Castiel froze upon hearing the younger Winchester clear his throat, body rigid in Dean's embrace. Dean seemed not to hear at all, but sensed Castiel's tension and misinterpreted it for a different kind of reticence. He ran his hand up Castiel's chest, wrapped his fist in Cas' tie and pulled the angel toward him so he could breathe into his ear, "Is this real, Cas'? Or are we still dreaming?"
"Dean," Castiel cleared his throat, looking past Dean back at Sam who stood by the bed, eyebrow raised, a curious smile on his face. Dean jerked his head back, eyes narrowing in confusion as he examined Castiel's face. He let his hand slide down Cas' tie as he angled his torso sideways and turned his head back to see Sam, hunched over, fist to his mouth, trying his damnedest not to let the laughter in his eyes tumble out.
Dean's face went as red as his eyes went wide. "No, Dean, we are no longer dreaming," said Castiel with a small smile, relaxing at the ridiculousness of it all. Dean looked back to Castiel, then back to Sam, the back to Castiel. With that, he let the tie drop, untangled himself from the angel, and took a sizeable side step away from Cas. He brought his hands up and interwove his fingers behind his head, biting his lower lip.
"Wow, uh, fellas… I, uh…" Dean struggled to deflect what he perceived to be endless, silent questions bombarding him, about his masculinity, his strength. Sam took his hand away from his mouth and strode toward his brother, pulling him in hard for a hug. "Hey, easy man!" Dean grunted, "no chick flick moments, alright?"
Sam put his hands on either side of Dean and pushed him back to stare him in the face. "I don't think you get to say that anymore, pal," he chuckled with a huge grin on his face.
Castiel stayed put, watching the whole exchange from his spot against the desk. He tilted his head, unsure of what to make of it. Sam seemed enthusiastic about seeing his brother up and well, and amused by the intimate moment Dean had initiated. Castiel knew Sam was supportive, or at least that is what he had indicated in their previous conversation, but now he seemed to have a joking, teasing tone. Dean was clearly uncomfortable, physically distancing himself from Castiel and struggling to explain his behavior. Dean had left a vacuum when he let Castiel go. He could feel the space between them aching to be bridged.
"What happened in there?" smiled Sam, tapping the top of Dean's head with a finger. I need to know."
"Look, man," started Dean defensively, "I just woke up, I'm confused, I just need a second…"
"I understand," said Castiel's voice from behind, gruffly, and before Dean could respond or even turn, Castiel was gone in a crackle of feathers.
"Ah, man, C'MON!" exclaimed Dean in frustration. "Cas! CAS!" he called in exasperation. His eyes shot daggers at his brother who had by that time released him.
"Dean…" Sam started apprehensively, "what-"
"Don't 'Dean' me, pal," muttered Dean agrilly. "You scared him off!"
"I don't think he's scared, man," replied Sam. "I think he feels bad."
Dean didn't say anything for a moment. "Yeah? And what the hell would you know about it?" he said defensively.
"Dean, you just acted super embarrassed. He probably thinks you are ashamed of yourself, or of him. One second you are all over him, and the next you say you're confused and need to think about things." Sam shrugged.
"I didn't mean for you to see that, Sammy," Dean tried to explain, but became exasperated. "This doesn't have to do with you!"
Sam let all signs of patience and understanding slip from his face. "Dammit, Dean, Castiel is the one who came to ME with this. We just wanted to help you. There are emotional issues you clearly aren't dealing with." Sam gestured with one hand toward the ceiling. " I KNOW how you feel about him, Dean. I've always known." He shrugged, "it's obvious."
Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So," he said, "Cas came to you, told you I was having wackadoo dreams, and that I should let him in my mind so he could play house? You thought this was a GOOD idea?"
"Jesus fuck, Dean," Sam said incredulously. "Is this some sort of weird hard-correct? Can you even hear yourself? I trust Cas, and you do too. He told me he loved you Dean! He climbed into your mind and saved you from yourself." Sam began to ramp up. "I don't know WHAT happened in that brain of yours, but it was something good. Stop pretending that it wasn't!"
Dean stood still for a moment, and then sat down in the rolling chair. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he looked straight at Sam, eyes wet. "I just sent Cas out on some sort of Angel Walk-of-Shame, didn't I?" he said hoarsely.
Sam paused and then replied carefully, "pretty much, yeah."
"What do I do, Sammy?"
"Well, you could start by telling me what happened," Sam said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"You can't make fun of me," Dean cautioned. "I can't handle that shit right now."
"You have my word," Sam assured. "Promise."