Dean hadn't given in to Sam's constant questioning about where he'd ran off too last night, but he'd started ignoring him once he'd stopped thinking of clever answers. Castiel was still recovering when he'd disappeared without a word. Sam knew he wasn't searching for God anymore, so he was afraid he was hunting for another liquor store instead. He voiced his concern to Dean who shrugged it off.
"Let him drink if he wants. Sure as hell deserves it." Dean had said.
"Do you care about anything anymore?" Sam asked.
Dean ignored him, getting up to pack his bag. A few stray shirts lay around the hotel room, and he started collecting them to shove them back into their place.
Sam sighed and shook his head, giving up. "Fine, I'll gas up the car."
Dean tossed him the keys and he left. A few minutes later, Castiel silently returned, a little unsteady on his feet, and took dramatically difficult steps to Dean, whose back was to him as he pushed things around in his duffel.
Without hesitation, Castiel's hand went to Dean's shoulder. He felt him stiffen under the touch and Dean's spine arched as Castiel's hand ran down his back and up again, to the back of Dean's neck and rested there.
Dean was a statue, but his eyes were looking as far to the right as he could. He couldn't see behind him, but he could smell bourbon and knew who it must be.
"I know where you went." Castiel said.
"I know where you went too." Dean said, switching the topic. Damn, Sam was right.
Castiel's hand was on the move again, all over Dean's back and shoulders.
"He's not your son."
Dean paused and went back to shoving things around, pulling this and zipping that. "You don't know that." he said.
"Yes I do."
Dean took a deep breath and Castiel could feel it. "You're sure?"
"Yes, Dean, but I know what you said to her."
Dean was a little embarrassed. Half because he was disappointed. But all he could let himself say was, "So? You have a problem with it?" He really didn't know why the drunken angel would bring this up.
Castiel scoffed and Dean felt his hand come off his back. Castiel took a few steps away and became interested in the clock on the table as Dean turned around. "As if I am not bad enough at being an angel, you force me to sin."
"Sin?" Dean laughed.
"Envy."
"Envy." Dean repeated.
Castiel sat down on the side of one of the beds and rested his elbows on his knees. He locked his hands together and stared straight ahead. "You made me wish I was her."
Dean's eyes shrunk as he showed his confusion.
The silence made Castiel assume he wasn't following, and he looked over at him. "I wish I could make you as happy as you would be with her."
Okay so this was pretty weird, but also pretty typical of Castiel. Not only was he trying to be a servant, he was completely oblivious to the alternate meaning of what he was saying.
Or was he? Dean was a little confused about that too. Surely he didn't mean it that way.
"Cas, you…" Dean shrugged and crossed the room to sit on the other bed, putting himself in Castiel's line of vision. The angel dropped his eyes to the floor. "you don't have to do everything for me. I appreciate you, I know what you've done for me, but you don't have to worry about me all the time. I don't always have to be your problem."
"But I want you to be. When you imagine your ideal, I want you to imagine me." Now he met his eyes.
"You don't know what you're saying, you're drunk." The subtext was too strong, too obvious, for Dean to ignore. And honestly weirding him out a little. Not because Castiel was giving it, but because Dean was kind of liking it.
"Drunk or sober, my opinions are the same."
"Cas."
"It is selfish." Castiel laughed at himself, shaking his head as he stood up and started walking around the room.
"Well don't beat yourself up over it." Dean said, standing too.
Castiel scratched the back of his neck and Dean smirked. He was adorable when he did that.
"It is too difficult, Dean." Castiel said. "I can not keep ignoring the urge I have." He stopped pacing around and turned to Dean, locking eyes with him again. Dean wasn't expecting him to come at him, walking so fast his coat flailed just a little in the wind he created. He also wasn't expecting the hands on his chest and shoulder. "I think about you all the time." Castiel confessed. "I wish I could sleep so I could wake up in your arms. When you think about her, I can't be around you. Your thoughts flood mine and I can not stand to hear the way you feel about her."
Dean wondered when his hand found Castiel's hip.
"I drink because I have screwed up, as humans would say. Because I truly am a screw up, and also as humans believe, drinking will somehow make me forget what I have done and what I still have to do. But I also drink to pass out. When I pass out, I dream of you. I dream of a Dean that doesn't dream of her."
Dean felt like a total dick, but why? For making Castiel feel like crap? Or for wanting a family more than this angel who wanted Dean more than anything? Dean was pretty sure it was both. And he wondered how long Castiel had felt this way. Dean had been thinking of Lisa for a long while now, and while he'd never told Castiel about her, the whole mind-reading thing had made that unimportant.
"If it makes you feel any better," Dean said, putting his hand on the back of Castiel's head and letting his hair tickle his fingers. "me and her, that whole… thing… That's never happening."
"She can never have you, I know." Castiel said. "But neither can I. And you want her. Not me."
Dean was never getting Lisa, or Ben. He would never realize that dream, feel that happiness and love. But under Castiel's touch, he felt love and happiness, it was real and right in front of him. And in his current situation in life, the question wasn't 'why?', it was 'why not?'
"I never said I didn't." he said.
Castiel's fingers gripped slightly at Dean's shirt. He started to lean in for a kiss and Dean pulled back. "But you're drunk. I don't want this to happen when you won't even remember it in the morning."
Castiel dropped his head to Dean's shoulder and his hands lost their grip, his arms sliding around the hunter. Dean gently heaved him over onto the bed and sat down beside him, leaving one foot on the floor in a stubborn, old-fashioned tradition. He pulled Castiel into his arms and told him, "I'll be right here when you wake up."