Dean couldn't stop laughing all the way back to the motel. He hadn't had this much fun with Sam since.. well, since he could remember. It was so much better without his little brother complaining all the time.

Even Castiel appeared in better spirits. Partly, probably, because Dean wasn't forcing him to do anything sinful anymore. No more whore, no more whorehouses, no more running from the bouncers of the place or needing to make a swift get away.

They were back in the small little rented room, relaxing after their long night. Dean had even picked up a six pack on the way back—Sam always hated when he drank right before a big day, but screw him, he was gone and Dean was going to live like there was no tomorrow. Because hell, in his line of work there might not be.

Castiel sat in the chair that occupied a small corner of the room. He was more relaxed now, more at ease when it was just the two of them. He bowed his head. "I suppose we can sit quietly and wait for morning now."

And there is was again, the damn stubborn patience, so resigned to his fate. The night was still young, and so were they—relatively speaking, hell, Castiel hadn't even had his first time yet. Though, in retrospect, Dean knew he probably shouldn't have set Cas up with a hooker for his first time out. The angel deserved so much better than just some one-hour fucktoy.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "What? Giving up so soon?"

"Unless there is another whorehouse you wish to bring me to." Castiel's voice pleaded that the answer be no, that Dean would just let it go and move on and forget this silly quest and let the angel just sit and ponder the universe for the rest of his remaining time on Earth.

But fuck that. Dean Winchester did not just let things go—especially important things like sex. No, sex was important. Castiel most definitely needed to have sex before he went out in a blaze of glory.

Dean passed a bottle of beer to Cas, wondering how many he'd drunk himself. He was starting to get a little fuzzy, but it was a happy fuzzy. "No more whorehouses for you, Cas."

"Well, that is a relief, Dean." Castiel nodded, relieved. He twisted the cap of the bottle open effortlessly.

"But we still have to find some way to de-virginize you."

Castiel put the bottle of beer to his lips and drank when Dean spoke. He gulped it down, and then asked in a worried tone. "Do we really? I'm actually quite comfortable like this."

Dean had to admit that he was quite comfortable as well, sitting on the motel bed, after drinking a couple of beers, and one bottle still in his hands—and Castiel sitting there, so nerdy and scared, he kinda reminded him of Sam. Back when Sam was Mr. Prim and Proper—wouldn't hurt a fly, before Ruby..

Dean stopped his train of thought just in time before it went to things, and people, he'd rather not think about. He was here with Castiel, enjoying the night, getting a little more dizzy with each passing sip. "Come on, Cas, you've gotta live before you can die. And if this goes south tomorrow, I am not going to let you pass up this night. We have to find you someone."

"I don't particularly—"

"What about the girl who was working the motel front desk? She was pretty. She seemed a bit sweet on you too."

"No, I—uh," Castiel turned away, blushing. Dean loved watching him blush, the way the angel knew he was doing something wrong but he couldn't help himself when it came to the boy's suggestions. And Dean loved pushing him over that edge, wondering what the angel would do for him, how far he could get his friend to go. "I don't think so."

"So, do you have a preference?" Dean let out a quick laugh and leaned against the headboard. "What do you look for in a partner? Blonde? Brunette? Redhead? Short? Tall?"

Castiel struggled for an answer, but didn't seem to know himself. "I like.. people with pure souls and good hearts, who are willing to fight for the common welfare of all of God's creations."

It was a geek answer. One Sam probably would have given—Dean shook his head, trying not to think of his little brother again. He refused to give those kind of thoughts any room in his head. Instead, he giggled, wondering if he was already a little too drunk. "That explains why you didn't find what you were looking for in a whorehouse."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know how important this was to you." Castiel replied, having already given up. Dean couldn't shake the idea that the angel was inwardly rolling his eyes at him though, obviously finding it much further down on the list of important things they had to do than Dean did.

Dean pushed himself off the bed, moving over to Castiel. "I guess there's only one thing left to do."

"And that would be?"

Dean knew he was drunk by the time he tried to walk over to Castiel, the whole room was light and fuzzy and he couldn't stop thinking of Sam—fucking Sam, always having to watch over that kid, always pushing off things that he wanted to do to make sure the kid was okay and protected and taken care of—but he knew now why getting Castiel laid was so important to him.

Dean wanted this too.

He wanted it for himself. He'd been helping other people for so long he'd forgotten how to just ask for things, how to want things instead of how to want things for other people. "Cas, I.."

"Dean?"

"You need this, Cas." Dean knelt by Castiel, placing his head in the angel's lap. Castiel didn't appear to mind, he just sat there, in that motel chair and looked down at the Winchester boy. Dean just wanted to stop thinking for a little while, to do something reckless without worrying about its effects on other people, to grab life by the fucking horns before tomorrow gutted them all. "And I need this. I want this. I've wanted this for a while."

"So, are you suggesting...?" Castiel raised an eyebrow, curious if it was leading where he thought.

"My father always said," Dean smirked as he began to unbuckled Castiel's belt. The angel's eyes went wide, but he did not make a move to stop him, nor did he call what they began to do sinful or immoral. It wasn't whores and hookers this time, it was two friends who knew each other and would help each other with anything—even crossing this task of their mutual to-do list. "If you want something done right, do it yourself."

.end.