In movies, when someone wakes up in a bed that doesn't belong to them it usually means at least one of the following has probably happened:

1. They got totally smashed and passed out on the first flat surface that their knees connected with; they probably have a killer hangover.

2. They got lucky, congratulations. Miraculously they wore comfortable shoes for the inevitable walk of shame.

3. They're in Vegas and they accidentally married someone, hopefully they at least got some cool pictures with Elvis to display on the mantel next to their annulment.

4. They tragically fell off of a train platform and bumped their head and now they're waking up in a hospital with a fiance they don't remember ever having met.

5. They're waking up in a hospital, period. Hopefully there's not a zombie apocalypse brewing.

With any luck, it was one of the first two scenarios that led to the protagonist waking up in a strange bed. If they're living in a rom-com, it was probably the third or fourth, but that's okay because in those kind of movies everything always works out in the end anyway.

When Dean woke up it took him a few seconds to place the ceiling above him mostly because he was definitely hung over, but also because it was purple. As he squinted at it in confusion the events of the evening before rushed back over him and he rolled over to bury his face into one of the bed's pillows.

He prayed for zombies to come scratching at the door.

But the pillowcase he was currently bemoaning his existence in was lilac colored too and he knew that Dor had a thing for purple.

Dean also knew from past visits to his friend's house that most of the other woman's bathroom was decorated in purple and her plates were a weirdly hypnotic purple paisley pattern. He also pretty sure that he was the only other person besides Charlie who had the privilege of knowing where Dor's hide-a-key was kept, in a hanging planter of succulents that the other woman kept in the open air walkway that lead to her apartment.

So he highly doubted that the walking dead would be making a fortuitous appearance to put him out of his miserable existence any time soon. Nope, he was just painfully, pitifully hungover.

When he had ditched Cas like a heartbroken fucking coward at Gatsby's the plan had been to go running home with his tail between his legs, maybe pick up a six pack, definitely call his sister and cry like a fucking baby, but instead he'd found his legs carrying him around the corner to Red7. Probably not his smartest idea at the time because chances were fairly even that Cas might come looking for him; the guy was a walking boner as far as Dean was concerned, but that didn't mean that he would just shrug off Dean's sudden disappearance without a care in the world.

Cas might just get a blow job in the bar's bathroom first, but he'd probably at least text Dean asking where he'd gone eventually.

At the time, Dean had been too dazed to consider the idea that Cas might call him or, god forbid, chase him. But now as his morning breath began to heat up the pillowcase underneath him and his stomach started to roil faster than his head was pounding it seemed really stupid of him to have not at least considered it.

Luckily Dor had ended up being too busy to inquire about Castiel's whereabouts, sweat making her usually artful pincurls droop and the staggering amount of people that were packed into Red7 making her responses to his inquiring about crashing at hers short.

"Just strip the bed if you do more than sleep," Dor hollered, holding six beer bottles aloft over her head as she squeezed past the barback filling up the ice bins on her way to deliver drinks to a guy in a spiked denim vest at the other end of the bar.

His phone started going off as Dean had jogged back to his car that was parked under the overpass at I-35 and 8th street. A glance at the screen had shown that it was Cas who was just now texting Dean after he'd left Gatsby's almost fifteen minutes earlier, he ignored the notification but it was much harder to block out the vision that he suddenly had of the other man; head thrown back against some dingy bathroom wall and face screwed up in pleasure as a vest clad back and a grey newsboy hat bobbed diligently between his legs.

The phone got turned off after the seventh time it vibrated and by then Dean was in his car and had to ignore a phone call instead of a text, but he figured that if anyone was really worried about him...well then Dor at least knew where to find him. It took him almost another half hour to get to Dor's apartment because of the weekend traffic and that was without stopping for alcohol.

Dean figured that the other woman was a bartender so she'd probably have some kind of booze in her house, turns out she had wine. Oh and about a shot worth of bubble gum flavored vodka stashed in her freezer which Dean slugged down first because he was sticky with anxiety-induced sweat and he figured he could easily wash away that pepto-bismol aftertaste with Dor's Two Buck Chuck.

She had four bottles of it in her fridge, so he figured that he hadn't been saving the Chardonnay for any special occasion.

He proceed to drink two whole bottles by himself and cry himself to sleep in Dor's bed while watching My So Called Life. Jordan fuckin' Catalano.

The similarities between the fictional character and Cas weren't lost on Dean as he reflected on his misspent evening while he stumbled towards the apartment's bathroom. They were both dark haired, bad boy, musicians who were unable to make a commitment to anything.

He managed a grin after he swigged some mouthwash to get rid of that grape/sawdust/ballsack flavor that drinking wine always left in his mouth. Cas could probably read, but damn...wouldn't that be the sweetest justice if he was secretly bad at something.

After taking a perfunctory shower where he just shrugged at the sheer magnitude of bath products that Dorothy had before grabbing the first shampoo and body wash bottles he saw, Dean emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of Peach Passion and Acai Berry Bliss and decided that of course he should eat something before he bothered turning his phone back on. No point in starting the day on an empty stomach. Breakfast is the most important blahblahblah. And it was definitely lunchtime anyway.

He conveniently ignored the fact that the thought of eating at all kinda made him want to heave, but he lucked out because the only food that Dor had in her house that wasn't expired or moldy take-out was graham crackers and Nutella. His stomach didn't immediately rebel when he took his first bite, so Dean called that a win and settled onto the other woman's couch with a fuzzy aubergine throw blanket and the remote to her Roku, looking for something mindless that he could zone out on on for a bit.

It ended up being The Notebook because, no lie, Dean had seen it at least fifty time with Jo and could probably quote large chunks of it from memory if someone were to ask him to. He thought about calling his sister when it got to the part where Noah does his whole love-confession on the rain and Allie just glomps onto him in the rain. They used to joke about how there was no way that Gosling and McAdams hadn't fallen over at least five times while trying to film that scene. It didn't use to make him sniffle and wipe angry at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Dean almost called the younger woman because he really needed a friendly voice and there was less of a chance of Jo nagging him about Cas than any other person he knew right now. But then he remembered that his phone was in the other room, turned off, and if he turned it on again then he would surely have at least two really upset text message waiting for him. And nope, he didn't want to deal with that right now.

So he snuggled further into Dor's couch, tucked the remote under his thigh, and pulled the open jar of Nutella closer to himself. If he didn't feel like such shit already he probably would've opened up another bottle of Dor's wine, as it was he figured watching a marathon of rom-coms was the closest to turning his brain off that he could get. Lord knew he couldn't handle any more Nicholas fucking Sparks.

After The Notebook, Dean struggled his way off of the couch and shuffled his way to the bathroom to take a piss, wearing Dor's afghan like a cape. He glanced into Dor's bedroom as he passed it on his way back to the couch and didn't immediately see his phone so the stubborn part of his brain wrote it off as lost forever and grabbed a glass of water out of the kitchen before turning on She's the Man and zoning out again for another hour and a half.

He woke up halfway through Clueless, his glasses pressing hard into the bridge of his nose because he has apparently face planted into Dor's throw pillows when he'd fallen asleep. Dean fumbled for remote before he had to be reminded of how perfectly Cas had mimicked Cher's valley girl voice when the other man had been curled up on top of him in his fucking armchair. Was that only two nights ago?

God, it felt like his heart was ripping out of his chest.

Dean struggled to catch his breath, as he mashed the buttons on the remote until the Netflix home screen was showing again. He flung the afghan away from himself because he felt like he had sweated through his clothes during his impromptu nap and he tried to ignore the taste of bile as it flooded his mouth.

He levered himself up off the couch, just in case the graham crackers were about to make a sudden reappearance and once the room felt a little less spinny, Dean chanced a glance towards the open doorway of Dor's bedroom. It wasn't until he was bending down to pick up the shorts that he had pried off of himself the night before, falling into the mattress in just his boxers and t-shirt, that Dean even realized that he had decided to hunt for his phone.

Once he did find it, shoved deep into the pocket of his rumpled shorts along with his keys and some loose change, Dean just hefted the weight of it in his hand. He didn't remember his phone feeling this heavy before, but now the ominous little black screened box felt exactly like a ton of bricks.

He didn't turn it on, just carried it with him back to the couch, set it carefully on the padded armrest beside him, and focused his attention back on Netflix. At least this he could control.

Dean started up the next crappy teen rom-com that Netflix recommended to him, knowing that he was probably messing of Dor's queue that consisted of mostly home improvement shows and documentaries about musicians, but not giving even the most solitary of fucks. Bring it On was entertaining enough because the choreography was sorta neat, but the mind-numbing factor was probably its most winning quality right at that moment.

Hooking the blanket that he had discarded with his foot, Dean dragged it back onto the couch with him so he could curl up in the corner of one of the cushions with it thrown over himself. Dean made it about two minutes into the movie before he realized that he was just staring at his cellphone instead of watching the television, so he sneered at the device and moved to the opposite end of the couch.

"Staring me in the face," Dean mumbled, affronted by the fact that his phone seemed to have developed an attitude problem overnight and snatched up another graham cracker to comfort himself with.

Dean made it through ten more minutes of the movie and one and a half crackers before he pushed himself off of the couch in a huff because it felt like Kirsten Dunst was judging him for not turning on his phone and he just couldn't fucking take it anymore.

He cast about the room for a minute, turning his back on his cellphone as he tried to figure out what he could to do take his mind off of the text messages and voicemails he probably had waiting for him. Dean felt frazzled and twitchy, like he had too much energy even though he was tired as fuck and had a headache pounding at his temples. Normally he'd just play a video game or jerk off or something when he felt like this, but Dor didn't play video games and jerking off seemed like just asking for trouble at this point so there was really only one thing he could do.

Dean needed to clean something.

Taking his wrath out on the pile of dishes that Dor had stacked up helped, he cursed and grumbled at the caked on Pad Thai that his friend had left to evolve in her sink and it helped him feel a little better. Of course, Dor didn't have many dishes to wash because she either ate take out all the time or had dinner at her girlfriend's house. So he just decided to clean the whole kitchen while he was in there.

It wasn't until Dean was taking out the trash after having cleaned out all of the empty condiment bottles and moldy take out from Dor's fridge that Dean finally realized that he couldn't ignore Ca- his fucking phone any longer. And that's only 'cause the calvary decided to finally show up.

"You look like shit!" Charlie called from the passenger side of Dor's beat up Hyundai as it cruised into the parking lot, causing Dean to flinch and fumble with one of the overstuffed trash bags that he was carrying.

God, his head was pounding from the sunlight and Dean knew that if he looked half as horrible as he felt then Char probably had a point.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, readjusting his grip on the bags as the car slid into a nearby parking spot allowing Dor and Charlie to emerge from the car. Dor was still wearing the clothes he had seen her wearing at the bar last night, but she still looked about a billion times better than he did; sorta pissed, but not like lukewarm death.

"Well, I live here," Dor bit out, stalking up to Dean and grabbing one of the bags of trash out of his hands before she continued past him towards the dumpster. Dean followed her carefully, glancing back at Charlie who just shook her head at him as she headed into Dor's apartment with a tote bag slung over her shoulder.

Growing up with his Mom and Jo, Dean had learned pretty quickly how to tell when one of the women in his life was mad at him and right now Dean was getting all sorts of 'Danger! Danger, Will Robinson' vibes from Dor who stood next to the dumpster watching him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Of course he already knew what he was in trouble for, Dean wasn't an idiot. But he could play one on T.V.

Dean tipped the bag he was carrying into the dumpster and resisted the urge to flinch away from the other woman when Dor just pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Rough night?" Dean asked, carefully avoiding Dorothy's gaze as he picked up the other bag that she had left at her feet when she had stopped and tossing it into the trash as well.

Dor eyed the tattered basketball shorts that Dean had dug out of the very back of Dorothy's dresser before he had gone outside with the trash, "It was actually pretty good until this morning, but I hear yours was a fucking shit show."

"My night was great," Dean said, avoiding Dor's gaze by turning decisively back towards the apartment. He was only halfway sure she was following him and even less sure that she wasn't about to dropkick him in the back and start yelling at him right there in the parking lot. "I drank some wine, watched some T.V…"

"Man, Smith," Dor groused threateningly, pushing past him so she could beat him up the stairs. "If you drank all my fucking wine, I swear to god…"

Dean hoped that the two bottles he did drink wasn't enough to get him into even more trouble with the other woman.

"C'mon, baby! You know I love Julia Stiles," Charlie complained as Dean caught up with Dor inside the apartment. "Just let me finish this and then we can go get dinner."

"Fine," Dor sighed, waving a dismissive hand at the television screen where the actress in question was walking through some non-descript high school hallway and looking the paradigm of late 90s teenage angst. "I've got to get ready for work anyway. Dean keep me company while I put my face on."

It wasn't phrased as a question so Dean just nodded and followed the other woman into the bathroom, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid and attempting to watch impassively as Dor pulled out her intimidatingly massive makeup case and proceeded to pull out about a million different brushes.

Dor remained ominously quiet as she tucked her hair back with a headband and started applying different squirts of this and that to her face. Dean could hear Charlie making noises back at the movie she was watching and he tried not to fidget under the oppressive silence that was settling between he and Dor.

He lasted about ten seconds and that was with him gnawing on his lip to keep himself from saying something. "I'll buy you some more wine, D."

The other woman let out a snort of laughter, managing to keep her face still even as she did so which was scary and impressive and Dean would never understand the power of girls.

"You know I don't give a shit about the wine, Dean," Dorothy sighed in reply, putting down the brush she was using and leaning in closer towards the mirror with a little frown on her face. She threw a meaningful glance over at Dean before picking up a pair of tweezers and going after something on her face that Dean couldn't even see. "And don't act like you don't know why I'm really upset either. Now you've convinced Charlie to stop butting into yours and Cas's shit, but nothing you say is going to keep me from saying my peace."

Dean thought about protesting for about a millisecond, but instead he just crossed his arms over his chest and directed his pout at the floor because he knew that it would have no effect on the other woman. Speaking from experience, Dean was well aware of the fact that once Dor had made her mind up about something that not much would stop her. Its why she was still paying nine hundred bucks a month for rent when she stayed most nights at Dean and Charlie and Sam's place and it's why she was about to tell him all the reasons she thought he was being self-destructive and stupid.

Well fuck her, he didn't have to listen.

That didn't mean that he didn't hear was Dor was saying, he did. It was a lot of "You're both acting childish blah blah." and "If you morons would just talk to each other blorg blorg." Dean just let most of it bounce off his brain and back out into the tiny bathroom, but he managed to glean from the bits and pieces that did get absorbed into his grey matter that Dor had already heard Cas's version of events from last night and it sounded like she had taken the other man's side.

And didn't that just sting like a motherfucker.

Dean took the opportunity while Dor was still spouting off her two cents at him and winging the fuck out of her eyeliner to count up exactly how the division lines were being drawn. Cas obviously had gotten to Dor and probably Charlie too since the two women had most likely seen the punk while they were together. Sam would probably side with Gabe who of course would defend his baby brother for being an unrepentant horn dog who had a bad habit of leading people on.

And y'know what? Maybe this all really was Dean's fault after all. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to be affected by Cas just being who he is and then Dean had gone and gotten all butthurt as soon as the punk had gone and done exactly what Dean had known all along he would do. Yea, Dean was pretty sure he sided with Cas too at this point.

Or maybe that was the crippling self-doubt talking.

Or the hangover…honestly it was probably just a mix of the two.

"So you'll come with me to the bar tonight, right?" Dor asked standing up straight from where she had leaned over the sink to fix her eye makeup. She used a red-painted fingernail to fix some imperfection that Dean couldn't even hope to see before turning and fixing her gaze directly on him.

"Yea, sure whatever," Dean muttered, uncrossing his arms so he could flex his fingers and wipe his sweaty palms on his stolen shorts. "I'll have to go by my house for some clothes first. At least another shirt, I think I spilt a bunch of wine on mine last night."

Real talk, Dean suspected that his shirt was more tear-stained than wine-stained, but he wasn't about to admit to that right now.

"We brought you some stuff," Dor said with a pleased smile tilting up the corners of her mouth. Dean figured that the other woman probably thought she had 'gotten through to him' or something. "Go check with Charlie, I've just gotta change and then we can grab something to eat."

"Yea, I'm pretty sure I almost finished off the only edible thing in this place," Dean commented, heading back towards the living room as Dor just hummed in reply at him and started poking around in her makeup box again.

Charlie was sitting on the couch, a rapturous expression on her face and the jar of Nutella held loosely in her hand as she watched Julia Stiles reading something off of a piece of paper on the screen. Dean sat down next to her with a huff, ignoring his cell phone that was still sat on the arm of the couch and reaching for the tote back that Charlie had carried in with her instead; he assumed that's where his clothes were.

"I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme," Julia said letting out a dramatic sigh that caused Charlie to reach out and grab Dean's hand before he could pick up the tote. She could get a little emotional about movies sometimes, so he just let her and resolved to get his hand back when she was ready to give it to him.

"I hate it-I hate the way you're always right, I hate it when you lie," Uh-oh, Julia's voice was breaking and Charlie was sniffling and Dean was not in the right emotional mindset to handle this shit right now, not today. "I hate the way you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry."

"I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."

Charlie tearfully said the last part along with the movie and Dean could hear Dor muttering under her breath 'every damn time', as the brunette headed into the bedroom to presumably change clothes.

Julia's dramatic exit on the screen was marred a little bit by the fact that Dean thought it was hard to have a serious moment while wearing flip flops, but Heath Ledger looked sufficiently affected and Charlie was outright bawling on the couch next to him. Dean definitely did not have tears clouding his eyes as he wrenched his hand away from his roommate and grabbed the tote bag from next to the coffee table, but he also made a point to not look into the mirror in the bathroom when he went in there to change so that no one could call him a liar about it later.

Char and Dor had brought Dean his 'hot-ass' jeans, a move that he was sure the two girls had carefully calculated while grabbing him a change of clothes, but they also brought him a pair of boxers and socks along with a green Ted Leo & the Pharmacists t-shirt. Dean put it all on except for the jeans because he figured he could spite the two girls by just wearing his shorts from the day before, but when he stepped out of the bathroom is was to see Charlie closing up the little closet that held the washer/dryer combo that came with Dor's apartment.

"Oh, hey I just put your other clothes in the washer," Charlie said brightly, all traces of her minor Julia Stiles induced meltdown completely gone from her face. "I also plugged your phone into my spare charger, figured it was dead and that's why none of us could reach you this morning."

"Uh, yea," Dean said narrowing his eyes at his roommate who was being just a little too genuine for him to suspect her of any ulterior motive. "Thanks."

"Dean!" Dor admonished as she emerged from her room tucking her hair up into a white bandana. The other woman was wearing a t-shirt that had a sloth on it and said 'Nap all day, Sleep all night, Party never' that she had cut the collar off of to make it fall off her shoulder and a pair of high-waisted shorts. "I'm starving, put your pants on and let's go already!"

"You look cute as hell, babes," Charlie said slyly, sidling up to the other woman and wrapping her arms around her waist.

Dean turned around and stomped back into the bathroom when the kissing sounds started, not because it grossed him out to see the two women being affectionate or anything, but that creeping, toxic jealousy that he was becoming uncomfortably acquainted with chose that moment to rear its ugly head again and he didn't want them to see the sour look that he was fairly certain was on his face. And he also needed to shove himself into those tight as fuck pants because it was either that or put back on Dor's ratty basketball shorts.

When he stepped back out of the bathroom, the two women were no longer in the hallway and it made Dean think for a hopeful second that they had just left him there. But when he cautiously poked his head around the corner to look into the living room, there they were, the both of them tapping away on their phones and nudging each other in the ribs every so often before tilting their screens for the other to see.

Dean shuffled over to his shoes that were near the front door and shoved his feet into them before turning to face the two women who were still engrossed in their own little technological bubbles.

"I thought you guys were in a hurry?"" Dean asked, trying to keep the snark in his voice to a minimum because if Char and Dor really were hungry it wasn't going to do him any good to antagonize them more than he already had.

"Here's your wallet," Dor said, producing Dean's Ninja Turtle wallet from the back pocket of her shorts as she rose to her feet. "And don't forget your phone."

"Yea, it's probably got at least a bit of a charge by now," Charlie added, frowning down at her phone for a second before she popped up to her feet as well.

Dean cursed the redhead up and down in his head for a moment before forcing a thankful grin on his face and pocketing the device, not bothering to turn it on because that was exactly the way that he wanted it to stay.

"What do you guys think of Hut's?" Dor asked, gently herding the group towards the front door. "You like their shakes, right Dean?"

The thought of consuming anything kinda made him want to hurl, but...Hut's did have really fucking good milkshakes. And Dean had always been a fan of eating his feelings.

Hut's Hamburgers had the kind of old-school 50s era charm that had the habit of feeling like a gimmick in other restaurants that tried to replicate their natural ambiance.

They'd been one of the staples of Austin culture and 6th street since long before the stretch of road became more widely known for its nightlife and the lovingly signed celebrity photos and decades old newspaper clippings that hung framed on the wall attested to the fact that they would have a loyal customer base long after 6th street stopped being cool.

They also had really fucking good burgers and even better milkshakes. Dean had two of the latter before he had to excuse himself to the bathroom to puke his guts out.

He only felt slightly better afterwards.

But of course that feeling of 'better out than in' evaporated as soon as he got back to the table he was sharing with Dor and Charlie to find Gabe along with a cluster of strangers dragging another square table over to join up with theirs. His heart leapt in his throat as he frantically cataloged the backs of the three men who he didn't recognize before Dean realized that Cas's broad shoulders and messy bed head wasn't among Gabriel's party. He still approached the table cautiously because just 'cause he couldn't immediately see Cas it didn't mean that the punk wasn't lurking around somewhere and Dean really didn't think that he could handle seeing the other man right now when he had bags under his eyes and vomit breath.

"Hey! There he is," Charlie called, throwing her hands up in Dean's direction and causing Gabe and friends to turn to look at where he was standing and debating about the merits of bolting and walking down to BookPeople over suffering through this awkward hell.

His roommate effectively took that little debate out of his hands.

Dean tried to rearrange his face so it didn't look so obviously pained and started to make his way towards the group at his table. Unfortunately, as he got closer he realized a couple of things in quick succession that were sure to make this encounter even more awkward that he had previously thought.

Firstly, Gabriel (y'know Cas's not-so-big, not-so-intimidating older brother?) was pretty obviously pissed at him. 'Glaring daggers' was probably not violent enough to describe the way that Gabe was looking at him, but Dean had definitely called that one so at least he wasn't surprised. Secondly, one of the trio of strangers wasn't actually a stranger. It was Han, with her hair slicked back in a pseudo-pompadour and wearing a short-sleeve, black men's button down with cut off shorts that stopped just above her knee. Dean figured that he hadn't recognized the girl from the back because frankly she looked a bit like a dude, but his internal debate about whether or not her chest was flatter today than it had been yesterday kept him from focusing on the fact that he was pretty sure Han was wearing Cas's shirt.

All of that was awkward enough without the tense silence that greeted him as he walked up to the table, but luckily Charlie being her ever-bubbly self broke that by popping to her feet and doing a round of introductions. Apparently the two entirely unfamiliar guys were Mark and Trevor, Han's bandmates who were seemingly unaware of the underlying tension at the table as they shook Dean's hand and took their seats.

"And Han is-" Charlie started, gesturing at the other woman who was standing behind the chair that was sat across from Dean's empty seat.

"We've met," Han interrupted,offering Dean a hesitant smile that he didn't even try to return; just nodding at her instead before sitting back down in front of his half finished fries and milkshake. He heard her chair squeak as it was pulled out a long moment later, but busied himself by creating patterns in his ketchup with his french fries.

Once everyone was settled and the waitress had come by to goodnaturedly take her three-top-turned-seven-top's drink orders then the silence settled heavily over the group. Well everyone except Mark and Trevor who were having a hushed conversation about possibly skateboarding...Dean wasn't entirely sure, for all he knew a Jesus Flip was the name of one of the bands playing this weekend.

"Sooooo," Dor said, leaning back in her seat as she drew the word out and simultaneously settled her arm around Dean's shoulders. "What have you guys been up to today?"

"Gabe's just been showing us the sights," Han said, nudging the man in question who was sitting next to her and hadn't stopped scowling in Dean's direction. "His roommate made us breakfast this morning and then we went to that big bookstore on the corner a couple of blocks up, the one across from the record store? I dunno, we've just kinda been wandering around."

"Oh yea, Dean and I work there, at the bookstore," Charlie said congenially before taking a huge, messy bite out of her burger and continuing with her mouth full. "You like it here so far?"

"Its cool," Trevor answered, nodding at their waitress when she came back to take their orders and drop off drinks. "Everyone is really friendly."

"And a lot less of a dick than we expected," Mark added as he methodically began to mix sugar packets into his sweet tea which even Dean knew was kinda overkill.

"You'd be surprised by how many dicks we have here," Gabriel bit out, viciously squeezing lemons into his ice water and amping up the voltage of his glare when Dean happened to glance at the other man.

"Going to see anyone play tonight?" Dor chimed in, her voice sounding calm and normal even though her grip had tightened protectively on Dean's bicep. Hadn't she just been mad at him? God, he was so confused and he sorta felt like puking again.

"Uh…" Han started carefully, her hand reaching up to fiddle with the longer locks of hair that she had pulled down in front of her ears to approximate sideburns. Dean looked up at her and noticed that she wasn't wearing any jewelry and not much makeup to speak of and he was still fairly baffled by the lack of bosom she was sporting today, but make it was just an optical illusion caused by her shirt. "I think we're going to Mohawk tonight, Sam said something last night about a secret show before we went to see the Popes, but uh...I don't know anymore."

"There someone playing you want to see more?" Dor asked and suddenly her voice sounded a little too innocent or maybe Dean was just being paranoid because of Gabe's never ending death glare.

"Well we had a long night…" Han started reluctantly, trailing off when their waitress showed back up with food for the new additions to the table and checks for the original trio.

"Ya'll take your time," the waitress said, glancing towards the front door when the bell above it chimed and getting a startled look on her face when a veritable wave of people came through the door before rushing off without another word.

"Long night?" Dor prompted after a solid minute of letting the quartet dig into their food, Dean was pretty sure the other woman timed it so that Han had swallowed her mouthful right before she asked.

"Uh…" Han stalled, picking sesame seeds off of her burger bun with her thumbnail.

"What they're trying to say is that Cas kept us up all night frantically calling hospitals and shit for Mr. Tall Dork and Asswipe over here," Gabriel answered tersely, jutting his chin in Dean's direction as he finished before stabbing viciously at his Reuben sandwich with his fork.

"W-what?"Dean stammered, his french fry falling out of his fingers forgotten. "Cas didn't...he doesn't...care-"

"Oh fuck you, Dean," Gabe said, dropping any pretense of politeness and letting his utensils fall to the table with a clatter that made Han flinch in her seat beside him. "My brother was worried sick about you all goddamned night and you didn't even have the decency to tell him you were okay. So if anyone doesn't fucking care in this situation I would say that it's not him."

Dean tried to think of a rebuttal and utterly failed, too shocked by what he'd just learned to actually function or speak or y'know, breathe.

"Okay, we're gonna go," Charlie said, quickly climbing to her feet and rushing around to Dean's side of the table where she hauled him to his feet. "Settle up, babe?"

"Yea, I'll meet you outside," Dor replied, sounding frustrated and Dean suspected that it wasn't at him, but he was too busy trying to focus on the way that Charlie was soothingly rubbing his back to spare it too much thought.

They made it outside to the open air and Charlie propped Dean up against Hut's whitewashed exterior, gripping his shoulders tightly and encouraging him to breathe.

"Okay, just count your breaths, Dean," Charlie said, matching the pace of her own to what Dean needed to be doing. "This isn't your first rodeo, you know how to do this."

Dean huffed out a breathless chuckle at that before he continued to focus on what he needed to be doing even though his mind was going a million miles an hour.

It took a minute or so for Dor to emerge from the restaurant and by then Dean was taking shaky breaths at a more healthy tempo and Char's grip on him had relaxed enough that he could stand up straight and lean his head back against the building with his eyes closed. The sound of another voice speaking softly to Dor was the only warning he had that it wasn't just he and his two friends who had been followed out of the restaurant.

"Hey Dean," Dor asked softly, sidling up to press into his side; he cracked his eyes open to see an apologetic look on the other woman's face and Han hovering anxiously behind her. "Han wants to talk to you for a sec. Is that okay?"

"S'fine," Dean muttered, resigned to the fact that he was probably about to get chewed out for ditching Cas again. He wasn't entirely convinced now that he didn't deserve it.

"We'll be by the car," Dor said with a nod in the direction of her purpleish Hyundai, hooking her arm through Charlie's as she moved towards it.

Dean stared hard at his shoes for a long minute, waiting for the barrage of hate that probably about to rain down on him from Cas's childhood bestie only...it never came. And when Dean chanced a look at the other girl she was staring at her own scuffed shoes with her hands shoved deep in her pockets and a deep frown on her face.

"So…" Dean said cautiously, crossing his arms over his chest in order to protect himself just a bit. "Are you gonna yell at me too?"

"Nah," Han said, kicking at the ground with her toe before she grinned slyly up at Dean. "I think those Adler boys laid on the guilt thick enough, don't you?"

"Well, Gabriel sure did," Dean agreed, letting his shoulders relax just a bit because it seemed like Han might go easy on him which was really freaking weird but whatever.

"Wait," the girl replied, her hand coming out of her pocket to bring her thumbnail up to her mouth so she could gnaw on it. "So you haven't even listened to Cas's messages yet? Or like read his texts from last night or anything?"

Dean shook his head, mostly because he was pretty sure his voice wouldn't come out entirely as steady as he wanted it to be, but this apparently was not the answer that Han had wanted to hear because the girl stomped her foot in frustration; putting a little spin on the motion so that she ended up waaaay in Dean's personal bubble.

"Okay, so I came out here to talk to you about me and Cas because I know that you know that he and I have a complicated history," Han blurted, waving her hands too close to Dean's face for his comfort as she spoke. "But that shit is way too meta for me to explain in five minutes so just trust me when I say that Cas is careful about who he lets in and you're more in, Dean than almost any other person I've ever seen him with."

"So you want me to…" Dean started, trying to appease the girl in front of him who seemed semi-frantic.

"I don't want you to do anything," Han said, taking a step back and closing her eyes before letting out a heavy, slow breath. After a moment where she seemed to center herself she continued."In fact, my advice is that you never do anything you don't one thousand percent want to do. But at least have all the facts before you go making a decision about Cas. You should consider hearing his side of the story."

"I know what I saw last night," Dean objected, wishing he could just trust the other man the way that Charlie trusted Dor not to stray. That was like some fundamental relationship shit and he and Cas couldn't even get that right. "I can't even turn my back for five seconds without him being all over someone else and maybe Cas's other girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever were cool with that, but I'm not a secure enough person to be that way."

"What?" Han asked, waving a hand in front of her face like she was trying to clear away an annoying fly. "Dean, I saw Cas last night. I helped him look for you after you disappeared and he wasn't with anyone but me and Meg and Balthazar all night."

"Well you must not have seen that other guy," Dean said, feeling a little bit of relief that Cas probably hadn't had time to get a blow job in the bathroom before noticing that Dean had bolted. Unless it had been a really quick one.

"I don't know what 'other guy' you could possibly be talking about," Han said, putting both of her hands behind her head in frustration. "Cas said he left you at the stage, saw Meg at the bar and then I ran into him and showed him my belt buckle on his way back to you. When we got back to where you were, you were gone. I just don't see how there could've been another guy."

"There was a guy," Dean argued, because he felt like he was going crazy over all of this. What if he had made up stuff because he was so insecure that he couldn't handle someone like Cas showing an interest in him? "A fucking guy in a fedora-hat-thing and like, a vest and shit and Cas was all the fuck over him. I swear."

"Oh my god," Han said, bringing her hands around to first cover her mouth and then up to cover her eyes as she let out a pained groan. "Ugh fucking cock shit damnit balls! God, a guy, Dean? A guy in a white t-shirt and vest with a fucking hat? And like skinny jeans?"

"Yes!" Dean said relieved because he had seriously been questioning his sanity for a second there. "That guy!"

"That was me!" Han yelled, flinging her arms out at her side. "I changed clothes before the show because I having some," Han waved her hands over her body in a vague kinda way. "Y'know, dysphoria and I was feeling masc and oh my god it must have looked so bad from the outside if you thought Cas was gonna just blow you off to fuck me."

Han ended her tirade with her hands covering her mouth again and her eyes looking ominously glassy.

"No, it couldn't have been you," Dean protested, putting out his hands to pet awkwardly at Han's arms. "You're a girl, Han."

Han's face went through a complicated series of expressions before it finally settled on one that looked equal parts pitying and motherly; it was a weird combination.

"I'm fluid, Dean," Han said, taking a deep breath when he just frowned back at her in confusion. "I'm genderfluid, it means I don't label myself as any one gender in particular; either male or female."

"But you were dressed like a girl yesterday?" Dean asked, feeling lost for more reasons than one.

How much other stuff was he missing because he just relied on his admittedly narrow view of things? God, growing up in South Dakota had not prepared him for the real world at all.

"Some days I feel feminine so I do my makeup and wear cute dresses because it makes me feel good," Han explained slowly. "Other days I feel masculine and I put on my binder and dress in jeans and a t-shirt because that makes me feel good too. Yesterday, I started fem and then ended up masc. Some days are a mix between the two, like today."

"So are you like...trans or god, sorry..." Dean started, trying to phrase it so he wasn't being offensive as he frantically tried to remember all the things that Dor had explained about being bi or pan or ace.

"I don't care if you ask questions, Dean," Han said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You can just think of me as fluid or queer, I'm good with both of those. But I prefer they and them pronouns over he or she."

"I'll probably mess that up," Dean admitted softly, his mind whirring with all of the information he had learned over the last ten minutes. "So that really was you last night?"

"I make a pretty hot dude, huh?" Han teased, moving to post themselves up against the wall of the restaurant next Dean. "But yea, it was me."

Dean nodded before closing his eyes and forcing out the other question that was plaguing his mind, "And were you and Cas like...really serious when you were together?"

"Dude," Han replied with a snort. "I would never describe me and Cas as either 'serious' or 'together'. He's pretty much my best friend and we helped each other through some shitty teenage years. But you have nothing to worry about from me, I go for more of the strong, silent type anyway and Cas is basically my brother so that'd be gross."

"God, I really fucked things up, didn't I?"

"Nah," Han said flippantly, nudging their shoulder against Dean's. "Just do yourself a favor and at least talk to him. I'm gonna go before my food gets cold, you okay?"

"Yea, Han," Dean replied, cracking his eye at the other person to see them giving him a fond smile. "Maybe I'll see you at Mohawk later?"

"I'll buy you a beer," Han said making little finger pistol motions and winking at Dean before heading back towards Hut's front door.

Dean allowed himself a few more seconds to wallow in his own stupidity before pushing himself away from the building and heading towards where Dor and Charlie were waiting for him in the car.

Cas: Where'd u go? [11:12pm]

Cas: R u in the john? [11:14pm]

Cas: This kid keeps giving me dirty looks, wth. [11:15pm]

Cas: Ur missing my fav song, babe. [11:20pm]

Cas: Dean, where are you? [11:23pm]

Cas: I'm gonna look for you, laugh at me for being paranoid later. [11:25pm]

'You have nineteen new messages, to listen to your messages press one.'

'First unheard message at 11:27pm'

"Hey so maybe I'm freaking out over nothing, but if you get this just call me, Dean. Its Cas...so yea...bye."

'Next unheard message at 11:31pm'

"Hey, its Cas again. I guess maybe we're just missing each other in the crowd or something, but if you get this meet me at the bar. Or just call me back, yea."

'Next unheard message at 11:37pm'

"Hey, it's me again. I can't find you like anywhere, dude. But if your phone's not dead just shoot me a text, okay? I'm getting really worried."

'Next unheard message at 11:39pm'

"Dean-o, its Meg! Listen, I know I don't like you, but Cas is freaking out so stop being a little bitch and call him back. I don't want to waste my night looking for your yuppie ass. Fuck."

'Next unheard message at 11:50pm'

"So the band just finished, maybe you couldn't hear your phone, but yea, call me back. I just wanna know that you're okay."

'Next unheard message at 12: 02am'

"Dean, this place is clearing out and I can't find you. Are you okay? I'm really losing my shit here and I need you to call me. Fuck, I'm gonna go check by the car. If you see Han or Balthazar stay with them. They'll text me. Just...be okay."

'Next unheard message at 12:07am'

"The car's gone, fuck. *audible panting* Fuck, did you leave? I'm not mad if you ditched me, but shit, man. Just call me back, please. Please call me back."

'Next unheard message at 12:10am'

"Okay, I know I sound crazy and you probably just got cruised or something, but Meg said maybe you got kidnapped and I just flipping out here, Dean. I can't find you and I'm so fucking worried and what if...what if I never see you again? God, if you get this just call or if you're busy text me. Fuck, have your hookup call me, I don't fucking care. Just let me know you're okay, 'kay?"

'Next unheard message at 12:28am'

"Hey, we just went by your house and you're not there either and- *car-horn honking* Fuck, people are driving like assholes I hope you're okay. Just...wherever you are, call me when you get the chance. I just wanna know you're safe. Or I'll meet up with you somewhere, it's whatever. Whenever you get this call me, I'll be awake, just please call me, Dean."

'Next unheard message at 1:17am'

"Fuck, Dean. Please be okay. God, please just be okay. I'm going out of my mind, just call me please."

Dean turned on his phone when they got to Red7, he and Charlie taking seats at one of the booths inside while Dor clocked in and started helping the other bartenders stock the outdoor bar for the big showcase that was playing that night. And he let it sit on the chipped formica table top as it buzzed and buzzed and buzzed. His roommate had the good grace to only raise her eyebrows at Dean before getting caught up in her own phone as they waited for the device to stop twitching with notifications.

He started with the text messages, mostly because there were more of those.

A vast majority of them were from Cas, which he had expected. But Dean hadn't expected the way his stomach would sink as he saw how the other man became progressively more and more frantic sounding with each message. There were a couple of texts from Gabe and weirdly enough Meg and even one from Sam saying that the punk was still trying to reach Dean long after the bars had closed and Sam had left work himself. The last text was from Dor, saying that Dean better still be at her place or else and it had been sent about an hour before she had gotten home.

He took a break before he started in on the voicemails, putting his head down on the table with a groan as he tried to fight down the shame and self-hatred he had for how fucking stupid he had been the night before.

"You look like you could use a drink," Dor's voice said, accompanied by a bottle of Shiner being set down on the table near Dean's head. "And you...well, I just wanted to buy a pretty lady a drink."

Dean lifted his head to see Dor sliding into Charlie's side of the booth with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

"You didn't pay for this," Charlie said coyly, taking the offered glass of dark liquid from her girlfriend and taking a sip of it.

"Semantics," Dor said with a shrug, accepting the kiss on the cheek that Charlie gave her before reaching out to nudge Dean's cell phone with her fingertips. "Finally turn on your phone?"

"Yea," Dean croaked out, snagging his beer and taking a long pull of it while the two women just watched him expectantly.

"And?" Charlie asked when Dean lowered his beer, but didn't offer any more information expect for a deep sigh.

"And it uh...feels like I've been punched in the throat," Dean said seriously, nodding because yea, that's exactly what all of this fucking felt like.

"Did you listen to your voicemails too?" Dor asked, angling her head so she could take a sip of Charlie's drink.

"Not yet," the redhead answered before Dean could find his voice.

"Oh, dude," Dor said, wincing in sympathy. "I'm pretty sure it's going to feel like you've been punched in the balls, repeatedly, after you listen to those. You might want to give him some space, babe."

"I'm here for moral support," Charlie protested, putting her hand protectively on Dean's arm.

"Actually, I probably need to do this on my own, Chaz," Dean said reluctantly, weighing Dor's words against his current emotional state and coming to the conclusion that he would probably start crying the second he heard Cas's voice.

"You sure?" his roommate asked uncertainly.

"Nope," Dean said, reaching for his beer so he could distract himself with picking at the label. "But I dug myself into this hole, right? I might take a walk or something while I do listen to 'em though, just let me finish my drink first."

Dor leveled Dean with an assessing, wary look. "Okay, well, whatever Cas said on those voicemails, just don't run off again."

"Yea, he wasn't the only one worried about you this morning," Charlie added, waiting for Dean to promise that he would come back before sliding out of the booth after Dor and following the other woman up to the bar.

Once they were gone, Dean debated about trying to make his beer last as long as humanly possible so that he could avoid the voicemail icon that was mocking him from the screen of his phone. But in a sudden, uncharacteristic bout of bravery he just chugged what was left of his drink in three long pulls before taking his phone with him and leaving the bar.

He walked aimlessly, following the ebb and flow of the festival crowd away as it made its way inevitably towards 6th street. It wasn't until he found himself huddled under the awning of Alamo Drafthouse's Ritz location that Dean finally stopped and finally started listening to his messages.

And of course, Dor was right.

Each message where he had to listen to Cas's voice get increasingly more worried and broken was like a knife sliding between his ribs, jabbing into his lungs and heart and kidneys until by the time he got to the last message waiting for him he was sitting on the ground in front of the movie theater with his knees pulled up to his chest and his free hand buried in his hair. He thought that he might be crying too, but he wasn't sure because all he could feel was his chest constricting painfully as he fought to catch his breath. The girl in the ticket booth was giving him some very concerned looks though, so Dean knew he couldn't be painting the prettiest picture right now.

'Next unheard message at 10:47am.'

"Hey, so I just went by your place again and Dor said you're okay. I guess… you just needed some space, which is fine. Totally fine, but uh… call me still, so I can like, hear your voice. I don't think I'll believe that you're alive until I do. Whatever I did that made you leave, I'm sorry. Just call me… please."

'To erase this message press seven. To save this message press ni-'

Dean let the hand that was holding his phone fall down to rest on the pavement beside him, clenching his eyes shut and trying to force back the sob that was attempting to tear its way out of his throat. God, he did not need to have a complete breakdown right now. Especially since there was no one here to scrape him up and take him home. Plus everyone who would scrape him up was probably not feeling very sympathetic towards him right now. Hell, Dean didn't even have any sympathy left for himself; he really fucking deserved to feel like shit right now.

He managed to drag himself to his feet after a few more minutes, shoving his phone back into his pocket before attempting to wipe the tears off of his cheeks as surreptitiously as possible though he wasn't sure that he fooled the Drafthouse ticket girl because she just gave him a compassionate half-smile when he glanced her way.

Dean sniffled his way back towards Red7, debating about whether or not it was too late for him to call Cas and try to explain his fucked up, jealous, self-hating sabotaging to the other man or if that would just sound like more baggage that the punk would now want nothing to do with. He figured either way, he needed at least one or two more beers before he was capable of making that decision.

There were dudes in the familiar Red7 staff shirts unloading equipment from several vans and trailers and went he back inside behind the bits and pieces of a drum kit that were being carted towards the outdoor stage it was to see the indoor bar steadily filling up for people like a normal punk rock karaoke night. Benny was fiddling with the soundboard for Krissy who was tuning her guitar and a girl that Dean vaguely recognized from having seen her manning the venue's door once or twice was holding her own against a skinny dude with gigantic liberty spikes at the sign-up table. Dor and Charlie were nowhere to be seen, so Dean did the math and headed through the bar towards the outdoor stage.

Red7's outdoor bar was little more than a glorified slab of concrete with a covered, raised stage at one end and the most basic of bars at the other end. The 'roof' above the stage extended out for about ten or fifteen feet with Christmas lights strung up between the rafters and and peeling stickers lining the beams that supported it. The rest was open air, save for the area directly above the bar that was shielded from the elements by corrugated tin and heavy duty plastic sheeting. Dor had always said that the DIY aesthetic was what gave Red7 its charm and based on the way the space was already milling with chattering music enthusiasts, others apparently felt the same.

Dean spotted Charlie propped up at the end of the bar talking to one of the other bartenders, Ash, who tended to work outside because he fast, even-tempered, and unafraid of jumping into a melee of concert goers to break up a fight. They were probably talking about computers because both his roommate and the other man had serious expressions on their faces; Dean suspected that Ash was into some probably illegal, deep web hacker shit like Charlie, but he had never had the gotten more than two words out of the other man so it was as of yet unconfirmed. Dor meanwhile was popping caps off of beer bottles for the modest stream of patrons who were watching the band set up.

He shuffled his way over to his friends, ducking out of the way of guys in spike covered denim vests and girls in heavy combat boots with little more than mumbled apologies. Every single last one of him reminded him in some way of Cas, either of the night they first met or yesterday at Trailer Space or just… something and in turn it made the regret and guilt he was already feeling gouge its way deeper into his conscience.

One drink, just for some courage, and then he'd give Cas a call.

Dean had no idea what he'd say during the call outside of an apology and he was one million percent sure that an apology alone wouldn't be enough to fix things with the other man. If it could be fixed, if Cas even wanted it fixed.

"Hey, dude," Ash greeted with a jut of his chin as Dean draped himself across the bar at Charlie's side with a wounded noise. "What happened to him?"

"He's having some boy trouble," Charlie explained, rubbing Dean's back consolingly.

"Well there's only one cure for that!" Ash exclaimed causing Dean to look up from his wallowing to see the other man grabbing a bottle of tequilla off of the shelves behind the bar. "You want in on this, Dor?"

The other woman looked up from where she was scribbling on one the open tabs near the cash register and her eyes lighted on the bottle in Ash's hand. Dor cast a glance back at the milling showgoers before shrugging and snagging some limes and plastic cups on her way towards them.

"What are we celebrating?" Dor asked, eyeing Dean warily as she approached and started lining up glasses for Ash.

"Nothing," Dean croaked, not missing the way that Charlie winced in sympathy or how Dorothy's practiced movements faltered. "Can we just drink, please?

"Yea, man," Ash said, doling out the shots to everyone and then offering around a salt shaker shaped like a weeping clown to everyone. "Bottom's up."

The liquor burned hot and bright on the way down, hitting him in the stomach like a suckerpunch and making Dean's already red-rimmed eyes water. He coughed slightly after swallowing, making Ash bark out a laugh before slapping him heartily on the shoulder and meandering off to help the customers who has posted themselves at the bar in the last couple of minutes.

Could he call Cas now?

The thought alone made his stomach roil so Dean just reached for the bottle that Ash had left sitting on the bartop and raised his eyebrow

"Another?" Dean asked, wiggling the bottle slightly in his two friends' direction.

"I've gotta get to work, Dean," Dor replied with a shake of her head, gathering up the extra cups and tossing them in the trash. "Did you talk to Cas?"

Dean just replied with a shake of his head, pouring another shot for himself and Charlie before offering the bottle back to Dor.

"Keep it," she sighed, glancing in Ash's direction when he called her name and gestured towards where the bar's backdoor had just been opened by the bouncers to let in a new stream of people. "And don't get so drunk that you can't at least text Cas back, okay?"

"I'll keep an eye on him," Charlie said, picking up her cup and clacking it against Dean's "And we'll be good, right, Dean?"

"Yea...good," Dean replied bitterly, grimacing at his cup before he downed his second shot.

He started losing track of time a little bit after that one, his hand straying repeatedly to reach for his phone only for him to chicken out at the last second and moving to line up another shot for he and his roommate instead. Charlie took control of the bottle after their fifth… or maybe it was sixth shot, refusing to give Dean another until he drank a glass of water provided to him by Ash.

At some point during all of that the first band of the showcase had finished setting up, done a sound check, and presumably introduced themselves; Dean just didn't notice them until they started playing.

'I'm always tired. I'm always at least half asleep. Blemish and state how, I don't feel great now.'

"These guys are really fucking depressing," Dean mumbled out, sipping at his unwanted water and wondering idly if the back patio at Red7 had always been tilted at such a steep angle. "I kinda love it."

"Yea, you would," Charlie said hooking her chin over his shoulder so she could see the band. "Wanna move closer?"

Dean eyed the crowd that was still filling out as the band continued playing, they looked tame enough so he figured he could handle getting closer without getting knocked over or accidentally hit. So he said at much to the other girl.

"Don't worry," Charlie said, steadying Dean when they started making their way into the mass of people and the other man stumbled over nothing. "I'll protect you."

He just nodded and allowed his arm to have Charlie's hooked through it so she could drag him through the audience until they reached one of the beams that supported the roof over the stage. It was the worst kind of humid being amid the crush of strange bodies, but the heat helped clear Dean's head a bit as he leaned heavily against the beam and pulled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe at the sweat on his forehead.

There were a few hungry eyes turned Dean's way when he straightened his clothes and it made Dean's fingers twitch toward the phone in his pocket.

After this band though, he'd call Cas once this band was done.

To settle his nerves, Dean just slung his arm around Charlie's shoulders and ignored her questioning look when a flowery-scented wave of perspiration engulfed them. Hey, they hadn't brought him deodorant, so Dor really had no one else to blame but herself for him using the extra stick she'd had in her bathroom cabinet.

The whole set was great and Dean wondered why he hadn't picked to come to this showcase over another that he had found playing at Jackalope, but then again he'd been distracted with thoughts of Cas while he was making the schedule of what shows they should go to so maybe he'd just missed their name. Which they said again about halfway through their set; Joyce Manor. He'd have to try to remember that because their lo-fi, pseudo-emo sound was exactly what he looked for in a band.

Maybe he'd tell Cas about them when he called the punk, sorta as an icebreaker before making an apology.

"So this is our last song," the least singer of the band gasped into the mic as he ran a hand through his sweat slick hair before wiping it on his black jeans. "But we've heard you like this one, so sing along."

There was a big lead in with guitars and drums and the swell of bodies in front of the stage sorta lurched forward suddenly, pushing Charlie out from under Dean's arm into the swaying sea of bodies all trying to get closer. She didn't seem to mind because she just shrugged at Dean and turned back to the stage, he could still see her so he just wrapped an arm around the support beam at his side and tuned back into the song being played on stage.

'I could hear you coming so I hid by the couch, you were talking so loudly I didn't know what about. But you were drunker than high school, self-conscious and sweet. I never ever felt so cool disguised in your sheets.'

And then the chorus crashed in and everyone around him was singing along, but Dean didn't know the words and the effect of it all coupled with the alcohol and everything going on with Cas suddenly made Dean feel so fucking lonely that tears sprang to his eyes.

The second verse settled along with the crowd and Dean fought to push down the swell of emotion that was threatening to tear him down. It wasn't until everything but the kick drum and the singer's voice faded out that Dean was even able to focus back in on the song.

'You having sex in the morning, your love was foreign to me. It made me think maybe human's not such a bad thing to be, but I just laid there in protest. Entirely fucked. It's such a stubborn reminder one perfect night's not enough.'

God, he needed to call Cas. He needed to call Cas back right the fuck now and grovel for forgiveness.

Dean managed to push his way out of the back door of Red7 by the time the band had finished playing their last song. He could distantly hear the crowd cheering and clapping and the band thanking them, but all he could worry about was trying to get his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Cas's number with shaking fingers.

He'd just gotten the device pressed up against his ear and found a good bit of wall to lean on that didn't have any suspicious looking puddles around it when Dean heard his name being called.

He also heard a phone going off at right about the same time his own started ringing through to Cas in his ear. Dean shut his eyes against the fact that his life was becoming one of those shitty rom-coms he had been watching earlier. At least… with any luck it'd have the 'rom' part too.

"Are you seriously fucking calling me now?" Cas's voice asked sullenly.

Dean licked his lips as his phone continued to ring in his ear. "Are you going to answer it?"

He didn't open his eyes because he didn't want to see the other man's expression since he figured Cas was pissed as hell. But the other man didn't say anything in reply and the ringtone in Dean's ear clicked over to the little automated voicemail voice and yea, it didn't look like he was going to get out of this by being cute. Thanks for nothing Kirsten Dunst.

Dean opened his eyes, but kept them downcast, seeing only the tips of Cas's dirty Converse standing about two feet in front of him as he pocketed his phone again. He didn't know where to start with saying he was sorry so the silence stretched between them for a long moment.

"Well at least you're not dead," Cas finally said, causing Dean to look up at the other man for a split second before he dropped his eyes again.

It was long enough to see that the other man looked just as bad as Dean felt, if not worse. Cas's hair was even more disheveled than usual and he was sporting dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes along with at least another day's worth of overgrown stubble that was definitely edging into beard territory.

"Was that a legitimate concern?" Dean asked when it didn't look like the other man was going to say anything else.

The punk let out a derisive laugh that made Dean wince, "God, you have no fucking idea, do you?"

Dean didn't know how to answer that.

"Of course you don't," Cas answered himself, letting out a sigh that sounded like it came all the way from his bones and taking a step forward into Dean's space. "I was just… you disappeared. And I was just really fucking worried, all night."

"I know," Dean said softly, crossing his arms over his chest before he finally looked the other man in the eye. "Dor, Han, Gabe, they all told me you were worried."

"Then why didn't you call me back?" the punk asked, his voice taking on a desperate edge as he started to reach for Dean before letting his hand drop into the empty space between them. "Did you- Were you busy?"

"Busy feeling sorry for myself," Dean muttered, not missing the confusion that flickered across the other man's face. "I just… I thought I saw something that I didn't actually see and I freaked and left. I'm really sorry I didn't call you back, Cas. I swear, I didn't know you would worry about me so much."

"What the fuck?" Castiel asked, waving his hands to cut Dean off when he started to open his mouth. "No, I literally told you yesterday that I care about you, Dean. So why the hell wouldn't I worry about you if you up and disappear?"

His heart sunk at the other man's tone. "I don't know, Cas. I mean, I know you said you care about me, but then I saw- well, I thought I saw you all over some other guy who I now know was Han and I was hurt so I ran away. I'm good at that."

"No kidding," the punk bit out.

"But I really am so fucking ridiculously sorry that I worried you," Dean rushed to add, putting both of his hands out in an appeasing sort of way.

Cas regarded him seriously for a long minute before letting out a long sigh and shoving a hand through his messy hair. "So let me get this straight. You, ran away. Because you thought I was cruising some other dude and then you just let me keeping calling you, like a moron, until your phone died."

"No, I turned my phone off," Dean admitted sheepishly, causing the punk to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "And you aren't a moron, I'm a moron."

"I'm not saying that," Cas sighed, moving forward to lean against the wall next to Dean with his body angled towards the other man's so they had some facsimile of privacy. "Where did you even go?"

"I went to Dor's apartment," Dean explained, biting his lip before he forced out the next part, but Cas needed to know how deeply his misunderstanding had affected him; even if the point was moot now. "I drank a bunch of wine and cried about you all night. I just… it hurt thinking you could just brush me off so easily. I mean… I know we're just friends, but… I don't know what I thought."

Both men were quiet after Dean's not-quite admission and he held his breath as it vibrated in the air between them. He took the time to study Cas as the punk pulled out a pack of cigarettes and fiddled with it, not pulling one out or anything, just kinda flipping it around in his hand.

He was wearing that Alkaline Trio shirt again, the one from the first time they had spoken at BookPeople, and it was wrinkled like he had fallen asleep in it. Cas's jeans also had a gigantic hole in the knee that went halfway up his thigh, revealing the bottom of the tattoo that Dean knew was there when the other man shifted his weight from foot to foot and cleared his throat.

"I uh… I walked to your house this morning," Cas admitted softly. "At like… nine or something, just to see if you had shown back up."

Dean made a noise to let the other man know he was listening and watched Cas finally pull out a cigarette and light it, taking a deep drag before continuing.

"And I was like… standing at your door," Cas continued, blowing a thick stream of smoke out of his nose before as he tongued at his lip ring. "Just looking at your car and shit and wondering if you had brought your trick home with you. I mean, I went by your house last night, you know that, but what if we had just missed each other? You brought me to your place that one time so it wasn't li-"

"I wouldn't do that," Dean interrupted, earning a half-hearted shrug from the other man. "No, really. I wouldn't ditch you for some random guy, Cas."

"You thought I did it to you," the other man protested softly.

"Yea and we've established that I'm a moron," Dean argued, moving so that he and Cas were facing each other; their chests no more than a hand's breadth apart with cigarette smoke hanging hazily in the air between them. "But really, as long as you're around, there might as well not be any other guys."

Cas's mouth quirked up at the corner for a second before he brought his cigarette back to his lips, the end of it glowing bright in the settling twilight. It was quiet save for the music thumping through the painted concrete cinder blocks they were leaning against and the muted chattering of people passing by at the end of the alley.

"You know it's the same for me, right?" Cas replied, turning his head slightly to blow out his lungful of smoke in another direction, but coming right back to steadily meet Dean's gaze as soon as he was finished. "Like… there's no one else when you're around. Or even when you're not around."

"Really?" Dean asked, his breath catching with hope.

The punk nodded, his mouth quirking again as he reached out with his free hand to pull Dean's head towards his own until their foreheads gently plunked together.

"So what do we do now?" Dean asked after a couple of minutes of he and Cas just breathing in each other, the other man's hand a steady, comforting weight on the back of his neck.

"Well," Cas started, wetting his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue before darting a glance down at Dean's. "I guess we should go watch this fucking band play, huh?"

Dean was still laughing when Cas flicked his cigarette away into the alley and started tugging him towards the door.

Author Note: I know its been a while since I've updated, but here you go! Life's been crazy since January; I was really stressed out by an intense job, I got fired from said job really unexpectedly right after I had spent a ton of money on stupid shit, and have been without a job (save for a little 10 hour a week thing) for almost two months now. But I got into grad school which may mean I don't need to go back to work right the fuck now...so we'll see. Anyway! morethanyouwantedtoknow

Let me know what you think of the update. I'm working on a Ru Paul Drag Race AU for my friend's birthday so that will probably be the next thing I post. As always come see me on tumble deathsteel and I will be updating the playlist that goes with this fic within the next few days. XOXO