Castiel woke up still on the couch, a blanket draped over his feet and sunlight pouring over him through the un-shut windows. He shuffled on the cushions and kicked off the blanket, scrunching his legs into his chest before yawning.

Everything was the same as yesterday, but it felt as if something was slightly...off. First of all he'd woken up on the couch, but there was something else. His eyes roamed the room trying to find the perhaps misplaced object, anything possibly missing or maybe something he'd forgotten to do the previous day.

His eyes scanned in a line as if taking a panorama, but they suddenly stopped when he found what he was looking for. It was a leather jacket roughly thrown by his feet on the couch; and that was when he remembered. He remembered the tissue box and the umbrella and the glasses of water creating condensation between their sweaty palms. He remembered the smiles exchanged, the weary eyes of the both of them and the deal made with such confidence that Castiel didn't know if it were he who had made the deal or a mysterious unknown twin.

"Dean." He whispered hoarsely. He lay his legs back down and reached a hand for the jacket, fingers outstretched. He pulled it towards him, a fistful of leather in his hand.

With the sunlight streaming inside and a slight breeze from the window rustling through his messy black hair, everything seemed right. He was tired beyond words and there was still the fact he was now unemployed, but everything in the world seemed to stand still. A soft smell of whiskey mixed with cinnamon floated from the jacket clutched in Castiel's grasp and he resisted the urge to bring it under his nostrils to get a stronger scent.

No. Castiel told himself. No, this is Dean we're talking about. Dean that flirts at any given opportunity. Dean that kicks the back of movie theatre chairs. Dean that doesn't put back the freaking lettuce. Dean that smiles and the skin around his brilliant green eyes crinkle ever so slightly. Dean that mistakenly tries to break into your house and ends up coaxing you into spilling all your secrets. Dean, the stranger that knows more about Castiel than a stranger really ought to know.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and the faintest sound of a voice calling from the outside. "Castiel? Are you up yet?"

Dean, the stranger who was turning less and less into a stranger as the days went on. Castiel hurriedly combed a few fingers through his hair and wiped his face in his hands, attempting to wake up a little more.

"Coming!" He called out, his voice broke with the thick grogginess of morning and he mentally slapped himself as he scuttled over to the door. He cracked it open the slightest, aware of his bed-head and morning-breath state. "Dean." He breathed out, he looked as equally sluggish and exhausted as Castiel felt.

"Hey." He cracked a grin, wincing at what was probably a migraine judging by the state Dean had been in last night. Castiel opened the door a little wider, revealing himself still in is work pants and the plain black shirt he'd picked up off the floor.

"You didn't even change... oh my-did you sleep on the couch?" Dean's eyes widened, as if he'd caused the uncomfort of Castiel's laziness to move from one soft piece of furniture to another. He nodded sheepishly, biting his lip.

"Dean, why are you here?"

He sunk his head, playing with his feet awkwardly. Castiel could see the bags under his eyes and just how purple they really were from that angel. For a moment Castiel thought he was going to say he remembered everything from their night of confessions, but then he spoke. "I uh... came to get my jacket." Of course. Castiel rolled his eyes, walking back to the couch to retrieve it, handing the cinnamon scented leather back to it's owner. "Thanks."

Castiel nodded, pursing his lips. "Was that it?"

Dean shook his head, playing with his feet again. He couldn't seem to look Castiel in the eye. "I uhh.. I wanted to apologise." He stated, talking slowly as if scanning over each word before he chose the right one. "For trying to break into your house." Castiel nodded, thinking he was going to say more on the subject but he didn't, so he just smiled and nodded again, hoping he took it as a sign of forgiveness.

"Well umm..." He glanced back up at Castiel quickly before adverting his eyes elsewhere. "I better get going." He turned away to start walking when Castiel stopped him.

"Wait!" Dean spun on his heel and raised an eyebrow quizzically. I shouldn't be doing this, he thought, but it was too late, the words were already spilling from his mouth.

"Do you uh... do you want to come inside for tea?"

-

They didn't end up having tea.

They had coffee instead.

They talked a lot too, oh man they talked, right into the early afternoon. They'd refilled their mugs once, but neither of them seemed to want to leave the comfort of Castiel's couch that day.

Castiel couldn't stop himself from staring every time Dean flashed that dangerous smirk or blushing whenever Dean helplessly flirted with him. It wasn't just Cas though, Dean was so en wrapped in the conversation he'd completely forgotten the second mug of coffee that sat luke-warm and abandoned on the coffee table. Dean ruffled Castiel's bed hair and Castiel pushed a hand into Dean's chest playfully, both of them grinning like a child whenever something semi-intimate like that occurred.

"Do you remember much of last night? Castiel asked cautiously when silence started to settle upon them. "I mean, you were pretty drunk."

Dean sighed, scratching his neck. "Well, I mean I remember a little. It's all blurry and there's time frames where I don't even know what happened, like an hour of footage was cut from a security tape and it just jumps a whole era of time, but I remember a little yeah." He looked at Castiel, eyes narrowing in the slightest. "Why do you ask?"

Castiel's cheeks pinked but he tried to ignore it. "Uh, I dunno. It was sort of a long night... what exactly do you remember?" He asked, completely avoiding the question. Dean leant back into the couch, his head resting on his hand that was propped up against the back of the couch.

"Well, I remember having shot after shot and calling a taxi home, coming to find that it wasn't actually my home, and then if I'm not mistaken we talked a bit -I can't remember what about, sorry- and then I left once you'd fallen asleep on the couch." He added. Castiel sucked in a sigh of some sort of emotion; he couldn't tell if it were relief or disappointment.

"You're cute when you snore by the way." He winked and Castiel smiled, shaking his head.

"You don't remember what we talked about, like, at all?"

"Sorry."

Castiel nodded and bit his lip, standing up to take their empty and undrinkable mugs to the kitchen. Dean followed.

"Hey, if it were important you'd tell me right?" He looked worried and Castiel had to smile at his puppy-dog adorableness.

"Well, that wouldn't be fair to the deal, would it?"

"We made a deal?" Dean asked anxiously. Who knew what kind of trouble this guy had been in before while drunk?

"Mhm." Castiel just nodded, rinsing out the coffee.

"You're a dork." Dean smiled playfully, resting his arms against the counter. Castiel dropped the mugs in the sink and turned back to face Dean with a challenging grin.

"Oh I'm the dork? Says the one who just told me he was a huge Lord of the Rings fan!"

Dean mocked being hurt, placing a hand of his heart. "I'm a secret nerd, not a dork. Get it right." He laughed and Castiel shook his head, walking back into the living room, Dean following. "And you're not supposed to say it out loud, it's a secret for god sake."

They stopped in the middle of the room, smiling in the light of the afternoon sun. They stood in a comfortable silence before Dean broke the calm air surrounding them.

"Well, I better get going then." He almost whispered, but Castiel was close enough to Dean he could hear the words as clearly as if he'd shouted them from across the room. Castiel sighed and nodded, closing his eyes for a second to take in his cinnamon-y scent up close. When he opened them the cinnamon scent had lingered in the air but Dean had not. He was moving back to the couch to collect his jacket.

"This doesn't change anything Cassie," he winked, sliding his arms into the sleeves. He pulled out a piece of gum from the pocket and popped one in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. "Just 'cause I've told you my secrets and shared a couch at 2'o'clock in the morning doesn't mean we're besties. You'll still be the hot cashier guy who got mad at me about lettuce."

Castiel rolled his eyes, not having the heart or in the mood to tell him (for the second time), that he'd lost his job. Castiel walked Dean to the door and waved him goodbye, memorizing his signature smirk as he walked around the corner and to the elevator. He had to admit, he was a little sad he hadn't remembered their late night conversation. Deep down Castiel knew Dean was still an asshole, but right there next to that thought he also knew he was starting to gain feelings for that asshole, and a date would have been nice in this period of crap in his life.

At least he thought that Dean didn't remember.

Sometimes being an asshole means you have to lie.