The party is lazy, but Castiel doesn't mind, mostly because Dean's not making out with Bela Talbot. Castiel had, had enough alcohol on Friday, yet stupidly he's drunk again, he suspects this is because while he's not making out with anyone, Dean's choosing to spend the night on the floor whispering with Lisa, instead of with him. Regardless he blames Meg for his inebriated state because as the night progressed she had handed him drink after drink, and he could do nothing to dissuade her from giving him more. He's leaning against a corner now, mostly just staring off into the distance, blinking in response to the buzzed voice that started whispering at him somewhere around the fifth drink. Occasionally, his eyes focus on the other occupants of the room, but they never stray long, mostly because they're all too intimidating to look at.

Madison, though on the friendlier side, would not stop calling him Cassie, and Meg was right, it did erk him. He supposes that doesn't matter now, because Madison is already passed out, flopped diagonally across the futon where she'd been sleeping soundly for the last hour and a half. Ruby had turned on a boom box near the beginning of the night, and was now standing in the center of the room, high off something, he's not sure what specifically, and dancing with her self. It's captivating to watch when he allows himself a glance, her dark hair swishing in curls down the expanse of her back. She holds her hands over her head, and convulses in artful waves to the misty music playing next to her. Meg's spent most of the night next to him, feeding him alcohol, and catching him up on all the Cloudy Fall's drama that he doesn't care for. She only recently went away to do something in the kitchen. Probably fixing him another drink. The thought makes him sick, he's actually surprised he hasn't thrown up yet, but perhaps he's building up a tolerance.

His eyes skitter over in zig-zag lines, and he finds them trained on Dean and Lisa again. They're sitting uncomfortably close together it's true, with Lisa's legs thrown over Dean's and her hand patting soothing strokes up his arm, but at the same time, that comfortable feeling still radiates from them. He doesn't feel the same vibes from Dean as he had when he'd been with Bela, and he thinks these might be even worse. Dean's staring at her weird, and that's what makes Castiel concerned. Sometimes that exchanged shimmer in their eyes actually makes Castiel wish Dean were back with Bela.

"So you never told me," a body that he registers as Meg's plops down next to him, her voice is low so it doesn't carry far away from them, "Where'd you pick up this new boy toy of yours?"

"He lives in my neighborhood," Castiel grumbles sourly. Meg seems amused because she's chuckling in his ear, and he squints his eyes at her, "And he's not my boy toy," there's a childish tint to his voice, but he doesn't care because he's drunk and assumes the attribute is acceptable for his condition.

"Sure he isn't," Meg sighs.

"He's not. He doesn't even like boys," he defends, nodding his head in Dean's direction, where he is quite clearly occupied with a female.

"So what? You like him, don't you?"

After a moment of hesitation he finds himself nodding, and Meg grins in what he supposes should be friendship, but it only manages to look malicious.

"Then does the rest really even matter?"

Castiel turns on her with wide eyes, and he wonders if Meg ever had issues with consent because those words are... startling. He doesn't voice this concern of course, but clearly it's written all over his face since Meg's brushing him of with a scoff and a shake of her head.

"Not what I meant," she promises, but he jumps when a roughly manicured hand lands on his inner thigh and she's leaning in to whisper something in his ear, "I'm thinking more along the lines of, making him, want you."

"H-How?" Castiel shifts. His muscle twitches under the stroke of her thumb, making him suck in a shallow breath.

"Now, if this is gonna work, you gotta promise not to freak out on me. Understand that this," her grip tightens, "Is okay. That I'm not gonna hurt you."

His head is swimming and he closes his eyes. Replaces Meg's hand with a larger, tanner one, lined in callouses from working. It's not ideal, but better. Huffs a breath steadier than the last one.

"Atta boy, Clarence," Meg murmurs, and then her hand moves, twines with his, and she's pushing up to stand, pulling him along with her.

Ruby only smirks when they come to stand next to her, continues her flowing movements without a second glance. Meg smiles back, locks her arms around Castiel's neck as he stands awkward and rigid underneath her. The music thumps in low continuous beats. The close press of her swaying body rocks him by extension though the movement remains minimal on his part.

Her lips are bright red, smirking. Movements graceful, not unlike Ruby's, making him feel surprisingly less threatened than he'd have suspected to feel. It's almost nice when one of her crossed hands starts pulling on the strands of hair growing against the base of his neck. He'd never realized how small Meg was until now. Her personality painting her into a thing much larger than she actually was. Now pressed against him she felt tiny, and soft, and feminine. His eyebrows furrow.

"You know, if you look at me like your constipated it's gonna be hard to make him jealous," she purrs into his ear, pressing up even closer to reach it.

Castiel blinks at her. He hadn't realized that, that was what they were doing.

"Look," Meg breaths, sliding a hand along the length of his back making him shiver, "Just close your eyes, and do what's natural. We'll have his attention in no time. Promise."

Following her commands, Castiel allows his eyelids to shut, again let his over active imagination take control. The soft body against him turns solid, a pair of bright green eyes spark at him through darkness. The hands on his back and neck hold him as tight as he wants them to, fingernails dig bluntly at him. A tiny sigh escapes his lips, and his own hands move to catch Meg around the waste.

"That's it," she coxes, the body rolling into him, making him tremble again.

Subconscious thought guides him onward. He cranes his neck, brushing his chin against the side of her face, soft curls tickling the uneven stubble growing on his skin. The body in his head and the body leaning against his rock forward together. He feels a surge of pleasure vibrate through him. Shivers again. Hears a tiny pleasure filled noise brush against his earlobe, and a hand rakes down his chest, a sound builds in his throat.

It never surfaces. Instead he feels another hand tighten around the stretched collar of his t-shirt, and he get's yanked back. His eyes fly open. The first thing he sees is Meg, smirking victoriously.

The first thing he hears is Dean. He sounds angry, and it makes him want to cower.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He spits at Meg who's just standing there, glistening. Dean's beautiful face, is wrinkled in anger, and the fist not clutching at Castiel's shirt is in a tight knot.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Meg fires back, but her voice is marginally calmer.

"What's wrong with you?! How could you do- He's just a kid! He's drunk! You don't take advantage of drunk kids!" Dean continues to shout. Castiel parts his lips, wants to say something, but can't think of anything appropriate. Still doesn't really understand what's going on, and all of Dean's previous self assured phrases about getting laid are contradicting themselves. He chances a glance around the room. Lisa looks as bewildered as he feels. Ruby's stopped dancing, but her face is bored, as if she's watching a re-run of her least favorite TV program.

"Last time I checked we're all drunk, princess. And also this 'kid' is only a couple years younger than you are," Meg responds easily. She looks past Dean, and locks eyes with Castiel, shooting him a meaningful raised eyebrow.

"Shut the-" Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste, "You don't know how old I am!"

"Hey, Dumb Ass," Ruby calls suddenly and everyone turns to her in surprise. When all the attention is trained on her, she continues talking in a dead pan, "How about you ask your boy what he wants before you start jumping to any conclusions. If you ask me he seems like a... more than eager participant."

The suggestive tone to Ruby's words make Castiel panic, and he realizes with a start that the tense spring like feeling in his stomach reflects his budding arousal. The more he thinks about it, the more he notices the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. As Dean turns to look him over, intense gaze inadvertently slipping by his crotch, Castiel wishes to wake up from the nightmare that his life had become since his father's absence.

"Well," Dean says, and it looks like he's still angry, but can't quite figure out what at.

"Dean, it's not-"

"Like that," Meg cuts him off, and smiles, "Just reacquainting myself with an old friend."

"Right," Dean grunts then abruptly pivots back towards Lisa. Meg keeps giving Castiel that look, but he's to busy feeling confused to notice, "Whatever."

"Dean," he whispers, staring at his retreating back, but can't say anything else when Dean spares him a last glance over his shoulder. His head's spinning to fast, and instead of answering he lowers himself to the floor and tries to ground himself.

It's only when the vomit forces its way out of his throat and onto Ruby's scratchy grey carpet does he remember the nausea he's felt earlier. It's Meg at his side then, rubbing her hand in circles on his back as he spits his drinks back up. No one else seems to notice, or care, so he lets her drag him back against the wall.

"Mission accomplished," she says finally and all he can do is nod, even though he has no idea what she's talking about. He still feels sick as fuck.

...

He doesn't recall loosing consciousnesses at any point in the night, but there comes a moment later, and from the pulsing aches in his back he can tell it's a long later, that he opens his eyes dazedly and realizes that's he's stretched across the floor and he'd been asleep. It takes him a moment to notice the voices murmuring in the background, and an even longer moment to realize the voices are real. He recognizes the low grumble of Dean's voice, and the soothing purr of Meg's. The music and lights are turned off, he can't see them or anyone else for that matter, but they're speaking quietly, so Castiel has to reason that they're the only ones awake.

He closes his eyes again, but doesn't try to fall asleep. Instead he listens

"He's a big boy, you know. Can take care of himself," Meg is saying. The more he listens, the easier it is to distinguish individual words from their soft muttering. It only takes him a second to realize who she's talking about, "Make his own decisions even."

"I know," is Dean's flat response. He sounds guarded, and Castiel is glad he's never talked to him like that.

"Do you?" Meg throws the challenge back at him just as rough.

"Yeah, I-... I don't know."

Castiel does his best to stay still. He wants to hear. These are the thoughts Dean would never tell him, and he's been dying to know since they first met.

"I like to think that way. Hell, I'm pretty sure I even believed it at one point, but lately... I've seen him do shit, or he'll say something, and it's like he doesn't even know himself."

Meg's unimpressed, "Big whoop. He's a diagnosed schizophrenic, what did you expect he'd be like?"

There's a pause.

"You know, you're starting to contradict yourself," When he talks, his voice is as dry as it had been before.

Meg chortles though her nose. The sound is so familiar he almost smiles, but doesn't because it seems like even the tiniest movement will give away, and he wants to hear.

"Look, Hot shot. The thing is, he's a human, and until people start treating him like one, he's not gonna do it himself. That's just how guys like him work," There's another pause before she's talking again, "but God knows he ain't like the rest of us."

"There you go contradicting yourself again," he sounds more resigned this time.

"Shut up. What I mean is... He still... Tries. I've never met a loon like him before. We all think ourselves as done for, even when we're out of the bin, but dammit, he still tries no matter what."

There's a sound of ruffling clothing, "Why?"

"Fuck if I know. Maybe he thinks he owes someone. Maybe he actually thinks he'll get better. All I know is it's infectious. When he's around I never want to let him go."

There's a longer, even quieter break. He thinks it's never been this silent before. Even at Cloudy Falls where silence was defining. For a second he wonders if he's still there and all this had been a dream, but then Dean speaks again.

"You don't think he'll get better?" He's never heard Dean's voice so quiet before, but in the silence of the apartment it's louder than any bullhorn.

"There's never been a documented case of one of us getting cured," she starts, then stops, then continues, "But hell, if any one could do it. It'd be Castiel."