53. Talk

Ripley’s pov

“Are you sure I can’t help?” I asked once we lay in bed. It wasn’t great; every time we moved, the matrass made a sound, but it was better than sleeping on the floor.

In three days, we would be moving, and this wouldn’t be a problem any longer. I had ordered an extra-big bed for me, so Cas would easily fit. Although most of the time we slept together, we barely used the rest of the bed, snuggling together as closely as possible.

“O, you helped,” Cas smirked, rubbing circles on my back with his index finger.

“Sex doesn’t solve everything.” I argued, looking up into his pretty eyes.

Cas put his hand on the back of his neck and scratched. “I’ll handle it.”

“Can I ask you something?” I said, still looking up. I had been thinking about this for a while, but things had been so hectic that I never found the right time to ask.

He nodded and smirked at me.

“Do you like your job?”

Cas chuckled, “no. Nobody likes their jobs.”

“A lot of people do, actually.” I countered. “M