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Dean has been doing shots of whiskey for the past half-hour. Crowley is watching him from the corner of his eye, sipping at a beer, wondering how much of the evening Dean will drink away tonight. If Dean was an alcoholic before now he’s a goddamned train-wreck. It’s all Crowley can do to stop him from staying at the bar 24/7 and drinking his life away. Over the course of the evening Dean’s progressed from violent to flirty and now he’s at the woozy stage with a permanent smirk on his face and a glazed-over look in his eyes.
Currently he is singing under his breath and nodding his head to the beat of some shitty 90’s boy-band the bar has playing over the speakers.
"You know something?" Dean pips up, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and turning his head to look at Crowley.
"What?" Crowley deadpans.
"I wanna have sex with Cas," Dean states with a grin and then proceeds to dissolve into giggles like a five year old with a crush.
Crowley jerks his head towards Dean, “What did you just say?!”
Dean turns away from Crowley and stares off at the wall in front of him with an utterly lovesick smile on his face.
"You heard me, I wanna have sex with Cas."
Crowley leans in towards Dean, horrified.
"You. Want. To. Have. Sex. With. Feathers?" He enunciates every word, not believing what he is saying.
Dean turns back to Crowley and nods slowly, “Yeah, but... but not just sex, like sex is great but what I mean is … really, really good sex. The kind that you wanna have... every night for the rest of your life.
Crowley’s eyes grow to the size of saucers, “You’re mad.”
Dean busts up into a fit of laughter, clapping a very tense and annoyed Crowley on the back. He proceeds to talk about the shape of Cas’s ass for the next ten minutes and the blue of his eyes for the half hour after that.
Then finally, after an hour of “Cas, Cas, Cas,” Crowley thinks he’s done. Dean’s sipping at a beer and just twirling his fingers around the neck, resting his chin on his hand.
"I bet angels give really fucking awesome blowjobs," Dean says dreamily.
And that’s it, that’s the final straw.
Crowley stands up from the bar stool, slapping a couple twenties down on the counter and shoots Dean a heated glare before stomping out of the bar.
Crowley has potentially the most powerful demon ever to exist in his back pocket and all Dean wants to do is dream about having sex with Castiel.
This is bullshit, he didn’t sign-up for this.