I shall leave this after the first of Octr. for Virginia, Fredricksburg. Believe me I have not relinquish’d the prospect of being your neighbour. The house for which I have requested a plan may possibly be erected near Monticello. To fix there and to have yourself in particular with what friends we may collect around for society is my chief object, or rather the only one which promises to me with the connection I have form’d real and substantial pleasure, if indeed by the name of pleasure it may be call’d. I inclose you some letters for yourself and Miss Patsy to whom be so kind as make my best respects.
To Thomas Jefferson from James Monroe, 19 August 1786
Clearly this label meant to read TRAXX, but as @tinkdw swears, and I am kneeling beside her, the fact that these two Xs are there is so damn heartwarming I don’t even know what to do with myself. Not least because of what Dean says to Mary in 12x01:
“March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theatre - “Slaughterhouse-Five” - you loved it. And you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So you went to Mulroney’s and you talked, and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him. That was the night that you met John Winchester. August 19, 1975, you were married in Reno. Your idea.”
It’s also Dean surreptitiously as ever, flirting with this angel, hoping against hope that Cas will catch on, that he’ll make the first move. An actual move. Dean is a man of action, so words are all well and good, but can be so easily misunderstood. Oh, Cas, Dean put kisses in your truck stereo.
Also, Cas, Dean made you a mixtape. HE MADE YOU A MIXTAPE. WITH XXs ON IT. Do you have any idea how long that must have taken him? And how he must have written that label and put the TRA down, and then paused, because he was about to just write TRACKS, but then something clicked and he thought, maybe… TRAX, but then, no, better just write TRACKS. Yes. Clean. Neat. And then he couldn’t fucking stop himself from putting down those two XX anyway, quickly, barely taking the time to reflect on it because that would mean they actually meant something. And now, Cas, you’re going to give him that mixtape back? Not cool, dude. So not cool.