halves. Fuck it. Go hard or go home. Dean’s already committed. Might as well keep the mother of all poker faces and wait for a response, and Michael doesn’t disappoint. He’s looking at Dean like the other man is nine kinds of crazy and maybe a little retarded, but Dean’ll be damned if the guy isn’t actually considering his question. Michael levels those clear grey eyes on him—not quite the right color—and smirks. He’s a good-lookin’ bastard and he knows it, and now that Dean’s acting like some love struck closet case with a Cosmo article checklist, Michael is all ears.
I just really, really loved this. Especially the line, “This doesn’t feel so much like a game of gay chicken as it does Russian roulette.” Man I wish I’d written that. *swoon*