"Sam, thank God you made it! They've been heavy on news and politics questions all night, and we need you, man!" Charlie flung herself exuberantly out of the booth to squeeze Sam in a tight hug, grinning as she released him. "And you brought a friend! Welcome to our trivia team, stranger; what should we call you?"

"Very funny, Charlie," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "It's only been a couple of weeks. I haven't disappeared completely, and you know I've been picking up extra shifts at the garage while Bobby's recovering from hip surgery. Old man would probably run himself into the ground, wind up in a wheelchair if people didn't kick his ass and make him take it easy."

"Yeah, the garage isn't even open on Friday nights, Dean," Sam replied. "And before you say it, even if you worked every Saturday morning, it wouldn't keep you from going out the night before. Nobody's asking you to drink the bar and dance on the tables."

"We miss you, Dean," Charlie said, and Dean felt a stab of guilt as Gilda nodded. "It's not just the game. I feel like we haven't had a good long talk in too long. And it's been three weeks, not two. What's been going on with you?"

"You know. Just…busy." He felt uncomfortable about being vague, but the thought of being completely truthful made him feel even more embarrassed. It wasn't that he had a full schedule or anything; he was, in fact, very much loving the fact that he wasn't busy, that his evenings were full of cuddling on the couch after shared dinners, watching old movies wrapped around his boyfriend, before going to bed (but not to sleep) at an hour he would previously have considered ridiculously early. It was the epitome of comfort and bliss, but it hardly fit in with the macho public image he presented to the rest of the world. Besides, those moments were personal, something precious he didn't want to share with anybody but Cas.

"Well, we're glad you made time for us this week," Gilda said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it forgivingly. "I assume Castiel is busy, or else he'd have come with you?"

"Hey, we're not joined permanently at the hip! We do have our own lives!" When the other members of the group exchanged amused glances and didn't say anything, he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Like you guys have never been…"

When Dean stopped talking and looked away from his friends, Sam raised an eyebrow. "Been what, Dean?" He barely managed to hide the grin trying to creep across his face.

"Shut up. I'm getting a beer. Anybody else wants anything, speak up now." Dean barely gave them a chance to shake their heads before sliding from the bench and walking to the bar as quickly and casually as he could manage. This was another thing he wasn't quite ready to talk about with anyone else. Telling Cas that he loved him was one thing; the way Cas had practically glowed the first time he had said the words made him want to keep telling him, over and over, every time they spoke. Telling his friends that he was hopelessly, madly in love was…different. Dean knew they wouldn't tease – well, much – but he still felt vulnerable about exposing his feelings like that.

By the time he got back to the table, he had regained his composure a little. "Not that it matters, but yeah, Cas is out of town this week. Some big library convention in Wichita. He's presenting a talk on intergenerational programs." He couldn't help smiling, wanting to brag about his awesome librarian. He had thought about going with him, just to stand in the back of the room and watch; seeing Cas in his element never failed to fill him with a combination of pride, admiration, and undeniable lust. It was a shame that he really did have to stay behind and enforce his surrogate uncle's doctors' orders. He'd just have to make Cas put on the Serious Librarian Suit and reenact the lecture for him when he got back, perhaps with added audience participation…

"Earth to Dean!" Charlie was snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Dude, Cas must have taken your brain with him when he left! Did he at least leave you enough of it to get us into the lead for the next round of questions? I can only carry your ass so much!"

Dean shook the fantasy from his head, pulling himself into the present. "Oh, we'll just see who's carrying whom, your highness."

Three hours later, it was clear that Charlie had won that particular challenge. Dean was simply relieved that he didn't need someone to carry him literally. He had missed hanging out with his gang, he admitted freely, and perhaps his need to both compensate for lost time and make amends for neglecting his friends had been the driving force behind his decision to keep the group happily provisioned with shots most of the evening. In retrospect, he should have remembered that Charlie's hummingbird metabolism somehow filtered through alcohol as easily as Kool-Aid; she was flushed but clear-headed, while he was already dreading the next morning's hangover.

After Sam ferried him home and promised to call him bright and early to check on him (his feral leer promised just how painfully early Dean could expect that call to come), Dean collapsed onto his bed with hardly enough energy to remove his boots, let alone any other clothing. The trivia and camaraderie had been awesome, but now he was alone in his too-quiet apartment, and he was desperately missing a certain pair of blue eyes gazing at him in the dark. He didn't want to drunk dial Cas, especially if he had to be up early for lectures or book talks or whatever else librarians get up to in groups, but he pulled out his phone with the intention of sending a good night message.

A couple of missed texts, unheard in the noise of the bar, greeted him.

"will never undferstand whyy libvrarinas are soo strang in gropus. fundrauser dissco karoke nihgt omg"

" im wearng a wig nd theyre makking me sing senmd helpp"

Dean burst out laughing. This was a side of Cas he had never seen, as well as an apparently well-kept secret aspect of library conferences. He was still feeling somewhat sloshed himself, but he was apparently doing better than Cas. He typed a response.

"Whoa there, cowboy. You do karaoke now? I demand pics"

After several minutes, his phone lit up with a new text.

"nobody beter be fliming this i am a porfesional and i hav a repputaton to maintan"

Before Dean could stop snickering, Cas sent another message.

"teh president forcde mee to doo it"

Dean cocked his head to the side, trying to process what Cas was saying.

"Obama made you sing karaoke?"

Long minutes passed while Dean waited for an answering message. Just when he was wondering if Cas had managed to find his way back to his room and fall asleep, the phone rang.

"Dean," Cas groaned in a voice even more rough than usual. Dean was torn between wincing sympathetically and whimpering in need as the sound shot straight to his groin. "It was very loud in that room. I had to leave so I could call you. Texting is…difficult." It was impressive, hearing how articulate Cas could still be, even in his advanced state of intoxication.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be hanging onto those messages you sent me for a while, babe. They're classic. I'm still confused, though. What does the president have to do with you singing karaoke?"

"Not that president, Dean. The library association president. He's…also loud. And forceful. And he likes Meatloaf."

"There's comfort food?"

"No, the singer Meatloaf." Cas snorted, sounding as though he was wincing a bit. "He wanted to sing that song…the one with the teenagers arguing about having sex in the car…"

Dean grinned. "'Paradise by the Dashboard Light'!"

"Yes. And…it's a duet, Dean. He needed a partner, and…he's quite friendly with my director, so…"

"No!" Dean pounded his thigh and cackled. "Stop right there!" The lyrics to the girl's part of the song were absolutely fitting, even if Dean really wanted to hear every last painful detail of the performance.

"The crowd's reaction indicated that I was not terrible," grumbled Cas.

"You could never be terrible," Dean said fondly. He was so glad he'd checked his phone tonight; all traces of his previous bad mood had evaporated. "And the wig?"

"Dean, there are so many wigs in that room right now. I saw a youth librarian in a rainbow wig with gold lycra pants and roller skates."

"And this is the wild, wonderful world of librarianship?"

Cas sighed. "This is my tenth state conference, and I still don't know why this happens. At least there's no Twister tournaments this year."

"Aw, have faith, Cas. There's always next year."

Castiel decidedly firmly against even lifting the lids on the steam trays covering the assortment of warmed breakfast foods. Filling a mug with black coffee and selecting a few pieces of dry toast, he slowly made his way to an empty round table in the corner of the banquet room. Small crowds of his colleagues were milling around, animatedly discussing events from the previous day, as well as those to come, but he head and ego were suffering too much to engage with anybody yet this morning.

Unfortunately, he only managed a few minutes of quiet before he heard a voice calling his name. "Good morning, Castiel. I wondered whether I'd see you this morning," said the young woman seating herself next to him. Hannah smiled at him sympathetically, her grin widening slightly as she noted his breakfast choices. "First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you, hmmm?"

"Too early for Fitzgerald, Hannah." Castiel grimaced. "Not a fan, anyway. Too flowery. Give me Hemingway any day."

"To each his own," she shrugged. "Better drink up; you'll need more coffee than that if you intend to make it through the day. I've already seen Adler, and he was booming about having been up and swimming laps at six this morning."

"That man…" The association's current president was something other than human, Castiel decided. He just couldn't decide what sort of creature he was. "Please reassure me that there is no lasting evidence of last night's fiasco."

She laughed warmly. "Don't be that way! It was the highlight of the night! I would never have suspected you had it in you!" Under his glare, she stopped giggling, but the humor stayed on her face. "But no, I didn't see anybody filming, and they'd all know better than to share it if they did. Anyone who did that would either have to find a new state in which to work, or else live in fear of taking a single drink at future meetings, in case of revenge."

More people were being seated, and the morning's speakers were beginning to take their places at the head table in the front of the room. "What's the keynote this morning?" Hannah said, glancing at her program.

"The future of serials acquisitions." Castiel rolled his eyes. "At nine in the morning. I thought the purpose of a keynote was to get the audience excited for the day, not lull them back to sleep."

"Somebody's grumpy this morning!" An unreasonably perky young man approached their table and sat next to Hannah. "Man, I have to tell you, I loved your song last night! I was so glad I had my camera with me!" Castiel turned wide eyes on Hannah, who shook with silent laughter as she turned to pat the man on the shoulder.

"Garth, this is Castiel. Castiel, Garth is the new head of the Youth Service section. He just moved across the border from Missouri."

"My first state conference here, and boy, you Kansas folks sure Know how to party!" Garth grabbed Castiel's hand to shake it energetically, then noticed the wince on his face. "Ooh, feeling the 'wrath of grapes' this morning? I feel you. I had a whole beer, myself!" He dug into his plate of eggs and bacon while the rest of the people in the room began finding their seats. Castiel nodded as a few other acquaintances sat at his table, though he wondered how many of their friendly smiles were hiding amusement at him.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! If you could all take your seats and stop circulating, we can begin!" Mr. Adler winked as he delivered the bad pun, causing a few soft groans from the audience, along with a couple of polite chuckles from some people Castiel could only assume reported directly to Adler. "Come now, this introduction is becoming overdue! We don't want to be rude, do we? Dewey?" He winked again.

Garth cackled, shaking his head, "Oh, you Kansas folks!" Castiel began seriously entertaining the thought of making an escape, but then Adler's gaze swept the room and fell on him. He pointed a finger gun at him and grinned, and Castiel sighed and waved back. No leaving now.

As the speaker began his talk, Castiel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Sneaking it out and holding it below the edge of the table, he saw a message from Dean.

"Trivia question: what's the best way to combine greasy sausage, bacon fat, and runny eggs to beat a hangover?"

"Who are you texting?" Hannah whispered. She was paying no more attention than he was.

"My boyfriend, Dean. He thinks he's cute," Cas whispered back, holding the screen so she could see.

She squinted at the words. "That doesn't sound like a real trivia question."

"No, it's not. We sort of met over trivia, though, so…"

"Oh! How sweet!"

Garth was peering over Hannah's shoulder now, too. "I'd say to cook the eggs in the fat, then cut up the sausage so you can get some of everything in each bite." Castiel's stomach lurched. He typed his response:

"If you ever expect me to make breakfast for you again, I suggest you not make me permanently associate the way I'm feeling with those foods."

"Awww. That bad? Are you praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive?"

Hannah, glancing over at the soft sound of the phone buzzing, couldn't hold back a snort. Castiel raised his eyes to see Adler frowning slightly at their table. He blushed, then elbowed Hannah warningly. She nodded apologetically.

"You're going to get me in trouble. I'm supposed to be listening to a boring speech, not plotting revenge on you."

For several minutes, the phone didn't buzz again, and Castiel wondered if Dean was actually chastened. Then the screen lit again.

"Trivia question: name fifteen movies with plots about revenge."

Castiel smiled wryly. "That wouldn't be listening, Dean."

"Wouldn't be boring, either. Or can't you do it without your fancy reference tools?"

"Kill Bill." Hannah met Castiel's startled look with a shrug. "What?" she whispered. "I'm bored, too."

Castiel rolled his eyes and typed in her answer, along with Die Hard with a Vengeance. He sat back to think for a moment.

"How about 47 Ronin?" Hannah whispered. "Then you can also add 47 Samurai, if he'll count it."

"He won't," Castiel said, texting. "He'll say it's cheating, even though he said fifteen movies, not fifteen different stories."

"Hey, what are we doing?" Garth said, leaning over Hannah to peer at the phone. "Trivia? I'm in! Have you said The Princess Bride yet?"

Castiel was beginning to get nervous. Adler wasn't looking his way anymore, but his tablemates were getting more and more wrapped up in the game. "Oh, tell him V for Vendetta!" Hannah hissed, and the grandmotherly woman on the other side of Castiel looked up quizzically. He smiled weakly, expecting disapproval, but after gazing at him intently, she nodded sharply.

"I liked Sweeney Todd," she said. "Lots of revenge in that one."

Word spread around their table in hushed tones, and it quickly became apparent that trivia was a much bigger draw than PowerPoint slides about subscription maintenance. Librarians on the far side of the table passed around their answers written on napkins. Garth argued with Hannah over whether Ice Age was a buddy comedy or a revenge flick. Castiel typed as fast as he could, trying to get fifteen titles in before the whole group got called out. They were almost there…

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he nearly fell out of his seat. Looking up, he was gazing directly into the eyes of Adler. Castiel cringed. Naomi was going to have his head, scolding him for not maintaining "proper presence." He waited for Adler to reprimand him, imagining the stern lecture he'd get back home.

"Has anybody said Collateral Damage?"

Castiel blinked. "No. I don't think so."

"Good. I quite enjoy trivia. Maybe I'll have to suggest a tournament for next year's conference! Good idea, Clarence!" Adler beamed at him.

"It's Castiel, sir."

"If you're sure," he said, waving his hand at Castiel's stunned face. As he walked away, Castiel was sure he heard the sound of a camera clicking at him from Garth's direction.

"Never let me go to one of those again," Cas mumbled, his words barely intelligible through the pillow in which he'd buried his face. Dean laughed, kneeling over him and rubbing the knots from his bare shoulders.

"Was it worth it, though? Your presentation went well, right?"

"Oh, it did," Cas agreed, eyes closed. "I got lots of good feedback, and several people gave me their contact information so I could email them more details about how to start similar programs at their libraries. The panels and talks were all fine. I'm just exhausted from the rest of it."

"I'll have to go with you next year," Dean suggested. "I can help keep you out of trouble if I see anybody trying to dress you up like Travolta."

"You're more likely to get me into trouble than out, Dean," Cas said, rolling his eyes. "Thanks to your question, I'm probably going to wind up on the event planning committee next year. Adler told Naomi that I have a 'creative spirit.' Of course, he said that he was hoping to see 'Clarence' again soon, so I'm not sure she realizes he was talking about me."

"Well, you've earned a relaxing evening after all that," Dean said, lowering his mouth to Cas's neck as he massaged. He brushed soft kisses down his spine to the waistband of his boxers, drawing groans from his tired boyfriend. "Just lie still and let me handle everything."

"I'm sure there was no double meaning, there."

Dean smirked without lifting his lips. "Can't blame me," he said wickedly. "After all, it never felt so good, it never felt so right."

Castiel found a reserve of energy, enough to flip himself over, grab Dean by the shoulders and shove him onto his back. An undignified cross between a squawk and a laugh burst from Dean's throat as he found himself being tickled to within an inch of his life. Then tickles slowed and turned to caresses; giggles turned to happy sighs. Castiel made swift work of removing Dean's clothes, along with the last of his own, until they were equally nude. They rutted against each other lazily, too relaxed to focus on an end goal.

"I missed you," Dean said, reaching between their lower bodies to wrap his hand around them both. Cas gasped at the slow strokes, burying his face in Dean's neck. Their hips rocked in tandem, breaths coming quicker, until Cas felt his climax rising. He slid his fingers through the hairs on the back of Dean's neck, pulling lightly until he opened his mouth for a deep kiss, swallowing the groan Cas made as he spilled over Dean's hand. Dean followed soon after, stroking them both through the last tremors.

"I missed you, too," Cas murmured, eyes refusing to stay open much longer. "Love you, Dean."

He was asleep nearly before Dean could reply. "Love you, too."

A/N: For the record, at my own last state conference, the highlight was the man who did the most hysterically dramatic version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" I'd ever heard at karaoke. Also, our own president made me dance to "Brick House" with him. I'm sure pictures exist, but I've never seen them, THANK GOD.

Come talk to me on Tumblr; I'm Carrieosity there.