Work Text:
Dean’s on his fifth beer by the time the iron door clanks open and shut. He doesn’t stand from his seat at the table, even as Cas’ feet thump down the stairs and bring him to the kitchen doorway. He stands there, head cocked and single eyebrow raised.
Dean raises his beer in greeting. “Hey.”
Unsurprisingly, Cas doesn’t dignify that with a response. But he looks as tired as Dean’s ever seen him.
“So,” Dean says, nodding his head down to his phone on the table. “Wasn’t you, this whole time.”
“No,” Cas agrees, as his other eyebrow floats up too. “Wasn’t me.”
Dean snorts. “Shoulda known. Wasn’t like you to call every day.”
Cas narrows his eyes. “Do you really think you’re the one who gets to be annoyed, here?”
Sighing, Dean drains his beer and sets down the empty bottle. “Yeah, fair point. Sorry.”
“Asmodeus. . . Asmodeus is clever,” Cas allows. His lips twitch briefly in a half-smile and he steps down into the room, walking over to pull out more beer from the fridge.
“Yeah, he’s got us with that Face Off crap before. Shoulda seen it coming.” Dean leans forward on the table, propping his face up in one hand. “And Lucifer, huh?”
Cas cracks the tops off two beers and sighs. “Yes. I know I wounded him, but he was still too powerful for me to do any lasting damage. He’ll be back. And soon.” He shakes his head bitterly. “He always comes back.”
“Think I’ve heard that somewhere before,” Dean says.
Cas steps up to the table and hands across one of the bottles, brow furrowed in question.
Dean accepts it with a slight shake of his head. “Nothin,’ it’s just – long story. Rowena and. . .” He trails off, but after a moment offers Cas a tired laugh. “You would not believe the day I’ve had.”
“I can see that,” Cas says, taking the empty seat beside Dean’s propped leg. “Try me.”
“Well y’know,” Dean says. “There were witches, and books, and hammers –” Cas raises his eyebrow again “– and a, uh, love spell.”
Squinting again now, Cas sets his beer on the table. “A love spell. Really.” His eyes start to rove Dean’s leg.
“Oh yeah,” Dean says, and the pace of his heart is suddenly beating in double-time. “I took a bad hit of Love Potion No. 9. Don’t really recommend it.”
“No, I wouldn’t think so.” With a glance first at his face, Cas drops a gentle hand to Dean’s knee. “And this would be where the hammer comes in, I take it?”
Dean swallows, heat creeping into his face. “Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “What can I tell ya? Love hurts.”
Cas looks up at his face again, before lifting the icepack away. “Yes, I’ve been told.”
Dean’s throat is very dry as Cas carefully slides a hand, warm and solid, along his leg. A moment later Dean can feel the icy-hot wave of grace wash through him and the pain disappears.
Cas’ hand, however, doesn’t. Instead, Cas presses down a little more and looks up into Dean’s eyes.
“Cas, you uh. . .” Dean starts. “You ever heard of fifth base?”