"Now we're getting so smashed.

Knocking over trash cans.

Everybody breakin' bottles

It's a filthy hot mess."

-Take It Off, Ke$ha

Dean was drunk. Dean was really, really drunk. And there'd been a quicky back in the motel room with Cas before they'd even gotten there, so he was in a good mood too. Happy drunk Dean was a rarity in itself. Rarer, up to that point, was him openly displaying any kind of affection. Well, except for the eye fucking. After that night? Things were slightly different.

The club was loud, big bass sounds making the heart in Cas's chest pump violently along with the beat. It was also dark, lots of neon glow being the main source of light. The drinks that were handed out were colorfully bright and glitter covered the sticky floors thickly. It was sweaty and hot and Cas was feeling not totally in control. He thought maybe something extra had been slipped into his drink at some point, but wasn't really sure. The colors got brighter, though, and the music much louder.

Dean dumped another drink down his throat, something that looked vaguely green. A girl a few feet away from the bar wore a short skirt that looked to be made of leather. She was grinding fiercely against a tall man behind her who had spiked up hair and dark eyeliner.

Dean shoved a purple drink in front of him and Cas drank it eagerly. The purple ones tasted very good. Dean was wearing just his jeans, which hung low on his hips, and a loose, gray T-shirt. No jacket, no other outer layers. And he had managed to get Cas in a similar state of attire. Cas still thought they seemed… over-dressed for the place. But he loved the opportunity it gave him to look at Dean's arms. They were really good arms.

Another song came on, bass beating even harder, shaking Cas's bones. Things were slightly blurry. Colorful. Sparkling. He was smiling and didn't know why. His foot was tapping absently.

"Hey," Dean leaned in close as he spoke, hot breath leaving condensation across his already warm skin. He smelled like booze and cheap cologne. His whole body was angled towards Cas, abstractedly touching him and bleeding heat. "You wanna dance?"

Dean's words were horribly slurred. Cas looked back at the woman in the skirt who was now dancing draped across the man's front, looking close enough that they almost seemed to melt together. Cas nodded.

"Yes," he added, just in case. Dean smiled wolfishly and grabbed another shot, dumping it back.

"For luck," he said. Cas smiled, feeling tingly and bright. Like he was actually shooting light from his fingertips. Dean grabbed his hand and dragged him to the center of the floor. Bodies writhed around them, sweaty and close. The air was thicker. Cas didn't entirely know what to do, leaving the leading up to Dean. His limbs felt looser and they ached to be moving.

Dean reached forward around Cas, grabbing his ass and pulling him forward so they were chest to chest, leg to leg. He grinned at Cas again and rolled his body to the music, pulling Cas with him. Yes, Cas could get involved in this. Perhaps not without copious alcohol in his system, but that was definitely not the situation at hand.

The two gyrated together to the beat. Cas looped his arms around Dean and entangled his hands in the hunter's hair. Dean pushed them in one direction, hips swearing and meeting back up with Cas's. Their faces got closer and closer, breathing hard. Sweat pooled everywhere and even the colors started to feel heavy. When the beat to one song faded out and into another, faster one, Dean made his move. He shoved one leg forward, between Cas's, so their thighs were interlocked. There was no moving across the floor now, just their bodies moving together.

Cas felt like they were the only two in there, despite the fact that he was physically aware of another person shoving up against his back. Dean's knee between his own gave Cas the confidence to grab onto Dean's hair with more strength and pull his head right in close, so they were breathing each other's air.

Dean's left eyebrow raised slightly, that expression he pulled when he wanted something and knew he was going to get it. Cas made him wait. The hot exchange of air made his jeans pull slightly tight, and he could feel Dean's similar reaction.

When he closed the distance, Cas went tongue first, licking his way into Dean's mouth with verve. The kiss was filthy, hot, clumsy, and mostly open-mouthed. They were shoved against each other tight on all sides, hard muscle and loose hips. Cas kissed Dean until he knew there were bruises and then kissed him harder. Teeth knocked together painfully, and Cas's tongue went back far into Dean's mouth.

Finally, he used his hold on Dean's hair to pull him back with a painful yank. Dean barely winced, just smiled, open-mouthed, and ran a tongue around his lips. Cas got harder. He pulled their faces in together again.

"Car," he said, "now." Dean closed the gap, kissing Cas on the lips once more, then leaning past to lick up the side of his ear and then nibble at the lobe. Cas leaned his head back, savoring the feeling.

"Car," Dean breathed, hot air, into Cas's ear. He leaned away suddenly and grabbed Cas's hand, leading them through the crowd to go out the same way he had led them in. The music pulsed loudly still, and no one looked out after them, just pushed in on the empty space they had created by their absence.

And after Dean found out how good Cas was at cramped car sex? The way he fucked Dean until he felt it deep and low, windows fogging and bodies intertwining? After that, Dean never hesitated to kiss Cas wherever and whenever he wanted. Screw inappropriate time or place. Screw it all so Cas could fuck him like that, dirty and hard. On and on. With bass pumping in the background and multicolored drinks in their stomachs. Sweat and spirits and sin.