A/N: This is a request from an anon on tumblr, so yeah :)

The room smelled like leather, whiskey and Chinese food. It looked simple enough; beige wallpaper, two couches, a lamp and a coffee table filled with papers and magazines. Not something glamorous that one might expect from a TV show star, but here it was: the living room of no one other than Dean Winchester, the famous actor of beloved show "Angels and Hunters".

"Run that line by me again," he said to his co-star, Castiel Novak. The dark haired man nodded from the couch and recited it.

Dean never thought he would be as close as he was with Cas, as he called him. They met right after they were casted and he wasn't sure at first about him. Maybe it was because he was really quiet and barely spoke for the first weeks of the read-through. But they warmed up to each other and soon became really close.

They started hanging out a lot with one another. In going to the gym, behind the camera when they weren't in the scenes, and late nights like this, when Dean couldn't sleep and so instead calls up Cas to see if he's awake, then rehearse their lines together while having some take-out and alcohol.

Dean ran his hands through his sandy-blonde hair, pacing across the room. "I dunno, man. I just can't get that damn line in my head."

"Just relax," Castiel said, adjusting his glasses. "We just have to say it over and over again." It only did so much to ease him.

"I don't even get why my memory's this bad. I'm only 27. But well you're two years older than me and you have great memory."

"Maybe it's your alcohol intake."

"Hey, hey, hey. I need it to calm myself down, okay? Don't judge me."

"I'm not judging you. I'm merely stating ideas."

Dean smirked and collapsed beside him. "Sorry I bothered you again."

"You don't bother me. You know I'll always come when you call."

Heat crept at Dean's nape. Cas always spoke like that; he was very straightforward and his speech patterns were nothing less than unordinary. But sometimes he really wondered if he was actually flirting with him.

"Hey, um..."

"Yes?"

"What's going on with your life? I mean, we've been here a lot of nights with me whining and shit. About my sleeping problems, about missing Sam now that he's in Stanford. How are you?"

"Dean...it's really not of import."

He sat upright and looked at the dark brunette. "Come on. Talk to me."

Cas sighed and put down his script. "My father's gone missing. He disappeared two weeks ago."

"WHAT? Cas, you son of a bitch, why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to bring this all out on you. And I know how sensitive the topic of deadbeat dads is with you."

Dean swallowed hard. "Well yeah, but then I could relate, right? Who better to talk to about this than a person who would get it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Tell me what happened."

"After my father disappeared, my brothers threw a bitchfit. Michael and Raphael started arguing because they both wanted to take over our family business and Gabriel just left; no words or warnings as well."

"Damn it, Cas. This is really bad and you've been bottling this up inside you. That's not okay."

"And I'm not going to lie; my alcohol intake has increased as well." Dean laughed.

"And you still manage to joke around. You don't get enough credit on how funny you really are."

"Thank you."

They smiled at each other for a little while, until Dean noticed how close their bodies really were, drunk as they were. His green eyes were fixed on Cas' blue ones and he had the strangest urge.

Well, he wanted to say this urge was spontaneous and weird but in fact he had been having that nagging built from unspoken words for quite some time now. How many nights have they been like this? They were always so close...to doing something; something Dean always chose to put at the back of his mind. But now he couldn't stop himself from thinking about it. The thought was screaming in his head. Castiel drove him wild and he couldn't help it. He slowly removed Cas' glasses.

"What are you doing?"

"Just calm down. Just let me..."

The dark brunette tilted his head, which he always secretly found adorable, and Dean finally succumbed to his want and kissed him softly. Castiel didn't hesitate. He melted into him, moving his hands down Dean's back, settling on his hips.

And Dean's fingers tangled his hair. He leaned back and Castiel went on top of him, continuing their sequence of kisses that range from sweet and languid to hurried and desperate. They pulled apart after a while with pink, swollen lips.

"This isn't a good idea," Cas whispered.

"I know."

"Why are we doing this, then?"

"I'm not completely sure, but I've wanted to, for a really long time now."

Cas nuzzled against his chest. "Me too."

"Huh. So I was right all along," Dean mused and Castiel squinted.

"What do you mean?"

"All those times. Dude, you were downright hitting on me. I was right."

"Maybe it slips out sometimes." He perched up his head and kissed him again. Dean continued playing with his hair. Castiel began unbuttoning the blonde's shirt.

"Hey, um, Cas..." The brunette stopped and looked at him expectantly. "I just...don't think we should do this on my couch."

Castiel smirked. "Should we continue this in the bedroom?" he asked roughly. Dean's cock started to twitch again. He nodded stupidly.

Going upstairs to the room that night proved to be difficult. That being, Castiel wouldn't stop groping him and kissing his next the whole way, and they both almost tripped on the stairs because of this.

They went in the room and spent an awkward minute or two trying to remove their clothes. Castiel lay on the bed. Dean looked at him, taking in every detail. He was gorgeous. He rummaged through his drawer in front off the bed and found the lube.

"Cas...how do you want to..."

The brunette stood up and hugged him from behind. "Do whatever you want with me," he whispered.

Dean smiled. Couldn't say no to that.

They fucked slowly; taking in as much of each other as they could. It was, undeniably, the best sex Dean's ever had. And it was pretty much the same feeling for Castiel.

Dean woke up later then Cas the next morning. He stretched out his arms and looked over to the door to see Castiel, smiling, with a mug in his hand. He's never seen Cas smile like that before. Just really contented.

"Hey," Dean said.

"Hi." Castiel handed him the mug.

He took a sip of the coffee. "I'm not getting up, man. Way too comfy here. Can we call in sick?"

"The both of us?"

"Well I'm not leaving, and I'm sure as hell gonna convince you that you don't wanna either."

"And how is that?"

Dean put down Cas' mug of coffee and pulled him into bed.

"I think you already know the answer to that. He started kissing his neck.

"Do you really think this is going to work on me?" Castiel muttered.

"Well yes," he replied, fully confident.

Cas smiled. "You're an idiot," he whispered. "But you're right. I'll call them up and say we're not coming in today. That we have some bad fever or something. Happy?"

Dean flashed a grin. "Very."

The problems could wait until tomorrow. For now, things were perfect.