Cas stood in front of Dean in the dark motel, violating the hunter's personal space. As usual. Dean had given up on reminding him, and accepted the fact that he would have to get used to the occasional close proximity.
Staring across at Cas, he could pick out the wide-faced angel's eyelashes individually.
It was getting easier to stay calm when there was suddenly an angel in the motel room. After a few awkward encounters, Cas had learned to never appear in the bathroom (Cas I swear if you do not leave this bathroom I will come out of the shower to stab you with your own angel-blade).
Dean didn't think he'd ever get fully used to it, but at least now he knew to prepare himself when he heard the rustle of celestial wings. Demons were a whole other story, and he still jumped out of his skin when he would turn 'round and all of a sudden Crowley.
Cas had just appeared, less than a foot in front of Dean's face. His back was to the bed, and he swayed slightly. The hunter didn't even blink, just sighed and waited to hear what the angel had to say.
Nothing came.
"Cas?" Still nothing but staring.
"You didn't just come to stare at my handsome nose." Dean prompted.
Cas's eyes flitted around the hunter's face. He looked like he was searching for something.
Maybe he did just come to stare at my handsome nose.
On Dean's next inhale, he caught the scent of alcohol permeating off of the angel. He blinked in disbelief.
"Cas… Man, are you drunk?"
As much as Dean endorsed the angel pulling the stick out of his ass, if Cas was drunk then something definitely wasn't right.
"Yes." Came the gravelly reply.
There was about a half-second delay before he slumped forward against Dean's chest.
Dean caught Cas easily, manhandling him back upright and clenching his hands around the angel's upper arms. His familiar dove soap and hand sanitizer smell was completely drowned in the stench of hard liquor. Dean distractedly wondered how much alcohol was needed to get him this drunk.
His hands unclenched from Cas's trenchcoat-covered upper arms when he figured he was balanced enough to stay upright.
The angel's blue eyes were dark in the low light, but they were open, still fixed drunkenly on Dean.
"What's going on? Did something ha-"
Cas slumped forward again, cutting off Dean's question.
He braced to catch the angel, but this time was different.
The reek of alcohol was overpowering when Cas's lips ungracefully smashed against Dean's. Green eyes widened in shock, and hands came to grasp his upper arms, the way he had grasped the angel's not 30 seconds before. It was sloppy, and disgusting, and Dean's mouth stayed firmly closed as Cas briefly sucked on the unmoving man's upper lip.
It was over in less than 2 seconds.
Dean violently shoved the angel back, and before he could control himself, his right fist connected with Cas's left cheekbone.
The punch sent the angel over backwards, and having already been practically unconscious due to probably a swimming pools worth of whiskey, he went out like a light.
Leaving Dean alone after whatever the hell just happened.