Sorry for the delay! Had some issues paying my tuition and was on the phone with student accounting and the bank basically all weekend. Here's a longer chapter to make up for it. Enjoy!

He hadn't meant to kiss him. Kissing people, especially other men, was socially unacceptable, no matter how much you liked them. As if this whole convention wasn't difficult enough already, what with his rocky and rather sudden relationship with his idol, he had to go and do something stupid like that.

The funny thing was that the earth didn't swallow him up (like he was silently praying it would) and Dean didn't say anything. Stared. Gaped. Became really awkward. But he didn't mention it, didn't even do anything mean. Castiel had to admit that he was just waiting for Dean to turn on him, waiting for the other man to realize how weird that kiss had been—didn't his brothers tell him over and over again that he needed to act more normal?—but it never came. Quite to the contrary, Dean slid easily back into an almost comfortable companionship again, like they had shared over dinner last night.

Castiel blushed at the thought. It wasn't like anything had happened, but there was something about the man that struck Castiel in a way that very few people ever had. In fact, he wasn't sure anyone had ever really had such an effect on him so quickly. It was strange and it made Castiel think of what Gabriel would say. He would probably taunt him about his "crush". Castiel shuddered at the thought of Gabriel finding out. It wasn't that Gabriel was bad or anything (okay, it was definitely that, at least in part), it was just that Gabriel had a weird way of showing his brotherly protectiveness as soon as Castiel show any kind of interest in anyone. The fact that Castiel did so pretty rarely didn't help.

Letting out a sigh, Castiel tried to push those thoughts aside. Perhaps he did have a crush on the other man. Who could blame him? He wrote Castiel's favorite books, he was possibly the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on and he was charming beyond belief.

If Castiel cursed, he would probably be cursing himself right now because it was so painfully obvious that Dean Winchester was straight as the road to Vegas. He was also possibly the most beautiful man Castiel had ever laid his on, but that might just be beyond the point.

Now, after their panel together, Castiel found himself sitting across from Dean at the hotel restaurant again. Dean was currently trying to convert Castiel to the Church of Pie and Other Diner Food.

"How in the name of all that is holy have you never had cherry pie?" he demanded currently, his words garbled around a mouthful of the pie in question.

Castiel smiled slightly and picked at a fry.

"I was mostly raised by my brothers who did not cook much, let alone bake," Castiel responded, mesmerized as Dean's tongue flicked out to lick his lips.

"Please, I practically raised my brother, but you don't see me missing out on pie," Dean reprimanded, waving his fork around and very nearly missing splattering some of the red stuff on Castiel's white shirt.

"That's just un-American."

Castiel chuckled at Dean's vehemence and then fell promptly silent when Dean shoveled a large amount onto his fork and held it out for him. Castiel stared at the other writer with wide eyes until Dean rolled his eyes and demanded, "Eat."

Leaning forward, Castiel took a small bite off of Dean's fork, barely registering the slight surprise on the other man's face before his eyes slid close in pleasure. He let out a moan and then nodded in agreement with all of Dean's previous statement.

"I like pie," Castiel murmured, opening his eyes again just in time to catch Dean staring at him with a look that he couldn't interpret. He licked his lips again, then cleared his throat and ate the rest of the pie on his fork.

After a moment in which Dean just chewed in silence, looking anywhere but at Castiel, he finally returned, "Knew you would."

Then he smiled and Castiel let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he was pretty sure Dean was actually blushing.

He needed to figure out how to make that happen more often.

Jo was the first person to notice something was up. She was a reporter and it was her job to notice things, but this was just so glaringly obvious to her that she wondered how no one else seemed to have picked up on it yet. It wasn't all that hard to see it, considering the fact that Dean Winchester was probably about the most obvious person on the planet, not to mention the most emotionally stunted. Honestly. Sometimes she wondered if Dean had been absent the day everyone else was taught about their feelings.

If anyone had ever asked her about Dean's sexual orientation before, she wouldn't have had to think before answered that he was, of course, straight. He was probably the straightest man Jo had ever met (and maybe that should have been a clue), but looking at him now with Castiel, she began to wonder.

It wasn't anything so overt; it was the little things that she kept noticing. The way he would sometimes place his hand on Castiel's upper arm when they were talking. The fact that he had been introducing Castiel to all the things he loved (his music, his car, food). The way he seemed to be blushing at seemingly random intervals. It would be cute if it weren't for the fact that it was so damn painful to watch. She'd only seen Dean act like this around two other people, and those had been his first love and his ex-wife.

So what that Dean had never shown any romantic interests in a man before? So what that they had only known each other for less than two days now? There was so obviously something there that Jo just wanted to lock them in a room together until they kissed it out. This convention was only three days long—they needed to speed up this little mating dance they had going on.

Which all meant that Jo just had to step in and get things moving along. This was their last night and she didn't think she could watch Dean assert his manliness with that whore from Penguin Books again while Castiel sat obliviously by.

Her plan was simple. Dean needed to be drunk. Castiel needed to be drunk. Then they needed to be alone. And voila—the magic would happen!

Jo giggled evilly to herself. She was way too good a friend.

She put her plan into motion after the last panel had been closed and all the convention goers had moved to the lounge again to mingle some more. Someone who obviously hadn't realized how much a bunch of writers could drink had decided to spring for an open bar tonight which was really too perfect.

"Dean, bring your angel over here," Jo called out, smirking when the man in question looked at her in confusion before seeming to realize to whom she was referring. She could practically see the indignant blush from her seat halfway across the room. He flipped her off but did as she ordered anyway, grabbing Castiel at the elbow and leading him to Jo's table.

"What?" he snapped, looking annoyed—probably at having had his conversation with Castiel interrupted, Jo thought.

She just grinned at him and said, "We haven't seen each other in a million years and you're hogging the newb. I figured I'd get you both while you're here."

Dean rolled his eyes, and she could tell that he was aware that that was total bull, but didn't argue or leave.

"Castiel, how are you?" she asked, knowing from the slight look of awe that had been on his face for most of the day just how good he was. "I hope Dean hasn't been driving you completely insane."

"Hey!" Jo flashed Dean another smile but kept her attention on Castiel.

"I'm fine, thank you," Castiel responded, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"Good, because we haven't put you through the first and most important test before you can join Harvelle's," she continued, twisting open the cap of a bottle of Jack Daniel's that she had flirted off the bartender.

Dean's eyes widened, while Castiel only looked confused.

"A test?"

"Jo, what the hell?" Dean demanded, shooting Castiel a nervous look. His concern for Castiel's well being was so cute it hurt. "You can't haze Cas."

Jo laughed and replied easily, "I just gotta know that he can hold his liquor. C'mon, Castiel, don't worry about Dean over there. Just because he's being a sourpuss doesn't mean we can't have fun."

Castiel sat down silently, his eyes glued to the Jack Daniels bottle with an odd look. It was obvious that Dean couldn't resist sitting next to him and then it was all downhill from there. Castiel was apparently hiding something because he took his first shot like a pro. And his second. And the tenth. And then the fifteenth. By this point, Ellen had joined them along with a veritable crowd of onlookers to watch in awe as Castiel downed shot after shot with no sign of its effect.

At shot number eighteen, he looked at Jo and said, "I think I'm beginning to feel something."

There was amazed laughter all around then bets about how much he could drink. Meanwhile, someone had gotten beers all around for the spectacle and Jo was pretty sure Dean was going to have an aneurism from how hard he was staring at Castiel. He actually missed his mouth more than once, spilling beer down his chin while he watched his new friend basically down nearly a fifth of whiskey like water.

Her plan to get Castiel drunk didn't seem to be working quite the way she had planned, but at least Dean looked like he might be getting there. He was halfway through his second beer when she placed a small glass of whiskey in front of him. Still not taking his eyes off of Castiel, who by now had had twenty shots and been cut off because Ellen didn't want to pay for "a damn ambulance when he gets alcohol poisoning", Dean downed the whiskey in front of him.

"Damn, Cas," he said in awe. "There something you're not saying?"

Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion and he responded, his speech very slightly slurred, "No. Why would you think that?"

Finally Dean cracked a smile, and then was laughing all out.

"Don't ever change," he told him, the corners of his eyes wrinkled from smiling at the dark haired man. Castiel smiled back at him but said nothing more.

Now was the hard part. After surreptitiously refilling Dean's glass a few more times, Jo decided to put phase two of her plan into action: Get Dean and Castiel Alone.

It was when Castiel tried standing from their table that she knew exactly what to do. Almost as soon as his feet hit the ground, he was falling over with the weight of all the alcohol he had consumed. Dean, knight in shining armor that he was, immediately reached out to catch him, only to stumble himself. They were both giggling like idiots, but at least Dean now had Castiel leaning on him, his arm wrapped around the older man's waist.

"Uh, Dean, I think we should probably get Cas up to his room," Jo recommended, slipping Castiel's arm over her own should. No way would she leave this up to chance. She needed to be there right up until they found each other's tongues and stopped circling one another.

Dean nodded drunkenly, a big grin on his face, and helped her bring a still giggling Castiel to the elevator. Somehow, miraculously, they managed to get the man (who seemed very determined to lay his head on Dean's shoulder) up to his room in tact despite the fact that Dean was equally as drunk and Jo was trying to take most of Castiel's weight.

"Where's your room key, Cas?" Dean asked, releasing him in order to start patting down his pockets. He swayed dangerously, but remained standing, which seemed like good news to Jo considering the fact that him falling asleep would ruin her plan entirely.

"In my pocket," Castiel responded, smiling dreamily at Dean as Dean tried awkwardly to reach into his pockets without touching too much. He didn't manage to avoid touching at all and Jo would have to have been blind not to see the change in Castiel's pants at that—not that she was looking.

His face red, Dean reached over Castiel's shoulder to place the key in the door behind him. The door opened, their eyes locked, and Jo knew she had finished her work here.