Dean was hammered, Sam could tell that much. He felt like it'd been years since he'd actually seen Dean this drunk, years of building up a tolerance had left him damn close of being incapable.

Sam was sitting at the table, reading a book for pleasure instead of researching for once, when Dean had barged in and offered him a slug of the whiskey. On his way to the table, he'd managed to bump into two different chairs and knock over a lamp. The sound of the crash brought Castiel in from outside and they both watched, wary, as Dean struggled to stay upright.

"No, Cas, s'not good for you to be 'n here," he slurred, plopping himself down into the chair next to Sam. Sam leaned away from him to avoid being drenched with the alcohol Dean had started to spill. Cas stayed where he was on the other side of the room, he looked angry, and his eyes didn't seem to leave Dean's face.

"Dean, stop. You're wasted," Sam warned.

"Never said I 'snt, Sammy," Dean said as he took another swig, getting less in his mouth than on his shirt.

"There a reason you felt the sudden urge to drown your liver?" Sam asked. He'd been kind of thankful for Dean's accident, in a way. It'd kept Dean from drinking from as soon as he got up until he fell into bed every night as he had been doing before. He tried not to think of those months before too much though, Sam hadn't been living with his brother then, he'd been living with a sweaty, ornery idiot.

"S'none of your bus'ness, Sammy," Dean answered with a grin. "S'no one's bus'ness but mine. I ain't never tellin' no one."

Sam rolled his eyes. Drunk Dean was pretty funny but he didn't have much patience for him under the circumstances.

Dean was quiet a moment, looking off into space, a blank look covering his face. He flinched before giving his head a shake – his gaze traced over Cas then over Sam beside him. "I love you guys. Like really, I really do."

Sam couldn't help it then, he let out a chuckle. "We know, Dean. How much did you drink, anyway?" he said, eyeing the half-full fifth in his grasp.

"This s'it," he answered, holding the bottle up. "Don't know what 've done to alc'hol these days..." his voice trailed off and he laughed with Sam.

Cas broke his silence then, and he did not laugh with them.

"Dean, you're being ridiculous," he sounded pissed, "you remember what happened last time you drank?" He raised his eyebrows, a dangerous look glinting in his eyes.

"Course I 'member. You came back," Dean looked up at him, with some effort, smirked. "At least you're back, now."

Cas' face went neutral for a minute, then pained, then back to angry; his eyes narrowed, the line of his mouth straight.

"You almost died, Dean, and I barely was able to heal you enough for you to merely leave the hospital. I'd appreciate it if you didn't re-break your fragile body," he was beginning to spit the words. "I may not be as lucky next time." The angel's eyes never left the form slumped over the table and they actually pinched shut when Dean said his next words:

"What d'you care 'nyway? Haven't you learn'd your lesson, yet?" He started chuckling. The words bothered Sam enough, let alone the fact that Dean was trying to make them sound joking. He frowned at his brother, wondering if the recent happiness since Cas' return had been faked.

Sam could see Cas turning the words over in his head, when they clicked together he threw up his hands and left the room, calling Dean a "child" and cursing his "mortal insecurities."

He decided he'd seen enough. He snatched the bottle out of Dean's hands, and he was surprised to see that he didn't put up a fight.

Dean saw his surprise and smirked at him, "Doesn't matter. 'm drunk already." Hiccuping into his hand, he stood up on shaky legs and returned to his room, where Sam could hear the springs of his bed protest as Dean slumped on top of it.

Sam went to the kitchen to grab a bowl. Dean would be pissed if he let him throw up all over his room.

…

Judging by the painful pulsing in between his ears and the stench of stale booze, maybe getting drunk had been a bit of a rash decision. He sat up on the bed, relieved to not be covered in his own vomit.

He made his slow and very shaky way to the kitchen for Advil and coffee. As he was pouring himself a mug, both Sam and Cas entered the room. Cas stared at him then made a hasty exit, the same way he came.

"What's eating him?" Dean asked his brother. "Did he realize The Beatles broke up?" He winked.

He watched Sam pour himself some cereal and glared at him when the clanging dishes reverberated inside his skull.

"It might be because you guys had a little fight yesterday, fueled by your choice of beverage."

"Well, what about?"

"Ask him," Sam shrugged, shoving a spoonful of cheerios in his mouth and leaving the room.

"What are your panties all twisted up for, man?" Dean ventured. He'd found the angel in the room he'd sort of adopted as his own; there was a bed that he didn't sleep in and books opened, scattered everywhere.

Cas was sitting on the bed, he looked up from the picture of the horse he'd been looking at and scowled at Dean. He rolled his eyes then returned them to the picture. Cas looked.. well if he was honest with himself, as he seemed to be doing lately, he looked adorable. Annoyed Cas, with his scrunched up nose and eyes, his mouth in pout, was one of the cutest things Dean had ever seen. He had a hard time keeping the smile off his face as he watched the angel, waiting for him to explain.

"I've had enough of your tendency to throw your fragile, little human life around like it's not valuable, likes it's fully and solely your choice." He flipped the page and started to study another picture.

Dean still wasn't sure what his drinking had to do with this, but he could feel his pulse quicken and his anger mount. "Excuse me? What I do with my life is no one's choice but mine."

"Well at least stop acting like you're the only one who cares about it. Do you honestly not remember what Sam did the last time you ceased to live? Remember how you both kick-started the apocalypse?" He slammed the book closed in front of him, "You think I hang out on Earth for my own benefit? You think I'd be here if it wasn't for you Winchesters?" He folded his arms angrily.

He had a point of course, but Dean still didn't know what had brought all of this up. "Why are you yelling at me about this right now? We've got other stuff to worry about." Dean kept his voice lower, his ears still throbbed a little.

"The last time you drank, I had to deal with your broken body. I already had this conversation with you last night, but clearly it did no good as you don't even remember."

Dean felt defensive, and his face heated a little. He was ready to argue with the angel, tell him he didn't have to hang around if it was such a burden to him. He thought better of it though, he knew he'd regret it if Cas decided to do just that. Cas was right too, of course, about Sam and how irresponsible he was being. Despite all those thoughts, the majority of his mind was wondering what else he might have said the day before and promptly forgot. Definitely a bad idea to drink with all the crap filling his head.

"You're right, Cas. I'll keep that in mind," he consoled the man, finding it surprisingly easy to let him win the argument.

The lines in Cas' forehead flattened out in amazement.

"Er... well, good." Dean smiled, pleased to have left the angel ultimately speechless. He started to leave when Cas stopped him:

"Hey, Dean?"