a/n: hope you enjoy this!

Dean sat on marble floor, leaned up against a glass wall in resignation, his phone was abandoned on the ground beside him like it had personally wronged him.

He stared down at the city lights far below, his thoughts growing more distant with each sip of Michter's whiskey he took. It seemed everyone had gotten too tired to fight anymore, even if their disagreements hadn't been completely resolved. And they'd all switched to shamelessly ransacking Chuck Shurley's extensive, and very expensive, wet bar.

To be honest, being locked in a room with the same people he'd been stranded with for a week before seemed to be taking a toll on Dean mentally... and everyone else too it seemed for that matter. He felt on edge. And Gabriel-the crazy bastard-seemed to be suffering equally, despite having been the reason for their infuriating predicament. Dean was starting to seriously question the mental health of Castiel's entire immediate family...

Which brought him back to the person he'd been purposely not thinking about.

Cas.

"Hello, Dean... do you mind if I join you?"

It was like the guy could hear his thoughts...

Dean pushed the ridiculous thought away quickly. He shrugged one shoulder, and Castiel lowered down across from him with a tired sigh. He'd been half hoping and half dreading the moment that Cas would want to talk, because it had become obvious to Dean that the guy hadn't lost his number, or his phone, and he was still clearly alive. The last thing, at least, Dean was happy about.

Dean stubbornly refused to look over, to meet dark blue eyes, to feel his heart try to jump into his throat. No thank you. He'd been drinking, and he knew nothing good would come of any of it.

"How long are you staying?"

Rough, dulcet tones messed with Dean's head, making the blood speed up in his veins, and his throat constricted in some kind of terrible anticipation.

He took a long swig to gather himself. "Just until I get outta here," he managed roughly then, "got stuff to do."

"I understand."

"Yup..." Dean thumbed the threading on the neck of the bottle, fidgeting, tiredly, but still fucking restless.

Then Cas's hand reached out and settled lightly on Dean's knee. "I am glad to see you, no matter how long, Dean," he said, his voice painfully sincere.

And Dean clenched his jaw, his icy front melting at the simple touch. He hated this, being so nervous and unsure around someone. Fuck it, he'd just say what he wanted-"I called you, Cas. A shit load of times." And he knew it sounded accusing, but he was okay with that.

A weighted silence followed the statement for a long stretch until it seemed like Cas wouldn't respond, but then he did. "I know, Dean. I have... been very busy."

Dean did look over then.

Cas's jacket was gone, his thin black tie pulled loose, hanging precariously around his neck, his white shirt was untucked and wrinkled at the bottom, the top few buttons undone to show a glimpse of his collarbone, and his thick shock of black hair looked like he'd run his hands through it over and over, leaving it much messier than usual, and his eyes looked impossibly dark.

Dean felt his heart skip around in his chest uncomfortably. He silently cleared his throat. "Bullshit," he said, pointing accusingly at the guy's chest with the half drunk bottle of alcohol. "You just didn't wanna talk to me. Admit it."

Castiel blinked a few times. "I think you are somewhat inebriated at the moment."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm a lotta things, Cas, but it doesn't mean I don't know the truth when it's staring me right in the goddamn face."

"Dean," Castiel said, his rough voice growing more private, "I do not think this is the place or time for this conversation."

"No," Dean said, and he pushed himself upright until he was standing, and his voice got louder, drawing the entire room's attention. Michael and Gabriel sitting atop their father's desk, sharing a bottle of red wine, Sam and Lucifer reclined together on the missing man's oversized leather sofa, "no, I think this is the perfect time. In fact, I think we all deserve to know why you dropped me like a bad habit." And maybe he was a little too inebriated, but fuck it. "Enlighten us, Cas."

"Here, here," Gabe called out encouragingingly, if a little condescending too, as he raised the expensive shared pinot noir in the air. "We're all dying to know, little brother, do tell."

"Shut the fuck up, Gabe," Lucifer said lazily, earning him a few points from Dean until he growled and pulled Sam into a tight hug against him, nuzzling into his neck like a cat in heat.

Dean turned his full attention back down to Cas, and he waited with a stubborn set of his jaw.

The dark haired man stood up as he studied Dean, somehow with a concerned look despite everything. "I am sorry, Dean, I did not know it would cause you any distress."

Dean scoffed. "What the hell does that mean? You think I was callin' you for my health? I wanted to talk to you, damnit, I wanted to hear your voice, I wanted you to miss me, Cas, like I was missin' you. Because I was, so fucking much. I know we barely know each other, but I've been walkin' around the past few months feelin' like I lost an arm."

Dean swallowed around a sudden lump, and he worked to slow his breathing down as his chest rose and fell too swiftly. He heard someone, probably Gabe, give a low soft whistle, and he clenched his jaw defiantly as his mind struggled to digest what all he'd just admitted to Cas and a room full of spectators-and to himself, for the first time. But things made more sense now, like why he'd only gotten more depressed with each passing day, and why he'd stopped hooking up with anyone, and why he couldn't stop thinking about the guy.

Castiel appeared to be analyzing what all he'd just confessed, his dark brows knitting together gently. "Dean. I am truly sorry. I was trying to follow the proper protocol for a friend-"

"Fuck friends," Dean half shouted in exasperation, shocking the room into complete silence. And then he cleared his throat gingerly as he took a careful step towards a suddenly wide eyed Cas, who looked as shocked as Dean felt at that moment.

"Cas..." he said quietly, hoarse, and he dipped his chin down, his hand carefully reaching out to gently grasp at the guy's shirttail only to fall away, "I was wrong, what I said about us before. Okay? 'Bout all that, I was just being chicken shit."

Castiel was silent for a long moment. "Do you mean we are not friends?" he asked, his dark blue eyes stoic, but his voice cracked somewhat.

Dean closed his eyes, pressing his lips together between his teeth, as he exhaled heavily through his nostrils.

"Come on, Deano, you can do it..."

Dean growled softly at Gabriel's encouraging words, but hell, maybe he needed them after all; he steeled himself. "No, I mean... hell... I mean, we are friends, definitely friends, Cas," he said, reassuring the worried guy, and then he added, "but we're more than that too, you know? I'd like to be anyway."

Castiel wet his lower lip and then bit down on it, and Dean felt his lips begin to curl up at the cute expression. "You mean that you like me in the romantic sense?"

And Dean felt his chest shake as he nodded, a relieved grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Yeah, that's exactly what I mean, fuck, as romantic as you can imagine."

Dean blocked out then the sudden eruption of voices behind him, and he focused on Cas.

The guy cracked a small soft grin, and Dean felt his own grow until his eyes crinkled shut almost. "I should warn you now, Dean... I have quite the imagination."

"I'm countin' on it, Cas," he husked, smitten, his voice rough with held back emotions. "So what'd'ya say? You think you might be interested in being with a hopeless fool like me?"

Cas didn't say anything. He just pulled him down into a searing kiss that elicited catcalls from their unruly family, and Dean smiled and kissed him back.

epilogue coming to tie up loose ends and to give Dean and Cas some proper alone time...