Castiel awoke to cold air hitting his side, bare skin exposed as the covers had been thrown off earlier in the morning. He blinked wearily, eyes still full of sleep, and dragged Dean's discarded pair of jeans on by accident as he meandered comfortably over to the door. Leaning against the frame, he watched an uncharacteristically energetic Dean be entirely happy up and about at seven in the morning, making himself a coffee.
"Good morning," Cas said, smiling as Dean started. The smaller man turned and glared daggers.

"Just scare the ever-loving shit out of me, why don't you Cas?" Castiel just smiled wider and moved to stand beside Dean, picking up the now-boiled kettle and pouring the water into Dean's mug. He made sure not to touch him, though, avoiding his fingers as he handed Dean his coffee.

"How are you... feeling?" Castiel asked, avoiding eye contact. Dean shifted on his feet, wrapped his hands around his coffee for warmth – without his jeans, he stood only in a pair of silk boxers.

"I'm-" he coughed. "I'm fine. Yeah. Fine."

"That's... good."

The air turned cold with tension, a distinct sense of awkwardness seeping into every object in the hotel room. Silence mixed with eye contact avoided. Dean's coffee cooled in his hands.

"I have to piss," he announced, placing the mug on the bench and brushing past Cas to head to the bathroom. Currently occupied, the door swung open just as Dean reached for the handle.

Sam looked straight at Dean, every object – including angels – in the vicinity ignored, and turned bright red. Dean's stomach dropped back into hell without him.

"You said you'd be out until tomorrow," he said, voice comically high-pitched.

"Job finished early." Sam couldn't look at his brother, and he certainly couldn't look at Castiel. He three men stood in place, suffocating as the elephant in the room stole all of the oxygen.

"I just thought you had a girl over," Sam muttered, still avoiding his brother's eyes because the linoleum ceiling in this dead end hotel was much nicer than any other identical linoleum ceiling he'd ever seen over the years. "I could... um... only hear Dean. I went out for a snack, and when I came back you were asleep. Came in to tell you the job was done early, but..."

"Instead of a girl, I was there," Cas finished for him, secretly and unwillingly remembering the feel of Dean falling asleep in his arms, back moulded to fit against his chest. Sam just turned a brighter red.

"Cas, not helping," Dean growled, barely glancing behind him.

"I'm just, you know... You've always been experimental, I know that," Sam explained, voice still low but loud in the early morning quiet. "But I thought you were... Limited to women."

"Why limit pleasure?" Dean joked in a poor attempt to lighten the mood – it remained stubbornly serious as both Sam and Castiel waited for his answer. He sighed.

"I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking."

Sam opened his mouth, about to reply, but Castiel beat him to it.

"Dean – may I speak to you?"

"No, Castiel, this is impor-" Dean stopped, the look on Cas' face a silent plea. "Fine. But we'll finish this later, Sam."

Castiel was already pulling on his trousers when Dean closed the door behind him. His tan coat lay out on the bed, impeccable as always, and Dean ran a hand across it while Cas buttoned up his shirt. Turning, Cas frowned.

"It's the same coat as it always has been," he muttered, grabbing his tie. Dean looked up at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"No, it's not," he whispered, so low that Castiel was sure that he wasn't meant to hear it. Dean breathed in heavily.

"So, this is what it feels like to be the girl after a one night stand."

"I don't understand," Cas frowned at him again, this time in confusion.

"Never mind."

"What did you mean?"

"By 'I don't regret it'? Exactly what I said," Dean replied, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't regret what happened. In the same situation, I'd do it again.

"In another situation, I'd do it again," he added, glancing away.

Castiel stared for a while, hands still in the middle of tying his tie. He shook himself out of his stupor, glaring down at the silk around his neck as he finished the knot.

"I would, as well," he mumbled, voice quiet. Dean grinned, stepping forward to take the tie from his hands. The fabric slipped off from around Cas' neck, a feeling that would not be sensual to him if it were any other person before him. Dean laced his fingers through the hair at the base of Castiel's head, tugging just a little too roughly as he crushed his lips to the angel's. Quiet growls escaped from between their mouths as they grappled, clawing at each others' arms and backs. Pulling away, Cas smiled lazily.

"I love you, Dean," he sighed. Dean stepped backwards, grin fading.

"Cas, I know you're an angel of the lord and everything, but here on earth, 'love' is a pretty strong word."

"I'm uncultured, Dean. I'm not an invalid. I've been around for thousands of years – if anything, I know more about love than you do. And I love you. More than I've loved anyone before. So don't you dare tell me I don't know that 'love' is a strong word, Dean Winchester."

Dean blinked, looked away, looked back. He kissed Cas, a strong and heady kiss that left them both breathless.

"I love you, Cas."