Hey guys! So, first story on this account. . . Let's hope it isn't a failure. What are you waiting for? Stop reading the A/N, and get to reading the fic! :D
Sam was off to who-knows-where doing who-knows-what; Bobby was likely getting himself blind drunk (he HAD been thinking about his dead wife recently); Cas was nowhere to be found.
So far, this had been the worst birthday of Dean's life, even worse than the time he and Sam had been ambushed by an angry group of vampires.
"Cas?" he tried,"I'm bored. And I want some pie…" After a few moments without any angels popping up, Dean sighed, wondering what he was doing with his life.
He moved to sit on the dingy little bed in the motel (it was truly more of a cot, or thin matters upon a rectangular block of termite-ravished wood), and put his head into his hands. "Son of a bitch…" If he was being completely honest with himself, it was preposterous that he and Sam had survived this long. With all o the running, fighting, and death that followed the brothers, was it even a life worth lining at all?
"You know, Dean, you can't just tell me to get you a pie. I am not Sam," said a voice, snapping the elder Winchester out of his melancholy. "I do have things to do-"
"Yeah, yeah, you're an angel of The Lord, I got it," he snapped.
Castiel frowned. "Dean."
Dean grunted, standing up to find a beer in the motel's minuscule refrigerator.
"You're angry. I can tell."
The only response the angel received was the hiss of a popped beer bottle.
Cas took several hesitant steps toward the brunette until he was only a few feet away. "Dean…"
"Dammit Cas, I'm just so tired of it all!" Dean turned his emerald eyes towards Castiel's cerulean orbs before continuing, an icy fire held in his gaze, "Once you're a part of his world, of demons and monster and angels, there is no going back! You just can't escape, Sam's TRIED-"
"I don't want you to leave," Cas murmured.
The beer in the hunter's hand slipped out of his grasp, shattering upon contact with the floor. Neither man moved. Dean blinked slowly, noticing how close he and he Angel were; he took a small step forward, decreasing their distance until heir noses were mere inches apart.
Dean wasn't sure why he did what he did next.
Gently, and ever-so-carefully, he pressed his lips against the trench-coated man's; his eyes were closed as he reached to wrap his arms around Castiel's neck, and all they could make out were electric sparks. Castiel's lips were soft and warm, filled with innocence and pureness, just begging for more.
Reluctantly, Dean pulled himself away, and pulling Cas into an embrace, nuzzling the juncture between the neck and shoulder of the angel. "Thank you," he whispered.
"… Do you still want me to go get you a pie?"