Meg's expression softened slightly when he said he wanted to spend time with her. It was such an honest response, and so simple. He wanted to spend time with her. That was it. He was indifferent to what they did as long as they did it together. The sweetness of it touched her, as only he had ever been able to do. Her poor broken angel, who'd once tried to recite poetry to her, who'd asked if he should be singing to her because he was too happy to put his emotion into words.
"You're kind of the first, and only person, to actually want to spend time with me," she replied honestly. She didn't say it with sadness or self deprecation. It was a simple fact. She was a demon, and she was kind of a bitch. That didn't exactly lend itself to the making of friends. She'd lived in Hell for fuck's sake. No one wanted to spend time with anyone in hell, demon or not.
Her fingers clenched unconsciously against the blanket that covered his hip when she saw his hand move towards her. As his hand brushed her arm, she nearly shuddered. Such a simple touch, and yet it left her skin tingling beneath his fingers. She moved towards him, barely an inch closer, but it was far too noticeable in the small space they shared.
"Castiel," she said, making a point to say his name. She used it so seldom, she knew it held more meaning on her lips than it did for others. "You can touch me if you want to."