Now.
Dean took another shot, when he heard the soft swish of the motelroom door opening. He tensed up, drawn between wanting and not wanting it to be Cas. No footfall, so it had to be his brother. For the sasquatch size, Sammy could walk soundless like a mountainlion. "Dean... come on. Your gonna catch pneumonia." Dean scoffed. "Right. It's friggin' balmy out here. Don't gimme that crap." He tilted back the flask again, and Sam sighed at it. "Dean... really... I'm ok with it." Dean glared at him over his shoulder. "You're not the one I'm worried about, for once." he growled and Sam hesitated. "Oh. Right... I... I gotta say man, Cas... he doesn't look that upset, to be honest." Again Dean scoffed. "Did you see his face? I'd say he is upset..." Another gulp of whiskey slid down the hatch, but it's burn was nothing to the burn of shame and guilt. Dean turned away from Sam. "I'm not talking about it, Sammy. I'm not one to.." he scoffed again. "... emote." Sam sat his butt next to his brother on the hood. "I know, Dean... booze and sex, that's your coping. I'm actually surprised the tv wasn't on Casa Erotica." Dean grimaced and took another sip.
This afternoon.
Since the capsules Cas had brought were filled with already finely ground monk's pepper, the task of making the bullets was soon done. "Dean... are you sure you're ok with staying in?" Sam asked carefully. He and Cas were standing at the door, guns with Vitex-filled bullets carefully hidden. Dean just laid back on his bed and grinned, hands laced behind his head. "I'm just peachy, Sammy. I got coffee, a sixpack of beer and Casa Erotica. I'll be sound as a pound." Sam rolled his eyes at him and Cas just shook his head. "Only thing that's missing is the magic fingers." Dean teased, and that earned him two very gratifying things: a grade A bitchface from his brother and a confused headtilt from Cas. "I strongly suggest you refrein from using magic, Dean. It might alert the succubus to your presence..." Dean laughed. "Dean!" Sam scolded. "He won't use magic, Cas. It's a massage device that some motels have in their beds." The somewhat relieved "Ah!" from Cas made Dean grin even wider. "Have fun, guys!" he called, wriggling down into his mattras.
Dean sighed. Good grief, he was bored! He had drunk enough coffee to keep him up at least three days in a row, the beer wasn't all that appealing and after only two he'd abandonned the rest of the sixpack. He listlessly stared at the tv-screen, where the fake moans and grunts from Casa Erotica didn't do much for him either. It had been hours since Sam and Cas had left and Dean was ready to climb the walls. With an annoyed huff Dean switched off the tv and checked his phone. Nothing new. The last text Sam had sent was over an hour and a half ago, and it was just one line. "Still bupkis." That friggin' succubus was either laying low, or satisfied for once. Not that Dean thought it would ever be satisfied. If his own sexdrive was anything to gauge by, being satisfied took long and lasted short. Although... lately he had been uninterested in the ladies, even if they almost sent him an engraved invite... He shrugged and slid off the bed. He had to take a leak.