Fucking Lisa. He wasn't ready to move in with her. Was that such a big deal? And Ben wasn't his son? He fucking knew that, but that hadn't stopped him from loving the fuck outta that kid. He didn't even get to say goodbye. Fuck everything. It had been a few days, but staying in his room hadn't worked, avoiding class hadn't worked, going to class hadn't worked, and alcohol was next on his list of things not to work. He grabbed his next beer from the Roadhouse bar (he lost count somewhere after his fifth) and wished his tolerance wasn't so high. He wanted so badly to black out and forget all this twisted shit.
"You know, drinking your problems away doesn't actually work, right?" Jo said snidely.
Dean snapped at her, "You know what? Blow me, Jo."
"Like I'd want to."
"Like I'd let you," he countered. Her good humor dropped as if he'd slapped her in the face.
"Fuck you, Winchester," she said, slamming his next beer on the bar and walking away.
"Where and when, sweetie," he called with venom in his words even he could hear. Sure, he knew he'd hurt her feelings, doubly hurt them since he was pretty sure she had a thing for him, but she should've known better than to get personal with him. A guy got up from a table behind him and joined him at the bar.
"I think you owe Jo an apology," the guy said. Dean turned to tell the guy just where he could stick that suggestion when he was stunned into silence by the bright blue stare he found himself fixed with.
"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, slightly aware of his slurred speech.
The guy replied, "I'm in your history class."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that helps."
"How drunk are you right now?" the boy asked.
"Not drunk enough," he answered, taking another swig of beer.
"You should apologize to Jo," his classmate repeated.
Dean staggered to his feet and whined, "Fine." The guy followed Dean over to where Jo was wiping down a table.
"Fuck off," she said angrily. Dean looked at his classmate who gave him a stern look to continue.
Dean leaned over towards Jo and said, "Hey, I'm sorry. I was being a dick."
She nodded, "Yep. Grade-A asshole."
He sighed and explained, "Lisa and I broke up. I just needed to get wasted." Jo looked up and met Dean's eyes.
"Oh, honey," she said, "I'm sorry."
"It's 'kay. I'm gonna head out. Sorry again, Jo," he muttered.
Jo said quickly, "Castiel, could you please make sure he gets home okay?" The blue-eyed man followed after Dean immediately.
"The hell kind of name is Castiel?" Dean asked, momentarily proud of his attempt at clear, coherent speech. Castiel steered Dean to the door.
Once they were outside, Dean asked, "But seriously? Castiel? Whose idea was that?"
"My parents'," he said.
"I'm gonna call you Cas," Dean slurred, almost laughing at how stupid he sounded, " 's easier."
"Sure, Dean," Cas answered.
After going the complete wrong direction to Dean's apartment, turning around, keeping Dean from stumbling into the street, keep Dean upright, waiting patiently while Dean pissed in an alley, and finally arriving at Dean's apartment, he was pretty sure this Castiel guy was God or at least a saint. How he put up with Dean's drunken rant about Lisa and Ben was beyond him. Sam answered the door when Cas buzzed.
"What the hell? Dean?" Sam asked. Dean smiled widely at how goofy he must look, especially since he was decently sure Cas had an arm around him, supporting his weight.
"I don't know who Lisa is," Cas said, "But apparently she's a bitch and Dean's been drinking because of it for whatever reason. He does live here, yes?"
Sam nodded, taking his brother off of Cas.
"You want to come inside? It's freezing out here," Sam offered.
Cas shrugged a quick, "Sure."
Dean struggled out of Sam's grasp.
"I can walk," he said, defensive. Dean made it two steps before face planting over the threshold.
"Graceful as ever, Dean," Sam commented. Cas snickered as they picked him up off the ground.
"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, leaning on both Cas and Sam as they made their way slowly up the stairs. Once inside the apartment, Sam and Cas tossed Dean on the couch face down.
Before completely passing out, he heard Sam ask Cas, "He said what to Jo?"
When Dean awoke the next morning, he was still on the couch with a crick in his neck and a nasty hangover. Thank God for Saturdays. He walked to his room sleepily to grab new clothes. As he pulled off his shirt, a figure in his bed turned over. Castiel, a shirtless Castiel no less, was sleeping in his bed. What.
Quickly, he found Sam making scrambled eggs in the kitchen.
"You let Cas stay the night?" Dean asked in a half whisper. Sam nodded while stirring the eggs.
"What did you expect me to do, Dean?" he asked, "The guy brought your drunk ass home, got you to apologize to Jo without being sober, and it was freezing outside. Of course, I let him stay here." Dean sat at the table and started remembering the details of the previous night. Oh, God.
"So, you and Lisa split?" Sam asked. Dean had been scarce lately, but he hadn't found the time or energy to tell anyone about it. Except for Cas and Jo, apparently.
Dean caught Sam's eye and said, "Dude, don't."
Sam nodded politely and returned his attention to the eggs. Cas emerged from Dean's bedroom, now with a shirt on, and sat at the table across from Dean. His hair was all kinds of messed up, which really only accented how bright his eyes were. And damn, if Cas' lips didn't look soft when he yawned.
Dean averted his eyes.
Why was he checking out Cas? First, he barely knew the guy. Second, he was definitely, very confidently, not gay. Third, he just broke up with Lisa. That was probably why he was checking out Cas, actually. Maybe the trauma of losing Lisa and Ben made him stop thinking straight. He just needed some coffee and therapy. It would all start making sense, right?
Sam served Cas some eggs and asked, "Would you like some coffee?" Cas shook his head.
"No," he said, "Thank you for the eggs, though. You really didn't have to."
Sam smiled and fixed himself some eggs and coffee, joining them at the table.
Dean asked, "Hey, don't I get coffee or eggs?"
"It's in the kitchen," Sam said around a bite of scrambled yolk. Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself as he went to get some breakfast. A few minutes later, as he sipped at his piping coffee, he noticed Cas staring at him. Dean shot his eyebrows up at the guy.
"What?" he asked.
"We need to talk, Dean," Cas answered.
Dean sighed, assuming it was to call him out for being such a bitch last night, and said, "Alright, after breakfast."
They ate their meal in silence. Cas still kept furtively staring, which was just really damn creepy, but it did make Dean feel a little less like the garbage he was and a little more like he had something entirely way too interesting on his shirt. And that was when Dean realized that he was, in fact, not wearing a shirt. Well, that might've explained some things.
After breakfast, and now adorned in a Metallica t-shirt, Dean walked Cas out into the apartment hallway. Once the door was closed, Cas turned to Dean and hugged him tightly.
Dean's heart and head both stopped doing anything at the same time. What. The. Fuck. Eventually, his mouth picked up the slack.
"Uhh, Cas?" he tried, his brain still completely misfiring. What was happening?
Cas released him abruptly and said, "You seemed like you needed a hug last night, but it didn't seem like the more important thing when we were getting over here."
"Uh huh," Dean said, trying to forget how Cas smelled. It wasn't going too well. As Dean and Cas got to the building's stairs, Cas turned to Dean and locked eyes with him.
"Dean," he said, "I think we should be friends."
"What?" Dean asked. What was with this guy? He was so weird. Cas focused his entirely too blue eyes on the ground.
"You told me a lot more last night than I think you realize. I know you could use a friend. And it would be nice if we could hang out," Cas explained. Suddenly, Dean felt naked. What had he told him? He thought he remembered most of last night, but now he began to doubt that.
"Yeah, sure," Dean said.
Cas smiled and lit up the stairwell with it.