Dean coughed and stretched out his arms. He was brought back into the world of the present groggily, and it took a moment for him to become fully accustomed to the new surroundings. The dingy smell of a run-down motel was the first thing to hit his nostrils, causing him to jerk up suddenly out of his slumber. Dean looked around, wondering what had happened. Where was he? And more importantly, where was Sam? He laid, tangled in the bed sheets for some time, and then finally mustered up the energy to stand. He walked to the wall-length mirror in the corner and looked himself over. His golden-brown hair was mussed up from sleep, and he looked like hell. His flannel pajama pants were twisted so that the tie was to the side, and his black Metallica t-shirt was ruffled and looked worn. But, it didn't matter. All he wanted to know was what had happened. He couldn't seem to place in his memory what had gone on the past night, but he was sure that it wasn't something good. Dean sat back on the blue comforter, cross-legged and with his eyes closed, trying to think back. Nothing came, other than a blur of color and flashing lights. It was best not to fight the amnesia…
Instead of trying to complete the impossible task of recalling the previous night, Dean set about to calling the one other person that he did seem to remember. It was an odd memory that felt more like a dream, but based on his thoughts, Castiel would know how to help… Dean was going off instinct more than planning, and he simply thought about Cass and his typical trench coat over dress shirt attire.
He's so ridiculous, thought Dean, reverting for a moment to his once-normal self. It was something. At least his mind had recognized Castiel's ignorant and naïve nature. Before Dean could think another thought, there was a thud behind him.
"Long time," Cass said quietly like a young child.
"Cass? I–I'm not sure what to say," Dean said, somewhat surprised. He wasn't sure what it was, but Castiel, his one friend that frequently popped in and out of his life, looked completely different. He still had his typical tan trench coat and dress shirt that was too formal for Dean's taste, and his face still bore the look of playful bliss and ignorance of a young boy… But, there was a new feeling in Dean's heart. It was one of reunion, and there was a twinge of something more than their friendly relationship for the past four years. It was a feeling of lust, and he didn't know how to quell it.
"What happened to you?" Cass said, slowly walking towards Dean and sitting on the bed next to him.
"I–I'm not sure. Cass, I–did you ever feel something, more?" Dean asked uncertainly. He began to fiddle with his thumbs and looked down at his flannel pajamas. He shouldn't have said anything. Dean was not sure what was going on. Of course, Cass had to sit there innocently, looking curious and mind-boggled. Sometimes, Dean really wanted to punch that son-of-a-bitch for being so pure. He chuckled softly and looked up into Cass's deep blue eyes and looked at his short, dark-brown hair.
"Please don't do this to me," he groaned. "You must know somewhere in that brain of yours that there is something." Castiel looked at Dean in amazement, and met his eyes calmly.
"Dean, what are you talking about?" he asked again, making Dean boil with lustful rage inside.
"I'm talking about–I–oh fuck it!" Dean said, leaning forward and pressing his pissed off lips against Cass's. The angel sat there for a moment in pure astonishment, but after less than a second he returned the feeling with a passionate kiss. It lingered in the room, and Dean felt his sensibility fail him as he pressed against Cass, now wrapping his arms around his smooth, angelic neck.
"Mmm," said Cass before he could stop himself. He didn't want this. Did he? What had gone through Dean's head to cause this sudden feeling. Cass knew deep down that he had always felt it, but he had been too afraid, too worried about jeopardizing their friendship, to act on it. Maybe he should leave. It would be as easy as popping out of the room and running for the demons of hell. But, he couldn't, and he knew that he wouldn't.
Instead, the angel began to fill with a new feeling that broke his innocent ignorance. Cass, the untainted angel of the lord, had fallen to the most primal desires of mankind…
Cass ran his hands through Dean's hair as the mortal began to tear off the angel's long trench coat. It was smooth, and only a moment later, they were literally clawing each other's clothes off, ready to get to the skin underneath.
"Dean, please just do it…" Cass mumbled, not sure how humans normally talked to each other when in this kind of moment. He blushed a little and hoped that Dean didn't see it. He didn't. Dean began running his teeth along Cass's neck, which in turn made the angel giggle like a schoolgirl. He was defenseless.
"I love it when you take control," he mumbled as Dean began to pull Cass fully onto the bed, climbing on top of him.
"You innocent bastard," Dean said as he pulled the covers over them, so that they were completely enveloped in each other. Cass did his best to follow Dean's movements, but he still felt ridiculous that Dean was probably so experienced.
"What are you thinking?" Dean asked as they continued to romp under the sheets.
"This is the best fucking thing I've ever done," Cass said, taking on Dean's usual tone of dominance and cool resolve.
"Oh, so I've corrupted the little angel a bit?" Dean asked huskily.
"Well, maybe not all the way," Cass said, grinning devilishly.
"We'll see what I can do…" Dean said, sucking on Cass's lip as they faded into bliss…
#
"Ugh, why the fuck do I feel drunk?" Dean moaned as he opened his eyes and rolled over to the left.
"Oh shit," he muttered, looking into the angelic, sleeping face of Cass. He quickly collapsed back onto the mattress and closed his eyes. The memories of last night flooded back to him. He lay there, naked, reviewing it all as his recollection returned. Not thinking about what this meant for them in the future, he bit his lip and smiled.
For an angel, Cass can fuck surprisingly well, he thought before he slipped back asleep.