Castiel reluctantly opened the door, the wide space revealing that same gorgeous asshole that kept unnecessarily popping up in his life. The brown leather jacket and grin were apparent but something was different. Something was wrong.

"Oh look it finally ope..." He trailed off when he met the eyes of Castiel. They stared back, eyes red from crying staring into eyes glazed over from booze. That was it; He was drunk. Castiel became unnecessarily mad. What the hell was he doing there?

Dean suddenly sighed, his whole body dropping with the exhale. His shoulders slumped and his head fell back. "This isn't my apartment is it?" His voice was slightly slurred and as he spoke the smell of alcohol lingered in the air.

"No." Castiel spoke slowly. "No it's not. I'm sorry, Dean?" Castiel questioned, his face showing every ounce of confusion he was feeling. Dean looked back at Castiel and nodded, his smirk appearing more lopsided than usual, but it still made Cas flush with that feeling he was desperately trying to bury deep down.

"So you did hear me that day." He grinned. "I was starting to think you were ignoring me."

Castiel huffed, putting the umbrella back into it's little corner. What a dickhead. "I am ignoring you. What are you doing here?" He folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to look angry, but really he was just exhausted and glad it was Dean and not a thief or a murderer.

"I uh-" He scratched the back of his head, looking back the way he came. "What floor is this?" He suddenly asked. Castiel's eyebrows furrowed with a muddled look, but he answered anyway.

"It's floor four. Why do you-"

"Ahh shit, thought it was three. Must've hit the wrong number on the elevator..." He trailed off, slurring the words. Castiel's eyes widened in the dim light of the hall.

"Wait you live below me?" He spluttered, not believing his misfortune of the day, well, more over two days as it was almost 2am already. Dean grinned again, moving forwards to lean against the door frame.

"I guess so." He chuckled. "Always knew angels were watching over me." He winked and Castiel had to turn away for a second to swallow the lump caught in his throat. His cheeks were burning when he turned back and found Dean still grinning, though it was of a softer kind, more sincere than the one he'd seen the other week at the supermarket.

"Do you um..." He looked behind him at the interior of his apartment and felt his chest tighten. With the couches covered in papers and the floor covered in laundry, it wasn't the tidiest place. "Do you want to come inside?"

For a moment he thought Dean was going to decline and he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but then he nodded and walked himself inside and all the weight came crashing back down. Well, Dean tried to walk himself inside, Cas ended up guiding him to the couch. Dean was too intoxicated to even walk straight. He sat Dean down and dropped his face in his hands thinking for a second before removing them to see a mischievous smirk plastered across Dean's stubbly face.

"W-what?" Castiel asked, uncertainty creeping up on him. Dean's eyes met his, then slowly travelled down his body to his chest; and that was when Castiel made an inhuman squeak-like sound and ran to his room to find a shirt. Dean sat there laughing to himself while Castiel scowled in his room, throwing on the nearest shirt he could find and rushing back out, his hair sticking up in odd places from the flurry of everything.

"Do you want a drink?" Castiel almost whispered, the still night magnifying the sound of his low voice. Dean nodded and switched position on the couch to a more comfortable one, moving some papers unceremoniously to the floor. Castiel refrained from sighing deeply and rolled his eyes when his back was turned to Dean, filling up two glasses of water in the kitchen.

"Thanks Cassie." Dean smiled before taking the glass followed by a sip. Castiel blushed furiously and took a sip of his own water to calm himself down. Only Balthazar called him that, occasionally his family and other friends. Especially not dicks like Dean.

"Did I say something?" He asked, his face full of concern, the alcohol overreacting his expressions. Castiel just brushed it off and finished his water trying to make it the least amount of awkward as possible.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean spoke, his voice soft. Castiel glanced away from his glass and up at Dean who was leaning forwards to hear better. He noticed something for the first time since he'd met Dean a week ago. His eyes were so... so... so green. They were beautiful.

He nodded, collecting himself. "Shoot."

"Why were you up at 1am shirtless Cassie, hmm?" His eyebrow raised and that god damn smirk returned. He'd ruined the moment, but Castiel should have seen it coming. The minute he'd spoken that soft voice disappeared and it slurred again, reminding Castiel that he was drunk and probably won't even remember this once he gets him back to his apartment.

"It's not what you think, but it's none of your damn business either." He huffed, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Ooh, Sasstiel. I like." He winked and took a drink, his lopsided grin tearing Castiel two ways. For one, he was a complete and utter asshole when he's sober, let alone when he's drunk, and two... he was really damn cute when he's drunk. Okay maybe when he's sober too. But he's still a dickhead.

"How about we play a game." Dean chuckled, his eyes almost shut, barely staying open. "You tell me why you were crying and I'll tell you why I was getting drunk off my ass. Deal?"

"How did you-"

"Your eyes are red and there's a used tissue next to the box over there. I'm drunk not stupid."

Castiel nodded and took a deep breath to calm himself. He was a little curious now that he'd mentioned it. Why was Dean getting drunk alone at this late hour?

"Okay." He said. "Okay deal. You start."