So I wrote this last night while doped out on Benadryl and migraine medication.

I say I did pretty well based on that...

Enjoy :)

Dean was a cuddle whore. That much was apparent.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Castiel had untangled himself from Dean enough to lay on his back, but the singer obviously hadn't been too happy about that. Castiel was still on his back, but Dean had rolled over, half on top of the other, face pressed into the crook of his neck, one arm slipped under his neck grasping at his shoulder, the other draped across his chest, fingers gripping at his forearm. His legs were a bit better, one hooked over both of Castiel's, the other simply twisted together by their ankles.

Castiel had been the first to wake, though it didn't mean much. Every struggle he made to slip out of Dean's hold only made him hold on tighter. Dean was the finger-trap of cuddlers.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, shifting the shoulder Dean was laying on top of. "Dean. Dean. Dean."

Nothing.

"Dean. Dean. Dean. I'm naked. Naked and horny." That technically wasn't a lie, though Castiel wasn't too focused on that right now. "Dean let's have sex. Teach me how to play guitar. You're so sexy. So, so sexy. I bet you have a big cock."

He didn't even move.

Castiel let out a quiet, yet aggravated groan, and tried shifting under Dean again, though all he did was tighten his hold once more. "Fucking hell… Dean! Wake up!" Castiel was speaking at a normal volume now, though his voice still came out low and sleep-scratchy. "How the fuck are you not awake?"

Still nothing.

Castiel was growing irritable. He had to pee, and put on clothes, and get to class, and that was not going to happen with Dean doing this shit. He finally gave up, choosing instead to wiggle himself around as much as he could manage. When that did nothing, the let out a strained groan.

"Dean! Fucking wake up or Iswear to god I will castrate you!," he growled.

He felt a smile against his neck.

That fucker.

"Were you awake that whole time?"

"I'm afraid to answer that," Dean mumbled, lips brushing Castiel's neck, hot breath spreading across his neck. He flushed.

"Dean…"

"Yeah babe?"

"As… cute as this is, I need to go to the bathroom. And get ready for class."

Dean just held on tighter. "No."

"Dean…"

"Nope."

Castiel rolled his eyes, lifting his head a fraction of an inch before smacking it back down on his pillow, sinking deep into it. He was down at Dean's level now, trying to catch his gaze. "Dean, please," he pleaded in a whisper, pulling out the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster.

Dean laughed. "That's good, but you've got nothing on Sammy."

"Maybe he can show me how to do it right, then. But until that moment comes, I'm going to have to rely on natural charm to get out of this."

Dean snorted. "… charm…"

Castiel squinted his eyes. "What, am I not charming?"

Dean gulped. this wasn't going to end well. "No, no-"

"I'm not?"

"I-"

"You dick!" Castiel thrust his body up hard, loosening Dean's grip enough to flip the singer onto his back, allowing Castiel to straddle his thighs with a dominating smirk.

It should have been intimidating. It really should have. But Castiel's hair was sticking up in every direction, the longer strands around the back of his crown standing straight up in miniature spikes, and the horns from a few days ago were back, though lopsided and uneven.

Dean couldn't help himself. He began laughing, quietly at first, the short bursts contained within, the joyous look in his eyes and rapid rise and fall of his stomach the only giveaway, but he couldn't hold back for long, and soon was laughing full on, cheeks turning red as he pushed himself down into the mattress. The matter was not helped by Castiel's confused expression, the one that he tried to hide with false anger, though he wasn't doing so well with it.

"Dean stop laughing."

"I," more laughs. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"Your… Hair!"

Castiel snapped his mouth shut, reaching up to touch his hair, feeling a few of the oddly angled tufts. He glared at Dean, though the malice was lost in the moment, and he huffed, pushing himself off of Dean's thighs. He took a moment to steady himself once on solid ground before stalking off to the bathroom, ignoring Dean's pleads for him to return. He could wait five minutes before laughing at him some more.

Once Castiel disappeared off to what Dean could only assume was the bathroom, he had calmed himself down considerably, clearing his mind enough to roll over and grab his phone, texting James a request for coffee for both he and Castiel. He didn't know what the other wanted, so he just asked for black. There was cream and sugar in the kitchenette, and he was sure Castiel could make do.

He tossed his phone back onto the end table, rolling onto his back, waiting for Castiel to return.

He had finished using the bathroom within a minute. The challenge now was getting his hair under control. The water in the sink was dribbling out, and Castiel was collecting small pools in his hand before tossing it on his head, trying to force his hair back into a semi-decent form.

Unfortunately, his hair was about as stubborn as himself.

About as stubborn.

It had taken a good ten minutes, but his hair had finally listened to his physical demands, laying down against his head. The water would dry soon enough, and his hair would look decent enough for class, and that was all that Castiel wanted.

He swiped his fingers through his hair a few more times until he was satisfied, then made his way out of the bathroom, only to find James entering, two coffees in his hand. He suddenly felt sheepish, and he could only imagine how he looked, standing in front of this man with still-disheveled hair and nothing but rumpled boxers on. He waved weakly at him, and James glared, narrowing his eyes at him.

Well that was unexpected.

"I see Dean had his fun last night, though I should have assumed. He never orders two coffees unless it's really something great."

Castiel cocked his head to the side, bringing his eyebrows in as he squinted his eyes in confusion.

"Oh don't look at me like that." James retorted, stepping farther into the room, setting the coffees and paper on the table between the couches, plopping himself down on one of the cream-colored seats. "You two obviously fucked."

Castiel sputtered, gaping at James' blunt response. "I don't know where you got that id-"

"Oh don't go emphasizing your words as if you're making yourself more clear when you're trying to lie through the thick wall of truth. You look like a mess, and you're in your boxers."

What the fuck was this guy's deal? "I'm not lyi-"

"Yes you are."

"Stop interrupting me!"

"Stop lying."

The room was bathed in silence, Castiel's arms now crossed, an annoyed expression flooding his features, eyes burning blue at the unfazed man on the couch.

James spoke up first. "I'm not surprised, really. He usually gets the guys by the second date, but you held out all the way to the third. I'm impressed. My only question now is, who bottomed?"

Castiel's jaw clenched, and his stance grew more rigid. Who did this guy think he was?

"I bet it was you," James smirked, breaking their locked gazes to lean forward and pick up the newspaper, unfurling it with a snap. "You look like a bottom. I bet you like to take it, huh? Let a rockstar have his way with you? Bet that felt good."

"Why are you acting like this?" Castiel gritted through his teeth, glared hardening. If look could kill, this guy would be burning on the ceiling.

"Like what? Listen, you're a good looking guy, and I'm sure you're super nice, but I deal with this at every city we stop at. Every. Single. One. You're nothing to Dean. Nothing. Just a little toy for him to fuck around with while he's on vacation. Honestly, the only reason I'm a little irked right now is because you're still here."

Castiel shook his head through the whole speech. No. No. No, James had to be lying. Dean had even promised he wasn't just a plaything last night. He promised! They hadn't even had sex. They did nothing more than kiss! Why was James acting like this. He was so nice last night. Maybe he was being nice because he felt bad. Maybe he knew Dean's ways. Maybe Dean had just been lying to him. Maybe Dean wasn't as great as he made him out to be. Maybe he was just a quick fuck to him. A fun little game… "Yeah, well not for much longer."

Castiel spun around on his heels, making his way quickly back to Dean's room. He ignored Dean's greeting, instead opting to quickly picking his clothes back up. He pulled his jeans back on, snapping the button before slipping his layered shirt back on. He adjusted his shoulders before searching around for his shoes and socks. He paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but only for a moment. He shrugged it off and continued his search.

"Cas, babe, what are you doing?"

"Don't call me that," Castiel snapped, finding his other sock. He stood a good distance from Dean to pull on his socks, though shuffled away every time the other stepped closer.

"Don't call you what?"

"Babe," Castiel spat.

I'm not your babe, I'm your fuck toy.

Dean's face flooded with hurt and confusion, lips turned down and pouted out, his eyes wide as he watched Castiel yank on his other sock before moving to his shoes. "Why are you acting like this?"

Castiel laughed fucking laughed at him. What had he said?

"Why am I acting like this? Hmmm, I don't fucking know Dean. Why don't you go ask all of the other conquests you lied to." Castiel shoved on his shoe, not bothering to readjust it, even though it was placed uncomfortably on his foot.

"…I thought you were different," he offered as a final explanation before he whirled around, making his way out of the room. "Goodbye Dean," he recited over his shoulder, not even pausing to speak. He walked quickly through the suite, buzzing past James who was still sitting and reading the paper, not bothering to acknowledge him as he made his way to the door.

Dean followed after him, of course, but only made it to the center of the obnoxiously huge room when he watched the main entrance smack shut with a large bang. It was almost pointless to go after Castiel now. By the time the elevator returned to him, Castiel would be long gone, probably off to class, and he wouldn't be able to catch him, even if he ran down the stairs. He still debated it however.

"What was that about?" Dean questioned with a sigh a minute later, paused in the middle of the main room, arms lifted and hands twisted out as he looked to James for an answer.

"Not a clue," James shrugged nonchalantly with his eyes still trained on the newspaper, crossing his legs before reaching out, grabbing and taking a sip of Castiel's deserted drink.

Yeah, So James is a dick.

Also someone mentioned Twist and Shout, and I whispered "I can dig Elvis" to myself, and my friend caught wind, and let's just say she got a very thorough explanation, filled with tears and mutterings of 'Elvis' and 'the fucking beach, man I just can't'

Ahem... Anyway...

Thank you guys for reading, and like always, I'll try to have the next chapter up Saturday, but truthfully, it'll probably be up tomorrow.

I love hearing what you think, so feel free to tell me!

:)