A/N: ok warning for cheesy pick up lines in this fic, but I've been wanting to write this one into a Destiel fic for a while now, figured no time like the present XD


2. Drinking The Way To Clear

It's been a while since Dean has managed to drink enough to actually get drunk, but tonight he is without a doubt as drunk as a skunk.

He's not sure if the drinks are just stronger tonight or if he's simply lost count of how many he's knocked back, but there's a pleasant heat pooling in his stomach and an easy smile on his face because tonight everything just seems great.

Cas is sitting to his right, perched on a stool, looking for all the world as if he's taking shots of water instead of vodka by he steady he remains even though the line of glasses before him suggest he should be nearer to inebriation than anyone in this bar.

Dean leans against the counter slouching sideways and he's too far gone to even remember his rule on personal space, and if he did remember it, well he doubts he could even muster the will to care.

Cas radiates warmth and Dean can feel it coming off him in waves, it's nice, and somewhere in his muddled brain he gets an idea that seems to perfect to pass up.

Turning his head to face Cas, Dean motions towards the angel with his half empty glass of whiskey in hand.

"Did it hurt?"

Castiel turns to look at Dean, head tilted slightly in his 'I have no idea what you're talking about, explain' look.

Dean smiles and shifts even closer, one hand coming to rest on Cas' shoulder as he repeats himself, "did it hurt?"

Brows knitting, Cas' mouth pulls into a slight frown. "Did what hurt?"

Eyes twinkling, Dean positively grins as he slurs, "When you fell from heaven?"

Frown deepening to an all out scowl, Castiel blinks, "Well yes, having one's grace ripped out is a very excruciating-" he stops when he sees confusion spread across Dean's face, and then oh…

"Dean, are you hitting on me?"

Taking a sip of his drink, Dean smirks, "and if I was," he asks with a wink.

Cas trails a finger along the edge of his glass as the corners of his mouth shift up slightly.

"You don't have to use a line on me Dean."

Eyebrows rising, Dean shifts even closer, "I don't?"

"No, you don't," Cas whispers as his hand comes to rest on Dean's thigh.

"O-oh," Dean manages as his eyes dart between Cas' hand and face. Tapping the bar he raises a hand calling out "check please."