AN: Seven Days of Grace is a collection of one- and two-shots relating to Dean and Cas. Each minific will have a short description and a rating. Yes, you get one per day. Because I don't sleep. You're welcome. All characters belong to the Supernatural series, which I do not own. If I did... Well. You'd notice.

Nothing Wrong - After Sam leaves in a huff, Dean gets drunk and Cas is left to take care of him. T for alcohol usage.

The night was dark and stormy, which as far as Cas could tell perfectly reflected the mood of the human sitting next to him at the bar.

"All I'm saying," Dean growled, deliberately setting his glass on the polished countertop, "is that he's overreacting. 'M not sayin' I was right, but I'm saying Sammy had no reason to bail. Right, Cas?"

The angel tore his gaze from the television set across the room and focused on his friend. "Your blood alcohol content is reaching dangerous levels," he observed weakly.

Dean shot him a lopsided grin. "That's the idea. Hey, can angels get hammered?"

Cas sent a wordless prayer of thanks to his father that Dean had accepted the change in subject. The truth of the matter was that he didn't know what was right or wrong concerning Dean's latest escapade. He didn't entirely disagree with Sam for leaving, either. But that's not what Dean needed to hear right now, and he had too much respect for the man to feed him lies and half-truths. "If my host body imbibes enough alcohol, his altered brain chemistry will affect my mental function, yes."

"Awesome," Dean muttered, taking another long drink from whatever cheap booze he had sloshing around in that glass. "You should do it."

"Now?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, why not? You an' me, night off the job. C'mon, it'll be great."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Dean fixed him with a vaguely puzzled stare. Cas could almost hear the alcohol pumping through his friend's veins, slowing and muddying his thoughts. "Why th' hell not?"

"You need someone to ensure you manage to stagger safely back to the motel after you are finished indulging your guilt."

"Guilt," Dean sneered. "I'm not guilty." He reached for his beer again, but instead managed to knock it over. "Shit. Why would I be guilty? Just a bloodthirsty fang, man. I offed him. Big fucking deal, right? So maybe he was cleanin' up, maybe he wasn't. Sam wanted to 'give him a chance', but the only chance I saw was for that bloodsucker to kill more people. Human people, Cas." He stared down at the puddle of spilled beer on the countertop, eyes fierce.

Cas placed a tentative hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to communicate feelings of understanding and support. This was a gesture he'd learned from Sam, so he was pretty sure of its accuracy. To his mild surprise, Dean didn't shrug him off. "Dean. You did what you felt was right. I'm not one to say whether it was or was not a mistake, but you pursued your interpretation of justice to the full extent of your abilities. That is...admirable."

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "Yeah. See, that's what I love about you, man. You always know what it's like."

Feeling more confident at this minor victory, Cas took the next step. "Now it's late, and we should return to our rooms for the evening."

"Jus' one more round for me an' my best angel," Dean slurred, reaching for his wallet.

Cas blinked, the wallet was safely in his hand. "That's what you said three drinks past. It's time to go."

"Not cool, man. Give it back."

"Dean, we're leaving."

"No…"

With a slight sigh, Cas reached out and touched Dean's shoulder again, this time to fly them both back to room 126 at the Nite Owl Motel down the street. The transition was sharp, from the brightly lit interior of a bar packed with raucous drunks to the dark, silent room, the two scenes separated only by the soft flutter of wings.

It quickly became apparent that Dean couldn't really stand on his own. He clutched Cas for support, almost throwing the angel to the floor, as he swayed unsteadily. "Hey," he protested, "I wanted to try the Car'bbean Velvet. Take us back."

Cas didn't answer, instead using his energy to pick up Dean's alcohol-saturated body and lay him down gently in one of the beds. Dean's response was a faint groan. "Cas, baby, are you tryin' to take advantage?"

"No, Dean, I am merely-"

"Cause sometimes you make me wonder, you know?"

Cas tried to draw away, but Dean's hand was on his arm, keeping him close. A strange heat flushed Castiel's body. "Dean…"

"Don't you ever wonder?" Dean asked, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "What's wrong with a little happiness, huh? What's wrong with us…"

Cas didn't try to pull away again. "There's nothing wrong."

"Exactly." Dean's voice had dropped so low that Cas needed to lean closer to hear. "...why I like you...nothing wrong…" He yawned cavernously. "Hey Cas…

"I am still here."

"You ever kissed anyone? Besides Meg, I mean."

There it was, that heartbeat that he didn't need, so stumbling and inconsistent. "I fail to see how that's rel-" he started to lie, but he couldn't finish the sentence. Dean stretched his neck up, bridging the slight distance between them and pressing his lips against Cas's.

There was the taste of alcohol, heady and bitter. There was that feeling of fire in his veins. There was a great, terrible sense that this was the end, and he was long lost.

Dean fell back on his pillow with a deep sigh. He was already asleep.

This left the angel alone in the room, staring strickenly down at this strange, broken mortal and knowing that his own end was beginning.

AN: Thanks to all you lovely Destiel shippers for reading! Just so's you know, not all of these are going to be about Dean and Cas being together romantically, although most of them will at least imply it ;) I am, of course, taking suggestions if you wanna drop me a message or comment. Carry on.