Dean was fine. He was not at all conflicted. At all. Not one bit.

Indeed, as Charlie said goodbye to the cow before strolling out the door with a smirk aimed directly at Dean, he knew exactly what he was feeling. Obviously, he was glad she was leaving because she was being absolutely incorrigible and encouraging Cas in all of his annoying (not at all endearing) ways. He was not at all hoping - annoyance-and-not-endearingness (was that a word?) aside - that she'd stay so he didn't have to talk to Cas about That Night.

But she did leave - to which he reacted with complete and utter, undiluted positivity because, damn, did she chug a bundle of pixie sticks or something because she was freaking hyper - and left behind a cow, two roommates, and a roomful of (totally not awkward, why would it be awkward) silence.

Cas didn't seem to notice if the smile on his face was any indication. "I'm glad you told her. She's good with Samantha."

Dean was quickly coming to the conclusion that "good with Samantha" did not correlate with what was best for either Samantha's safety or with Dean's sanity. Which was a large part of why Dean was completely, no question happy Charlie had gone (and why he was kinda regretting having told her in the first place because… shit, now he had to deal with two cow fanatics). "I wouldn't have if she hadn't extorted it out of me."

"Well, she's still good with her."

The silence that followed was also not awkward. It was, however, interrupted by a moo.

And Cas - of course, why would he do anything else? - grinned. "What was that Samantha?" Unsurprisingly, there was nothing but silence. "You want pets?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas, she didn't say anything."

"Yes, she did." He crouched down beside the cow and stroked down her nose. "Look how happy she is!"

And… well… Dean had to admit that she did look happy, all cute little eye squints - did he think 'cute'? No, he didn't. She's just a cow, so of course he didn't. - and low purr-like mooing. He passed a hand over his neck (not that he was at all nervous or endeared or anything). "She looks like you when she does that." Whoa, wait, what, that- he didn't say that, where the hell did that come from? Backtrack, backtrack, and you better let it go, Cas. "But, uh, yeah, of course she'll like them. That doesn't mean she asked for them."

Cas… did not let it go. He did, however, smile. "Yes. She does, doesn't she?"

"Uh… right." Dean was not floundering. And the best thing to do when not at all floundering was… retreat, retreat, retreat. "I'm gonna head to bed." Which lasted until about the time he opened the door and saw that his little pallet on the floor had disappeared. "Uh. Cas? Where's the sheet?"

"It's…" Cas was looking very pointedly at the cow and not at Dean… which probably meant absolutely nothing. Or that he was embarrassed. Or pissed. "It's gone."

"Uh… Gone where?"

"Gone."

Dean blinked. "And where am I supposed to sleep?" (He did not dread the answer. Of course not. Not at all.)

"In the bed, Dean. With me." Dean didn't gulp. "Is there… a problem with that?"

"Look, are you- I mean, I'm fine with the floo- Are you sure you're okay? With? This?" Was he rambling? He was rambling. He should stop rambling. But nah. "I mean, you were kinda tired last night, and I went along with it, but, you know, if you- er, well, not you- I mean, if someone'd done that, I'd probably hate them, and-"

And… well… Cas was shaking his head with an expression that suggested, in varying degrees of colorful language, that Dean was an idiot. "Do I look tired now, Dean?"

Dean very actively did not catalogue the manifold ways - the bags under his eyes, the way he was slumping a bit more than usual, the slower-than-normal blinking, and, of course, his ridiculously mussed hair (did he even brush it? Ever?) - in which the answer was, "Uh… yes?"

"Oh." Cas blinked. "Well, regardless. I'm still sure. I want you to sleep with me, Dean." (Dean did not at all have to clear his throat to avoid coughing.) And then he made it worse and continued. "And I could never hate you. You make me feel safe."

Another pause. (Awkward? Not at all.) Not that Dean was freaking out. At all. Not one bit. It was not at all unnerving to hear that from his roommate. (Nor was it justified, but that's a different matter.) He almost made it a full minute before heading for the door. "Nope, I can't do this. Where's the sheet?

"Gone, Dean."

Dean was completely and totally calm (which was facilitated by a completely serene sigh). "Gone?"

Cas nodded. "Yes."

"Gone where, Cas?"

At times, Dean was glad Cas didn't know how to lie. One such example? "I… don't… I don't remember.'

Dean let it go. "Look, it's your bed-"

"Our bed, Dean."

"Your bed, Cas."

"Our bed, Dean."

"It's been your bed for five years now, Cas."

"Yes. And now it's ours. It's changing ownership."

And… well… Dean knew Cas. Or, well, knew Cas well enough to know that he wasn't going to let that go. And… well… not that he was in support of the idea at all - of course not… it'd be a complete sacrifice, of course - but, "If you say so, Cas."

Cas nodded. "I do, Dean."

"Uh… okay."

Cas grinned. "Okay."

"Okay."

Cas was still grinning. "Okay."

Dean opened his mouth. Then, he closed it. Then, he walked out because, damn, he needed a beer because he couldn't deal with this.