It had started innocently enough. Cas and Dean were at the top of a staircase in the hallway of a shitty motel when Dean tripped over his own feet and began tilting forward for what was sure to be a painful and ungraceful tumble. Just when Dean had given up all hope of retaining any shred of dignity, he felt an arm wrap around to steady him. It was such that Dean found his back pressed up squarely to Castiel's front.

To avoid the lingering awkwardness, Dean spun around in an effort to move away. Unfortunately, Castiel's hand had inadvertently slipped under the hem of his t-shirt and Dean couldn't help but feel strong fingers drag across the skin of his waist and settle on the small of his back.

"Uh. Cas, man. You can let go now. I'm not falling anymore," Dean rasped out, licking his lips to counter the sudden and unexpected dryness.

"Are you sure, Dean?" Castiel replied with his signature head tilt.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm fucking su-" Dean's surge of indignation stopped short when he saw the mischievous glint behind Castiel's supposedly confused expression. Goddammit. Cas was fucking with him.

Dean wouldn't be having any of this shit today. He was too damn tired and he'd just about fallen to his death (well maybe not death) two minutes ago. He forced an arm between them and began to shove Cas away when he felt his hand knocked to the side. In a second swift motion, Cas' forearm was colliding with his chest, knocking him flush against the wall. Dean winced as the molding dug into his back and Cas' elbow drove into his ribs.

Well that fucking did it. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen the angel looking so fucking smug and he'd be damned if he let that expression last a second longer. Dean Winchester was nobody's rag doll. He grabbed onto the lapels of that raggedy trenchcoat and, with a thrust of his hips, knocked off Cas' balance enough to reverse their positions. He felt Cas' back connect hard with the wall, but that didn't stop him from digging his knee into the angel's upper thigh for good measure.

The shit-eating grin that he felt spread across his face stopped short, however, when he realized just how close he was to Cas in that moment - and just how completely wrecked Castiel's expression was - and just how Dean would damn himself all over again if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He licked his lips again and noticed Cas following the motion. Cas' arm had been trapped between them in the tussle, his palm pressed against Dean's chest. Dean felt the hand move now, and settle behind his neck - the short hairs there bristling at the touch. Dean dropped his hands from the lapels of the coat and brought them to rest against Cas' hips - pushing hard enough with his thumbs to keep Castiel pinned against the wall. Dean felt Castiel press their foreheads together as the angel's other hand moved to the handprint on his shoulder. They stayed that way for seconds? minutes? breathing hard, staring each other down through hooded eyes.

The tension was too much. His knee against Cas' thigh. The hand clutching the back of his neck. The heat generated in the non-space between them. It was all too fucking much. And so, without any more hesitation and a whispered "Son of a bitch," Dean moved forward an inch to close the distance between them. But the very goddamn moment he felt a flutter against his lips, he heard the sound of a door crashing open down the hall - sure as fuck, Sam the behemoth had broken out of his motel room. In their combined frenzy to untangle themselves from each other, Cas knocked Dean to the side and sent him flying down the staircase. And, as Dean had feared at the beginning of this ordeal, no dignity was salvaged. None at all.