Dean groaned and slurped some more coffee. "Sam, enough," he managed to reply. "I'm sober."
"That's crap, and you know it," Sam argued. "We're in the middle of a job here, in case you hadn't noticed. What the hell's gotten into you?" There was no way on earth Dean was going to answer that question.
"What are you, my mother?" He softened a little when he saw the hurt, the genuine concern, in his brother's eyes. "Just leave it alone, Sammy."
"Fine," Sam replied as he shoved his laptop into his bag and walked to the door. "I'm going to the town planner's office to see if they've got any maps of the sewer lines. Just... Whatever it is, Dean, I need you to get over it. There are lives at stake."
"You think I don't know that?"
"I don't know, Dean, do you?" Sam said softly to the door frame. "I'll be back in an hour or two." The door opened and shut, leaving Dean alone. He took another swig of coffee and sagged in his seat at the tiny motel table. There was no way Sam could understand what he was going through, Dean consoled himself. It was better to stay drunk and surly than try and explain the pain that was eating him alive. He topped off his coffee cup with a slug of whiskey and took a deep pull.
It was all Castiel's fault. That friggin' angel, with his mix of innocence and wisdom, strength and weakness, all wrapped up in a backwards tie and a cream coloured overcoat, and topped with tousled black hair and eyes that put the sky to shame. Damn him, Dean thought as he poured another drink. Cas was all he could think about. He was the first thing on Dean's mind when he woke up, and the last thing he thought about before he fell asleep, and it was killing him. Today's drinking binge had started when he finally admitted it to himself, had finally allowed himself to think the words, I'm in love with Castiel.
And it wasn't just sex he thought about, although Dean was honest enough to admit that was part of it. To kiss those lips, to run his tongue along Cas' skin, to hear the angel speak his name in a breathy moan... Dean shifted uncomfortably on the chair and reached for the coffee again. He'd had enough to drink that he was getting hard just thinking about it. But it was more than sex. It was the friendship they had, the way Cas would cock his head and get that look in his eyes when he didn't get a reference Dean made; Cas' brilliant smile; the sound of his voice; the way Dean would sometimes catch Castiel staring as he tried to figure something out... It was a love made up of a thousand thousand moments, finally cementing into a realisation that Dean couldn't escape. He was in love, and it was a love that could never be returned.
Dean sighed and drank more coffee. Sam was right. He had to get over this, or he couldn't function. He wasn't some school girl with his first crush; he'd just have to man up and face the fact there was nothing he could do about being in love with an angel. So he'd shove it down, deep inside, and go about his life as if nothing was wrong. And maybe in time, he'd get over it. So Dean poured more coffee, emptied his duffel bag onto his bed, and set about readying weapons for the hunt that was to come.