They got into the car, and Cas sat down heavily. Dean raised an eyebrow and sat down too, closing the door behind him. He went to start the car, but glanced back to his passenger. The angel seemed different, he seemed... upset? Angry?

He was looking out of the passenger window, but Dean could just about see his face, could see he was clenched, could hear his breathing, slightly more forcefully than usual. His elbow was propped up on the windowsill of the car door, and he was worrying his lips with his fingers.

Dean watched for a few seconds, weighing up the pro's and con's of simply driving the car, or asking the angel what was wrong.

He wanted to ask. His preservation instinct was telling him nothing good would come from asking. That he should keep the angel distanced; he was only going to leave again, what was the point in making the effort now?

Reluctantly, he looked away and turned the key, starting the car and driving away, angel still fuming in the passenger seat. Dean turned on the stereo, music blasting out to mask the silence.

Each time he did that, it worked less and less.

Refusing to believe there was anything wrong with the technique, he decided to change tape. All of the tapes were in the glove compartment, located at Cas's knees. Reluctant to go there himself, he cleared his throat.

The angel did not turn.

"Hey." Dean barked, finally succeeding in getting his attention. He swallowed, finding himself under the fire of Cas's glare. "Can you go in there and grab a tape?"

After a second of the angel merely staring at him scornfully, he slowly turned away, looking at the compartment. He reached down and pushed the button, watched it as it opened.

"Which would you prefer?"

Dean shrugged. "Whatever you hit first."

Cas leant over slightly and put his hand in there, feeling around for a cassette tape, hands stumbling across everything else that lay in there. Most prominent was the bulky, familiar journal of John Winchester, still pulled out and thumbed through, though less frequently than it used to. Then there were sweet wrappers, papers, two guns, old phones and lighters, until finally his fingers closed around the familiar feel of the hard plastic. He drew it out, and Dean frowned.

"No, not that one." Dean shook his head. "Try another."

Cas rolled his eyes, an expression he had picked up from the hunter a long time ago, and reached back in. However, this time, instead of finding a tape, his finger hit something sharp, running along the flesh and slicing it.

He yelped and snatched his hand back, sending papers flying and tapes falling with a thump to the floor.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean cried, eyes flicking from the road to the distressed angel who was examining his finger.

"It-" Cas's eyes were wide and darting from his finger to Dean. "It cut me."

"What?" Dean peered in, looking for the offending object. "What did? Did we leave a knife in there?"

"No," Cas stared at his finger, holding it as if it might fall off. "It was paper!"

"Paper? What?" Dean frowned, seriously confused. "You're throwing a fit over a paper cut?"

"Dean, it hurts!" Cas whined, clearly distressed, unused to this feeling.

"But, it's a paper cut!" Dean said. "You're an angel! You don't get paper cuts!"

"Well, clearly I do, Dean." Cas huffed. "What do I do?"

"Heal it!" Dean sarcastically suggested, still keeping an eye on the angel.

"What would you do?" Cas cried. "Dean, there's blood!"

"Suck it." Dean told him, and Cas looked at him, eyes confused with a tiny bit of hurt. He'd heard Dean say that before, enough to know that it was generally an insult. Dean backtracked. "No, I mean it. Suck your finger. Spit heals, or something."

Cas obediently stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking the injured digit. His eyebrows were still furrowed as his tongue worked the wound, and Dean watched him. His eyes followed, fascinated, as the angel sucked the finger, the angel still continuing to astonish him. This being of immense power, who had lived for millennia, who had helped stop the apocalypse, and who had been physically damaged on numerous occasions, was now sorrowfully sucking his finger because of a freaking paper cut.

He swallowed, and looked away quickly, realising just what he was doing; watching another man suck his finger. No. Dean Winchester does not watch another man suck his finger off. Just... just no.

Not even angels.

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road, but couldn't help stealing a glance back. And then the weirdest thing happened.

He saw Cas's eyes looking down at his finger, worry clouding his features. Cas's eyes were crossed slightly, trying to see.

And he just looked so damn funny. He truly did. The angel who was God had gone cross eyed over a paper cut.

It started at Dean's mouth. The corners twitched of their own accord, the lips separating as he looked at Cas, his eyes creasing at the corners. Then, instead of exhaling normally, his breath came out short, a scoff, then again. And then, suddenly, he was laughing. He was laughing at the angel with his finger in his mouth. He was suddenly laughing so hard that he had to stop driving, he had to pull over the car so that he could laugh. He wrapped an arm around his stomach while the other clutched on to the steering wheel.

Cas stared at the hunter, eyes wide as Dean shook with laughter.

"I fail to see the humour!" He mumbled indignantly around his finger. "This hurts!"

Dean only laughed harder, leaning back against the car seat.

Cas took the finger out of his mouth. "Will it heal?" He asked, concerned, but the hunter just continued to laugh, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Cas didn't understand why Dean was laughing at his misfortune, but he didn't think it was malicious. He had seen Dean rejoice in revenge, and this wasn't that; this was Dean genuinely finding something hilarious. This was like the time that Dean had taken Cas to the brothel. He had said that it was the most fun he'd had in a long time.

Somehow, Cas had managed to recreate that with a paper cut.

The angel smiled, elated at Dean's joy.

"God, I'm sorry," Dean cried between laughs. "Your face was just so damn funny!"

Cas smiled wider, the knowledge that he had, if just momentarily, made Dean happy sat well with him.

"Ah..." Dean sighed, wiping his eyes and turning back to the road, shaking his head, a smile still dancing on his face. "Let's get you back to Sammy."