Dean Winchester was drunk. In his more introspective moments he knew that wasn't unusual in itself – not these days. But tonight he was a warmer, happier, kind of drunk than he had been in months. The edges of reality had been sanded down by beer and whiskey. Smoothed off until his life wasn't quite as pointlessly sharp and painful as it had been a few hours ago.
Sam had been sent off in search of more beer. "You're the youngest, Sam. It's simple man."
Leaving him with an equally drunk John Constantine and Castiel who was still too angelic to be drunk. For some reason that was soothing as well. Knowing that Cas was still angel enough to blow open doors, smite demons, and needed to drink an entire liquor store before he got drunk. It made up for the growing number of human gestures, the occasional need for sleep, and a string of other little terrifying things. All those biting memories of his broken attempts at humanity; his stolen grace slowly burning him back there. Damn. That was depressing.
Dean shook himself and blinked off the thought. Focus on the problem at hand. The problem that was John Constantine. Though that almost went without thinking. Because Constantine and problem were basically synonymous. Dean smirked at his own internal joke and finally brought his attention back to the table. Just in time to notice that John was most definitely hitting on Dean's angel… the angel. Not Dean's angel. Why did he keep thinking that? Just not Constantine's angel. Whatever. Dean knew what he meant.
"So, Thursday, you think big brother's gonna try smite ja for helpin' the dirty monkeys get one over on 'em?" Constantine drawled.
He was leaning back in his chair, one arm on the back of it, hand almost brushing Dean's shoulder, a predatory open stance. Wide flirtatious smile. Waving that damn cigarette around to punctuate every second word. He might be angled towards Dean, close enough to share body heat, but all his aggressively sexual energy was focused at the opposite side of the table – at Cas. Dean rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.
"I do not think Gabriel would harm me. Not for simply talking to him." Cas said. Precise. Slightly mocking (that was still new). Totally oblivious. Ha, take that Hellblazer.
"Last night on earth, really Constantine?" Dean said. "On an angel? I thought you had more up your sleeve than that."
"Dunno, luv," the demonologist smirked. "Seemed to work a right treat for you, if I recall."
Dean felt himself flush. Because, yeah, it had worked pretty well even if Constantine had known it was a line. He could still remember the hot slide of the other man's skin on his back. Could almost taste that freaky lace comforter he'd been biting down on. The smell of New Orleans, ash and Constantine. Louisiana bourbon and smoke. Dean masked his distraction with his drink.
"Yeah?" Dean said, "So we're swapping playbooks? Suppose that leaves me with my best Cheshire Cat and some Ramones' quotes?"
"You know me, mate," Constantine laughed. "Whatever works."
Dean scowled and clamped down on the first three things that he wanted to say. All of which were way too filthy for mixed company.
Cas was watching them both carefully but not trying to participate like he normally did. Dean wondered, not for the first time, just how much more Cas actually got these days. After his fiction and media download from Metatron. Did it change the way the angel saw humanity? Saw him? How much did he understand but chose to ignore? The angel was looking at them with that 'you are a puzzle and I will solve you' expression. Dean hated that expression. And maybe loved it a bit too. Fuck. Dean was staring back at Cas, yet again. And the Hellblazer was chuckling.
Constantine leaned over to whisper, "Don't think I'm the one with an angel problem, luv." Dean glared at him.
"I don't hit on Manny," Dean said. Part distraction part complaint.
"Only 'cause you can't see the prick. An' anyway he don't like 'em Righteous."
Luckily Sam reappeared with more beer saving Dean from Constantine's commentary and the question he could see forming on Cas's lips.
"Sammy thank god," Dean said. Taking his fresh beer eagerly. Sam just gave him a bemused look.
"Sorry if you got caught up in their dick measuring contest, Cas," Sam said as he distributed the rest of the drinks. Took a seat between Dean and Cas because the space he had previously occupied as Winchester vs Constantine mediator had closed in his absence.
"I am honestly unsure," Cas said. Frowning at Dean again.
"Don't worry, mate," Constantine said. "We both know who'd win that 'un." Smug bastard. Dean could feel his cheeks heat up.
"Blow me, Constantine," he snapped. Covered his grin with his drink.
"Sure thing, luv."
Dean choked.
"So," Sam said quickly. Changing the subject. Jumping to Dean's defense. Unknowingly protecting himself from Dean making a comment about too much teeth. "You're really not fazed about facing down an archangel?"
"I snogged the Devil, mate. I can manage his smarmy git of a kid brother any day o' the week."
"I think we've established we can all deal with the artist-formerly-known-as-Loki," Dean said. "No one's last night on earth." It only came out a little grouchy.
"Hang on, back up," Sam said. Ignoring Dean. People were doing that a lot tonight. "You did what? With Lucifer?" Sam looked like he might throw up.
"It was nothing," Constantine said with a shrug. "One of the first secrets of magic... is distraction."
He reached across Dean and pulled an old coin out of the air behind Sam's ear with a flourish. Flicked his wrist, threw it in the air and it disappeared again. Sam was drunk enough to laugh. Dean would have too actually. If the other hand hadn't made its way to the back of Dean's neck. A soft, calming caress at odds with the coy parlor trick that masked it. Making Dean flush deeper and sink back unwillingly into the contact. Sam's laugh battered away at the tension sneaking up on them all. Put a crack in it but didn't quite break it.
"New King's a better kisser, anyway, in my considered opinion," Constantine continued, the turn in conversation itself a distraction. "He's had a lot more practice, mind." He dropped back into his own chair. Releasing Dean and letting him breathe again. Leaving a bitter tingling trace of human contact on Dean's skin. "But I suppose Crowely's not the Devil, is he? He just don't got it in 'em. No matter how much he's gagging for it... He's basically the big guy's bureaucratic dunny man."
"Is there anything we've ever met that hasn't had its tongue down your throat?" Dean snapped. He knew it wasn't the right conversational path to follow, but couldn't help it. He was grateful for pulling Sam away from thoughts of Lucifer. He really was. But it just slipped out. A verbal repost. Defensive and natural, like the holds, body blocks and knife defenses trained into him since he was 6 years old. Muscle memory rather than choice.
"Your angel," Constantine replied, whip quick. "Oh an' Al… um Alec. You've met Alec Holland. Though he did possess me that one time… stuck me tongue down someone else's throat - don't know if that counts?"
"When was that?" Sam said looking at Dean. He sounded genuinely disappointed and confused. Damn it. Dean couldn't deal with the disappointed voice tonight. Just about anything else but disappointed; it cut right to the part of him that practically raised Sammy. The big brother whose whole identity was built on protecting Sammy. He could almost hear John Winchester's ghost, "If you won't do it for yourself or for me, do it for Sammy. You're a role model, Dean... Act like one."
"I don't tell you everything Sam." It was too sharp. Not an answer. Not even a real deflection.
"Evidently not…"
"Alec Holland, as in…" Cas re-entered the conversation, saving Dean yet again. He sounded genuinely impressed though. Of course he did. Stupid Hellblazer.
"Yep, Alec Holland. Elemental, force of nature incarnate. Keeper of The Green. That's the bloke. Nice chap once you get past… everythin' about him. Izizop mir izharaji." The last words were spoken in a freaky thrumming accent that made Dean's skin crawl.
Cas blinked. Surprised. "You speak Enochian?"
"Enough- when I need it," Constantine managed to both shrug it off and look smug at the same time. How is that even humanly possible? It's probably the demon blood.
"Great vessel… planted or impregnated with... something?" Sam tried to translate. Of course he did. See Winchesters can speak weird ass angel languages too.
"Planted with plants… sort'a," John answered. Lighting another cigarette watching Cas. For a correction maybe? "It's a hard one to translate. Plant o' plants basically." Another shrug, as much with the face as the body.
Cas's face did the bunch of tiny little motions that added up to agreement. Dean didn't even try to resist the fond smile this time. Why bother. Constantine was going to notice and torture him about it either way.
Constantine rattled off another long string of humming syllables. Too fast for Sam who frowned in confusion. But Cas laughed. He actually laughed, real and deep and true. And ducked his head in a gesture even Dean didn't recognize. Was he blushing? Flustered? Whatever the Hellblazer had said Dean both desperately wanted to know and kind of wished it never happened.
"Oh, an' Lilith," Constantine said. Snapping his fingers and snagging Dean's attention back to him. "I never touched Lilith and I know you boys know her. I've exorcized her a few times 'o course. But never snogged her."
"Hah, a) that doesn't count. She was a little girl half the time," Dean said. "And b) Sam killed Lilith so we're not impressed." Childish? Maybe. But better than the alternatives.
"Oh, yeah mate, I almost forgot – stab first ask questions never…. Look how that turned out for the world?"
"Seriously?" Sam demanded. "Do I have to send you two out back with a frigging ruler?"
Dean snatched the cigarette packed out of the air as Constantine played with it mindlessly. Masking his discomfort. He lit one then threw the little box back.
"Oi," the mage snapped but there wasn't any real heat to it. More amused surprise than anything.
Sam, on the other hand, looked scandalized.
"Since when do you smoke, Dean?" Sam said. All puffed up with accusation that just made Dean think of the chubby twelve year-old he would've done anything for. Still would, really. Except maybe have this conversation.
"Since I have to play nice with Dr Strange over there..."
"That's uncalled for," Constantine muttered. "I'm better 'in that poncey wanker."
"What?" Sam and Dean asked simultaneously.
"Nothing," John put his hands up in mock surrender.
"And why did you never tell me that you met a freaking plant-person for that matter!" Sam said. Hellblazer dismissed in favor of pursuing this line of questions. Dean was starting to think this conversation was about a lot more than cigarettes. His warm buzz was fading quick.
"Look he," Dean waved dismissively in Constantine's direction, "may have helped me on a few hunts while you were at Stanford. It's not a big deal…"
"Not a big deal?" Sam was giving him that patented searching and disbelieving look he was getting way too familiar with. "Something you failed to mention in ten years, isn't a big deal?" He could feel himself being backed into a corner. Every instinct telling him to fight his way out or run.
He could sense the admission on the tip of his tongue. Alcohol loose. Could almost hear his voice framing words he still didn't have. How would Sam react? It wasn't the first time he had tried to guess. Would he care? Would he find it funny? Disgust? Disbelief? Anger… jealousy? That was the one that chilled his blood. He wasn't sure there was a way out of this particular pit.
However, yet again Cas decided to rescue a Winchester from the seemingly insurmountable hole he threw himself in.
"There is someone approaching the Bunker," Cas announced. It was a general statement, not directed at anyone in particular but it was enough. Just.
Sam took a breath. Dean slouched back in his chair. Constantine grinned. Several beats of silence. Crisis averted for tonight. Hopefully.
"Sooo... That'll be Chas- and me wee surprise!" the Hellblazer said with far too much glee.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "Surprise," he said. It wasn't a question. Constantine just raised his drink in a mocking salute and winked. That couldn't be good.
"I'll get it then," Sam said with resignation when the proximity alarm went off and no one moved.
"I'll come too," Dean said, stubbing out his cigarette and starting to stand. "Cas, don't let him... corrupt you or anything while we're gone."
"I very much doubt that is going to happen, Dean," Castiel said. Dry but still possibly mocking. It was always hard to tell.
"Thursday's right, luv" Constantine added. "We'd wait for you." Grinning up at Dean, goblin bright and unreasonably seductive. Fuck this. Dean was sick of being on the back foot.
He bent back down, smooth and fast, so he could whisper in the man's ear. Ignoring Sam's curiosity and Cas's proximity. "You know what Constantine you might've made out with Satan," Dean whispered. Sin sweet and lust rough. Actually taking a leaf out of the other guy's playbook now. "But I've fucked the Hellblazer so hard he called for God- I think I win."
Dean was pulling back to follow Sam but Constantine caught him by his plaid over-shirt. From the outside it must have looked aggressive. Aggressive enough that Cas started to stand and Sam froze in the doorway, ready for action. Too aggressive even - anyone who really knew him knew he would try play dead or wheedle his way out before he went on the offensive like that.
"Nah, mate," John whispered back. "I fucked Dean Winchester so sweet he begged for more... Ask anyone, best bleeding hunter on the planet- I think you'll find I win."
Dean really did pull back then. Released before anyone tried to intervene. "Yeah?" Remember to breathe, Winchester. "You might have to prove that one."
"Anytime, mate." Another hellfire smile; still burning under Dean's skin when he left the room.