Laughing his ass off, Dean stomps down the stairs of the bordello behind Castiel. When they reach the street, he has to lean forward and brace his hands on his knees because he's laughing so hard. Cas watches him patiently for a moment before he speaks.

"What's so funny?" the angel asks. Dean rests a hand on Castiel's shoulder as the laughter subsides.

"Oh, nothing," he says, knowing Cas just won't get it. "Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard." And Cas... Cas is smiling at him, which is worth another chuckle or two. They walk to the Impala as Dean adds, "It's been more than a long time. Years." Memories crash and roll around him for a moment, but Dean is well practised in holding them off. All he does is open the door and slide inside, Castiel copying him on the passenger side. He looks across into a pair of patient blue eyes and grins. "So what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've tried and failed at women," Dean says as he starts the car. "Maybe we should try wine and song."

"I apologise for getting us, ah, kicked out." One look at the angel's earnest face sets Dean off again, and they drive into the night, Dean's laughter trailing behind them.

Two bars and a liquor store later, the human and the angel return to the run down house, where Dean tries to teach Castiel the words to one of his favourite songs, Ramble On. He'd attempted to teach him Travelling Riverside Blues, but Cas had flatly refused to blaspheme.

"No, no, Cas," he says, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey from the neck of the bottle. "It's the autumn moon lights my way. Man, how are you not getting this?"

"The music makes no sense," Cas replies calmly.

"It's a song, it doesn't have to make sense! Aw, forget it." Dean takes another drink, then makes a disappointed noise. The whiskey is almost gone. "I guess angels just can't sing."

"We can sing," Cas says, and Dean could swear there is indignation in his tone.

"Oh, yeah? Then sing something," Dean challenges. Castiel cocks his head, obviously thinking.

"As you wish," he replies. Dean lifts the bottle for another mouthful, but lowers it in shock when Cas starts. The angel's voice is beautiful as he sings in a language Dean has never heard before. Cas closes his eyes and tips his head back, his hands resting palm up on his knees. His face is alight with concentration, passion, devotion, and the beauty of the music he makes causes tear to stream down Dean's face. When the angel stops, there is total silence for a while. "Dean, are you all right?" Cas asks finally. Dean blinks several times, then scrubs at his face with his sleeve.

"Cas, that was... What was that?"

"A hymn of praise in old Enochian."

"Wow. That was incredible." Cas ducks his head before speaking almost shyly.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah." Dean squints at Cas for a moment. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Cas gives an uncomfortable shrug and looks away.

"My voice is nothing compared to some of my brother's. When Raphael sings, even angels weep to hear it." Dean manages to get to his feet and tip half of the remaining liquor into Castiel's glass.

"Are you scared? About tomorrow, I mean." Cas shrugs again, and Dean drops a hand to his shoulder. Cas tilts his head back and meets Dean's hazel eyes with his own.

"I suppose. But not for myself. My fear is that when I die you will be in danger."

"You're afraid... for me?" Dean doesn't know what to think with the angel looking at him like that, like he's some precious object that might get damaged.

"Yes," Castiel replies calmly. The concern in Cas' eyes is too much, and Dean is just drunk enough that he doesn't think it through before he bends down and presses his mouth to Castiel's. He can taste the whiskey on the angel's soft lips, but there is something more, a taste of cinnamon beneath the alcohol; a taste that is all Castiel. He pulls back and meets Cas' confused stare. "What was that?" Castiel asks.

"That was a kiss, Cas," Dean replies, grinning. "I'm sure you know about kissing."

"Well, yes," Cas says, "but why did you just do that?"

"I promised that you wouldn't die a virgin, didn't I?" Dean thinks it's beyond cute how flustered the angel is getting.

"But you... But I..."

"Cas," Dean replies with the same calm Cas showed earlier, "just shut up." He leans in and presses his lips to Castiel's again, his hands coming up to cup the other's face. Castiel makes a noise before he's holding Dean's face in his own hands, kissing him back with the same gentle pressure. Dean parts his lips and he is echoed by the angel, and when he slides his tongue across Cas' lower lip Castiel copies him again. It's Dean's turn to make a noise when their tongues tangle, and his hands lower to grab fistfuls of that overcoat and pull the angel in tight.

It's been a long while since Dean has been with a man, but he remembers all the steps as he pulls Cas to the floor and unbuckles the angel's belt. Cas gasps when Dean slides his hand inside the angel's pants and strokes along Castiel's length, slow and sure. It's the work of a moment to free him from the fabric, and Dean lowers his head over Cas' groin and licks a long, wet line up his shaft. The angel moans as Dean takes the head into his mouth and flicks a glance up and along Cas' body. The angel is resting on his elbows, a wild look in his blue eyes, his tie fallen over one shoulder and his white shirt rucked up to display a stripe of pale stomach. The human gets to work, using every trick he's ever learnt on Cas' cock, sucking and licking, running light fingers over Castiel's sack. The angel whimpers and writhes against the floorboards, muttering words in a foreign language, and it's so damn erotic Dean feels like he's going to come in his jeans.

Cas buries his fingers in his hair and whispers Dean's name like a prayer as he teases the tip of Cas' member with his tongue. Then Dean takes him deep into his throat, swallowing hard against the silken flesh. This time Castiel screams Dean's name as his hips buck up off the floor, and there's a bitter taste at the back of the hunter's throat as the angel comes. Dean eases back and looks down with a smile. Castiel is completely still, arms outflung, eyes closed, lips parted, two spots of colour high on his cheeks. Gently and deftly, Dean tucks the angel back into his pants and puts everything back in order, then seats himself as comfortably as he can and waits for his erection to subside and Castiel to come back from wherever he's gone.

After a few minutes Castiel's blue eyes flutter open. They are still slightly glazed, and Dean can't help a smirk. I did that, he thinks proudly. Me.

"Dean," Cas rasps.

"How was it?" Dean enquires.

"It was..." Castiel has to stop and give a little cough to clear his throat, and Dean's smirk becomes a grin. "It was astonishing." Dean inclines his head smugly.

"Glad you enjoyed it." Cas sits up in one smooth movement, and the haze is gone as he pins Dean with his stare.

"Did you not enjoy it?"

"Of course I did."

"But you did not ejaculate." Dean starts to laugh, leaving the angel looking faintly injured.

"There are lots of ways to get pleasure from sex, Cas. Trust me, I enjoyed it." He checks his watch and shakes his head. "I should get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

"Yes. Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." It's only when Dean is jerking off after he's crawled into his blankets that he wonders if Castiel might have wanted to go another round. Or two. Or three. But his question is answered when a shadow falls over him, and he jumps and yelps, the covers twisting away, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. "Cas-!" The angel looks down at him in the darkness, a grave expression on his face, before he sinks to his knees on the floor beside Dean. He says nothing, but his hand moves to Dean's cock, and he begins to stroke in the same rhythm Dean had been using. Dean moans, his head falling back onto the boards with a soft thump. Cas' hand is soft and warm and feels so damn good against him that he never wants this to stop.

He closes his own hand around Castiel's and starts guiding him, increasing the tempo until it's Dean's turn to writhe and whimper. Dean tangles his free hand in Cas' coat and drags him down, kissing him hard and deep. Castiel's tongue slides into his mouth as the angel's hand squeezes ever so lightly, and that's it, Dean is done, over the edge of orgasm, white spots dancing in his blurred vision. Castiel pulls away, and from a great distance Dean feels the blankets tucked back around him.

"Good night, Dean," the angel says, and this time, Dean could swear his voice contains a chuckle as every thing goes black.