AN: Written for a prompt on commentfic on livejournal: if Dean was an angel and Cas was a supernatural hunter

Cas adeptly loads the shotgun as he sits on the motel bed, wearing nothing but his jens and his boots, and avoiding what Dean is trying to tell him.

"Are you sure you can trust your brother?" Dean asked, "Perhaps Michael is not what he seems."

Cas looks at him, shocked by the sentiment, and says, "I trust the family I have known my whole life, Dean. Maybe you can't understand because you're not human."

Dean stepped toward him, wanting to impress on him the magnitude of these events. The shadow of Dean's wings hovered, imposing, and his voice went low and rough as he intoned. "Do not presume to tell me what I do and do not understand, Cas. I took you out of hell with my own two hands," Dean said, pressing his hands against the marks on Cas' shoulder, "Don't think I won't throw your ass back in there if I have to."

Cas looked up at him, trying to hide his fear, trying to be bold even as Dean could hear his human heartbeat race, and at this fear, Dean felt of flash of something, something almost human.

Guilt. Because, truthfully, Dean wasn't sure if he could discard Cas even if he were ordered to.

But Cas' fear quickly changed to a smirk, and he leaned over quickly and gave Dean a kiss. Lips to lips, perfectly chaste. Or at least it would be, if Dean couldn't hear the quickening pulse and unchaste sentiments coarsing through Cas' body and mind.

Dean looked questioningly at him. Cas just smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "I've always been curious about angels. If you're going to bail on me, I at least wanted to know what an angel's kiss tastes like."

Cas grabbed his guns and and his shirt and headed out the door then, as if it that were explanation enough. As if the world-ending dangers didn't matter as long as Cas had his brother, his guns, and his hormones.

"You know what I think?" Dean called after him angrily, "I think hunters are dicks!"