Dean was dumbfounded, completely flummoxed. He was stood at his front door just staring at the direction Cas had run off in. He was reeling from what had just happened.

What had happened? Dean wasn't sure, but he was certain he had somehow fucked things up, just like he always managed too. He'd made someone else he cared for run away.

Why did he even try anymore? Why did he have to have feelings and care for people like a frickin' girl? Emotions just messed stuff up.

Dean shut the door loudly, spinning on his heel and storming upstairs to his room.

He'd opened himself up, revealed his past for the first time ever, and he'd been rejected with no explanation.

Dean tried to pacify himself by telling himself that Cas must have forgotten a doctor's appointment or something, but Cas didn't really seem like the type to worry about doctors.

No matter what Dean tried to reason, it all came back to him. He was the one telling uncomfortable stories about his family life. He was the one who'd called their hanging out a date! He was obviously the one too fucked up to form any relationships, healthy or otherwise.

Dean dug through a pile of dirty laundry searching for… there it was the unfinished bottle of whiskey he'd stashed away, so Sam wouldn't know about his apparently hereditary method of coping.

He hadn't thought he'd ever be returning to the bottle. Not like this. He didn't even know why he'd saved the bottle in his room.

He rationalised that he was just trying to save Sam from worrying about him, but he could have disposed of the bottle the day after he drank, when Sam was at school, or he could have just told Sam that he'd found another bottle their dad had hid somewhere, but he didn't. So here he was, trying to forget as he let the liquid burn down his throat and nestle in his stomach, creating a comfy haze where all thoughts slipped away.

He finished off the bottle in no time, but the fog in his brain wasn't strong enough. He could still see that stupid mop of dark hair getting as far away from him as possible. He needed more alcohol. Stat.

Dean stumbled to his closed bedroom door, hand on knob, ready to turn it, before he heard footsteps walk past his room.

Fuck!

Dean had forgotten Sam was even home. He couldn't go on an alcohol search with his brother in the house. Dean opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway. It was empty and some bullshit girly country music was playing from Sam's room.

The coast was clear.

Dean tried to be as quiet as he could in his intoxicated state, padding slowly towards John's abandoned quarters.

Of course, Sam and Dean had gone through their father's room, tidying and disposing empty and full bottles of liquor, but they hadn't really intensely searched the room. Dean's hope was that they had missed a couple stealthily hidden bottles.

Dean dug in his father's closet. First in the remaining pile of clothes on the closet's floor, then in a pair of shabby boots, where he found a mini bottle of scotch like the ones they serve on airplanes.

Dean was proud of his find, but it wasn't enough. He'd finish that in a minute. There had to be more somewhere. Dean needed there to be more!

He spent almost twenty minutes looking for more to fill his mind with blissful nothingness with no luck.

Grumbling to himself, he sat down, opening the tiny little bottle, finishing it in two gulps.

Life wasn't fair. All Dean wanted was to get completely and utterly pissed drunk, but no, life wouldn't even give him that. After everything life had put him through, he couldn't just get drunk! Not for one fucking shitty afternoon?! Life fucking owed it to him to get drunk as all fucking hell.

Dean began to bang his head against the back of his father's closet repeatedly. Each bang shaking the wall. It hurt, but the alcohol in his system made him ignore the pain and encouraged him to keep connecting his head to the wall with a brutal force.

If Sam hadn't been listening to his stupid music so loudly, he probably would have come to see what the hell was going on.

Heaving a large sigh, Dean smacked his head against the wall as hard as he could, hating himself with every fiber of his being.

Then, it seemed like fucking God or something was looking down at him with pity and wanted to make him feel a little less pathetic, for as his head thudded against the wall that final time, a bottle of rum fell down from the heavens and into his lap. Or, at least that's what Dean thought for a second before realising there was a semi-hidden shelf at the very top of his father's closet.

Staggering to his feet, Dean dragged John's wooden desk chair over to the closet and stood on it, reaching his arm into the tight space of the shelf.

His hand blindly trailed across the wooden surface, finding nothing but dust. Dean was getting increasingly annoyed.

Just when he was about to give up, his fingers brushed against glass, tucked away in the farthest corner.

Excitedly, Dean leant forward more, chair tipping onto two legs. His hand wrapped around a bottle and he pulled it out, it was more whiskey. Dean threw the bottle onto his father's bed then reached back to collect four more bottles.

Pleased with his work, Dean gathered up the bottles in a sheet and snuck back into his room, making sure to lock his door.

Dean dropped the sheet full of liquor onto his bed and stared at each bottle, considering which one to drink first.

He picked the rum that had first come to him, opening the bottle and drinking.

Stupid fuckup, Dean thought with each vomit inducing sip, until the hazy fog in his brain became too much and he passed out in blissful ignorance.

"Dean!" a voice called proceeded by five thunderous noises."Deeeeeeaaaaaaan!" the thunder continued.

A croaky groan escaped Dean's lips, as he scrunched up his eyes in hopes of returning to beautiful unconsciousness.

The thunder continued, getting louder and louder along with must have been the piercing scream of the wind.

Dean was so not prepared to deal with a horrendous storm in his house. Not now. Not while he was so warm and cosy in his bed.

"Dean, come on! We have school," the storm persisted.

That was odd. The storm was talking to him, making his head pound and ache, like an overly abused punching bag, but those were words. The storm was using his name.

"I'll know you're door down!"

Dean cracked open an eye.

He was in his room, on his bed, fully clothed. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for that damn banging. Dean rolled over towards the noise. Not thunder, but knocking. On his door.

Dean groaned again, vigorously rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"What are you even doing in there?" Dean finally recognised Sam's voice.

"Sleeping," Dean grumbled.

"But, school, Dean. We're gonna be late if you don't get up." Sam whined.

"Don't feel good." Dean replied.

"Oh, is that why you didn't come for dinner last night?"

Last night… Dean couldn't remember anything past his first however many shots of rum. Did he even eat last night? His growling stomach told him no.

"Uhh, yeah, Sammy, that's why." Dean said, sitting up. His stomach lurched and he put a hand over his mouth in case his stomach really did expel the alcohol. Once the nausea had settled down a bit, Dean felt safe to speak again, "Sammy, I really don't feel good. You okay walking to school?"

"Yeah, sure, Dean. I'll just walk with Cas. Just, uh, feel better, okay?"

Cas. Just the mention of the other boy's name made Dean's heart clench. He didn't care that he was on the brink of getting sick all over the place, not to mention having possible liver damage, but, all at once, he was craving more booze just to get the image of Cas' sad blue eyes and painful grimace out of his mind.

Flopping back onto his bed and shutting his eyes, he thanked Sam and wished him a good day at school.

He felt guilty. This was the second time he was missing school to nurse a hangover. He was turning into his father and he didn't know how to stop it.

It seemed that alcohol had become a crutch to lean on, during hard times. The problem was, his whole life was a hard time, what with raising Sam by himself, attending school, worrying if they had enough money, and Castiel. His life was full of nightmares, so he threw all his weight on that crutch hoping it would hold him up, though the voice in the back of his head whispered to him, if he leant too hard, the crutch would snap and he'd end up being a broken mess on the ground, unable to stand back up again.

Dean chose to ignore that voice though. For now, alcohol was working and he didn't want to give it up.

Dean slept off his hangover all day until he heard the front door open and close.

"I'm home!" Sam called.

Dean knew it would only be a couple minutes until Sam made his way to Dean's room, so Dean wearily cleared up the evidence of his drunken escapade the day before and unlocked his door.

As soon as Dean collapsed back into bed, Sam knocked on the door, walking in the room without a reply from Dean.

"Hey, man," Dean greeted, "How was school?"

"It was good. Cas wasn't there though. I guess he's how you got sick?" Sam said uncertainly.

"What?" Dean asked dumbly. He nibbled him bottom lip nervously wondering if he was the reason Cas had skipped school.

"Yeah, Cas was a no show. He did leave abruptly yesterday though, right? Wasn't it 'cause he was sick?"

Dean didn't answer. He just let his mind spiral with worry. He knew Cas was rather keen on school, it worried him to no end that Cas had been absent.

"I better go over and check on him," Dean thought out loud. He was surprised at the sudden thought, but realised it was the only possible choice Dean could stand to choose.

"You sure? I mean, you're sick too," Sam eyed Dean dubiously.

"Meh, I'm fine. I'm just worried about Cas. Dude seems kinda fragile, y'know," Dean shrugged as he got up.

He smelt the shirt he was wearing and decided on changing upon recognising the staleness of it. Dean then grabbed his jacket, pulled on his boots, and left the house with a quick goodbye to Sam.

His baby started up with a roar, and Dean was on his way, racing over to Cas' home.

The drive seemed to take too long, even though they didn't live too far away from each other. Dean's mind was chaotic. He was worried about Cas, which only made him worry about how much he was worrying, making him question when and why Cas had become such a source of anxiety to him.

When Dean finally pulled up in front of the Milton house, he jumped out of the car, closing the door with a little too much force, making Dean flinch and apologise to the Impala. He ran up to the front door and knocked so hard, he was practically punching the door.

When the door opened, revealing a familiar, confused looking red headed girl, Dean just let his aching hand flop to his side.

"Dean?" The girl inquired.

"Uhhh…hi?" He responded dumbly.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" She smiled, biting her lip in a flirty way.

"Err, I, uh, I was looking for Cas?"

The familiar girl looked a little disappointed and guilty as she smiled softly, "Of course you are, but he's not home from school yet."

Dean's brow furrowed. This wasn't good.

"You're his sister?" Dean questioned to which he received a nod of affirmation. "Does he always come home so late?"

"Not when I'm home. I don't know about the times when I'm not." She replied.

"Do you know where I could find him, if he's taken a little detour? It's important," Dean was feeling more and more exasperated with every passing second.

"I don't really know. He might have decided to walk through the park. I see him coming and going in that direction sometimes."

Dean barely managed to utter a word of thanks before he was rushing off towards the park, leaving his baby in the Milton's driveway. He was going to come back, hopefully with Castiel in tow.

The park was almost completely empty. Castiel was nowhere to be found. Dean had run around the entire expanse of the park, asking strangers if they'd seen a boy his age, with piercing blue eyes and artfully messy hair, all to no avail.

Castiel's sister had only mentioned the park, so Dean had no other ideas of where to look. Cas had to be there somewhere!

Dean ran his hands anxiously through his hair, scanning the layout of the park. It was a fairly large park bordering a thickly forested area that ran adjacent to a river. There was a black sort of low hanging chain fence that divided the tame park and the wilder gathering of trees.

The chain was more for people to watch where they were going lest they tumble five feet to the forest's floor, but Dean knew people liked to jump the fence and hang out by the river. Mostly teenage couples wanting to make out somewhere private and secluded, but Cas liked places like that. Places where no one could easily find him, so that he may wallow in his solitude. The river was just the sort of place Cas would go, if his little hideaway at school said anything about Cas' character.

Dean jogged to the edge of the forest, jumping the chain and carefully sliding down the little slope. He walked through the trees for a while, trying to reach the river where he would have a better view of his surroundings.

Once he reached the water, he walked along with the current, leaving the park further and further behind him.

After an hour the river forked into a little creek. Dean decided to follow the smaller current of water and see where it lead to, hoping it would lead him to Cas, and lead him to Cas it did.

The creek opened up into a sort of forested cove or lake. Dean didn't really care what to call it because a mile away from him was a limp body sprawled across the rocky terrain.

"Cas!" Dean called, sprinting to his friend.

Dean dropped to his knees and shook Cas' shoulder to wake him up.

"C'mon, Cas. Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Dean cursed under his breath.

Next to Cas' head was an almost empty bag of pills that Dean was pretty sure weren't prescription.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean banged his fist against the ground.

He needed to wake him up. If Dean woke Cas up everything would be okay.

Dean cupped his hands together and scooped up the cold river's water. He then proceeded to dump the handful of cold water onto Cas' face.


Castiel snapped his eyes open, sitting up sputtering.

"What in Heaven's name?" Cas gasped, blinking water out of his eyes.

"Oh, that fuck you're okay," a very mussed and concerned looking Dean Winchester said, sitting back on his heels.

Cas looked around. He was still in his mother's spot, where he'd spent the whole day getting high and lounging around.

He didn't remember much of the day, and the things he did remember were unlikely real, but he couldn't figure out why Dean was in his special place.

"What are you doing here?" Cas asked, squinting over at Dean.

"Well, I heard you weren't in school today and I was kinda worried if it was because you were avoiding me because I did or said something stupid to you yesterday, so I wanted to find out if we were cool and if you were okay, like, if you were sick I wanted to know if you were feeling any better, so I went to your house and your sister, who looks really familiar by the way, answered the door and told me you weren't home from school yet, so I was kinda freaking out because you hadn't been to school, so I asked if she knew where you might be and she said the park, but you weren't there but then I thought about how you like seclusion, so I figured you'd be somewhere in these damn woods, but fuck, I figured you'd be at least a little close to the park, not a whole fucking hike away, and what the fuck do you think you're doing taking drugs so close to water, like, dude, you could have drowned! Also, are we cool? 'Cause you kinda sprinted out of my front door like I was the most disgusting person ever, so…yeah…"

Cas just stared at Dean, trying to process everything Dean had just thrown at him.

Dean was worried about him? Dean was worried about the two of them? After Cas had been so stupid yesterday, Dean still wanted to be friends? It was too hard to understand, so Cas just answered with the only thing he did understand, "You kissed my sister."

"I−what? No I didn't. Where'd that come from? I only talked to her for like two seconds about you, I might add," Dean frowned.

"You kissed my sister," Cas repeated, "That's why she was familiar. You kissed her, then she graduated and that was that." If Cas was pouting, it wasn't because he was jealous, not at all.

"Oh." was all Dean managed to say.

"Yeah, oh," Cas grumbled irritably, "You do know, if you are just trying to 'get with me' like you did with Anna, it's not going to happen. I'm not just a toy for boys like you to play with."

"That kiss with your sister didn't even mean anything! When I kiss you I want it to mean something. I'm not a totally dick Cas, but thanks for thinking of me as lowly as you do Crowley, because isn't that what you are to him, Cas? A toy? I know you guys mess around in the boy's toilets. I don't know why, because you obviously hate it, but I know you do," Dean's voice had risen in volume and his eyes were burning with some sort of righteous fury.

"I am of no worth, Dean. I am nothing. I deserve whatever Crowley does to me, because I don't deserve anything nice. I don't deserve you. That's why I can't believe your interest in me is anything other that mere, petty infatuation," Cas could feel his eyes water, so he dug his fingers into his stomach to distract himself from his emotional pain.

"But, Cas, can't you see it?" Dean asked, moving into Cas' personal space and cupping the other boy's jaw with his right hand, "You're worth everything to me. I really fucking mean it Cas. You're always on my mind. I'm always wondering how you are, what you're doing, what kind of things you like," Dean's gorgeous green eyes bore into Castiel's blue eyes, and there was so much hope and honesty it hurt, "I don't know what it is about you, Cas, but I want you so bad. I'm not even talking about fucking you, I'm just talking about seeing you every day and just holding your hand. I just want you."

Then, without warning, Dean's lips were on Castiel's and it was as if the world had stopped. It was just the two of them in this moment forever.

Cas didn't respond at first, too shocked at the contact to even think, but he soon found himself gripping Dean's shoulders and kissing back with so much passion, it was as if Dean was his sole reason for living.

Their mouths melded together perfectly, there was a gentle sweetness in the way they desperately clung together, tasting each other's mouths roughly, teeth pulling at lips, mouths sucking on tongues, and bodies pushing together to be as close as possible to the other.

It felt natural, as if his whole life had been leading to this cosmic kiss with Dean. The sun beamed down on them and the stars grew brighter, the universe was peaceful. Everything felt so right.

When they finally pulled away to breathe, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, Castiel uttered four life changing words in the joyful silence.

"I want you, too."