Cas was waiting at the motel when Dean returned. At first Dean didn't notice him; he crossed to the counter, pulled out a glass and poured himself a large scotch from the half-empty bottle. It was only when he turned to sit down that he realised Cas was already at the table. There was a soundless, pregnant pause, before Dean slid the glass across the table and poured himself a replacement.
The silence stretched on as Dean sat opposite and took a long drink. Cas looked thoughtfully at his glass, then downed it in one. Dean raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed and almost amused. He passed Cas the bottle and he refilled his glass. The silence stretched on.
They drank until the bottle was empty. Without the distraction of the whisky they both fidgeted, realising that sooner or later someone was going to have to say something. They fidgeted a little more.
"How are you feeling?" asked Cas, eventually.
"Disappointingly sober," said Dean, "and I already had a bottle before I got here."
"That'll be the Grace," replied Cas, nodding knowingly.
"I figured," said Dean.
"I remember when I was drunk before. It took a lot of liquor before I felt at all altered. Tonight it seems to be affecting me rather more quickly," said Cas, pushing himself away from the table in order to stand up. He swayed a little, dizzy.
"Are you drunk?" asked Dean, eyebrow rising.
"No," replied Cas, grabbing the fridge for support. "Uh, yes. Moderately."
Despite himself, Dean found that he was smiling. He sighed heavily, drained the few drops that were left in his glass, and got up. Cas watched warily as he crossed to stand next to him, then slipped a supportive arm around his waist.
"Right. I got you, buddy. Let's sit you down over here," said Dean, pulling Cas in the direction of the couch.
Cas almost tripped over his own and Dean's feet, the coffee table and Dean's duffel bag, but somehow they made it across the room. He dragged Dean with him as he collapsed into the cushions, almost landing underneath him. Dean shook his head in exasperation and sat upright, though the familiar half-smile pulled at his lips. It seemed almost like normal.
"You good?" he asked.
"The room has stopped spinning now," replied Cas. "So, yes. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," said Dean, making to get up. Cas grabbed his wrist.
"Dean, wait. I need to speak to you. What happened today, I-"
"Drop it, Cas. We don't need to talk about it," said Dean testily, attempting to get up again. Cas' grip tightened on his wrist. They glared at each other.
"Yes. We do."
"Alright, fine," said Dean, wrenching his arm out of Cas' hold. "You wanna talk about it, let's talk about it. What do you want me to tell you? What can I possibly say that gets us both out of this without hurting? Because the fact is, what happened today makes no difference to us. It can't. Ever. And I'm sorry if that upsets you but that's the truth. Alright?"
"But, Dean…" started Cas, fixing him with round eyes.
"No, Cas! Look, even if I was… If I ever wanted… Ah, dammit." Dean took a step back, scowling.
"Look, forgetting the fact that you're a nerdy little dude on the outside… You're a star, a, a hurricane in a trench coat. A friggin angel! How could I ever be good enough? The things I've done… I don't even get why you'd even wanna be my friend. It blows me away every day the crap you've done for me, how many times you've saved me. And for what? So you can sit here in some scummy motel with me, without your wings and with a bunch of crazy, dangerous assholes on our tail? I don't deserve any of it, let alone anything more."
Dean paused. As he'd talked he'd stood up without even realising it, pacing in front of the couch and avoiding all eye contact. He risked a look now to see the angel staring at him so intensely that he could only hold it for a few seconds before looking away again. He sighed.
"Besides. Everything I care about, everyone I've ever… It all turns bad, Cas. Everyone dies or worse. Mom, Dad, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Benny, Lisa, Ben, Sam… you. It's bad enough the way things are. So even if… I can't. Alright? I just… Can't."
There was a long pause. The sound of water dripping from leaky guttering seemed to get louder by the second, filling the room with its irregular ticking. It dripped fast, then stopped. They waited, barely breathing, listening until it dripped again. Dean stared at the floor. Cas stared at Dean. Then, like shattering glass, another drop fell.
"That was a well prepared speech, Dean," said Cas, getting to his feet. This time he did not sway.
"Yeah, well," Dean muttered.
Cas took a step closer, standing close enough to see each freckle, even in the dim light.
"Except, what you fail to understand is that none of it matters. Not even a little. You don't get to decide whether you're good or bad, and you don't get to decide the sacrifices other people make for you. Even if you did, you'd be a hypocrite. I've screwed up so much worse than you ever have. I've killed thousands more than you ever have or ever could. If we're talking about who deserves what, I barely deserve to live. But that's not what this is about and without that as an excuse you have nothing... I'm not an angel any more."
Cas took a breath. His heart was thumping fit to burst. He had never felt so unsure of himself in the millennia he had lived. So much of this was new to him, and yet there was such clarity. He raised one hand and gripped Dean's shoulder.
Slowly he moved his hand upwards, cupping the base of Dean's head.
Dean froze, eyes wide. Cas' warm breath was on his face. It smelled like whisky.
Their lips met. Uncertain at first, Cas barely brushing them together, but then Dean's parted and gave him a new confidence. His free hand found its way to the small of Dean's back, pulling him closer so that their bodies touched. He crushed his lips to Dean's, kissing him fervently in alcohol-fuelled certainty.
Dean pushed them apart, a gentle hand on Cas' chest keeping him a mere inch away.
"Cas, I…" he tried, but his mind was empty of excuses. His hand fell limply to his side.
Again, with renewed vigour, Cas pressed his lips to Dean's. This time Dean's response was much easier to read, as he kissed back quite aggressively. His arms encircled Cas, pressing him close then moving to tangle in his hair. Cas was startled as Dean pushed him backwards, almost slamming him into the wall as he kissed him. He let out a small noise of surprise, then another of disappointment as Dean took it as his cue to stop.
Dean leaned on the wall with one hand, face millimetres from Cas', breathing hard. He looked disoriented, like he'd just awoken from a dream. Then he took a step back, shaking his head as if to clear it.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I can't."
Before Cas had chance to even get his breath back Dean was gone, the familiar sound of the Impala roaring to life filling the room.
Thanks for all the favs and reviews so far, I really appreciate them. In case you aren't following, I've uploaded 2 other SPN stories recently so if you'd like I'd love for you to check them out and let me know what you think. See you next time!