It had been weeks since Cas had left. Dean was going crazy. Not that he'd like to admit it anyhow.
He missed the stupid sonofabitch.
Cas had promised he was going to be back, but he never promised when. This had happened right after they got done with a particularly difficult hunt, Cas on the sidelines for support. They had taken out a coven of extremely powerful and pissed off witches. Sam and Dean had picked up the job a few months prior and spent most of their time researching, when Dean really just wanted to get the job done and get the hell out of there. He was tired.
After Cas's departure, Dean was overcome with a strange sense of longing for the missing angel. He never brought it up to Sam, but with the occasional accusatory look from his little brother when he slipped into bouts of silence and moping, it wasn't hard to tell that Sam knew something was going on.
"Dean, seriously dude, what's been eating you lately?" Sam asked one day over dinner at a rundown restaurant that Dean had dragged him to, about 5 weeks in.
"Nothing," Dean replied, between bites of his overly greasy cheeseburger. "Just need a break, you know?"
Sam narrowed his eyes and sighed softly, knowing that his brother was lying to him outright, but decided to stay silent for his own sake. He didn't want a fight tonight.
Sam left it at that, he didn't feel like prying out an answer when Dean obviously wasn't going to give him one. Besides, he knew he would break sooner or later, usually with a full blown fit, or he'd end up doing something stupid.
Two weeks later, Dean found himself moping about and watching reruns on the crappy motel T.V. He let his mind wander to the angel's whereabouts, worried as to why he hadn't heard from him in such a long time. He was almost to the point of trying to pray for him to return, but he didn't want to face Castiel's blue eyes until he returned on his own accord.
To tell the truth, he was sick of waiting. He was tired, overwhelmed, and occasionally depressed. But he wasn't going to call out to someone who obviously didn't want to be around his sorry ass.
That's when he heard the familiar flap of wings behind him and swung around almost too eagerly.
"Hello, Dean." Cas said, his eyes wide and staring as usual.
"Cas! Where the fuck have you been?" He asked, getting to his feet and moving closer to examine the angel.
He shrugged, finding a sudden interest in the tiled floor. "Busy."
Dean narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes locked on the angel's face. "With what?" he asked, his voice gruff with annoyance. "You didn't think to tell us that you were still alive? Or to tell me when you were coming back? I…" he almost let it slip that he missed the poor bastard, but that's a conversation for another day.
Castiel looked up, tilting his head to the side in that oh so annoying way of his, and stated plainly "It's not of import to you, Dean."
This set Dean off. He let out a loud sigh of frustration and stomped off, his hands balling into fists and swung his hand against the wall. Goddammit! He thought, his knuckles bleeding, forgetting about Cas for just a second. He bit his lower lip, and tried not to let the angel know that he had hurt himself.
Castiel meanwhile had been watching Dean with a look of surprise and fear. Though he could easily overtake him, having ten times his strength, he decided against it. The hunter could be quite terrifying when it came down to it. He settled for walking around to the other side of the lumpy motel couch, sitting down and waiting for the man to calm himself enough to tell him what has been going on.
Dean glanced at Cas, sitting patiently and fucking staring at him like always. "What?" he almost screamed, before storming out the door and slamming it shut behind him. Damn him. He had no idea as to why he was so pissed off at the guy, he had probably been attending to some important angel bullshit and didn't have time for the poor Winchester boys. He hopped into the Impala, turned over the ignition, and drove off to the local bar.
It was two a.m. when the door opened again, Castiel looked up in surprise, to see Dean drunk and grinning, stumbling into the room like an idiot. He headed straight for the bed, flopping down onto it with a groan and effectively forgetting all about the angel on the couch.
It wasn't until Castiel got up and approached the hunter that Dean opened his eyes enough to see a tan trench coat moving towards him. He whined and rubbed his eyes, emotions softened by the alchohol. "Shit, Cas, what are you still doing here?" he slurred, a soft grin tugging at his lips, the fight earlier completely forgotten.
"I waited for your return," the angel said, sitting slowly down onto the bed beside Dean, always invading his personal space. Dean said nothing, just rolled over onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. If Castiel weren't so attuned to the man, he would never have noticed that Dean had moved just the smallest amount closer.
"Well, why? Why were you gone for so long?" he asked, green eyes searching blue, but they gave away nothing.
"I was in heaven, trying to get things under control again." Cas whispered, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees. "I'm sorry I was away for longer than you expected me to be."
Dean shook his head and the grin returned again, playing at the corners of his mouth as he examined the angel with a sudden interest. His thick hair was more tousled than usual and Dean wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it. At that thought, he reached up and cradled the other's face in his hand, licking over his lips. Cas froze but did not pull away, and after a moment, when it was clear that Dean wasn't going to pull away, he leaned his head into the other's touch.
There was something in his eyes that overwhelmed Castiel with both courage and conviction to do what he had been meaning to do since they first met. He leaned down, close to the hunter's face, pressing their lips together experimentally, stealing a kiss. It was a few moments before Dean made any other reaction and returned the kiss with a mix of both curiosity and passion. Damn, he had to admit that he had feelings for this guy since he pulled him from hell.
From there it was all a blur of hands, lips, and teeth. In record time, both found themselves removed of all clothing and a while later, both covered in a fine layer of sweat as sleep fell upon Dean, holding the angel close.
It was 8 a.m. when Sam opened the door to the motel, arms full of supplies needed for the next hunt. He had spent the night at the library and calling back and forth to Bobby for information.
Sam shut the door behind him and turned to find Dean sleeping and Castiel heavily relaxed lying with him, both covered in only the sheet from the bed.
Sam set the bags down and retreated back outside, settling on sleeping in the Impala. After all, he had known that something was up with his brother.
Turns out, he was just missing his angel.