It isn't the first time that he's fantasized about Cas and it certainly won't be the last. He's thought about Cas in every which way, in every place imaginable. In his car, on his car, in his bed, in a motel, in that dressing room at Victoria's Secret (and for the record, Cas looks hot in purple panties), on the beach at sundown. Yeah, Dean can be romantic too, by the way.

But since the shitstorm of a year they had, Dean's been having a really hard time getting up, or rather keeping it up. He figures it's due to boredom but then maybe it has to do with something else, altogether. He'd be lying if he said the mark didn't fuck him up. He'd be lying if he said he didn't still feel fucking weird about everything and maybe a little depressed too. That shit was hardcore and honestly, no time in the world is going to let him process everything that's happened.

He's built himself on the notion that he's a hero. Okay, maybe not a goody goody, holier than thou kind but a hero nevertheless. He looks out for the innocents, he makes sure justice is served to the monsters, but then when he became the very thing he hunted, his righteous card was revoked. Could he still walk around with his chest out, saying, "all evil beware, Dean Winchester is here," when he had sunk lower than most of the things he's hunted?

He can easily blame it on the mark, and he's aware that its influence is what led him down that dark road, but didn't all monsters have some excuse? Some reason why they were what they were and some, if not most, never even had a choice?

These are wonderful thoughts to have right after jerking off to his best friend...

He hears a knock on his door and… he has come all over himself. He quickly hops out of bed, in search for some tissues and really, he knows he's been slacking in the jerking off arena but there're no tissues around either? He finally finds a box of Kleenex in the corner of the room and has no idea how or why it ended up there. He cleans himself.

"Come in," he says hoarsely and the door opens to curious faced Cas.

"Dean, Sam's making dinner and wanted to make sure you're awake."

While the very thought of his brother making dinner sounds awesome, knowing Sam, it's going to be a healthy - probably some sort of salad involved - type of dinner, but at this point, he'll take what he can get because for the first time in a while, he has no desire to cook himself.

"Yeah, just uh, give me a sec."

Give me a second to process my thoughts because looking at you now, minutes after seeing your hand around my cock is a little too much right now .

His eyes shift right to those lips and he remembers how soft they felt in that fantasy and damn, he bets they really are. His eyes meet Cas' and he's looking at him strangely now and fuck if he knows why.

"Everything okay, Dean?"

Define okay . "Yeah, yeah, I uh, just woke up… again."

He moves through the door past Cas, lightly brushing against him, and he swears that the contact sends electricity through him, from his fingers to his toes and stopping right on his groin. He's attracted to him, yeah. He's always been but having him around like this, for weeks straight, like not poofing away or disappearing on him, it's driving him a little crazy.

He knows Cas spends a lot of time in the room he and Sam set up for him. Sam gave him a TV and introduced him to Netflix so Cas can binge, chill, feel at home. It's the first time he's been able to hang out with his angel in a while and he has to admit that it's really fucking awesome.

It's really hard as well because while he'd love to sneak into his room some nights and crawl under the covers just to discover what exactly is under that suit, he's also plagued with the memory of his fists against his jaw and something's gotta give because he can't live with this guilt forever. Or yeah, maybe he can. He's Dean after all, but he doesn't want to. Not with Cas.

He feels Cas' eyes burning through the back of his head as they head to the kitchen. Sam's already setting the food down on the table and Dean takes a hard look at it, expecting some stupid vegetarian lasagna or lentil salad but instead, it's nothing like that. He has to rub his eyes to make sure he's actually seeing enchiladas. Real Mexican enchiladas with the smell filling up his nostrils and causing him to actually drool.

"Wow, Sam. I'm shocked," Dean says as he sits, licking his lips.

"I got the recipe online. I went out… I brought Cas, so calm down, and got the stuff for it. Beef Enchiladas with a side of Spanish rice and corn."

Is Dean impressed? Hell yeah. Is he about to eat so much his stomach is going to be mad at him for the rest of night? Damn straight, he is. He doesn't waste any time making a plate and he's halfway through his meal when he notices Cas is eating as well. Cas… eating?

"Hungry, Cas?"

Cas looks over at Sam and then down at his plate, smiling so slightly that if Dean didn't know him, if he didn't know almost every expression he had, he wouldn't have noticed it. "Yes, a little. It's weird, I know. I am also very interested in sampling Sam's culinary skills."

Cas plus food means his mojo is draining and that's not a good sign. He knows what has to be done. He knows exactly what they all need to do about it and he's been putting off saying it, until now. Now, as hes witnessing Cas have some sort of intimate relationship with those enchiladas and did he just moan?

They can't afford to dilly dally anymore.

"We need to find Metatron," Dean blurts out with a mouth still food of food.

Sam's brow furrows. "But-"

"Look, I don't like the idea. Hell, I hate it but we all know he's our best bet in finding out about the Darkness and more importantly, most importantly," he looks at Cas, "what's going on with your grace."

Cas stares at Dean, his eyes watering and it's making them bluer than the damn sky (and making Dean forget how to breathe). "Dean's right."

Sam sighs. "Okay well, Cas, he took your car right? I guess we can start there. I'll search if there have been any accident reports, tickets involving a 70s Continental."

Dean grins. "It's a start."

The start of a task that may or may not lead them to Dean finally killing that dick. He's thinking now of the time they had him locked up in the dungeon and Dean was ready to end him, right then and there. Of course, he can't forget the ever so ambiguous, "The river shall end at the source", which turned out to not really mean a damn thing. Or maybe it does, who the hell knows.

The asshole probably knows about the mark; what it is, its purpose, and he didn't say anything. If the universe ends because he was too much of an asshole to warn them, he's an even bigger idiot than Dean thought because the scribe ain't getting out alive either.

And so the search for Metatron begins and by that, he means Sam clicking away on his laptop with Dean retreating to his room to do the same. He's not in the mood to hang out in the library and in fact, he's been avoiding it at all costs since they've been back. Memories, bad memories linger there and he has yet to deal with any of it.

He could curl into a ball and cry like a baby, lamenting over the fact that he's killed people, hurt his best friend, lost his kid sister, killed Death, and now has some kind of post-traumatic stress about all of it, but he's not going to. He's going to put on his battle armor and suck it up until he can find a way to talk about it, and really mean it when he's sorry without forcing the words out of his mouth.

He is, though; sorry. Very sorry for getting the mark in the first place, for taking off with Crowley, for becoming a monster, trying to kill Sam, letting him and Cas grow apart, hurting him, then Sam, and indirectly killing Charlie. He may as well add Kevin to that list of 'people who get hurt or die because of Dean'.

When all's said and done, he's just as poisonous as he's always been and selfish enough not to do anything about it. Sam, Cas, they'd be a hell of a lot better without him around to screw everything up, but he needs them too badly to take a hike. He knows this, they know it too, although the reason they stick around or let him stay, is that they claim to love him. He knows they do, no doubt about it, but is it healthy to love someone like him?

That's a question for another day.

He searches state records for anything on that pimp car and how does Metatron even see over the dashboard? That's his biggest question and he laughs just picturing it in his head. He's bored of all his searches coming up empty, he should check Netflix and see if there's a brand new series he can dive into it.

He's happy Cas is done with Orange is the New Black, because he was getting really tired of hearing his viewpoints on women in close quarters seeking comfort, both sexually and emotionally, and the real story is about sisterhood but really, Dean just wanted to see more shower scenes and couldn't give a rat's ass about the plot.

And speaking of prison, his room is too quiet, he's been holed up like a hermit for the past week and it's starting to get to him. Not that the bunker didn't offer about a million and one ways to entertain, if he's into going through file cabinets full of lore or finding a tome, like Cas does, and read about various spells used on women to ensure the sex of their baby, or the history of cults in America. All very intriguing (not) but Netflix sounds a whole lot better.

He scrolls through the new releases, hoping to find something somewhat interesting - where does half this crap come from anyway? He finds a new show called Daredevil, and okay, this looks good and he's always been kind of a fan this superhero, until Ben Affleck fucked that up. But this looks different, edgy and it's an actual series which means many many hours of doing nothing. Sounds perfect.

The show starts and he gets an idea. Cas has a TV (Dean isn't even sure why he hasn't gotten one for his own room) and maybe this show would look a hell of a lot better on something bigger than an 15 inch laptop screen. He's lazy though and doesn't want to get out of bed and go to Cas' room if Cas is not even in it, or doing something else, so he picks up his phone and scrolls to Cas' name in his contacts.

Dean: Hey, what ya doing? *smiley face*

(after 30 seconds)

Cas: Dean, where are you?

Dean laughs to himself.

Dean: In my room. Where are you?

Cas: In my room. Why are you texting me?

Dean: Can I come over? watch netflix in there?

Cas: Yes

Dean: U R the best, Cas, be right there *grin*

Cas: *smiley face*

Dean knocks on Cas' door just as he opens it. "Dean, you really just texted me from one room over?"

Dean laughs. "Mm hm."

Cas steps aside to let him in and Dean takes a once over. His room isn't as immaculate as he expected and come to think of it, how often has he even been in here? He can't remember. Cas' comforter is folded halfway down on the bed and Dean notices the remote control sitting on top of one of the pillows.

"What do you want to watch?" Cas asks, walking over to the bed and kicking off his shoes.

Dean plops his body down after propping a pillow against the headboard and picks up the remote. He watches Cas join and him on the bed and okay, this is cool. Him and Cas, chilling out with some Netflix. He doesn't think they ever did anything like this before, except for the many hours of Looney Tunes Cas had become obsessed with a few years back, right after he came back from Purgatory. Right after Cas said he wanted to be hunter…

And Naomi was fucking with him. Okay he has to get that shit out of his mind.

He shows Cas Daredevil and Cas gives an approving nod and so they begin the show sitting next to each other in bed, their shoulders touching, legs… almost touching and Dean's not entirely sure this was a good idea, after all.

Cas is still an angel, so does that mean he can tell when Dean's aroused? Or when his heart begins to speed up every time Cas licks his lips or runs his hands down his thighs as he's doing right now? He wishes he could be Cas' hands and that didn't make any sense at all.

He's caught. Cas is staring at Dean, his eyes full of wonder and why, why, why does he have to look so cute when he's confused?

"What?" Dean asks, trying to cover the fact that Cas just caught him staring at his lap.

"Nothing." Cas responds, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the TV.

Is he smirking?

Cas, the angel, can tell when something is up with Dean. He always has. When he got the mark, Cas knew exactly where it was and.. fuck his life, even the hippy human Cas knew Dean wasn't from his own timeline. Now he's thinking of that cabin again and... no he won't go there, not with the death or the fantasies of being in that bed with Cas.

No, focus on the show and stop this bullshit, Dean.

Cas seems to be really getting into the show so he'll just sit back, relax, enjoy the view (in front of him, not next to him) and think about maybe asking Sam to put one of these TVs in his room too, because this is really nice.

It's pie this time, not steak and hell, he's not complaining. Cas is puffing on his joint, smiling, laughing, and Dean knows not to bring up dying, killers, or anything close to it, because last time it made him go away. This time, he's going to chill, eat some pie, and maybe experiment a little in what exactly he can control in his dreams.

He polishes off his second slice when Cas gets up from the couch and strolls over to the bedroom and yeah, he can get down with these turn of events. He rises and follows him, moving the curtains aside. He wants to talk but he's weary of saying the wrong thing so he'll just shut up and only speak when spoken to.

He can be obedient.

At that thought, Cas is sliding his body on the bed, pulling Dean down with him. Yes, this is absolutely where he wants this dream to go. Cas flips them over so he's on top, pressing his body firmly on Dean's while kissing his neck and then moving to his lips. Dean's hands are on his back, moving the fabric of the shirt so he can feel his skin, and he's so warm, skin so soft over the hard muscles, and exactly how he imagines Cas to feel.

There's no reason why they'd be doing this so fast, so easy, but it's a dream and well, these are the perks of it all: to allow yourself to indulge in things that normally wouldn't happen, to live out your fantasies.

Cas' lips move down to his chin, then his chest, he's lifting Dean's shirt so he can kiss and lick his stomach, and Dean now feels he's about about to explode in his pants.

What am I, a hormonal teenager?

He thinks Cas wants to suck him off and by all means, Cas, go for it. He watches his fingers undo his belt, then his fly, and then he slides his pants off, bringing his underwear with it. Cas' face moves down and Dean can now feel his warm breath against his balls and… oh shit , he's licking them and taking his shaft in one hand, slowly stroking him.

Cas is moving Dean's legs apart so he can bury his head deeper, using his tongue under his balls and he can't remember if anyone has ever done this to him before, but holy shit, it feels fucking amazing. He looks down, seeing Cas' grip around him, his precum leaking over his fingers and he wants that mouth on him now. Like, right now.

Cas' head pops up and he smiles, slyly as he moves his mouth to the tip, swirling his tongue across the slit, causing Dean to gasp for air. He's learned a lot while being human, these orgies have really taught him a thing or two, and he really doesn't want to think about that right now. Not that he's jealous or anything (okay maybe a little), but there're better things to focus on. Like how Cas is taking him in his mouth, squeezing his balls, and he's about to pump his come right into his mouth.

He doesn't know what to do with his own hands so he grabs Cas' head and plays with his messy hair, massaging his scalp, and he feels it building, his stomach filling with butterflies and then Cas suddenly stops. Dean looks down at him and his blue eyes are glistening as he's smiling.

"Dean."

"Cas."

More kisses and licks and then their eyes meet again. "Dean."

Dean's squirming under him, hoping to get his mouth back down there. "Cas."

"DEAN!"

Dean jolts out of his sleep and for a hot second, he has no idea where he is until he looks up at a very concerned Castiel, who's leaning over him. Dean goes to rub his face and realizes his hand is on Cas' head, and oh jesus fucking christ , was he… playing with Cas' goddamned hair while he slept?

He sheepishly smiles, withdrawing his hand from Cas' head and swears he feels his fingers tingle as he lets go of his hair.

"You were dreaming, I wasn't going to wake you but you began writhing and calling out my name, and then…"

And then I grabbed Cas' head and played with his hair because in my mind, he was sucking me off. Dean's cheeks are hot, on fire, really, and all he could do is laugh. So he does, emphatically. Cas' look of bewilderment only increases.

"Just dreaming, Cas."

Just dreaming about being with a version of you from a time I'll never get to see again, in a bed that's too big and comfortable for its own good, in a place that probably no longer exists. A dream that had been fucking me up for weeks but now just started to get good and no one dies.

Dean hops out of Cas' bed, yawning, stretching his arms overhead. "I guess I'll go to my own room to sleep now, thanks for the TV time."

"Dean," Cas says as he's about to open the door.

Dean turns to him. "Hm?"

"Was this dream anything like the nightmares you've been having? Because by the way you were tossing and turning, it looked intense."

How the fuck… oh right... Cas . "So you know I've been having nightmares?"

"Yes. For quite some time now."

"And you never bothered to find out more about them?"

Dean moves back into the room and stands at the foot of the bed, ready to take his seat there if this is going to turn into one of those talks and to be honest, he wouldn't hate that right now.

"No, it's your business. You'll share when you're ready."

He sits because yeah, he can do this. "Only reason I haven't shared is that I really don't know if it's even worth talking about. It might not even be anything."

"Is it involving the Darkness?"

Dean scratches his head. He's pretty sure there's no connection. "Uh, no. I mean, I don't think so."

"Well, if you need to talk, I'm here." Cas says, sighing.

He's relieved, he thinks, that Dean's not dreaming about the Darkness or the mark, and Dean's pretty happy about that as well, but it doesn't mean the dreams are anything good. Well except for the last one and he's not sure now if he can talk about it yet.

Dean's on his feet again, understanding that no, he's not going to get into it, and heads for the door, opening it before turning to Cas one last time. "Gonna get some Z's."

"Without the aid of whiskey?"

Dean freezes and wonders why he hadn't thought of that. "Good idea, thanks for reminding me." He smirks and heads to his room, which is literally right next to Cas'. In his room, a half bottle of Jim Beam is waiting for him and that's probably all he'll need tonight since he's already tired as hell.

He fills up a glass and falls down on his bed, crosses his feet and flips open his laptop. Porn? Nah, he has that dream to think about if he gets in the mood again, which might take some time since his heart's still racing from being woken up from said dream, realizing he'd been saying Cas' name out loud. Thank the heavens that it wasn't stuff like "yeah, suck that dick, Cas" or "Oh Cas, your mouth feels so good on my cock."

The room is back to being too quiet, so he closes his laptop and reaches for his mp3 player, puts his headphones on, rests against the pillows, and escapes reality with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. Nothing relaxes him more than the mellow riffs of Gilmour and Waters and maybe he won't even need that second glass of booze.

He opens his eyes and checks his watch and sighs when he sees it's 8 a.m. That means he slept through the night without another dream. He lifts his head and notices his headphones on the floor and he realizes at some point he must have thrown them off of him. He can try and go back to sleep and hopefully get back to Hippy Cas, since he really missed him last night after that great blow job that he never did quite finish. Instead he rolls out of bed, searching for his robe and slippers because hell yeah , and decides to join the land of living.

But when he gets to the kitchen, it's empty. Coffee pot off, no evidence of breakfast dishes in the sink, and it's dark, except for those pesky nightlights that are scattered around the bunker and he wonders why they're even there. He flips the switch to the kitchen lights and drags his feet over to the refrigerator. He's on his own for breakfast and examining the contents of the refrigerator, he questions why on earth they haven't gone shopping for better grub.

Bowl of cereal it is, breakfast of champions.

After putting on a pot of coffee, he sits at the table, eating his sugary bowl of… whatever it is that Sam bought. Deal was, you want healthy? Fine, but it has to be sugary too. By the time the coffee is done brewing and his belly is satisfied with the two bowls of crunchy wheaty whatevers , he looks at his watch. 8:30 a.m.

It's going to be a long day of him crawling out of his skin because really, how many more times can he wash the cars in the garage, reorganize the men of letters filing system, scan the bookshelves for reading material, only to end up watching TV? He has cabin fever and for a guy who's spent most of his life on the road, okay not most, all , he's about to rip his head off. Being holed up in the bunker is not only getting to him, it may actually be making him psychotic and if he starts stuffing dead birds and placing them strategically around the room in some sort of reenactment of the last Game of Thrones episode he watched, he might have to off himself.

A job. They need a job.

He's back in his room on his laptop, searching desperately for a case. Anything that might look like their thing, even the far fetched ones like, 'Woman slips on mysterious black goo in kitchen' , or 'Couple drives car into lake after watching the Kardashians.' 'Cause ya never know, could be supernatural. He knows he's fishing but a case is a case, and if it's a bust, it's better than being cooped up in the batcave.

He presents the possible case of 'Man found frozen to death in his room at the Bluebird Inn' , a quaint bed and breakfast in… Vermont, really? But Sam agrees, hesitantly but he agrees nevertheless because frozen corpse could mean a number of things. And it's June, so there's that. Mysterious frozen people was never not something in their wheelhouse and so Dean may have actually found something worthwhile.

It's a day's drive which means they'll split it up in two, stopping off halfway in Ohio for the night. Dean's excited as he packs his duffel, taking a second glance at his robe and slippers, but decides to leave them behind. Something to look forward to when they return, he thinks. He likes to give himself reasons to want to come back and stay here. It's not like having his own room, a functional kick ass shower, a kitchen that would have made his mother swoon, a wealth of knowledge at their fingertips, and being practically invisible to anything otherworldly isn't enough. He often scares himself because of the fact that his life was on the road, he'd find excuses to always remain… on the road. That means, no residence, no personal spaces, and no attachments.

Since living in the bunker, he and Sam have had plenty of time away with cases left and right, and then the mark of Cain happened and well, the rest is a blur, really. He spent an entire summer with Crowley whilst being a demon, and then case after case after being cured. The effects of the mark made it almost impossible to not want to kill something, so finding a distraction was easy. Flop case or not, they were out on the road for most of the year and Dean was thankful for it.

And now the bunker, his only home, has this taint. This dark and haunting event that took place in it. He loves the place but being a shut in, and having to see that library, remembering the books and all his personal items in a pile, ready to be burned. The dead bodies of the Stynes, that kid… fuck. Of course this is also the very same place he puts his hands on Cas. So yeah, he's happy to be behind the wheel right now.

Sam is in his usual place in the passenger seat and Cas is sprawled out in the backseat, his head resting against the window, while reading some dusty old book from the bunker.

"Whatcha reading, Cas?" Dean asks, peering at him through the rear-view.

He sees Cas look up at him in the mirror. "Wuthering Heights."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Going for the classics now, huh?"

"It's a pretty good book," Sam says.

Dean shoots a look at Sam because of course he's read that.

"Well, before Metatron gave me all the pop culture knowledge he had, he said something about me never opening up a book and he was right, though I hate to say it. All of my reading material was either research or biblical and well, after he zapped me with a plethora of information, I figured, why not. There are some really good stories out there."

"And he missed this one?" Sam asks, turning his head.

"Apparently so," he says before returning to his book.

Dean smiles, because Cas getting into their literature that's non demony, non angely is pretty awesome. He's been with them in the bunker for weeks, being introduced to many human distractions, and he seems to be enjoying it a lot. With watching every season of the X-files to learning how to make simple meals in the kitchen, Castiel seemed to be loving his new home and Dean has a nice warm feeling in his heart at that fact.

Cas has been kind of a fish out of water for a long time and while it's obvious he'd been trying to find himself, his purpose, helping Heaven here and there, only for them to prove to him that he wasn't really welcomed there. Then running to Claire when she needed help, even while she protested. It's kind of beautiful seeing Cas finally finding a home, even though his home had always been with him… and Sam. Whether it's riding around in the Impala, or being at the bunker, Cas belongs with them. Always has. Always will.

He glances again at him, watching his lips move as he reads the pages, his eyebrows furrowing, most likely at a part he doesn't quite understand. Because knowledge zap or not, there are still a number of things Cas is clueless about and that's okay, Dean is ready to be there to explain if need be. It's the little things he asks that tickle Dean. The questions they all had at one time or another but it's the first time for Cas. " Why doesn't anyone recognize Superman when he's dressed as Clark Kent?" Ah, good question, Cas.

And then it makes him think about it too much because really, it made no logical sense.

Ten more hours to go and he's already contemplating where to stop for lunch. They've done this route so many times, it's almost like their second home. The 36 from Lebanon to Ohio, passing through Kansas City first, and Dean's stomach flips. They're about an hour outside of that place and what if there's something there, like some opening or portal? What if that Cas has been trying to reach him on purpose? What if…

But he's not going to go there on the off chance that any of that is true. There are actual real problems they're dealing with and his dream stuff can go on the back burner where it belongs. For now, at least. He was dreamless for one night, sort of, and that's always a good sign. Maybe it won't ever come back, maybe it was just some fluke his brain was doing and it's over.

As he passes the exit, he focuses on the sign, almost zoning out but then shakes it off and keeps driving. He can feel the pull, though he has no idea why, since it's 2015, and no apocalypse, Lucifer is in the cage, and Cas is in the backseat, not in the middle of some orgy and definitely not dead.

Why, after all these years was this back on his mind? Although, it hadn't really left, and he's aware that some nights he'd look at his brother and remember that speech he gave him when he was Lucifer. The words repeating in his head, " Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up… here"

They changed shit, right? Ended that possibility? It never happened.

Now they have the Darkness to look forward to, whatever the hell that means. Until it makes its move, they have people to save. Jobs to do. And the most important task at hand is finding a way to help Cas, because he'll be damned if they don't get to the bottom of what's happening to him.

It's not like he hasn't seen Cas lose his mojo, before. Aside from him being human that time, he's seen it during that same year the Lucifer and Michael crap went down. Little by little, Cas was being drained and by the end, he was completely powerless. Yet he was still able to save the world, buying them time by throwing a goddamned molotov cocktail at his brother.

He's chuckling now, thinking of him, "Hey Assbutt" and really, Cas tries so damn hard to help and seeing that hippy guru Cas now, he gets why he stuck around Dean for all those years. It's just who he was, who he is. When Cas says he'll stand by him until the end, he means every damn word of it, and there are very few people that Dean would expect no less from.

They hit a small town near Springfield, Illinois for something to eat. Dean pulls into a burger joint and as soon as they exit the car, the smell of meat on the grill makes his stomach growl. Inside, they're shown to a table and suddenly Dean feels a little fancy, as this was supposed just be a regular, run of the mill eatery. Families are dining there, couples, there are candles on the table, a salad bar in the middle of the place, and 60s rock and roll playing. Not bad, but it better not be that expensive.

The waiter drops off their menus, giving the boys a once over, and yeah, Dean knows that look. When his eyes land on Cas, his eyebrows raise.

"Can I get you all something to drink while you decide on what to order?" The dude says, staring straight at Cas, who just took his place next to Dean at their booth table. Dean nudges him with his foot and Cas looks up at him.

"Oh uh..." He turns to the waiter, who now actually has fucking heart eyes for Cas. "I'll have a beer."

The waiter grins. "Sure, ale, blonde, dark, pale, lager…"

"Uh..." Cas looks nervously at Dean, unsure what to do and it makes Dean laugh.

"He'll have a Heineken. Actually make that two," Dean tells the waiter.

"I'll have a water, thanks," Sam adds.

The waiter nods, a tiny look of disappointment on his face, and turns from them, heading back into the thick of the restaurant, disappearing somewhere beyond the salad bar.

"Aw, he got cock blocked," Sam says, chuckling.

"What? Shut up," Dean snaps.

Cas tilts his head. "I'm confused, what do you mean? The waiter?"

"He was obviously checking you out but when Dean ordered for you, it looked like… like he's your significant other."

Dean's face turns a bright red and he knows this because he can see his stupid reflection in the mirror next to them. "That's not why I did that, dick."

Sam laughs and Cas is looking at both of them, still confused. "So, it's customary to order for your significant other?"

Sam nods. "Yes."

"Okay, can we drop it? I just ordered him a beer, so calm down."

"And when you said he was checking me out, you mean… wanting to have sex with me?"

Dean almost chokes on his own saliva and he can't help but laugh now.

Sam is grinning as he says, "I think he was, Cas, yeah."

"Oh, I see."

Cas turns to Dean, giving him a nervous expression which kind of reminds him of the time he took him to the brothel. Poor Cas. He has no idea what to do when someone's interested in him. It's fucking adorable.

If he ever knew that in another world, he not only knows exactly what to do, he made very good on holding them to it, day in and day out, in group sex parties held in his cabin. How does one go from here to there anyway?

"Don't sweat it, Cas. If you're interested, I can explain to him that we're not a couple, you know, in case that's what he thinks," Dean says, now wishing he hadn't. But hey, he's not Cas' boyfriend and if Cas wants to bang a waiter from some joint in a town they'll probably never see again then who is he to stop him.

Just as those thoughts start to stir things up in Dean that he'd rather not deal with, the waiter's back, placing their drinks down. Cas, now even more squirmy and nervous, smiles awkwardly at the dude (and the whole thing is pretty damn hilarious) but Dean almost jumps out of his seat when Cas thanks the waiter for his beer and then places his hand on Dean's, squeezing it.

"My boyfriend and I love this beer," Cas says with a side smile and the waiter just nods and walks away, defeated... and holy shit what the hell was that?

Dean turns to Sam and he's cracking up now, looking down at Dean and Cas' hands that are still locked together.

"I wasn't interested in him, Dean," Cas says with a grin and Dean thinks, thank fucking god , and has no idea why. (Yes he does). "So I made sure his assumption was right. About us."

Am I dreaming? Dean begins to pinch his thigh, just in case. Nope, he's awake. Not dreaming.

The food comes shortly after and during the entire meal, Dean thinks about Cas holding his hand, and he knows it's stupid and adolescent to be giddy over something like that, but it felt really good. He can still feel the tingling on his skin from where Cas' hand was.

It's always these small things, these tiny displays of affection that Dean has to hold onto. He knows they're not going to get into it like he did with Hippy Cas in the dream. He's aware Cas doesn't feel that way about him, even if he suspects that Dean thinks about it. Too much.

He doubts Cas has any idea, just as he had no clue that waiter was checking him out. If Cas isn't looking for it, he isn't aware of it, and Dean's okay with that. He honestly would have no clue what Cas would do if he knew Dean thought about him sometimes, wondering how soft his lips were, or how his skin felt under that suit, or that having him this close sometimes causes Dean to lose track of his thoughts, only to become a bumbling idiot who rambles on about absolutely nothing.

Or how he falls apart every time Cas is gone, or lost, and how easy it is for that angel to break his damn heart, and he has no idea why (yes he does) but saying it, even in his mind makes it too real and he's just not ready. So he'll keep doing what he does best, repress the shit and out it and focus on saving as many people as he can, until some other big bad, most likely the Darkness, decides to bite