Has the first chapter of this always been wrong? AHHHH. Well, now it's hopefully right? Considering this is my favorite chapter of the whole thing GUUUHHHH. It'll get finished soon too, just got done with my bad class so MORE TIME TO WRITE.

Chapter One

When Castiel arrives, Dean is already pretty hammered.

He's slumped on the bed, Jack Daniels in one hand, remote in the other and Castiel feels like he should be getting glared at for appearing right in front of the T.V. but Dean just gives him a sloppy smile. "Hey, Cas, 'bout time," he slurs and he brings the bottle to his mouth in a swift motion.

Castiel shifts uncomfortably. Something about this doesn't seem as urgent as Dean's text message had made it sound. Based off the fact that Dean had decided to send him a text, and a poorly spelled one at that, rather than call him, though…Maybe Castiel could have put two and two together if the words Dean and in trouble didn't tend to send him into an almost embarrassing state of frantic worry.

His hand twitches on the blade he had been so ready to attack with and he steadies his gaze on Dean. "You called me," he says simply. The why is implied and generally he thinks Dean would realize this, but Dean just continues to look at him with a heavy fog over his eyes and a crooked grin and he takes a long gulp from the bottle, wincing as he pulls it away. "You said you were in danger," he continues. He glances around, but puts the blade away.

If he was in danger of anything, it would probably be the tacky orange wallpaper.

Dean laughs at this, a little too hard and motions with the remote for Castiel to come closer. Cas being Cas does as he's silently told and moves closer until Dean tells him to stop, which just so happens to be when he's up against the bed about a foot from where Dean's head is leaned against the headboard and he stands very still, confused. "Yes, Dean," and it's supposed to be a question, but his gravelly, frustrated voice doesn't tilt quite right and angels aren't used to using question marks anyway.

Dean just beckons him to lean down, and Cas can smell the whiskey and the sweat and he scrunches up his nose involuntarily. He leans towards Dean's face with as much confusion as an angel can show and stares at the headboard as Dean comes forward towards his ear. Castiel assumes he's trying to whisper something, but Dean crashes into the side of his face instead, lips in a smile pressed sloppily to his cheekbone, almost on his eye. It's a hot and wet kind of kiss, full of some kind of drunken enthusiasm and Castiel is startled and confused and prickly until he realizes that Dean's actually trying to say something. His mouth is moving but no intelligible words are coming out and then he flops back on the bed like he said what he had to say and looks at the T.V. again.

"Dean, what," and Cas grabs his shoulder. Frustrated and confused and what is Dean doing this for I think he might be broken and where is Sam. The last part seems like a good question, so he asks it, calm and simple and Dean scoffs, drinking another big gulp of the bottle before he shakes his head.

"We're 'finding ourselves,'" he says, and there's a weird tone to his voice that Castiel can't place. Maybe that sarcasm thing that Dean keeps trying to teach him to understand, and it makes sense because the whole concept of sarcasm sounds like it would be irritating and Cas can feel the frustration bubbling inside of him again. "We decided to split up before your dick brothers got to us. Or demons. Whichever comes first. Everyone tries to use our 'bond' or whatever the fuck against us and you know what, just fuck them because. …Because." He's reaching but not finding anything so he just leaves it at that with a shrug, like he said exactly what he wanted to. "Lay down or somethin' Cas, you're making me dizzy with you being all tall and shit."

"Dean, I'd really rather not." He's standing straight now and he shifts on his feet again, not happy that Dean's continuing to make him feel uncomfortable. It's not a normal feeling for him or any angel, and that just makes him slightly angry. Dean gives him a large frown, patting the bed next to him more than a little too hard and Castiel sighs, sitting down, leaning against the head board a little straighter than Dean, with their shoulders pressed together. "Dean," he starts, but Dean's already turning up the sound on the T.V. and telling him something about dinosaurs and how damn I wish that place existed in real life, you and me could go and see a T-Rex and maybe Sammy would cry some of his man tears at seeing a brontosaurus for the first time because that's his favorite dinosaur, did I ever tell you that Cas?

Castiel frowns. "That's not what dinosaurs looked like, Dean," he says pointedly, but Dean's not listening to him. He's bobbing his head to the sweeping soundtrack that starts up and he points at the screen at the man in the hat and says that he always wanted to be him when he was a kid.

"You probably thought I'd wanna be Indiana Jones or James Bond or some shit," he's saying, voice slurred, head leaning slightly on Castiel's stiff shoulder. Castiel's about to say no I never thought that who are you talking about but Dean keeps going, "But Dr. Grant is all that without being a dick you know? He starts off all no kids Ellie I don't want kids blah, blah, blah, and he's so smart and serious but then he turns out protecting these kids he gets stuck with and I used to think that maybe that's what a father is. Someone who's a badass without being a dick about it and at the end of the day lets some kids sleep on his shoulder in a helicopter. And he never makes them kill a T-Rex because you know dad would do that first thing like oh Sammy, Dean you need to learn to kill these dinosaurs because people might die but maybe people should realize that, oh yeah that's a fucking T-Rex maybe I shouldn't go near that thing because it might eat me."

Castiel's pretty sure that Dean's just saying whatever comes into his head now so he doesn't say anything, just watches the movie. On the screen, there's a cartoon explaining how the dinosaurs were created in labs and Cas furrows his eyebrows. "Dean, that's improbable. Even if this process worked, there would never be mosquitoes with the blood of all these species that were trapped in that particular way." He frowns. "That's too big of a coincidence." He thinks the DNA strand looks shifty and nothing like a real strand of DNA and fails to see how this little film is even remotely educational. He surmises that Dean's goal in calling him might be to attempt to rot his brain.

Dean laughs, a heavy, whiskey laden sound. "Lighten up buddy, it's just a movie." And he furrows the back of his head into Castiel's shoulder as he gets more comfortable. "And loosen your shoulders man, it's like leaning on a fucking statue."

Castiel does what he's asked without even thinking about it, slumping into the bed a bit to allow Dean to lay more comfortably. Cas is still uncomfortable, though, and this doesn't really help. The movie keeps going and the feeling in Castiel's stomach – that twisting, strange, uncomfortable, warm feeling – is getting worse so he has to say something. "That's not what a raptor looked like, newborn or otherwise," he says, irritably. A small part of him thinks that the baby raptor may be considered cute if he really cared about cute or not cute. "Why are they recreating what God had purpose in destroying?" He doesn't think he likes this movie.

A light pressure on his chest comes and goes as Dean hits him with the hand not holding the whiskey bottle, and Castiel thinks distantly that that was probably intended to hurt and Dean you can't hurt me I'm angel I keep telling you that and Dean slurs, "Because dinosaurs are fucking awesome that's why. Geez Clarence, I think you'll enjoy it if you just watch the damn thing and quit thinking so much." And he drinks another large gulp out of the bottle and Castiel begins to think that maybe he should make him stop drinking because humans can die from that. He grabs the bottle and receives little resistance. "I mean if you wanted to drink, you could have just asked. Can angels get drunk?" Dean laughs again, presumably at the idea of Castiel being drunk, and Cas frowns.

"It would take more alcohol than you could afford, Dean," he says steadily. And Dean laughs again, saying something about how funny it would be and that maybe he might actually loosen up for once and Castiel almost wishes he could do that for him if it would amuse him so much.

But, as it is, he figures he's making him laugh enough, and he's allowing him to lie on his shoulder and make him watch this movie, which seems important to Dean for whatever reason – all things that are not really in his job description, but then again, he's also pretty sure that his job description doesn't entail do not do anything that would make Dean Winchester disappointed in you which has pretty much become his mantra lately. Castiel tries to concentrate on the movie, but Dean keeps shifting and somehow his arm has made it around Castiel's back and his hand is resting on his hip and Dean is definitely not in any danger, why did he call me. Part of him knows that this probably has to do with the brothers splitting up, and, if that's the case then Dean should just talk about it.

"Where did Sam go." And again he fails at the question thing but he still just gets a hell-if-I-know grunt from Dean. He sighs, and relents a little. "What is this movie about Dean?" he asks, gravelly and trying to sound genuinely curious. This sends Dean into a drunk description of the plot and the characters and every now and again Cas interrupts with something like but not all of these are from your Jurassic period Dean and why is he called the bloodsucking lawyer, he's not a vampire and Dean just laughs through all of this, sloppy smile on his face and glazed over eyes and his hand is gripping tight to the angel's hip and Castiel thinks distantly that there's a part of him, somewhere, that's prickling up at the feeling and he's not sure if he dislikes it.

"I also think I'd wanna be John McClane," Dean says, finished with his description and moving on to something that Castiel doesn't really understand again. He doesn't say anything though, just lets Dean continue. "Because man that dude's a bad ass."

Castiel wants to say something like why aren't you just happy with being yourself but he stays quiet and focuses on the movie instead. Dean plays with the pocket of Castiel's pants and hums along every now and again with the background music and, absently, Cas thinks that this would be a "moment" as Sam and Dean would call it, if not for the heavy smell of whiskey and the fact that he's an angel of the Lord. The shirt he always wears has come un-tucked on one side, and Dean starts absently rubbing the skin there, leaving a trail of weird tingly sensations reaching all the way to Castiel's stomach and he hopes his intake of breath isn't too noticeable. Dean's eyelids are heavy and Cas knows he's not going to be able to stay awake much longer so he just stays very still and tries to block out the disconcerting sensation.

When Dean does finally pass out, drunk and tired and all but sprawled across the angel on the bed, Castiel presses two fingers to his forehead and relieves some of the alcohol from his blood so he won't die in his sleep, but doesn't do much to prevent a hangover the next day because Dean you need to learn your lesson.

He then tries to ease out from underneath him.

Dean's automatic reaction to movement is to finish wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist, catch him off guard, and pull him completely down onto the bed – arms and limbs wrapped around him in a drunken tangle. Annoyance masking anything else the angel might be feeling, Cas begins to pry Dean's fingers off him slowly, muttering "Dean, let go of me please" under his breath which must spark some recognition in the man because the fingers he's trying to pry off just tighten and imitate a clumsy sort of hand holding.

"Mm, Cas," a rough voice mutters, and the angel of the Lord finds himself suddenly being groped by the hand he had forgotten about. "Stay." And Dean's voice is quiet, pleading and –

Castiel quickly ignores any sort of decorum he might have been trying to uphold by arranging Dean more comfortably on the bed, and disappears with the sound of shuffling feathers before drunken hands can go any further.