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Cas couldn't go back to Anna's because he was mortified, and he would eat his own foot before asking Gabriel for a place to stay. Of course, the last place he could go was home, knowing from his last talk with Gabriel that Balthazar's flight didn't leave until the next morning. His solution? Drive half way to Lisa's only to think better of it and stop off at the Roadhouse, a place he knew all too well from his high school days and college breaks. The owner, Ellen, and her weird live-in accountant, Ash, decided to punish him for his long absence by getting him more hammered than a college freshman on St. Patrick's day.
A few hours later, he was just about convinced that he could get the new rough-talking country-boy bartender into bed if he tried hard enough. Fortunately, Jo came along to drag him out before he could make an ass of himself.
"Come on, Cassie Bear," she said, and he snorted at her use of the nickname she'd given him back when they were going out in high school. Well, he had been in high school anyway. She'd been in middle school. But, that wasn't so unusual in a small town like this, and when kids were still just young enough.
"Oh, Joanna," he crooned as she put her arm around his waist and dragged him off his bar stool. She half carried him across the room without even a grunt of effort. He giggled when she shoved him into the passenger seat of her jeep and he fell over. As soon as she joined him, he reached over to wrap a hand around her bare knee. Her jeep smelled like motor oil and faintly of gunpowder. He'd forgotten she liked to go shooting. She liked most things that could cover up the fact that she was the sweetest, purest girl a man could ever hope to meet. She was honest and kind, and Cas loved her wicked potty mouth. If he'd ever wanted to marry a girl, it would have been Joanna Harvelle, because he couldn't stand the thought of another man treating her bad. Lucky for both of them she was too good to keep a gay man in the closet, and she'd kicked him right on out, right out onto his ass.
"You are amazing," he said, vaguely aware that the jeep was moving.
"Don't I know it," she answered, patting him on the head and leaving her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes, Jo shaking him awake while trying to haul him back out of the jeep.
"Come on, you fat ass," she was saying, hauling him up by the arms.
"I am not fat," he objected, sliding off the seat and almost falling when his feet hit the ground. He wrapped an arm around Jo's shoulders and let her lead him, wobbling. through what felt like a grassy yard. Somehow, his feet and his drunken brain figured it out and he groaned.
"Not Lisa's, Jo!" he whined.
"Drunk guy doesn't get to call the shots, buddy," she answered mercilessly.
They were almost across the gravel driveway when a porch light came on in the cabin next door and they both turned toward it. Dean was half way down his front steps.
"Jo? I thought I heard that jeep," he called. Suddenly Cas found himself being dragged toward the light.
"Worst idea," he objected, but Jo ignored him, bringing him up to the bottom step, until he could see Dean Winchester staring at him warily, less than a foot away.
"Hey, Tinkerbell. Didn't know you were the one renting out the old Cas shack," she said. Castiel almost laughed at her belligerence.
"Damn, I guess this is a small town," he answered, still eyeing Castiel.
"Dean's new," Cas contributed, "A very talented cyclist." He smiled at his own not-joke.
"Oh, so you've met?" Jo asked. Dean grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head in confirmation.
"Great! You take this-" she said, pushing Castiel off herself and toward Dean without any warning and causing him to stumble. He would've face planted in the dirt if Dean hadn't reached out and caught him in time. He found himself being hauled to his feet again, clinging forcefully to Dean's shoulders. He turned back to Jo, eyes half focused on her frowning face.
"You're gonna leave me with this guy I'm gonna take advantage of," he half asked half stated.
"What the hell, Jo?" Dean asked, sounding a little irritated.
"You turned on the damn light, you asked for trouble. What, you thought the sound of my jeep's engine was a Jo booty call dinner bell?" She snapped. Dean pulled back and raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.
"No-"
"Well, if I take him home I'll wind up naked somehow. He's sneaky like that," she said, gesturing at Cas, who chuckled knowingly. "And since you're right here asking for trouble, I don't see why Ben should see his uncle in such a pitiful state. So just shut up, let him sleep on the couch tonight and watch him crawl his hungover ass into Lisa's house tomorrow morning." She didn't leave room for argument, and turned and started to walk away immediately. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back, waving a finger in their direction.
"And you better take care of that drunk bastard, Dean Winchester. Or so help me I'll drop a Prius on your ass." Finally, she turned and walked off into the dark until they couldn't see her any more.
Cas realized his arms were wrapped around Dean's waist, head on his shoulder when Dean fidgeted, pulling on Cas' arms and trying to move back up the steps. Cas shoved himself off the other man and hastily stumbled up the stairs, causing Dean to sprint after him in alarm. Soon he was being led gently by a set of strong hands on his waist across the front porch.
Dean struggled to get the door open with an arm full of Cas. The man was small but solid. Under that white button down, Dean wasn't feeling anything but muscle. Cas surged out of his hold again as soon as they made it into the house. Dean reached for him but gave up when he saw him disappear around the corner, headed for the bathroom. Of course he'd know where it was if he really used to live here like Jo said. Dean sighed and followed when he heard the first sounds of dry heaving. It wasn't a pretty sight, but then Dean had never found drunkenness very attractive. He hunkered down in front of the sink and tried not to stare at the guy. After a few minutes, there was a lull in the puking and Dean glanced over to see Castiel resting his head on the seat, eyes shut. Good thing Dean had bothered to clean the bathroom today.
"Not exactly what I thought for our next meeting," Cas murmured, moving to the more miserable, existential stage of his intoxication.
"Don't worry about it, Man. We can have a real meet and greet later," Dean reassured him.
"Alright," Cas acquiesced.
"Alright," Dean repeated with finality, reaching toward the sink for a hand towel and holding it out to his guest. Castiel's eyes cracked open and he took the towel with a shaking hand. Dean watched him wipe his mouth and patted his shoulder, unable to help feeling a little sorry for him. Castiel wormed his way toward the touch until Dean's hand was on his neck and his knees were pressed into Cas' side. It was a little weird but Dean wasn't complaining.
"Feeling any better?" he asked. Cas nodded. "Alright, come on, let's get you turned in." Cas lifted his arms in the air to help Dean pull him up. It was very childlike and made Dean think maybe he'd been through this a few times.
Cas leaned his head on Dean's shoulder as they left the bathroom, smelling like whiskey and sourness. He clung to Dean's neck when he lowered him to the couch, and it reminded Dean of what Jo had said about Castiel being sneaky. His fingers trailed down to the hem of Dean's shirt when he stood, before dropping back to the couch.
"I'm gonna go get you some water, ok?" Castiel answered with a thumbs up that was half fingers as Dean left the room and went into the kitchen. He filled a glass with water and took a step back out of the room, thinking better of it and turning back for a bucket he kept under the sink. He left the kitchen just in time to see Castiel shoot into a sitting position, and was smart enough to sprint over, sloshing water on the carpet, so he could shove the bucket into Cas' hands. Dean winced, looking away as he listened to the other man retch. After a moment, he heard him take a shaking breath, and the bucket was carefully set down next to his foot.
"Ellen Harvelle is evil," he groaned weakly. Dean turned to look at him and watched as he fell back on the couch, staring miserably up at Dean. Dean couldn't help but smile a little at the pitiful sight. He sat down next to Cas's knees on the couch, taking the immobilized man's hand and wrapping his fingers around the remaining half glass of water. Cas lifted himself just enough to drink it obediently before flopping back down.
"I knew you were a good guy," Cas croaked, still staring at Dean through half-lidded eyes. Dean shrugged.
"Umm... thanks?"
"I've never had a wrong first impression," Cas explained flatly. Even his drunken warbling came out rougher than gravel and deeper than quicksand. It was one of those singular things about people Dean always found himself noting, like the fact that Cas' hair was clean and fluffy even though it looked like he'd let it go after a rough night, or how the way his mouth moved counteracted the chapped appearance of his lips, just making everything look soft and pliant.
"Wish I had that kind of foresight," he answered, looking down at Castiel, his body arranged as if he'd been thrown there and never bothered to readjust in order to get comfortable.
"That's how I knew, I'm a jerk, because I knew that dumb English ponce wasn't gonna be it for me," he rambled on while Dean compulsively rearranged Castiel's limbs on the sofa.
"Ponce, huh?" Dean knew he should feel guilty for egging Cas on, but he couldn't help himself.
"Yeah, but he was cute. And persistent. Should've married Jo. Should've been straight and married Joanna Bear. Story of my life," he rubbed a loose hand over his face. The hand slapped back down to the couch, and Dean was suddenly being glared at. "She is the blonde bane of my existence," Cas slurred.
"Sounds like Jo," Dean shrugged. The whole situation was cute, so fucking cute. Drunk Cas wasn't sexy like smug Cas, but damn was he endearing. Full confirmation that the guy was batting for the other team didn't hurt, either. Except for the part where Dean's heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.
"She knew. She waited-two drinks ago and I would've had you naked, screaming my name on that coffee table," he gestured angrily and Dean automatically glanced behind him at the piece of furniture which totally couldn't have handled that kind of activity. He swallowed as Cas went on, "She waited until she knew I couldn't do anything to drag me out of there, and then she didn't even take me home. One time-one time!-I seduce that girl and I never ever get to live it down," he grumbled, "But she is a fox, and I had to."
Dean cleared his throat, nodding and trying not to think about how hot both Jo and Cas were, lest his mind be blown by the mere idea of that coupling.
"Your face, is red," Cas' face split into a grin, and his hand slapped Dean on the thigh, which was a little jarring. "Dean," he growled, "You're having an impure thought." His hand gripped Dean's leg and it was all he could do not to rocket off the couch. He shook his head as he pulled the quilt off the back of the sofa to cover Cas.
"No, no, no, no," he muttered. He was not losing the upper hand in an exchange with a drunk guy. Fortunately, Cas didn't seem to notice, picking at the edge of the quilt. It had been in the house when Dean moved in.
"This," Cas breathed deeply, "Is totally mine." Dean quirked an eyebrow. The quilt was covered in pink, blue and yellow flowers. Cas looked at him and frowned. "It is ugly," he said flatly. Dean couldn't help but laugh,
He smoothed the quilt over Castiel's chest before standing, watching Cas' nails scrape down the care-worn denim over his knee before dropping back to the couch.
"I'm gonna get you a pillow, okay, buddy?" Cas just nodded. Dean let out a long breath as he left the room, heading into the bedroom so he could pull a pillow off his bed. He liked to sleep with two, but he could deal with just the one tonight.
Of course, when he got back to the couch, Cas was already passed out. Dean hesitated, but finally leaned over him to lift his head and slide the pillow under as gently as he could. Just as he let go, that sneaky hand wound its way up the back of his neck and into his hair, and he was suddenly staring into blue, blue half-open eyes, with hot whisky-vomit breath beating against his chin.
"Hi, Cas," was his quick and witty response.
"Obviously too drunk," Cas muttered, "But you are a really gorgeous man." His face broke into a goofy grin and his fingers clumsily explored half of Dean's face before letting him go, and finally rolling over to press his face into the back of the couch.
Dean stood straight, cursing silently. Talk about wasted opportunities.
