Just a little "The End" AU drabble-like moment between Dean and Cas.
Everything is exactly the way Zachariah showed him four years ago: the Croats have taken over; Sam said yes to Lucifer; the angels have all gone; and Cas…
Cas hasn't been Cas in a long time.
The only saving grace—Dean scoffs at the words—is that Dean himself has not yet morphed into the loathsome, self-righteous, uncaring, remorseless dick that he saw in Zachariah's little iBack to the Future/i rip-off.
"Dean?"
Cas' voice—still rough and low, as always, but with a sort of drifty element now, courtesy of the marijuana and the amphetamines and every other damn drug Cas has hooked himself on—cuts through Dean's thoughts. He clears his throat and looks up at Cas, taking in the perpetually dilated pupils and messy hair and rumpled clothing, and sighs. "Yeah, Cas?"
Cas smirks a little and lets his tongue come out to wet his lips, curling over them slowly, then moves closer to lean against Dean. He hand lifts, rests in the center of Dean's torso, fingers tapping out a slow beat. Cas presses his nose into the curve of Dean's neck and nuzzles there. "Are you coming to my cabin tonight?"
Dean closes his eyes and wraps his arms around the fallen angel's waist. Cas always phrases it as a question, but Dean has never said no, never will. He should say no; Dean should tell him that this has to stop, that he can't do this anymore, not with the drugs and the women and everything else that Dean hates, but… this is Cas.
"Yeah, Cas," he says instead and presses a lingering kiss to Cas' temple.
