It was not what Dean expected to walk in on when he entered Cas' room. The angel was standing in front of the small mirror - in a skirt and low cut top. The hunter simply stared, completely unsure of what the hell he should say, when Castiel looked up and said 'hi'.

Hi.

Of all the bloody things in the universe he could have said, he chose 'hi'. Dean almost swore.

'Cas, what... What are you wearing?' he grimaced, looking him up and down.

(Not bad, considering. The skirt complements his ass nicely. For a guy, of course. Definitely just by guy standards.)

'I am wearing a skirt and a top,' Cas replied dryly. 'Why do you ask?'

'Uh... well, you know dudes aren't really... supposed... to wear that kind of- of thing, right?' Dean coughed nervously, avoiding the azure eyes staring back at him.

(Look anywhere but there. Don't look into his eyes, that'll make everything... weird. God, don't look at his LIPS, dammit Dean, pull yourself together man...)

'Why?'

It was such a simple question, why, but yet all Dean could do was shake his head. Did he know the answer to everything now? How was it that Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, knew everything except social norms? Hell, even Sammy knew how to behave around women, and that was saying something considering Dean's ever-growing suspicion that his brother was, in fact, gay. But Dean knew that he had to give Cas something, because wasn't it his job to teach the angel how to be a better human? Not that he'd be needing that skill. When the time came, and Sam and Dean finally met their ends, the angel would likely just return to Heaven and continue to do whatever the hell angels did in their spare time.

'It's just... not right.' Dean winced internally, knowing that it sounded worse than he had meant it to. All Cas did was nod slowly.

'Ah. I see.'

Dean laughed awkwardly and looked at the ground. His feet suddenly became a point of interest.

(I need to buy some new boots really, really soon... maybe we can buy Cas some dude clothes while we're out.)

When he looked up again, Cas had his back to him, muscles rippling as he threw the top over the bed to the laundry basket.

(Why does the motel have laundry baskets?)

He turned slightly, bending to pick up a t-shirt from his suitcase, and all Dean could do was stare at the muscles in his back, and how his arms were so strong looking, and- wait, when had Cas taken his shirt off? And why was Dean staring at him like a lovestruck teenage fangirl? Dean liked girls. Girls with boobs and long hair and sultry voices and long legs and other great things, not sweaty, muscular men with short hair and stubble and deep gravelly voices and eyes the colour of the sky on a perfect summer's day and he really needed to stop this train of thoughts.

'Dean, are you alright?' Cas questioned, head tilting slightly.

(No, no I'm not, I want to run away, I want to scream, I want to shout, please help me Cas...)

Dean swallowed and nodded.

(Cas... God, why am I so damn confused?)

Cas took a step towards him and Dean almost stumbled backwards, but he stopped himself.

(Please, come here... I think I need you...)

'Cas.' Dean's voice was deep and rough, and it caught in his throat.

(Ca-)

Dean's thoughts were cut off, blanked out, as Cas grabbed his face and pulled him into a searing kiss.

'I know.'