AN: Three drabbles (100 words) and one doubledrabble (surprisingly, 200 words) of Dean/Castiel slash. Not necessarily related to each other, but could be read as small parts of the same story.
Warnings: Alcohol use for the first one. And vague slashy implications for the rest.
Disclamer: No, I still don't own Supernatural.
The angels
Castiel found Dean from the end of the bar, looking miserable and scowling at the row of empty shot glasses.
"You know I could make it all disappear. No need to drink yourself stupid to forget."
"What're you saying, Cas?" asked Dean and focused his drunken stare on Cas with some difficulty.
"I'm saying that you could wake up tomorrow, with no memory of the War, the Apocalypse, demons or angels. You could be happy."
"No, I think I'm good." Dean said after a while. "Besides, I could never be happy not remembering the angels," he continued with a smirk.
Sleepless
Castiel.
Dean sighed and turned in his bed, sleep eluding him.
Castiel's hands. His fingers, palms and wrists; wrists that disappeared into the sleeves of that wretched trench coat.
Dean twisted and turned, flipping on his back, trying to think of something else.
The stormy eyes, the ruffled hair, the rough stubble forever stuck in the state of a five o'clock shadow. The curve of his lips, the slope of his neck, the line of his shoulders.
Dean groaned morosely, stuffing his face deeper into the pillow.
Castiel. The angel. The saint, definitely not the sinner.
And still no sleep.
Changes
When Dean and Cas got together, nothing really changed. Dean was still as loud, rude and snarky as before, and Cas was still the serious and somber man he always was. Dean kept his distance to other people and Cas ignored the concept of personal space all together. Dean still shouted at Cas and gave him the attitude. Cas still left Dean for days and weeks.
But some things were different too. The two men shared jokes that Sam wasn't privy to. They shared the overwhelming joy of the other coming out of a battle unscathed. They shared a bed.
Better than pie
"Oh my God." Dean said quietly, lying on his side of the bed and staring into Cas's eyes as if he'd just had a revelation.
"The ten commandments, if you'd please…" Cas reprimanded halfheartedly, knowing the words wouldn't have any effect, but saying them anyway for appearances sake.
"No, seriously. Oh. My. God." Dean continued, not reacting to the angel's protests at all.
"What is it?" Cas relented then, slightly curious.
"I think I like you more than pie," Dean answered with wonder in his voice, raising his hand to the face in front of him and stroking the cheek gently. Cas's lips curved in an amused smile and he tilted his head to Deans caress.
"That's high praise coming from you," he murmured. His hand found its way to Dean's side of the bed too, cupping the man's jaw and smoothing the bottom lip with his thumb.
"Yeah," Dean breathed onto Cas's finger, still looking a bit dazed at his discovery. He then shifted closer to the angel and kissed him, eyes open as if fearing Cas to disappear at any moment.
"I'm not going anywhere" Cas assured the man and Dean closed his eyes for the next kiss.
Fin.