Dean had almost gotten used to the way Cas decided to randomly appear. There was nothing: no ripple of air, usually not even a sound. He wasn't there, and then he was. It was like one of the laws of physics. You threw a ball up and the ball came down… barring any Heavenly interference, especially if Cas was the angelic ball in question.

Lounging on the lumpy bed with a plate of loaded chili fries, Dean eyed the angel from across the room. He was proud that this time he didn't flinch when he caught Cas out of the corner of his eye. Cas stood next to the TV, which was off, simply looking at Dean in that impassive way of his. Sometimes the way Cas simply looked, stared, creeped Dean out more than his penchant for appearing out of thin air with hardly a ruffled hair.

"Hello Dean," Cas said. It was what he always said.

"Cas," Dean replied. "You mind grabbing a paper towel? These got a little hard to handle." He gestured at the fries, thinking that the motel might charge him if he stained the comforter with chili. But the bed had undoubtedly seen worse in its years of service. Cas frowned but disappeared into the kitchenette, returning with a wad of paper towels that would probably help more than the specified single paper towel. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Cas, sitting opposite Dean with a creak of bedsprings. Well, the bed was a king size, and Cas had seemed to make new bounds in understanding the concept of 'personal space.' He actually sat a full six inches away, not three.

"What's up?"

The angel looked surprised for an entire half second, blinking blue eyes. "It's your birthday."

Dean raised an eyebrow eloquently. "Yeah, and?"

Birthdays stopped being exiting past 21. Generally, birthdays weren't the biggest deal in the Winchester family because they were on a hunt, not gathered around the dinner table for some chocolate cake. Funny that Cas was concerned he wasn't being festive. Cas wasn't the festive type, although other human traits had recently rubbed off on him, including sarcasm and a love of double cheeseburgers.

Dean wouldn't ask how Cas knew it was his birthday. Probably all the demons and all the angels got some kind of special bulletin to make his special day extra special.

"I thought you'd be celebrating. You're not working right now."

"Nope," Dean said with dry cheerfulness, "but I'm on-call."

"What do you mean?"

"Cas, I've kind of been on-call ever since you invaded my life."

"Oh," said Cas. He considered this and nodded once. "Right. But it's not like you listen."

"It's all right- I've got a party in a bottle right here," said Dean, setting the fries aside on the night stand and reaching around Cas to show a full bottle of Jameson. "But thanks for checking in. You're sure nothing's afoot- no witches, demons, time travel, nothing?"

A strange expression crossed Castiel's face. Dean would have sworn he looked mildly frustrated, but Cas saved frustration for big occasions, the ones that involved life or death decisions or processing finer human emotions. "No."

"You're here for a social birthday visit?" Dean asked incredulously. "Well, sorry, but for reasons I'm sure you can guess, the humble birthday doesn't rate big on the Winchester scale of events. I'm way more likely to go out the night before something important than on my birthday." He cracked open the bottle of whisky and offered Cas the first slug. When he only looked down at the bottle, Dean shrugged and took a generous gulp. "And that's just how it goes."

Oddly, Cas was getting slightly agitated. "I wanted to give you something."

Dean smiled crookedly. "Really?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

Cas fidgeted with his tie. Avoiding Dean's eyes, he snatched away the Jameson and took an admirable drink. Clearing his throat and flinching, he only said, "I've changed my mind. You'll laugh."

"You've changed your mind? That doesn't sound very 'angel of the Lord' to me. I guess you did rebel and all, though." Beating around the bush was not usual Cas behavior. Indecisiveness could be, but that was more of the moral variety. Again- big, life or death, people could die and we don't know what's right or wrong type indecisiveness. "Come on. Nothing you'd give me, I'm sure, would make me laugh."

The angel looked around at him for a long moment and it was Dean's turn to fidget. Cas was always intense, that kind of came with the territory of being one of God's warriors, but this was definitely not Cas-ish. It seemed… sexual. Covetous, even.

Dean's first reaction to realizing that Cas was directing those emotions at him was, Why am I not flinging myself off the bed right now?

His second thought was, Well, technically angels don't have genders until they come down here, so what does it matter to them if they're a dude who likes another dude?

And his third went something like, Fuck it.

Although Dean was unsettled to discover that the thought of another man making advances toward him didn't make him want to recoil- or punch them in the face, depending on the man- he knew at almost exactly the same time that it was because Cas was Cas.

So Dean muttered, "Fuck it."

A flicker of a smile came across Cas's face. He said, very quietly, "Happy birthday Dean."

And then he was gone. Dean put his fingers gently to his lips, feeling that what Cas had given him was a kiss. He chuckled- not at Cas- but at himself. Good birthday.