Cas woke up tangled in bed sheets. He stretched out and opened his eyes, immediately recognizing Dean's bedroom. Still clothed, he sat up in bed and winced at his hangover headache. He pulled of his coat and suit jacket, tossing them onto the empty chair across the room. He reached for a bottle of Aspirin left for him on the nightstand, next to a full glass of water, his cell phone and a note. Read your texts, it said.

After downing some pills and finishing the water, he took his phone in hand and sat back against the headboard. He didn't want to read whatever angry words Dean had sent him. To see how many times he rejected him, insulted him. But Dean didn't throw him out last night. He let him sleep in his bed. Had gotten Aspirin ready for when he woke up. Maybe it'll be OK. He stared at the messaging icon for a few seconds before he gathered enough courage to select it.

3 texts from Sam. 109 from Dean. Three weeks was a long time, after all. Cas sighed and clicked Sam's name first. The texts were spaced out evenly over the weeks.

Hey Cas, we could use your help on a case.

Did something happen between you and Dean? I haven't heard from you and Dean's moodier than usual. Check in with me, alright?

Dean's a mess. He's drinking more and he's taking dangerous risks on jobs. He won't tell me what happened and you don't have to either, but please come talk to him or something. I've tried but he's in bad shape.

Cas switched over to Deans texts before he could lose his nerve. They started off badly.

You know I'm not like that. You know I'm straight. Why would you do that?

We were having a good time, shooting the shit, and out of nowhere you do that?

How the hell can we be friends now? How the hell can we work together? I rely on you to back me up, to help me stop the world from going to hell. Now what am I supposed to do?

Are you going to answer me or what?

Maybe you should just stay away.

Cas scrolled through more similar messages over several days. A string of questions he could not answer. More cursing and thrown insults. The later in the evening they were sent, the less sense they made. He's drinking, Cas thought. There was a 3 day gap where no messages were sent. The next one made Cas stop.

I'm sorry. Come home.

Cas was suddenly hopeful. Maybe he had been forgiven. Or maybe he was just too valuable a comrade to lose. He kept scrolling.

I shouldn't have freaked out. We need you here. We'll figure something out.

I get that we have a different kind of friendship than regular people. I get that. Foxholes and purgatory and perdition and shit. You just caught me off guard. I'll get over it.

C'mon Cas, answer me.

Tell me where you are, I'll come to you.

Are you shutting me out? Answer me.

Cas hated himself for not checking his phone. He could have been back weeks ago. But instead he was scrolling past a dozen texts from Dean asking "Are you there?" over and over for a few days. They start to sound angry again. The time sent getting later and later into the evenings. He imagines Deans drinking alone in his room texting Cas in the dark.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!

What have you done to me?

I can't sleep because I keep thinking about where you are. What you're doing. If you're dead or alive. Come home.

No, you know what? Stay the hell away from me.

Cas wanted to run out the door. To find Dean and beg for forgiveness. He made things so much worse. He should have stayed. Should have called. Should have checked his messages. He looked through more and more drunken texts. Some told him to come home. Some told him to never come back. He hit the bottom of the conversation and the last three messages filled his screen.

I'm going to stop trying to contact you. You're not answering me. I don't even know if you're reading any of this. If you are, then you'll call me if and when you want to. But let me say two more things to you:

I've never been worried this much about anyone other than Sammy.

I think that means I love you.

Dean sat in the kitchen wearing his red plaid shirt and jeans, drinking coffee. He heard Sam's door open and watched him shuffle in, heading to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. They sat together in silence and stared off into space. Sam finished off his cup and spoke up first.

"Cas looked pretty rough last night."

Dean nodded and focused on the mug in his hands.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened between the two of you?" Sam looked at Dean, waiting for an answer. Dean avoided eye contact.

"I had a meltdown. Said some things. But he's back. For now, anyway."

"You've had meltdowns before." Sam pushed. "This looked different."

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wanted to tell him. To ask for advice. But he was afraid of what his reaction would be. "He's not Dad" Dean thought. He shut eyes when he spoke. "He kissed me."

Sam stayed quiet, patiently waiting for Dean to continue. "He kissed me and I panicked. Yelled at him. Told him to leave."

A long moment passed. "Can I ask you a question?" Sam asked softly. Dean nodded, keeping his eyes shut. "If Cas were a woman, would you have reacted the same way?"

Dean was confused and faced his brother. "What are you saying?"

"I've been by your side my whole life, Dean. You're closer to Cas than anyone else I've seen you with. Crowley, Meg, a lot of people have cracked jokes about you two being a couple. Maybe they weren't far off."

Dean dropped his head into his hands. "You seem to be having am easier time wrapping your head around this than I am."

"Yeah, well, I know you better than you know yourself."

The two men heard footsteps coming down the hall and they both looked up at the entryway. Cas took one step into the kitchen and stopped. Shirt untucked, hair messy and phone in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, from alcohol or tears or both. He swallowed visibly before speaking. "Dean?"