BTW – sorry I can't reply to reviews right now, is being bitchy.

Whoever said they had fan art for this story? I would love to see it, send me the link?

Dean wakes up alone on the floor. For a moment he wonders if the past day, meeting Castiel, the arcade, the drinking (oh so much drinking) and the pleasant sensation of sleeping against another person's warm, hung-over body, was all a really vivid dream.

Then a mug of coffee is plunked down by his face, raising a valiant flag of steam to tweak his nostrils.

"God bless you, sweet master." Dean mutters hoarsely, a quote from some movie he can't remember.

Castiel sits down on the floor, his own mug in hand.

"We need to talk."

"About?" Dean levers himself up and takes a huge mouthful of hot coffee.

"About you, Dean. And Mystik Spiral."

Dean chokes down the scalding liquid and looks sheepishly down at the floor.

"We're thinking of changing the name." He mutters.

Castiel sighs.

"How did you find out?" Dean asks.

"Your little stunt made the front page of four gossip magazines in the UK alone." Castiel shows him the image on his laptop. "I have over a hundred messages on my phone from people who saw it yesterday."

"Is he jealous?" Dean murmurs, smirking just slightly.

Castiel flushes just a little. "Yes."

"Are you happy?"

"Very."

"Good." Dean stretches and looks down at the laptop. "So, what does google have to say about me?"

Castiel clicks on a separate tab.

"Dean Winchester, lead guitar for Mystik Spiral, which produces mostly country music. Formed in Lawrence, Kansas, on the success of your first album you moved out here. Last three albums places high in the charts, thematically concerned with God and America... " Castiel barely contains a smirk. "Apple pie and slow motion stars and stripes."

Dean frowns, mouth twisting wryly. "Makes me sound like a total asshole."

"Or a sell out." Castiel soothes him.

"I am that." Dean rolls his eyes. "And I've got the house and the pool to prove it."

Castiel closes the laptop.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks. "I mean...when you woke up here, you thought I'd broken in for you – not for Sam. And then you found out I had no idea who you were...why not just..."

"Leave?" Dean shrugs. "I don't get to hang out with many people who don't know who I am...or, actually, anyone who isn't my brother." He sighs. "Usually I try to avoid new people, pandering assholes that they are, and just...L.A. man, it's all phonies and fake tits." He catches himself "and... I'm a cliché. Woe is me, I'm famous and it sucks." He gulps coffee again.

"So...if we start again, what is it that you'd want to tell me?" Castiel asks.

"You're not mad I lied to you?" Dean looks at him uncertainly.

"You had your reasons. But...no. No I'm not mad." Castiel smiles slightly.

"Ok..." Dean thinks for a second. "The honest to crap, straight up truth?...I own this house, I bought it for Sammy when he was just starting out and I wanted to spoil him. We grew up in the asshole end of nowhere and I wanted the very best I could afford. We used to live here together before I got my own place." Dean pauses, thinks for a moment. "The arcade from yesterday? I bought that after the second album went platinum. I love arcades and me and Sam used to have so much fun there, and they were going to tear it down and build a Wendy's. Same with Ellen's bar – I bought that when her husband passed, she was in a lot of debt so I bought her out and let her keep the joint."

"And that's all?" Castiel asks. "You sing country music, and you own a lot of stuff?"

Dean's eye flicker. "I'm not so deep you know." He huffs.

Castiel is about to push it, then reconsiders – he doesn't really know Dean after all. They've barely hung out.

"Ok." He says instead. "What do you want to do today?"

Dean grins at him.

"You still want to do stuff?" He frowns. "This isn't because..."

"It's not because of what I know now." Castiel says levelly. "The last two days have been fun...that's why I'm here. To have fun." He looks down at his hands, picks at his nails. "Besides, you're a good..." He pauses.

"Friend." Dean finishes pointedly.

"I wasn't sure I should..."

"Dude, we killed shit together." Dean claps him on the arm. "We're friends." He gets up and motions Castiel to his feet. "And today, we are going to make your Brit friend rue the day he cheated on you."

(-*-)

"Hey look, it happened again." Gabriel says redundantly, peering down at their naked bodies. "Sammy, I'm surprised at you." He chides.

"How..." Sam shuts his mouth with an audible click. There is no point, absolutely no point in questioning how they ended up in bed together for the third time in two days. Clearly there's a mysterious British energy emanating from under the house, electro-magnetism or something, that is scrambling his brain and making him susceptible to the wiles of small, American, men.

Just go with that Sam, his internal Dean smirks. Whatever helps you sleep at night, on top of said American man. Yeah, you're totally straight.

I was planning to. He snaps back. And shut up.

The Dean voice shuts up.

"You have to admit." Gabriel muses, hopping out of bed and finding his clothes scattered on the floor. "At this point you are looking pretty easy."

"I'm not easy." Sam mutters, hunting for his own clothing.

"Oh Reeeeally." Gabriel drawls. "So far, you've slept with me on three separate occasions – once because I showed up at the door, once because I was already in the house, and then again last night because we happened to be in the same Pub." He raises an eyebrow. "Hardly picky, are you?"

"You came on to me." Sam argues.

Gabriel 'psh's' this away with a wave of his hand. "I come on to everyone, men, women, massage chairs, cars with unusually poor transmissions..."

Sam goes into the bathroom, washing himself briskly before putting on his underwear, he goes back into the bedroom.

"...civil servents, waitresses, bank tellers, cold callers, my member of parliament..." Gabriel is still reeling off.

"Enough!" Sam snaps. "Just...it's not happening again. So...please leave."

Gabriel looks at him pointedly.

"My pants are entrapped on the ceiling fan."

(-*-)

Castiel has never paid that much attention to his clothes before.

He has mostly button downs, mostly blue or grey. Black dress pants, a few dark suits and T-shirts that he wears to clean house or on lazy mornings.

Apparently, there's a great deal he's been missing.

Dean's big plan for that day was to take him shopping, outfitting him with better clothes and maybe a haircut, so that he can make Balthazar just a little more jealous when he goes back to England. Speaking of Balthazar, Castiel has listened to his messages and he has to admit that the other man is definitely concerned with how he came to be in the company of one of America's most influential musicians.

He's ever so slightly pleased with the shock and accusation in Balthazar's voice. Let him be in the dark for a while.

Except, Castiel kind of wants to call him back. Just to talk to him.

That wouldn't hurt, would it? He can still get over him, he just needs to hear his voice.

Castiel snaps himself out of his questioning daze just as a clerk appears with a tray of coffee and small cakes.

The best thing about this shopping trip had to be the service. They were in a boutique that Dean apparently came to often, and Castiel was being showered with attention simply for being with him. (Castiel had never actually seen 'Pretty Woman' but if he had he probably would have been making certain connections – or at least humming the music.).

His new hair is strange and artfully mussed, and the clothing Dean pointed out is all black and various kinds of blue and charcoal, exactly as Castiel likes, but it's...sleeker, more modern and probably a whole lot more expensive.

Castiel had initially tried to put Dean off, saying that he'd pay for everything himself, but Dean had shrugged and said that he'd only buy more cars with the money, so why not put it to good use. Which had given Castiel pause for thought.

One of the clerks is talking to Dean in the corner, and he hands him a piece of paper, smiling professionally. Dean shakes his hand, and Castiel catches the flicker of a green bill between their fingers. Then Dean comes to sit beside him.

He whistles, low and long.

"Looking sharp." He comments.

Castiel flushes, wishing he wasn't always so self conscious.

"Aren't you getting anything?" he asks politely.

"Nope." Dean has put the piece of paper in his pocket, but Castiel looks at it anyway, and Dean follows his glance. "Oh, that's just a delivery I have coming. I go through a lot of stuff on tours. It gets 'lost' - probably up on eBay right now."

Castiel nods like this is totally normal. "Thank you, for this by the way...I have no idea how I can pay you back."

Dean waves a hand. "Don't worry about it." He smirks. "Besides, you look amazing."

Castiel thinks he might actually be turning scarlet.

Dean chuckles to himself.

"So...new and improved Cas." He smirks. "What now?"

(-*-)

Sam shows Gabriel firmly to the door, on the lookout for any Jedi mind tricks that might prompt another night of unmentionable activities.

"Well, Sam, it's been fun." Gabriel smirks from the doorstep. "We should do this again, some time before you go back home to...wherever giants are made."

Sam really tries not to smile. He almost manages it.

"Seriously." Gabriel hands him a scrap of paper. "Call me."

And then he's gone, and Sam is left with an address, phone number, and a very bad Dean-esque idea.