He walked down the stage's side steps, wiping his brow with the sweat towel thrown at him from his right side - probably Jimmy the stagehand, Jimmy was a good kid. Dean smiled to himself, a small, half-smile very common to him these days, no one really saw much else, as he cirled around back to grab his acoustic guitar. It was then that there was a hand on his shoulder, like a tap on the back. Dean tensed for a moment, before relaxing. "Hey Jones." He said, his voice dazed, and his eyes unfocussed from the stage lights as he turned to see what he assumed was his bandmate - their drummer - standing in front of him. He was not wrong on the assumption.

"Hey Dean." Came the always happy voice of Gabriel Hamish Jones, HJ Jones to his fans, Jones or Jonesy to his friends. "How's the show from upfront?"

Dean could only chuckle at the question. As the drummer, Jones sat at the back of the stage, with all the bright lights in front of him, his bandmates dancing and singing around, he couldn't see anything. Not that he tried. So whenever they got offstage, he always asked Dean how the show was fairing, in his own special way. "Better than where you're at." He teased his friend.

"I don't doubt that." Was HJ's reply. "Any hot potatoes tonight?"

'Hot Potatoes' was Jones' say of asking Dean, and the rest of the band, if there were any hot girls in the front. Being on the road so often, and being the horny bastard Jones was, he needed to get laid almost every show to be happy. The band always told him he needed to get himself a girl, but he passed it off as 'exploring'. Dean of course understood, he'd done his fair share of 'exploring' in his years before the band. He'd given that all up years ago, when he'd lost everything, but they didn't talk about that. No one did, it was Dean's number one rule - along with don't touch my pie - the past is the past, always.

"Naw." He said. "All teens, man."

Jones' groan could be heard from across the backroom, when the man was picking out his favorite - luck if he may add himself - zebra print drum sticks. He always used them for the last song, because he threw the ones he'd been playing the show with into the audience for the fans to fight over, Dean called him crazy. "Sucks, maybe I can find someone at the bar at the hotel."

Dean laughed, "Good luck with that kid." He said, slinging on his guitar before walking back out onstage to a screaming cloud he would never, truly, get used too.

After they'd finished their song, and done the few hundred encores – he was exaggerating, of course, but it felt like that many – Dean slumped down into his hotel bed, surrounded by luxurious blankets and all the comforts of being on the road, and he sighed. Closing his eyes, for only a moment, before there was a half knock at the door and a small framed man barged into his room. "Dean." He said, his voice begging. "Please let me stay here, Jones' got some girl, and he brought her in without warning me, saying something about a kinky night..."

Dean raised a hand, "You had me at Jones' got some girl." He chuckled, shifting over on the bed. "Come on."

Dean could hear the smile on the man's face before he even moved into the light. A tall enough kid, about twenty-five, with longish dark black hair and the brightest blue eyes, this was Jimmy. "Thanks Dean." He said, beaming as he lay down next to Dean, who wrapped a secure arm around the kids' shoulders and held him close.

"Anytime Cas." He said, and the boy beside him gave him a hurt look, but they both knew it wasn't real. Jimmy was Jones' brother, Jimmy Angel Jones. The first time they met, Dean had told him he had the eyes of an angel, and Jimmy had found this funny given his middle name. That night Dean had researched angels, and had decided Jimmy had most reminded him of Cassiel, the giver, and so he'd started calling the kid Cas on occasion. 'On Occasion' soon turned to 'All the time', and Cas became the kid's name in Dean's presence. Not that Jimmy minded, he liked it. Sort of like a secret agent kind of thing.

They watched television for a while, Dean didn't keep track of the time, before there was a thump from the room next to them. Dean banged on the wall. "Keep it down Jones, seriously man!" He called, but didn't get a reply. After that the sounds stopped.

"When do you think he'll realize." Jimmy started, giggling softly as he looked up at Dean. "That we all know he doesn't actually sleep with those girls."

Dean shrugged. "I dunno." He said. "But the looks he gives me after he's so obviously been fucking it up with Sammy all night as just, priceless."

Sammy was Dean's little brother, ten years younger than Jones, but Dean didn't mind too much, at least not anymore. He used to mind, when they'd first started seeing each other. Of course, Dean didn't officially know. Jones wasn't ready to come out yet, and Sammy was too scared of what his brother would think to tell him quite yet. Dean was okay with that, he wanted time to have his own confession when Sam was ready, but he needed to have the gut first. That, he did not yet have.

It only took another half hour for Jimmy to fall asleep, Dean's arm still wrapped around him. Dean leaned down to kiss his forehead, smiling, before he shifted the boy into his arms. "Goodnight Cas." He whispered, before closing his eyes. He'd had the hugest crush on Cas since they'd met; and slowly, with their grown closeness – now quantified as best friends, spending every free moment together – Dean could swear he'd fallen in love. But he wasn't ready to tell Cas yet, he didn't know if the kid would love him back,, and he didn't want to be rejected by the best thing that had happened to him in years.

Sam knew of course, Sam always knew. He'd guessed about two weeks after Dean himself had realized it, swearing he'd know forever. Sammy wanted him to go for it, clearly having done that very thing with the other Jones brother, but that wasn't the way Dean wanted to go about this. For once in his life, he wanted to do this right.

With a small smile on his face, Dean nuzzled his nose into Jimmy's neck, and fell asleep.