KissMeDeadlyT-T: This is the second Destiel thingie I've written and this one's really pointless because I wanted to experiment writing while tipsy (yes I'm so badass I know pls control urselves haha) and so I just opened a Word document and started. I don't know how it turned out bc tbh I'm too out of it to even really care but I'm sure I'll read it tomorrow and cry. Pls do not think I do this often I'm actually a really good kid my mom just let me have a few drinks tonight and well why the heck not

I don't own Supernatural and I'm sorry if there are any alcohol-induced errors I really tried to get them all thank

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Most of the time Sam tried to just ignore the sexual tension between Dean and Cas, but he had his limits, damn it. This was getting ridiculous.

The silence in the Impala was deafening. Sam was even ready to beg Dean to turn on the music, which, even though he'd gotten used to it, still wasn't really his type. He didn't dare speak, though. Dean kept glancing up from the road to the rear-view mirror, where he'd let his eyes linger on Cas for six, seven, eight— fucking almost ten seconds before staring back at the road with a guilty glance Sam's way to make sure Sam hadn't noticed. Sam always looked away and pretended he didn't, but oh, he did. He was eighty percent positive that they were going to end up wrapped around a tree tonight because Dean couldn't keep his eyes on the goddamned road.

Sam knew that if he said anything, he'd just be subjected to the famous Dean Snarl and be pinned to his seat by the proverbial daggers his brother would shoot with his glare. But it was stifling. The sexual tension in here was all but palpable and god, he found himself wanting to go find a random lay because the pheromones in here were fuckin' nuts. But he was tired and bloodied and he was pretty sure his ulna had shattered when that demon had thrown him across the room, and there was a decidedly nasty gash on the side of Dean's face that was mostly dried blood and dirt and it was gonna get so damned infected if they didn't clean it up. A lay would have to wait.

Unfortunately, that meant more time spent with Dean and Cas, a.k.a. the morons who were too damn stubborn and dense to just admit they wanted to fuck and be fucked by each other and actually do it. He let out a frustrated sigh and cradled his broken arm close to his chest, setting his chin on his other hand and giving a brooding glare as he watched the trees fly by outside. This was gonna be a long night.

After what seemed like another unbearable eternity of silence, Castiel spoke up. "I wish you'd let me heal you." His voice was reproachful, guilty, sad even. Sam rolled his eyes, because he knew what was coming next.

As predicted, Dean shot a glare into the rearview mirror. "No, Cas."

"But Dean—"

"I said no, damn it." Dean's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He stared hard at Cas. Sam tried not to screech his frustration. He was probably more sexually frustrated by their stupid whatever-the-hell-it-was than they were. He just needed them to fuck already. They were already disgustingly in love. Maybe if they stopped being bone-heads and admitted it and consummated it then the perpetual sexual tension buzzing around them could fuck off already.

He cleared his throat. "Dean, eyes on the road."

Dean shot him a nasty glare, just like he'd predicted earlier. "I was lookin' at the road, Sammy. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Sam said under his breath, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"What's your problem?" Dean said irritably. Sam wanted to punch him.

Oh, nothing. Just dying because you and Cas are fucking morons. He didn't say that though. He never did. "I'm just saying that it'd be pretty great if Cas could heal us, or I'm out for a couple weeks." He stated pointedly at his broken arm.

Dean shifted uncomfortably on the driver's seat. He was about to say something, but Cas' annoyed voice interrupted.

"Dean, I realize you are concerned about my well-being seeing as how I haven't been to my full capacity since my return from Purgatory." Dean flinched at the word, but Cas forged on, unblinking. "But this is ridiculous. It will take me less than five seconds. Isn't that why you keep me around, anyway?" The snark in his words stung Sam pretty badly and he instantly felt guilty as hell. Judging by how pale Dean had just gotten, he was feeling it too.

"You honestly still think that's the only– god, Cas, sometimes you're really friggin' dense." Dean's teeth were ground together. He stared intensely at the rearview mirror. Sam sighed one million times internally and decided he'd just watch the road for Dean since his brother seemed incapable of it.

"Yeah," he put in. They somehow managed to stay in their lane. He really wished Dean would watch where he was going. It was the middle of the night and they were driving an abandoned stretch of highway, alone, but still. "You know that's not the only reason we want you around. It's a hell of a perk, but we'd like you even if you weren't all angel mojo, man." Then, just because he was particularly pissy tonight, he added, "Just ask Dean. He wants you around too." He gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "And trust me, I know. I've heard the damned happy sounds more than enough times." And then he realized what he'd inadvertently said in his sour mood and snapped his jaw shut with an audible clack, waiting for the inhumane demonic screeching he was sure Dean was about to unleash.

Well, maybe not. That might be a bit of a stretch. Either way, Dean slammed on the brakes. Cas, who wasn't wearing a seatbelt, let out a yelp and jerked forward, nearly smacking his head on the radio. He ended up sprawled between Sam and Dean, facedown next to the gear shift. He pushed himself up, looking flustered and more than a little disgruntled. It was so ridiculous Sam snorted and had to stifle a laugh in his sleeve even as Dean glared unholy hell at him.

"Sam," Dean snapped, teeth grit. "Outside." He wrenched open the car door. "Now."

Still snickering a bit— god, he was tired, and he felt like he could use like a whole bottle of whiskey right now— Sam opened his door and stumbled out. There was a pain in his left shin that made walking hard, but when he saw the narrow-eyed glare on Dean's face, he decided maybe the pain wasn't really that bad compared to the world of pain Dean would unleash on him unless he chose his words very, very carefully.

Dean glanced at the car, just to make sure Cas wasn't listening— he apparently wasn't, and seemed to be fiddling with a few of Dean's tapes— and then turned his hard state back onto Sam.

"Okay, Sam," he ground out. He was obviously trying to hide how embarrassed he was. His cheeks were pink under his freckles and everything. Sam repressed a giggle. He really needed some sleep. "What the hell was that?"

Sam debated fleeing for his life, but decided it was probably best to stick with the truth. Maybe he could make Dean realize how absolutely brutal it was being in the same room as he and Cas.

"Happy sounds?" Dean demanded before he could talk. He made a face, staring at Sam with wide eyes. "Really?"

"Dean, we sleep in the same room," Sam replied warily. "So yeah, I've heard them, okay? I learned to drown 'em out. But I can only handle hearing you moan Cas' name so many times." He activated bitchface level nine and aimed it directly at Dean, who swallowed and shifted awkwardly.

"I… can explain," Dean stuttered weakly. "I–"

"Don't. I get it. You want Cas. Just— god, will you two just screw each other already?" Sam said exasperatedly. "I can't handle it anymore. You guys are so sexually frustrated it's making me sexually frustrated."

Dean swallowed audibly. "What makes you think… seriously, Sam. What the hell."

"Besides the obvious? Let's see." He was so sarcastic it actually almost hurt. "You guys are always staring at each other like the frigging cure for cancer is in each other's' eyes. You're literally the sappiest fucks ever but you're both too stubborn to act on it. And not to mention how snappy you've been with each other lately. This is getting out of hand, Dean. It's there. I don't know if you're having a sexuality crisis or what, but you can't freaking tell me you don't feel it. I'm not even part of it and I feel it, god…"

Dean's flush had faded, and he gaped at Sam, now white like a ghost. "You can honestly tell?" he whispered, mortified.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Wait. What?"

"Cas and I— I mean, once or twice, before, you know…" Dean fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves, staring hard at the sky. Sam thought that maybe he was praying to Bobby to help him or something. "We— before everything happened with the Leviathans, we… uh, we might have—"

"Oh my god," Sam realized. "You already had sex!"

"Shut up!" Dean snapped, flushing dark red again. He shot a look down to Cas. The angel was still looking through his tapes. Licking his lips nervously, Dean hissed, "I was drunk, okay? I was drunk and I made a mistake."

"A mistake?" Sam snorted.

"Probably the best goddamn mistake I've ever— shut the hell up," Dean warned when Sam began snickering. "This isn't funny."

"It's hilarious," Sam replied, now laughing openly. "So why the hell is it so bad right now, then?"

"Because— after Purgatory, I— I didn't think I'd see him again. Oh, can it," Dean growled when Sam grinned stupidly at him. "I'll punch that stupid look right off your face if you don't stop. I'm trying to explain."

"This is the biggest chick-flick moment ever."

"Sam!" Dean cried, throwing his hands up, frustrated. "Will you shut the fuck up for one second?"

"Okay, okay," Sam's grin widened as he put his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "I'll be quiet. Tell me what's up."

"It's – god, it's hard to explain." Dean tapped his fingers on the hood of the Impala impatiently, fidgeting with his sleeves, glancing continuously at the oblivious angel in the backseat. "It's just— I… I might sort of kinda like him, okay?" he said gruffly. "I'm not gay. I'm not—"

"Dean, you know you don't have to hide that, right?"

"I'm not!" Dean looked like he might punch something. "There's this fucking thing called bisexuality. Shut the hell up. I'm trying to talk."

"Sorry, sorry."

"We… you know. A couple times. Before Purgatory. And when I saw him again in there, I was so scared to lose him that I didn't even think about doing anything. I just wanted out." Dean's voice was short and he stared hard at the ground. Sam knew how much Dean hated talking about his emotions, and he knew how hard it must be, so he actually stayed quiet. He didn't even snicker at Dean's obviously flustered fidgeting.

"Then when I left him there, I just… I thought I'd never see him again. Now he's back. And I'm too damned scared to do anything. Purgatory screwed him up, man. I don't even know if he remembers." His fingers twitched as if he was aching for a bottle of hard alcohol to help him forget all the touchy-feelsy-sappy-crap he'd just admitted.

Sam honestly blamed this next question on the lack of sleep this past week. "…So did you take it up the ass, then?"

Dean punched him hard. Luckily, it was on the non-broken arm. Sam flinched anyway. "Is that any of your goddamn business?" Dean growled, turning red up to the roots up his hair.

"Just curious."

"Well first of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck you a lot. And yeah. Okay? I did. It was fucking awesome. If you've never been fucked by an angel you haven't lived." Dean looked somewhere between wanting to punch Sam in the throat and throwing himself into the ditch and curling up into a ball and crying. "Now if you're implying this makes me girly or something I'll kick your ass all the way to Hell, Purgatory, Heaven and back, you hear me?"

Sam threw his hands up in surrender again. "Hey, I wasn't implying anything. As far as I'm concerned, you could wear a pink dress and frilly panties and you'd still be manly as hell." He was mostly saying it to appease Dean (Sam was not in the mood to die tonight) but it was true. "Just curious," he repeated. Dean still looked like he was about to lose his shit, so he quickly changed the subject. "So… why are you pushing him away lately, then?"

"We just got him back. I don't want him to leave again."

"So you're avoiding him?" Sam responded, quirking an eyebrow. "You know that a lot of the time he thinks that we only like his because of his angel-mojo crap. You pushing him away probably makes him think you don't want him anymore because he's weaker than he was before."

"That's not—"

"I know. But maybe you two should talk. Seriously." Sam shrugged, cradled his broken arm to his chest. "Cas isn't a wimp, but he doesn't want to lose you, either. He's as scared to talk about it as you are. And trust me – I'm no mind reader, but he remembers." Sam had to repress a shudder. "He looks at you like he wants to eat you sometimes."

"God—Sam, seriously?" Dean flushed and averted his eyes. Sam had the nearly irrepressible urge to laugh again – he'd never be used to seeing Dean all flustered like this.

"Yeah, seriously."

"You're a friggin'… ugh."

"We're about half an hour to the nearest motel," Sam said, checking his cell phone. "I vote we get an extra room and you two work out whatever the hell's going on between you."

Dean looked as if he'd lost the will to fight it. "Fine," he muttered grumpily. Sam swore he spotted a pout before Dean turned and stormed back towards the driver's seat. Grinning at his brother's back, Sam shook his head, mostly to himself, before opening the passenger door and sliding in. He met Cas' eyes for a moment, and there was a decidedly mischievous glint in the angel's gaze. Sam raised his eyebrows slightly, and Cas curled his lips up into a tiny grin.

Were you listening? he asked Cas in his head, hoping to hell the angel was listening so he didn't feel like an idiot.

A tiny, almost imperceptible nod, a wider grin. Sam smirked to himself. Good.

Dean caught sight of his amusement. "What the hell's your problem now?" he grumbled. The car thrummed beneath them as he turned the keys in the ignition. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas and set off down the highway, following a path illuminated only by headlights and faint moonlight.

Sam shrugged, meeting Cas' eyes briefly again. The angel wore a smug smirk. It was hilarious. Then again, he was dead tired. He choked down another chortle. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"Stop. It's annoying." Dean scowled at the road. After a few moments, his face softened slightly, and he glanced at the rearview mirror. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"If… if you really wanna heal us, then fine. But only if you're sure it won't mess with your angel mojo or whatever."

Cas practically beamed. "Of course."

"Great," Dean said under his breath. His fingers tightened, relaxed, tightened, and relaxed again around the steering wheel. "Great," he repeated, a little steadier this time. "And, uh… Sam… he wants his own room, so… You… uh, you're with me, I guess."

"I do not require sleep."

"I know." Dean's ears burned. "I wasn't…" He glanced at Sam quickly, then blurted, "I was thinking we could – you know."

Castiel's lips curved up into a tiny half-smile that Sam was positive he'd learnt solely from Dean. "How forward of you, Dean."

"What— oh, hell, Cas, I meant—" Dean sputtered helplessly and Sam tried his hardest not to laugh. "I meant we could talk."

Sam snickered and couldn't help but add, "Sure."

"Shut up, Sammy!"

Cas let out a soft laugh. "Oh, and Dean?"

"What?"

A smirk. "I heard everything you said. I am a celestial being. And I'm glad to know you feel like you've truly lived because of it."

Dean choked on his saliva, and if Sam hadn't lunged for the wheel, they probably would have ended up in the ditch.

"God fucking damn it!"

"Blasphemy, Dean."

"Yeah, Dean. Blasphemy. You should be ashamed."

"Shut up. Both of you."

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KissMeDeadlyT-T: I am NevER writing tipsy again I don't even know what this is omgG

I'd love reviews if you got this far and pls don't be mean I think this might actually be half-decent considering my current state… Thanks for reading!