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The phone beeped, signaling that it was making the connection. Dean dragged his hand over his mouth and along his jaw in nervousness, a thing he did only when he was completely and utterly confused. He let his eyes wonder through the dark apartment wildly, without seeing anything. Why did it take so long for Sam to answer? Had something happened?
He started pacing around the room, the phone clutched in a death grip, hoping and praying that his brother would answer. Please, he thought, aiming his eyes at the ceiling, please.
When the beeping sound of ringing finally turned into a groggy and questioning grunt that apparently was his name Dean sighed and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Sam?"
"What's going on?" came the confused answer from the other end of the phone. The other had apparently been completely out of it, and Dean couldn't help but smirk at the answer, before he got serious again; this wasn't something he should be joking about, and he really needed his brother's help. At least a ride back if nothing else, and a rational explanation to why he was in bed with a man would be nice as well. He shook his head in bewilderment and dragged his hand through his hair.
"I don't know," he told his brother and walked back to the doorway to peek into the bedroom, where the other man was still sleeping and snoring lightly. I really don't know, he thought, "I don't know where I am."
This made Sam jolt up from where he had been lying, now completely awake; he knew how Dean got himself into all kinds of trouble.
"What? What happened?" he asked ready to bolt out of bed and into the rescue if needed, the man was his brother after all, and Sam was going to do whatever necessary to get him home safely.
Dean pinched his nose as he tried to remember what had happened; it all seemed a bit foggy at the moment; the last thing he could remember was the Djinn pinning him to the wall and poking him with its magic finger of lightshows, then the next thing he could remember was waking up here, next to the snoring man, only in his underwear. But how he'd got there, he had no clue.
"The uh, the Djinn. It attacked me."
Sam huffed at that; apparently Dean would never grow up.
"The gin? You're… drinking gin?"
Dean could have face palmed himself; how short was this kid's attention span? Twenty minutes ago, when they'd last spoken, he had sent him to a freaking creepy crawler factory to hunt the thing, had even wanted to tag along and now all he could think about was alcohol? Not to say that he couldn't do with one, but hey, not now.
"No, asshat," he replied, slightly gritting his teeth, trying to keep himself from shouting, just not to wake the other in the bedroom, "The Djinn," he pronounced every word as clearly as possible to the little prat, "the uh, scary creature. Remember? It put its hand on me and I woke up next to some…" Dean leaned his head backwards and stared into the bedroom and at the lump that had changed position on the bed and had now stopped snoring, " a good-looking dude, that wares only boxers to bed." He ended his sentence in a whisper.
Sam scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "Who? Cas?"
"Who?" came from the other end of the line and Sam relaxed, leaning back to the softness of the pillows with a knowing smile on his lips. He shook his head and wondered why he had for a second there thought that his brother had actually gotten himself in some serious trouble.
"Dean, you're drunk." Sam said almost chuckling at the incredibility of the situation. "You're drunk-dialing me."
Dean was getting frustrated; he was not drunk, he should be blaming Sam for being drunk, as the man obviously had lost every contact to his short term memory.
"I'm not drunk," he practically shouted to the phone, not even caring about how loud he was anymore, "Quit screwing around!"
Sam pinched his nose and decided he should do something to calm down his clearly drunk out of his mind brother. He didn't know how to deal with things like this anymore though; it had been a long, long time since he had been on the receiving end of one of Dean's famous drunk calls and he had worked hard to try and suppress those memories in the depths of his mind. Maybe he was living in denial, but that was better than just wallowing in self-pity. At least that was Sam's opinion.
"Look, it's late. Alright, just get some sleep and I'll…" Sam sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? "… see you tomorrow, ok?"
He ended the phone call even if he could hear the loud protests from Dean, and slid down to bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He pinched his eyes shut even if he knew he was not going to get any real sleep tonight. In his mind he cursed his brother and his love for alcohol.
Dean wasn't ready to end the call and was still calling to his brother even if the phone beeped to signal him that the call had indeed ended. He felt like throwing the phone to the wall, but decided it might not be the smartest move, so he just threw it onto the couch where it landed with a displeasing little thud.
Dean pressed his palms to his eyes and tried to think. He would just have to get hold of this alone then; not the first time, he'd done it before, so why not now.
He started to roam the living room in search for clues, and came by a stack of yet unopened letters piled up on the coffee table. He picked up the one on the top and read the receiver;
Castiel Porter
1 53 Barker Ave
LAWRENCE, KS 66044
His brow furrowed as he stared at the address, muttered it out loud to himself, stopping at the name of the city; was he in Lawrence?
He went through the rest of the pile and they were all addressed to him or to a Castiel Porter, who most likely was that other man in the bed since they had the same address. But... "What the hell?"
He was so concentrated on the letters, that he didn't even hear the small distinctive sounds of footsteps slapping on the floor behind him. Didn't notice before the small table lamp on the counter was turned on and the room was filled with soft yellow light that is.
Dean practically jumped to the roof with surprise of the sudden change in the lighting, his body filling with adrenalin. His heart was racing and it took him a moment to focus on the man standing beside the lamp, shielding his eyes from the still too bright light, and sleepily staring at him.
"Dean?" the man asked, and took a couple of steps forward, so that he was now standing a couple of feet away from the hunter.
Dean let his eyes wander on the other man; he was well built, not too much muscle nor completely skinny, a couple of inches shorter than Dean and his eyes were the most staggering blue Dean had ever seen. His brown hair was sticking out in every direction and the green boxers were hanging dangerously low on his hips.
Dean swallowed hard; something about this man made a knot tie itself into the pit of his stomach, making him feel weird and even more confused than a couple of seconds ago.
"What are you doing up?" the man asked looking straight into Deans eyes, making him feel like his personal space was invaded, but in a nonviolent, searching and worrying way, like a worried lover does to another.
The thought of lovers almost made Dean blush, and wonder why he had thought about that. It most definitely did not make answering any easier.
"Hey.." Dean stole a glimpse at the letters in his hand, equipped with the name he assumed to be the mans, "Castiel." and then he remembered what Sam had called him on the phone, and decided that if they were sleeping in the same bed, they probably were on little closer terms than full first name, "Cas, uh, I just uh…" There was apparently nothing left of the suave and charming ladies' man left in Dean. He had been degraded to the level of mere mortals in this matter. Just great.
To his surprise the other man just chuckled and closed the final distance between the two, closing Dean in a more than just friends embrace, still looking at his eyes, but now smiling knowingly, the smile making his blue eyes twinkle, which in its turn made Deans stomach make a flip.
"Can't sleep, huh?" the man, Cas, asked and drew Dean in closer, their hips now touching each other and Cas' hands almost uncomfortably close to Dean's ass. Almost.
Dean blushed and hoped that it didn't show in the warm light of the lamp, and just muttered a yeah as an agreement to the statement. He was bloody sure he wouldn't be able to sleep, not after this at least.
"Well," Cas said with a mischievous smile and a slight tug closer (how was that even possible? They were practically glued to one another for Christ's sake), "why don't you come back to bed and let's see if I can do anything to help."
The suggestion in the man's words was clear, and it hit something inside Dean he couldn't deny; he really wanted to follow the other man back to bed and see if he really had something he could, erm, do, to help.
"Sure." Dean let out before even realizing his mouth had betrayed him and spoken before his brain had given the command. "In a minute." he added hastily; he still needed to figure things out before he would do anything. Still, something in his mind told him that he did not want to hurt this man. "You… you go ahead." he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but went unnoticed by the dark haired man.
"Ok, don't stay up too long." the man said and pecked Dean so naturally, that he wouldn't have even noticed if it wouldn't have been for the intense tingling it sent through his entire body, making him shiver and rushing the bloody into all the areas it shouldn't be rushing to, not at least now.
Dean followed as the other man padded bare feet back to the bedroom, and vanished out of sight. Soon he could hear the sheets moving as a body settled under the blankets. He tried to clear his head by shaking it, and walked onto the couch, where he dropped down heavily. For a while he just stared at the wall without seeing it.
When he came to his senses, he picked up a photo from the side table and looked at it. The shock ran through his very spine and he dropped, almost threw the photo away with a loud crash as he bolted for the door and out of the apartment.
Cas woke up from his slumber to a loud crashing sound followed shortly by the door banging. He jumped out of bed and practically ran to the living room, just to find a broken picture of him and Dean with the rest of the Winchester family lying on the floor, covered in shattered pieces of glass. Gingerly he picked the photo from the pile and placed it on the table, so he could clear up the mess. Worry was gnawing at the pit of his stomach; Dean was acting weirdly. He wasn't sure what he should do. So he did what every sane person would have done; he picked up the broken frame and glass, and phoned the man's mother.
