Dean:

When Dean woke up that morning it wasn't due to a nightmare, alarm, or Sam's insistent bugging, it was natural. The bed beneath him was comfortable, or rather the chest he was lying on was. He tried to pull away, embarrassed that he hadn't been able to keep the promise he had made to himself to stay on his side of the bed, but an arm curved underneath him tightened around his waist, reinforcing his position and slotting him securely against the other. Dean gave up when supported further and slumped back into the warmth beneath him, closing his eyes once more, a faint scent washed over him, sea water; a remainder of their shared time together. Dean tried to pull Castiel in closer; after all, Dean isn't ashamed to admit that he's definitely partial to cuddling. He was jostled as the chest under his rumbled and he cracked an eye open meeting Castiel's gaze.

Castiel had been staring at him, for how long, he wasn't certain, although it didn't make him feel uncomfortable at all just… safe. Dean opened both eyes then, taking in Castiel's bright, blue eyes, almost electric and shinning after sleep, his ruffled, dark hair, so unimaginably hot that Dean temporarily entertaining the idea of running his fingers through it, gripping it so tufts poked through his fingers, tugging and twisting so it's natural form was no longer recognisable. Although Dean dismissed the notion before he got too caught up in the fantasy and said something that would affect their whole relationship, but he looked so extra-terrestrial and unnaturally gorgeous lying there with him that he found it difficult not to indulge in several daydreams all at once. Dean cleared his throat, attempting to clear his thoughts and rid his voice of its usual morning roughness and failing miserably, "Sorry for hijacking your bed."

Castiel smiled. A small tug of lips, but just as powerful as a grin, "It's perfectly fine. I was contented with the notion of sleeping on the couch, but you were adamant, and I have no problem with sharing."

Dean groaned in reply, nuzzling and burrowing his head into Castiel's neck, breathing him in so Castiel was the only thing he knew in that moment…. That moment until Dean realised that despite he and Cas' almost constant flirting and despite the amount of time they spend together and despite the fucking prolonged amount of time it took him to realise this, they weren't even officially dating yet and it was like a not-appropriate-flip-the-fuck-out switch had been flicked in his brain. Dean shot up in a tangle of limbs and bed sheets until he and the laundry had no beginning or end, resulting in a rather embarrassing trip and tumble which landed Dean on his back, resounding in a solid thwack as his head hit the floor, stuck like a turtle with his feet still clinging to the mattress. Dean groaned, suddenly wishing the fall had landed him under the bed where he would have been hidden until he decided to emerge.

Dean stared ahead, dumbstruck for a second as the pain throbbed through his head and down his back, 'That's just a really smooth ceiling, I wonder how they managed that without fucking it up' focusing on that thought whilst hoping it would evaporate the sense of doom from humiliating himself so severely. It almost worked, up to the point of which a familiar face popped over the edge of the bed between his elevated, open legs and stared down at him, "Dean… are you okay?"

Dean's eyes refocused on the man looking at him then lifting his head to get a better view, which was swimming a little from when it had collided with the floor, and damn he was going to get a bump from that. Castiel looked torn between concerned and entertained, features flickering between the two and biting his lip in an attempt to stop the bubbling laughter, which Dean could practically feel, from escaping as he waited expectantly. But what Dean ended up saying wasn't exactly what he prepared to come out of his mouth, "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

It was at the point, where Castiel failed to keep in his amusement any more, disappearing from view to collapse in a fit of laughter, that Dean decided he'd already had his fill of embarrassment for the whole week, let alone one morning. He stopped straining and let his head fall back to the floor, adding to his previous injury and wincing as the pain laced through his skull, but reluctant to do anything about it.

It was all worth it though, because a while later Dean was returning home with a bag of frozen peas and a definite 'yes' to a date for tonight, the last thought Dean had before returning home was, 'Fuck Friday, Sunday is my God now.'

Sam:

The first thing that registers in Sam's brain as he wakes up is the feel of a spread wet patch still forming on his thigh, and of course the second thing was the round weight of a head accompanying the spillage on his leg. Sam opened his eyes and stared down at the mop of brown hair, tousled and knotted and currently drooling on his thigh. 'Drool… nice.'

Deciding to give his friend quite the wakeup call Sam slammed his hands down on either side of him and pushed up so he was standing; energetically leading into a yawn and stretch, disguising the wakeup call as morning routine; smirking as Sam stretched his arms above his head, cracking his back and releasing the tension from his shoulders, whilst Gabriel shot up from falling on the floor, like he'd just been electrocuted, blinking repeatedly to focus himself.

Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, far too brightly for it to still be early in the morning, and it stung Sam's eyes, sensitive from oversleeping, when he looked out the window, finding a void where Dean's car should be parked around about now. He vaguely recalled Dean not coming home last night either, and hopefully he really was 'prancing around with Castiel' like Gabriel had suggested and not dumped bloody and broken in an unmarked grave somewhere. The thought was planning to consume him and Sam went to search for his phone in preparation to call him when his stomach grumbled and he realised just how hungry he really was, the after taste of gummy bears rotting on his tongue, Sam muttered a quick, 'Sorry, man. Priorities.' To wherever Dean was, dead in a ditch or otherwise and set out to find something to wash down the flavour before brushing his teeth, because food and toothpaste are not a good mix.

Sam stumbled towards the fridge, rolling his shoulders and readjusting his bones from sleeping on the couch. Sam pointedly refused to pay attention to Gabriel's form wandering over to the very same window as he had as Sam leant on the surface next to the fridge, contemplating its contents, when Gabriel spoke, "Dean's still not back I see."

Sam looked up just in time to see Gabriel wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, permanent smirk slapped across his face, "Ohh, I wonder what he's been getting up to."

Sam rolled his eyes and proceeded to try not to listen as Gabriel rattled on about things Sam had never wanted to hear said about his brother and coworker. Sam pulled out a few eggs and the milk before straightening up and retrieving a jug from the dishwasher after failing to find it in the cupboard, interrupting if only to save his imagination, "If you're done with your little stories do you mind making us some coffee?"

"'Little stories?'" Gabriel feigned hurt, pressing a hand against his heart, mouth agape as he strutted over to the counter to do as Sam asked, "I will have you know I am the world renown, well-adored psychic, and I am willing to bet money that Dean snuck out last night to go visit his first true love. Although, I'd be cheating, because as you know, I know the future."

Sam lifted an eyebrow, cracking the first egg into the jug and playing along, faking awed, "Oh my God, really? But… erm… I bet it's not all the time. I mean, that would make you too powerful."

Gabriel sighed dramatically, "Ohh, you don't know the weight I am forced to carry. Knowing everyone's next move is so utterly exhausting." Gabriel stumbled closer to him, slumping sideways onto the counter next to him, and closing his eyes for performance value.

Sam grinned, picking up the second egg and with a resounding crack he smashed it against Gabriel's head with just enough force to sting, but not injure. Gabriel's eyes flew open just in time for a slimy globule of yolk to slip from a strand of hair down onto his nose, forcing him to go cross eyed to look at it. Sam smothered his hair with it, rubbing deep into the scalp to as much as he could reach, "Yes, I could see exactly why that could be such a problem."

Sam patted Gabriel's head as he finished, his hair now standing in gooey spikes facing every which way and Sam smiled at his handy work, wiping his hand on a tea towel before cracking a third egg into the jug like nothing had happened.

Gabriel recovered quickly, prancing up and mentally swearing his revenge as he sauntered to the bathroom shouting. "Joke's on you, Princess! Egg is awesome for hair, so suck it!"

Sam laughed and splashed some milk into the jug, mixing them for a bit until popping the jug in the microwave. Nothing like some scrambled eggs in the morning. Microwave style. Sam heard the shower turning on and was trying not to think about what was only a couple of walls away, when the microwave went off, 'Saved by the beeps I guess.'

Sam was serving up a plateful when the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine floated through the house and Sam went to the window to see what kind of state Dean had come home in. Sam had deemed him 'acceptable' by the time Dean was walking in through the front door, and straight round to greet him. Sam only had enough time to notice Gabriel was back and eating the plate he'd put out before Dean was right in front of him, and Sam just couldn't help himself, "BEDS EMPTY!? NO NOTE!? CAR GONE!? YOU COULD HAVE DIED!"

Dean raised his eyebrows and laughed, "Alright, Molly. I'm sorry, it'll never happen again." He said patting Sam on the head and making a bee line for the fridge.

Gabriel spoke up around a mouthful of egg, "Hey, Dean. Were you with Castiel last night?"

Dean nodded, trying to act nonchalant although the tensing of his shoulders gave away his expectation of teasing, but Gabriel surprised them all instead saying, "See Princess? I told you I was psychic."

Sam picked up the first thing he could reach and pointed it at Gabriel in warning, "Watch it, smartass, I still have some eggs left." He realised after that holding out a now empty, whicker fruit bowl wasn't the most intimidating thing he could have done.

Castiel:

'Too shabby. Too casual… wait… is it casual or formal? I'll just do smart casual. But what if it's really formal and I'm underdressed? No, what if it's really casual and I'm overdressed? Which is worse? Is there a website for these problems? What's wrong with me, it's just a date. A date with a really hot guy. Shut up brain, you're not helping at all. This is useless. I'm useless at this. Why? WHY? Agh. AGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH.'

Castiel flopped onto his bed circled by various clothes, disrupting a now grumpy Benny who had used the disregarded clothes as a makeshift bed, "Look dog, you're not helping at all."

A growl answered in reply as if he had heard exactly what he was saying and Castiel throw an old hat on the dog and laughing in revenge as it landed on his risen head. As if to spite him Benny stayed exactly where he was and Castiel frowned at him, "You're the weirdest dog I know."

Benny huffed; head flopping back down to the bed, the hat slipping, cocooning his eyes and ignoring Castiel completely.

After much disorganised chaos, Castiel picked one of the first shirts he'd looked at, settling with some tight fitting black jeans he was sure he'd already worn, but unable to find a pair that made his ass look quite as good slipped them on anyway and an almost equally as tight formal, blue shirt Balthazar had said had made his 'eyes pop'. Despite the grotesque imagery Castiel was only able to form with that particular sequence of words, he wore it; grateful to have some clothes that complimented him… apparently.

When Dean arrived Castiel's flat was a mess. With no time to clean up after the great fashion disaster of the year he attempted to not let Dean see much when opening the door despite Benny's insistent knocking into the door in an attempt to reveal him, well… in Castiel's mind anyway.

Dean drove them to a little cinema, and after a conversation that vaguely followed upon, 'Dude, how can you not love action films? They're like the birth parent to superhero films.', 'Find me one with a solid plot that's also interesting and I'll agree with you. Plus if that's true, why don't you like superhero's?', 'Are you kidding me? No one should wear that much lycra.'

When realisation hit that they both like completely opposite things when it comes to media they defied logic completely and went for something that neither would have picked as a tie breaker, but obviously the worst decision possible, a new, yet relatively unpopular knock off of The Notebook. Clad with popcorn and the promise to rip the piss out of any bad qualities the film had they took their seats at the side, secluded from a lot of the people who exploited the film's horrible reputation by taking mid-center seats.

The movie was, indeed, as torturous as they assumed it would be, and by mid-way they were quoting cheesy lines to each other in breathy voices, each worse than the last. Although sitting through a desperately awful excuse for entertainment that sat as close as they did that night on the beach; Castiel's arm hanging loosely across the back of Dean's chair, and Dean sitting as close as he possibly could with an inconveniently placed armrest in the way. Even in the close proximity, Castiel was not prepared for the change in Dean's persona so quickly; he felt the sensual touch of Dean's fingertips gliding across his thigh, the gentle caress of his lips as he leaned in close and whispered, "How 'bout we have some fun."

Castiel gulped, suddenly feeling hot and tensing as Dean's hand crept over his zipper and played with the metal button, "Doesn't it reflect cheapness upon me if I let this happen on a first date?" Castiel questioned, the teasing touches already stirring his body into full wakefulness.

Dean just grinned back, popping the button and slowly coaxing down the zip when Castiel showed no physical objections, "Not if you count our 'tour' and the late night trip to the beach." Dean said, moving his lips lower to Castiel's neck, his fingertips breaching the waistband of Cas' underwear.

Unable to resist the enticing pull of Dean's hands any longer Castiel widened his stance, allowing Dean more room, "In that case…"

Dean smiled against Castiel's neck, moving his hand lower and then pulling back, skimming his hand over the smooth planes of Cas' stomach, circling his belly button with a single finger, skating feather light touches with his nails across his hips, and grabbing his thigh, digging his nails in just enough to make it seem like a claim. Dean alternated his touches, lingering, close, but never where he wanted them, until Cas snapped, gripping Dean's wrist and palming his hand into his lap surprising a chuckle out of his date, "Someone's eager."

Castiel grunted, dropping his head against the back of the chair, his eyelids fluttering closed at the briefest of touches.

Dean grazed his hand across unscathed, perfect skin until he had a tender grip around Castiel's shaft; biting lightly at the joint between Cas' neck and shoulder, then playfully licking down his collar bone as he slowly and rhythmically started to stroke him. Castiel opened his mouth, biting his lip to suppress the crushing need to moan as he felt Dean's thumb circle over the tip of his dick, collecting the precum and sliding it down his length stopping just as his hand brushed ever so slightly against his balls working him up. He found himself growling in frustration at Dean's restricted movements, wanting nothing but to claw off his trousers and let Dean do as he pleases. Their current predicament hitting him suddenly at that thought, his eyes flickering across the rows of scattered people, but instead of being hit with overwhelming humiliation he was more aroused; the idea of being caught shamelessly moaning like a common whore with another man's hands down his pants almost had him ending this experience prematurely, and all it would take was a straying pair of bored eyes. With an experimental twist of Dean's hand Castiel's attention was snapped away and back to him, his mouth dry, shallow rapid breathing having to be stifled with the sharp sting of teeth sinking into knuckles, stopping the flow of moans reaching any unwanted ears, the friction with Dean's calloused hand had Cas thrusting shallowly, needy for his release, the pressure just right, alternating between light, teasing touches and rough, impulsive ones. Dean's teeth bit down on Cas' shoulder bone, the pain blending with Dean's touches creating the perfect cocktail of pleasure. One bruising bite of knuckles coupled with an especially loud, muffled groan later and Castiel was starting to think doing this without an after plan was a bad idea. Well, he was now that he was watching, open mouthed still as Dean was removing his hand and licking Castiel's cum off clumsily but no less sexy for it, until all that remained was a cooling mess. Castiel almost fell over his seat when hastily rushing to the bathroom, Dean's distant laughter following him there.

The rest of the film seemed to fly by, Castiel severely threatened Dean for putting him in that position which Dean laughed at so much that they brought attention to themselves from everyone in the cinema quicker than ever before. They left laughing, both at how ridiculously bad the film was and how in hell they didn't get caught; it was darker than before when they left, the moon glinting off every surface and making the night look surreal in their eyes. Dean drove Castiel home, blaring some unknown rock bands album out of the stereo, whilst he subconsciously tapped along to the beat. Pulling up to the curb Castiel turned to Dean, "Well, the film was crappy, but the entertainment was… eventful."

Dean laughed bringing a smile to Castiel's face, "I've never heard it be called eventful before."

Castiel smiled, getting out the car and momentarily leaning back in, "Hey, thanks. I enjoyed myself."

Dean burst out in laughter, "I bet."

"Shut up." Castiel chuckled, turning to leave when Dean called after him, "Hey Cas. If you ever wanna return the favour – you know where I live."

Gabriel:

"Let's go to the beach."

Gabriel nearly spat out the chocolate sauce covered, M&M sprinkled, gooey caramel swirled into vanilla spoonful of ice cream onto the tv screen currently featuring an amused Jerry Springer commentating a vicious looking fight between two determined women as security scrambled around the stage, "What, Why?"

"Because."

"You do understand…" Gabriel started, placing the topping smothered mess of a morning desert onto the coffee table and facing the campaigner of this scandalous idea, "that because is not a suitable answer for any question."

Sam continued to wash up the remains of breakfast, looking across at Gabriel as he jumped up onto the counter, "A grown man should not be able to sit on there, let alone have to jump to get on."

Gabriel dunked his hand in the dirty, egg contaminated dishwater and splashed it into Sam's face, "Ha. You're funny."

Sam gave him the pissy look, wiping his face off with a nearby tea towel, "C'mon Gabe, I'm serious. Let's go sunbathe."

"Sam, these things always go wrong, at first you want to go and you're ready for it but then it's overcrowded, overpriced, the weather's all wrong and then something big happens, like you almost drown or you slice your foot open deep on a rock and BAM! Ruined forever."

Sam rolled his eyes, as if he knew Gabriel would respond with this sort of answer, "We're going to the beach." And with that Sam strutted out to change his recently wet shirt.

"This is a bad idea." Gabriel shouted after him.

Despite the neutral, unstimulating weather, Sam looked like an excited puppy on the way to a park the whole drive there and Gabriel tried his very best to humour him. He didn't know why he wasn't a fan of the beach, regarding his personality he should get overexcited rather than anything else, but after countless bad experiences whilst on the beach he ruled out bad karma and pegged it that 'Gabriel plus the beach equals heartbreak, broken limbs, intense disappointment and countless other opportunities for everything to go wrong.' Not just that but that the beach was cursed, 'No one has that many bad things happen to them in one place. It's just not natural.'

A few hours later, whilst scoffing on chips with his feet covered in mounds of sand and watching Sam stroll up and down the coastline skimming rocks along the mostly still water, Gabriel was almost ready to completely dismiss the idea that beaches had a personal vendetta against him and that it was all just a big twenty year misunderstanding stemming from anxiety and expectation until, that is, that Sam encountered something or rather someone entirely new. Gabriel always assumed that people met by some version of violence, either from the vast amount of chick flicks he'd caught on tele or by the vicious collocations the beach brought to him; being saved from almost drowning, knocked on your ass by a handsome guy on the other end of a football, bumping into someone and physically sending them flying. One method he never anticipated was some ignorant twat tripping in a stray kid's sand trench and catapulting his imported, pompous blended fruit drink through the air, exploding on Sam's shirt as he tried to stop himself from face planting the ground, a muffled curse following behind him. Gabriel wanted to burst out laughing, trying to hold in the giggles bubbling at the surface. He pressed his hand against his mouth watching the man gain his balance as Sam stripped out of his soaked shirt. Gabriel's laughter faded, half appreciative for the view and half cringing for when the liquid on Sam's chest starts to feel the wind. Gabriel was about to wolf whistle mockingly, well… kind of, when he heard the unknown man speak up, "Shit, sorry 'bout that, but… if I'm honest with you. Looks better off."

Gabriel first felt an intense spell of rage, wanting nothing more than to swoop in and steal Sam away like an envious boyfriend up until the moment that he realised that that was something he was not, it wasn't his place to storm over, it wasn't even his place to feel jealous. 'Sam could strip for whoever he wanted to', Gabriel let out a bitter chuckle and shook his head at his own thoughts. He couldn't even look up, deciding not knowing how Sam handled it was better than seeing him fall into the arms of another man. The next thing he knew Sam was coming back with a smile on his face and a number in his hand. After that he was just filled with spite, disappointment, regret, heartache, anything and everything that he'd ever felt towards Sam and he bottled it all up and forced it all down. Gabriel matched his smile, fanatically refused to sacrifice a chip and pretended this was a good thing.

He knew coming to the beach was a bad idea.

I'm back guys, with a whole new chapter, yaay! I've never wrote anything quite like this chapter before so I'm not expecting any praise, and I'm kind of a little embarrassed to post it actually. I'm in college now, well English college so not University but like the one before University. I don't know how to explain it; I don't know the American educational system. I'm really into Elbow right now, hence the name; I suggest you listen to An Audience with the Pope by them if nothing else. I have an Instagram now as well, and my name's the same as it is here, but I'm obviously very new and have like one picture. I also don't know how to work it yet, or who to follow so I'm kind of just following people that come up in that box that says 'follow' or I don't know what it is. I sound and feel like a grandma right now. Ohh wells, sorry. Until the next update.