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Dean thought he had mastered hangovers over his lifetime. Hell, he was possessed, beaten, tortured, and... well he could have had an easier time cataloguing what kind of pain he hadn’t experienced, but he still felt in the present like Death spit him out. Repeatedly. When he woke up in his bed, fully clothed, pillow coated in what he hoped was only his saliva, his brain feeling like someone nailed it to his skull, he tried his best to remember how he got this shit-faced. Nothing came to him.
He took a sluggish shower, where he just poured shampoo all over himself, praying the shower jet would do the rest of the work. Still feeling somewhat muddled and drunk, he threw on whatever clothes were closest, and headed to the Bunker’s kitchen in hopes to find something greasy.
Sam gave him the stink-eye as he was slurping probably something incredibly healthy. And because he was a bitch he asked Dean.
“Feeling good?” There was an avalanche of judgement in Sam’s eyes.
“Screw you, and screw your high horse, too.” Dean muttered, accidentally bumping in the table. Great now his hip hurt, too.
Sam merely shook his head, returning to his phone.
Dean fixed a large portion of bacon and eggs.
“Cas, up yet?”
Sam looked up, narrowing his eyes and looking at Dean as if he was the stupid kid in class. Dean’s head hurt too much to decipher that look. Of course he wasn’t up, yet. Ever since he came back human, the former angel was a sleeper. He slept more than Dean and Sam combined, on a good day. Dean’s chest filled with warmth. Cas deserved a good shut-eye.
So, when the angel finally shuffled in the kitchen, barefoot, hair sticking out in all directions, Dean threw a smile over his shoulder.
“Sleep well?”
Cas froze, hand hovering over a chair, ready to pull it out. He looked at Dean wide-eyed, cheeks flushing fast. Huh.
“You’re under the weather, too, huh?” Dean chuckled, pushing a plate full of food before Cas. “Eat up. You’ll feel better. see the trick is to drown the booze in grease, and it’ll all equal out.”
Cas was still staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost. Finally he sat, and Dean dug into his own meal.
“Rough night last night?” Dean tried to make conversation around a mouthful. Silence met him from both Sam and Cas.
“Man, I can’t remember much, but judging by your sunny dispositions it wasn’t a picnic for you either. That bar was like a pit hole of booze.”
Cas finally spoke up.
“You... can’t remember... much?” He said, ever so carefully.
“After the umpteenth shot of tequila the thread just... snapped, I guess?”
“I see.” Cas stated drily. The lines around his eyes tightened, and his shoulders slumped slightly.
Dean suddenly had a awful sense of shame pit in his stomach. He didn’t know why, it’s not like he wasn’t past being bashful in almost all ways.
“Why? Did I... do something crazy?” Dean tried to laugh it off, but the laugh sounded dry to his own ears.
Sam looked at him with that irritated bitch-face of his. Dean hated that face.
“You really can’t remember anything?” Sam asked, his eyes watchful of Dean’s movements. “Anything at all?”
“If I married some waitress, you guys just gotta tell me now.” Dean tried to make light of the sudden, inexplicable tension. He saw in the corner of his eye Cas’ frown deepening and he instantly regretted his words. Dean felt like shit, that’s not something you should say before your best friend, who happens to be in love with you. But that at least, would explain Cas’ mood. If Dean was in love with someone and that person drunkenly hooked up with someone else... well that would suck major ass.
Sam looked up to the ceiling, possibly praying to Jack to help him, by the looks of it.
“Dean, that’s not... Dean, you have...” Sam was interrupted by a bump under the table. It was clearly Cas, though the former angel did his best to act casually inconspicuous. Sam snapped his mouth closed.
“Nothing crazy happened.” Cas spoke, his monotone voice gruff.
And that was that. No one seemed to be keen on continuing this conversation, and Dean didn’t know if he was thankful or anxious for it. He quietly continued to eat his meal, though his eyes did wander to Cas, who seemed to be at least enjoying the breakfast. It was still peculiar to see Cas eat with them, because he needed to. He watched the other man’s mouth close around a bite of bacon, blue eyes closing. Dean’s eyes trailed the movements of Cas’ jaw as he was chewing. Then finally swallowing, throat bobbing in the motion, and...
What the actual fuck?!
A bruise, unmistakable in its placement coloured the side of Castiel’s neck. It’s edges fading in the colour of the skin, the centre a deep reddish hue. Dean was snapped out of his trance by the clinking sound of a fork hitting the floor. He dazedly moved to pick it up, managing to hit his head in the underside of the table on the way back.
He rubbed his aching head, his gaze flaring on the dark spot on Cas’ neck. What the fuck happened last night? Never mind whatever stupid thing Dean might have done. What the fuck did Cas do?! Or rather, what was done to him?
Dean tried to calm himself. Perhaps it wasn’t a hickey. Humans get bruises all the time. And Cas was one of them now. He probably bumped into something? No, wrong angle. Something was thrown at him? Ire filled his veins at the thought. But angel or not, Cas could still defend himself. Oh, maybe Cas hurt himself shaving. That was the most logical explanation. He was new to the process, after all. Dean nodded, somewhat reassured.
Sam looked at him with his lips puckered. Sam could go suck a lime, for all Dean cared.
~~~
Later he cornered Cas, a bag full of shaving accessories in his arms. Cas threw him a wary glance. The Bunker halls seemed to be especially chilly. Dean thought he should check the heating later.
“Hey, Cas.”
“Dean.”
“I noticed you had some trouble there shaving, Dean motioned in the general direction of Cas’ neck. Cas seemed to frown in confusion, staring at some spot beyond Dean.
“So I came with supplies.” Dean continued, cheerily. “Maybe, I ugh... could show you how to shave without those nasty burns. They can be a bitch.”
Dean was confused as the silence stretched on, then Cas’ eyes widened. He gingerly dragged his long fingers over the spot. His face turned a bright shade of red. And that should’ve been Dean’s definite warning sign.
“This is not from shaving, Dean.” Cas was clearly irritated.
“Oh, okay.” Dean felt all kind of shades of dumb, feeling his own face heat up. “You should, um, still take these.” Dean handed the bag to Cas and hurried off into the other direction.
He took haven in the garage, trying to focus on Baby’s maintenance.
Who in the actual hell gave hickeys to grown men?
Because Dean was 100% sure now, that was it. A love-bite. A strawberry tattoo. A friggin’ lip brand. Someone branded Cas, and... he let them. Just like that. Some woman, or man, put their stupid lips on Cas’ skin and sucked. And Castiel was a-okay with that. Perhaps even enjoyed it.
Dean felt sick. He felt like hurling out the full king-sized breakfast. And somehow he suspected that it had nothing to do with the residual hangover.
~~~
Sam was of no help. He was decidedly the opposite of helpful.
“So... what exactly happened last night at the bar, Sammy?” Dean tried for his most charming grin.
“You drank.” Sam said, almost bored.
“Yeah, I figured. What else?”
“You drank. A lot.”
“Jesus, I got it.”
“You got shit-faced.” Sam said pointedly. “So shit-faced you apparently have zero memory of it. Which I gotta say, except for that one time when you got cursed by that witch, is a new low for you.”
Dean was just about done with Sam’s judgemental nun attitude. He took in a deep breath, trying to remain on the peacekeeper’s road. He needed information. Desperately. So he figured he might as well compromise.
“Okay, alright. Point taken. I was bad. Trust me, the hangover was punishment enough.” Sam snorted as if he didn’t agree. Bitch.
“What happened...” Dean lowered his tone to a whisper. “To Cas? He has a friggin’ love-bite on his neck! Did he get lucky or something?”
Dean tried for a light-hearted, amused tone, but all he could come up with was veiled bitterness. Sam on his end, took a long breathe through his nose. Unnecessarily long. Sam somehow managed to annoy Dean even through his breathing.
“God help us all.” Sam muttered. “And may I be forgiven for this,” He looked anywhere but at Dean, finally focusing on him. “Go ask him, Dean, if you’re so curious.”
Dean was taken aback. That thought would’ve never even occurred to him. He absolutely couldn’t. That’s why he was here. But Sam already turned his back on Dean, heading in the other direction, before stopping for a moment.
“You should maybe figure out, why you are so curious.” Then he left.
“Thanks for nothing!” Dean snapped. Sam flipped him off, not missing a step.
~~~
One can’t just ask someone where they got a hickey from. Who gave it to them. Or if anything else happened. Dean would be extremely unhinged if he did that. Cas was a grown man, one cannot ask another man about that.
Hey, how are you? How did a horny bruise get on your neck?
That night at the bar was supposed to be a celebration. Cas was rescued from the Empty. God was defeated. Jack was the new big man. And most of all, Cas was here to stay. Human, but safe. Dean planned that night ahead with great care. And then... he got so damn drunk he evidently missed something earth-shattering.
Ever since Cas came back Dean kept thinking of ways to make the former angel feel welcome. To make him understand that he was family. He was appreciated and all. Even though, Dean couldn’t... give the angel what he deserved.
They never talked about what happened that night when the Empty took him, but Dean took great care in making sure nothing changed between them. Cas was still his best friend. His best friend who was in love with him. Dean thought at this point it would be cruel to downright reject Cas. Cas must’ve known though, because he never seemed to broach the subject.
And yet, someone gave him a hickey. And the guy let them.
Dean could feel the rage eating him from the inside. In his infinite wisdom, he punched the nearest thing. Which happened to be a wall.
He was busy washing blood off his knuckles, when he heard quiet footsteps approaching him.
“I just...” Cas cleared his throat. “Wanted some water?”
Something about his subdued tone ticked Dean off. However, he forced himself to swallow and move away, searching for a rag to wrap around his pulsing knuckles.
“Dean.” Cas gasped. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Accident.”
Cas’ chilly mood seemed gone, replaced by worry.
“Let me take a look.”
“It’s fine.”
“Please.”
Dean folded like a paper plane.
Cas’ fingers traced the reddening knuckles. His mouth turned into a frown.
“Did you and Sam get into a fight?” Cas accused.
“No.” Dean felt his mood soften at Cas’ soft, probing strokes. The former angel fetched a pack of iced peas and softly pressed it to Dean’s aching knuckles. He hissed, whether in relief or in pain, he didn’t know. He felt the silence thicken in the room. The idiot part of his brain wanted to tell Cas the truth. That he had a tantrum and punched a wall. Shame kept the words in. Cas’ warm hands were wrapped around Dean’s palm, a starch contrast to the freezing sensation of the bag. Dean felt his stomach flutter, as he looked up into blue, searching eyes.
Then his gaze snapped to that deep red spot on the other’s neck.
Dean suddenly couldn’t take this proximity, and he snatched his hands away.
“It’s fine.” Dean repeated, heart beating rapidly in rage. “It’s not like you can use your angel mojo to make it better.”
Dean knew he said the wrong thing. It was the theme of the day. It was a low blow, because hurt flickered in Cas’ deep blue eyes. And Dean felt guilt scratching his skin. But Cas’ eyes turned icy, once again.
“Right. Because it is only acceptable when I touch you to heal you.”
“I didn’t...” Dean rushed, but Cas was having none of it.
“I apologize for putting my measly human hands on you for no reason, Dean.” Cas had that tone that usually spelled smiting in days of old.
“Cas, dammit, man, I didn’t...”
“Perhaps if I was a random waitress an act of kindness would be more acceptable to you.”
Cas’ eyes were alight with anger. And... that didn’t even make sense to Dean. Whatever Dean did last night with any random chick, he was now deeply regretting. And he couldn’t even remember it.
“Or perhaps if you were inebriated enough.” There was something bitter and sad in Cas’ fury.
Dean was confused as shit, but his anger wouldn’t ebb. Fuelled by Cas’ accusations, he just snarled.
“Oh, that’s funny coming from you! I am not the one with his neck sucked bloody like they were cosplaying fucking Twilight.”
Cas’ face turned as bright as his friggin’ hickey. His eyes narrowed.
“Dean.” The word cutting through the air. His name felt like a curse on those chapped, full lips.
“Not that I am judging.” Dean was totally judging, and he made sure his tone conveyed every bit of it. “But you clearly weren’t on your most angelic behaviour last night, either. So get off your high chair!”
“You’re the one to talk!”
“I can’t even remember what I did last night. But hey at least nobody left brand marks on my neck for the whole world to see.”
“If you can’t remember, then perhaps it would be wiser for you to withhold judgement.” Cas said, voice clipped. But Dean couldn’t stop himself.
“Perhaps I don’t want to take advice from someone who declares in the most fucking grand gesture that they are in love with someone, then in the next minute fall in the arms of some... fucking stranger, and, and... letting them plant a hickey on their necks. Like a god-damned teenage girl!”
Dean couldn’t even concentrate on the words, but as soon as they were out, self-awareness slapped into him like a tidal wave. What the fuck was he doing. He had no right to judge Cas for moving on. Not like there was something to move on from. Anger slipped out of him, its mission lost.
But Cas was not done. He slowly stalked closer to Dean, something dangerous and predatory in his face. He was waiting to pounce. Like a wolf catching a lame lamb at the back of the heard.
“Do you want to know who left that ‘hickey’ on me, Dean?” It was just like Cas to air-quote, even in the middle of looking downright terrifying.
Dean swallowed hard. He was obsessing about this all day long. He suddenly didn’t want an answer.
Cas raised his eyebrow, slowly, delicately, menacingly.
Dean nodded, against his better judgement.
“You did.”
Cas gave him a humourless smile, promptly turned around and left, trench-coat billowing in his wake.
~~~
Dean did what he usually did whenever he wanted to avoid anyone and everyone. He went to take a nap in Baby. He stretched out, and closed his eyes willing every single interaction he had in the last day to fuck off outta his mind.
He turned angrily.
It couldn’t have been him. Dean did not leave hickeys. It was like a priority rule in his hook-up rulebook. Don’t bite. Don’t get bitten. Easy.
Not that this was about a hook-up. He did not hook up with Cas.
Oh, God. What if he did.
His first thought crashed into him with considerable resentment: he hooked up with Cas and his stupid ass didn’t even remember.
Would he want to remember?
Doesn’t matter. This must be some cosmic joke. Cas was clearly fucking with him. He said that because he knew it would rile up Dean. And Dean was kinda an asshole today, so he must have deserved it.
He remembered Sam’s prissy question.
“You should maybe figure out why you are so curious.”
He went and opened Pandora’s fucking box, because Dean just couldn’t let go. He felt... angry. No, that was not it. He felt... betrayed. He knew he had no right to feel like that. He had no right for Cas to remain forever devoted to someone like Dean.
He tossed his body on his other side.
Something was poking into his hipbone. Dean sat up, irritated. He held in his palm the offending object. It was one of those stupid little umbrellas that adorned chick drinks. Memories, hazy and foggy, were suddenly prodding at his mind.
They were having those stupid cocktails with the little umbrellas because Cas liked them. And what Cas liked Dean liked, he decided.
Cas was so handsome, his eyes bright. Sooo blue. Was it always this blue.
“I’m definitely driving.” Sam said with a laugh taking the keys from Dean’s wobbly hands.
Dean’s arms were slung around Cas.
“Can I shotgun?” Cas giggled.
“Nooo!” Dean exclaimed. “You come here and stay with me.”
They were in the back of the Impala. Dean put the little umbrella behind Cas’ ears.
“You look,” He bopped Cas’ nose with his finger. “adorable.”
The light was too dim. And he could hear Sam grunt from the driver’s seat. But he swore he saw Cas’ cheeks colour.
“And very handsome.” Dean continued, unperturbed. “So handsome. How come your eyes are so blue and curious and full, like, like an ocean!” Dean was proud of that comparison.
“It was Jimmy’s genetics, I believe his great-great-great-grandfather was born with a genetic mutation, that...”
“No, no, silly. Not Jimmy. You. Aaaall, you Cas. They are beautiful because they are yours.” Dean nuzzled into the other man’s neck. He smelled so good, and his skin was so nice.
“This is the last time I’m ever gonna be designated driver for you guys.” Sam muttered.
“Psssh.” Dean waved his brother away. Cas was silent for a moment.
“Thank you, Dean. I think you’re handsome, too.” He said earnestly.
Dean grinned into Cas’ warm skin.
“You’re handsomer!” Cas had no response. Good. Dean wanted to leave him speechless.
“Wanna make out?” Dean felt so brave. Incredibly brave.
“10 minutes and we’re home!” Sam said forcefully. Dean ignored him.
Cas sighed, he had a wobbly smile on him, trying to focus on Dean.
“Dean.” Cas said his name so softly. Reverently. Like it meant the world. The whole big world. Dean lifted his head up, and stared into those ocean eyes.
There were kisses, and touches, and tongue and Cas was so alive, so vibrant. Dean felt his skin alight, and his vision was swimming. And Cas’ skin was soft, and smelled like soap and Cas. And Dean felt stupid, and drunk. And he felt like he wanted the whole world to see that Cas was his.
So he sucked, and licked, and kissed, the sensitive skin on Cas’ neck, while Cas was gasping the most awesome moans Dean had ever heard.
Dean ran a finger on the hickey, amazed at his own handiwork, before he passed out.
“Fuck me.” Dean whispered.
Dean paced around in the garage for maybe hours. His stomach was protesting in hunger, but he ignored it. By the end of his frantic introspection Dean knew a couple of things. Maybe even three. And he needed to share them precisely with one person. Insides trembling from nerves and regret and god knows what else, he sought out Cas.
He knocked on Cas’ door. A gruff come in, welcomed him. He didn’t feel particularly welcome. And Cas didn’t look disposed to throw him a welcome party, either.
“What do you want?” This was Cas at his angriest, where he had forgone any pretense of his usually cool politeness.
“I...” Dean steadied himself. Cas was sitting at the edge of the bed, but when Dean entered the room he stood up, arms crossed defensively. Dean stepped closer to the other man, summoning every bit of courage. “I came to apologize.”
Cas looked at him, expectantly. Not giving away anything.
“I made a list. Like a mental one. It has three things. All very important.”
Cas stared at him, unblinking.
“So, yeah. Number one is that I was an asshole. I drunkenly threw myself on you. And that was very shitty, because I knew you were very clear about your feelings for... um, me. And then like an ass-hat forgot about it. I should’ve been way more considerate. And I definitely should never get shit-faced again. Because look at the shitstorm. I am the shitstorm. I am sorry.” Dean understood he was rambling. Could he stop himself? Not likely.
Cas did not seem to be impressed.
“Number two is that I was a jealous asshole. When I thought someone else gave you a hickey, I just jumped to the worst conclusions. And said the shittiest things to you. And I just wanna say angel or not, your touch is always welcome!”
Cas raised an eyebrow at him, head tilting lightly to the side.
“I mean not like that, like in... actually. In any way you wanna, to be honest.” Dean coughed, his throat suddenly dry. “Still, I lashed out, because I was jealous that someone touched you like that.”
“You were...” Cas paused, making sure that he understood right. “jealous of yourself?”
“Yes!” Dean exclaimed. “Except I didn’t know it was me. I thought it was some stranger. And I know I have no right to expect anything from you. And I have been stupidly avoiding to talk about what happened, before the... you know, the Empty and all. Still, I was. Jealous, that is.”
“Jealous that someone other than you could have my affections?”
“Yeah.” Dean agreed, lamely.
Cas pursed his lips, deep in thought, trying to figure out Dean.
“There’s no danger of that happening.” Cas said quietly. And Dean felt like hell, because he actually liked to hear that. Very much.
“Good. I mean. It’s, ugh, okay. That’s okay. Very okay.” Someone should kill him now.
“So now you remember?” Cas asked cautiously.
“Yep. Muddled and pretty sure Sam is scarred for life, which would explain why he was so bitchy all day. But yeah. I remember most of it.” Dean didn’t know why but he handed the little umbrella to Cas. Seemed logical. “This jogged my memory actually.”
Cas took it as if was a delicate treasure from a long lost kingdom. He gazed at it with emotions dancing on his face. Longing, and joy and... love. So much love.
“Why did you kiss me, Dean?”
“Because I wanted to.” Dean confessed. “And probably mostly because number three.”
“What is number three?” Cas asked quietly, without looking away from the little umbrella.
“It has to do with the hickey.”
“Oh?” Cas asked, with sudden interest, still not meeting Dean’s eyes.
“I am a jealous asshole...”
“That was number two.”
“Well, it’s all because I’m a jealous asshole who is in love with you.”
Cas raised his head to Dean, his eyes searching for intent. In the next second he had his arms full of Cas. And he was still very handsome. Still smelled so nice. And his lips were the most divine thing Dean ever touched.
~~~
Sam true to his word, completely refused to be designated driver ever again.