Dean Winchester is in hell.
It was a normal day, he and Sam were on a hunt and stopped at a diner for lunch. Dean was looking out of the window, watching people go by, when he saw him. Castiel. They hadn't seen him for months. Months. Not since the angels fell. Not since the aborted trials. For all he knew, Cas could have been dead. But there he was, curled up in between two buildings, huddled into his clothing. Dean barely recognized him, he didn't have the trench coat and his face was scruffy from not shaving. Dean didn't even know if he knew how to shave. Cas coughed (or at least Dean thought he coughed, it looked like it from across the street) and closed his eyes, leaning against the hard brick of the building behind him. Dean got up and told Sam to wait there, then, with no explanation, he walked out of the diner and across the street. Cas didn't notice him, his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the wall. Dean stopped right behind him.
"Cas?" Dean questioned, though he knew it was him. Cas opened his eyes and whipped his head around to look at him, his eyes widening. He stood far too quickly and nearly fell over before Dean caught him. Dean stood with Cas in his arms for slightly longer than necessary before letting him go and allowing him to regain his balance. Before letting him go he noticed that he was a lot skinnier than he remembered Cas being.
"Dean... I..." Cas looked as if he was having trouble forming the words he wanted to use. Dean just gave him a grin and hugged him, reminiscent of when he found him in Purgatory. Cas returned the hug hesitantly.
"I missed you man." Dean said, stepping back and giving Cas a pat on the back. Cas smiled and Dean invited him back to the diner. Cas accepted and soon he was being hugged by Sam and sitting down to eat with them. Dean ordered a burger for him without thinking. When his food arrived he dug in, barely chewing between bites.
"Whoa man! Slow down, we don't want you to choke on us!" Dean told him, grabbing his arm to keep him from taking the bite he had lined up. Cas finished chewing and looked down at his lap.
"I'm sorry Dean. It has been a while since I had food as good as this." Castiel told them. Sam and Dean exchanged concerned looks with each other.
"Uh, Cas? What, uh, what happened?" Sam asked hesitantly.
"Yeah man, we haven't seen you for months. You're not answering my prayers, not even a phone call to tell us you're okay. And you're eating!" Dean exclaimed, his frustration bleeding out of him in the form of word vomit. Cas sighed and set his burger down, still looking at his lap.
"I'm sure you know about the angels falling." Dean and Sam nodded. "I didn't fall, not like they did. I- Metatron, he, he took my Grace. I'm not an angel anymore, I don't have my 'mojo', and the angels are hunting me. They want revenge, and I was tempted to give it to them." Castiel sighed and looked up, but still avoided their looks. "But I ran, and I fought off the ones that found me."
"Cas…" Sam reached out a hand to comfort his friend, but Castiel ignored it. Dean looked at the now-human Castiel and sighed.
"Alright, how would you like to go on a hunt with me and Sam?" He asked him, changing the subject like the ex-angel so obviously wanted.
"I would like that, though I am not sure how much help I would be." Castiel answered.
"So you don't have your powers, so what? Me and Sam have been doing this gig without powers for years, and you already know how to use a weapon. You'll be fine." He assured him. Cas smiled at him slightly. "Let's finish our lunch and head out, the sooner we gank this son of a bitch, the better." Dean bit into his hamburger and Cas followed. Sam happily dug into his salad, and soon they were on the road again, heading out to an old farm house in the fields surrounding the small town.
It's a simple salt-and-burn and the body was in flames within an hour. Dean supported Castiel as they walked out, keeping his weight off of an ankle he sprained while tackling Dean to the ground before the ghost could attack him. Dean called him an idiot, of course, but thanked him quietly on the way to the car.
Dean drove them back to the bunker and helped Cas inside. Kevin greeted them happily, though he gave Castiel a strange look (which could only be expected, keeping in mind their first meeting, and all subsequent meetings after that). Dean sat Cas down at the table that they ate most of their meals at and planned their hunts. Sam and Kevin joined the ex-angel while Dean went into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of whiskey and a few glasses. Castiel explained in more detail what happened on his side of the trails and Dean gave him a glass of whiskey.
Unfortunately, it seems Cas really likes whiskey, as he is now completely hammered and leaning against Dean in a way that should be illegal. His stubble rubbing against Dean's neck, his breath ghosting past his Adam's apple, his rumpled hair tickling his chin, it was too much. All Dean wants to do was grab him and carry him to his room and do God knew what (all though, Dean really hoped God didn't know what Dean wanted to do to one of his angels, even a fallen one).
And thus, he's in hell.
Because Sam and Kevin are right there, and they seem to have no intention of leaving, and Dean is far too sober, and dammit, Cas just fucking licked his neck!
"Alright, we're putting you to bed." Dean grumbles, lifting Cas off his shoulder and helping him stand. Cas leers at him and Dean mentally curses his word choice. "Your own bed." Dean stresses. Cas pouts at him drunkenly.
"You're no fun." Cas slurs. Dean grits his teeth and hoists Cas up, gripping his waist (which was totally necessary, thank you very much) and attempts to maneuver Cas through the bunker. He somehow manages to get him to the room he picked out weeks earlier (which coincidentally was directly across from his, he didn't plan that at all, shut up) and plops him down on the bed.
"C'mon Cas, help me out here." He grumbles as he attempts to remove Cas's shoes.
"Nah unleh you tae off yer clofs too." Cas mumbles into the pillow. Dean turns his head so he doesn't have a mouthful of feathers. "Not unless you take off your clothes too." He repeats. Dean rolls his eyes.
"This is no time for games Cas." He scolds him. His had reaches for Cas's hoodie, attempting to pull down the zipper so he can take it off him. Cas's hand stops his and his fingers curl around Dean's wrist.
"Not playing a game." Cas whispers, his blue eyes, sharper than they should be for someone who could barely stand two minutes ago, find Dean's in the dimly lit room. Dean mentally curses the angel.
"Cas, you are far too drunk. I am not going to let you do something you might regret." Dean tells him, extracting his hand from the ex-angel's grip and finally getting the hoodie off. Cas allows him too and Dean tosses it on the back of the chair he put in the corner (so Cas could read, not so he could watch him sleep).
"If I still want this in the morning will you?" Cas questions him.
"Will I what?" Dean asks. He knows what Cas means, or at least he thinks he does, but Cas couldn't mean that. He's an angel, or at least he used to be one. There's no way in Hell (or, rather, Heaven) that Cas would mean what Dean thinks he means.
"This is no time for playing games Dean." The darker haired man parrots. Dean gulps and looks down at him.
"We'll deal with it if it happens. Which it won't." Dean tells him, drawing the covers up around him and tucking him in. "Now get some sleep." With that he turned and turned of the light.
"Night Dean. See you in the mornin'." Cas slurred. Dean shut the door behind him and went the few feet to his own room before collapsing on his bed. His hands drag down his face as he lets out a shaky breath.
'Cas, man, you're gonna be the death of me.' Dean thinks to himself as he lays staring at the ceiling. He sighs and stands, closing and locking his door before stripping out of his jeans and flannel. He pauses a moment before shrugging and taking off his t-shirt too, leaving him in only his boxers. He turns off his light and climbs into his bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress and closing his eyes. And if he happens to dream about a certain fallen angel and what might have happened if he had a little less integrity, well, who can blame him?