Disclaimer: I don't own anything I reference in here. I just love all of it.

When Castiel- warrior, angel of the Lord, John Wayne of Heaven- told Sam and Dean he wanted to study human forms of entertainment, they had simply stared at him.

It was one of the few times Castiel wishes he had never experienced human emotions. The silence was stifling; the stares of the Winchester brothers heavy, enough so to cause his eyes to dart anxiously about the room and his right hand to twitch.

When he finally looked back at the brothers, they seemed to be silently communicating. As usual, their expressions ranged between unsure and completely "freaked out."

Dean finally raised his eyebrows, his message clear "Do you really want to fight me on this?"

Sam responded with his usual slumped shoulders and blank face. "Fine. Whatever."

When Dean turned back towards him, he missed Sam's bitchface- a clear message that Sam thought this was stupid and would forever hold it against Dean.

Dean was wearing a wide grin, his excitement making his eyes shine. A warm feeling radiated through Castiel. Too often Dean seemed much older than his physical age- with good reason.

Thirty years on this earth and forty years in Hell had aged Dean's soul. Add the mental stress of raising a sibling, losing everyone you care about, and killing things nearly every day…well, Castiel was glad that his request made Dean seem more his Earthly age.

"Alright, Cas, we're going out." The elder Winchester grabbed his coat and keys before gesturing that Castiel follow.

He did so, of course, knowing better than to ask questions. Sam followed behind, turning off the lights and locking the door.

Castiel climbed into the back of the Impala, settling in the middle of the seat. He waited patiently as the two brothers sat in their respective seats in the front. Dean turned around, his eyes meeting Castiel's. "Where should we go?"

Castiel hadn't considered he would be choosing their destination. He sat silently, staring into Dean's expectant eyes. Finally, he decided.

"I believe a bar would be an appropriate location to begin."

They grabbed a table at the bar. It was near a wall, separating them a little from the din of the masses.

Castiel sat with his back against the wall, Sam to his left and Dean's empty chair to his right. The missing brother had gone to grab their first round of beers.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table as he watched the grounds. It felt weird to be without his outer layers- Sam and Dean had insisted he leave his "Flasher jacket" and "uptight bureaucrat clothing" in the car, leaving him in his plain white shirt.

"Hey, Cas," he looked toward Sam who shifted in his seat. Castiel had learned to recognize this as a sign of discomfort and tilted his head in question. "Why…" he paused, appearing to be choosing his words carefully, "what made you want to do this?"

Castiel stared, unsure how to answer. Sam Winchester had been one of the kindest people he had guarded in his long life. Despite his difficult childhood and rebellious attitude, all he had wanted out of life was to help people and be loved.

Living without his soul for nearly two years had taken a toll on their already stressed sibling bond. The Apocalypse had pitted them against each other, and they had never truly reconciled. Dean had been forced to accept his losses and try to move on, and Sam had left him there.

He shifted his focus to Dean, still leaning against the bar. For the second time since he had made himself known to his charge, Dean looked truly relaxed.

Castiel looked at his hands, speaking to them rather than Sam. "I enjoy spending time with you and your brother. It is a… 'guilty pleasure'?"

He looked at Sam, hoping to gauge if he used the phrase correctly. With no indication otherwise, but no look of understanding, he said no more and simply looked at him- hoping his eyes could say what he had no words for.

How do you tell someone that his sibling is more important to you than the entire Host of Heaven? That you have gone against everything you know and everything you are because you trust him so completely?

How do you tell someone whose family means more to them than anything that you wish to ingrain yourself into that small, tightknit community?

Sam shifted, never comfortable under suck intense scrutiny. "But why-" he was cut off by glasses set roughly on the table.

"Alright, ladies, drink up." Dean said, grabbing his draft and drinking heartily.

The other two grabbed their beers and drank- though less liberally. Dean leaned in closer.

"So, Cas, any other ideas? Maybe wanna check out another 'den of iniquity'?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, looking thoroughly smug that he was gaining ground in "corrupting an angel."

Castiel snorted and shook his head. "No, Dean, I don't believe I will feel the need to return to one of those places ever."

Dean shrugged. "OK, so what do you have in mind?"

He smiled, and leaned back. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and relinquished it to Dean. He watched his friend quickly scan the list before meeting his eyes again, a look of disbelief firmly set on his face.

"Music lessons and movies? Cas, what are you? A vanilla ice cream cone? This is stuff a ten-year-old could do."

Castiel frowned, eyebrows drawing together. "And I have never experienced them."

Something he would define as guilt flittered between Sam and Dean.

Sam shrugged and Dean looked back, meeting Castiel's gaze. "OK. But I'm teaching you about cars and guns, too."

Castiel smiled. "Deal."

Three beers, six shots, and one very fruity margarita (each) later, Castiel was helping two very inebriated Winchesters to their motel room.

Sam was being supported on his right while Dean was on his left.

They had already stopped for Sam to vomit. Twice.

When they finally reached the room, he deposited each brother on their respective beds.

He turned to leave but felt a hand on his sleeve. He looked down, Dean was gripping his coat loosely but firmly enough that Castiel knew he was awake.

"Dean?" he questioned.

"D'ja have fun tonight, Cas?" He mumbled, a gentle slur distorting his words.

Castiel smiled softly, "Of course, Dean. Sleep well."

"Glad…night, Cas. Love you."

Castiel's hand paused in midair and he stared at his charge. He shook his head and placed two fingers on Dean's temple, pushing feelings of comfort into his mind.

Glancing to make sure Sam was asleep; Castiel locked the door and returned to Heaven. It would be months before he addresses the giddy feeling bubbling inside him. I think I love you too, Dean.

Castiel returned three days later. Sam was in the motel room, sitting at the table using his laptop. He sat opposite the hunter, and surprised eyes shot up.

"Cas!" He quickly closed his computer.

Castiel nodded. "Hello, Sam."

They sat in silence for several moments before Sam spoke. "So, um, I hope you had fun the other night. Sorry about…"

Castiel interpreted the hand gestures and bitchface to signify "Sorry we got wasted and you had to help us get back and deal with my vomit."

He smiled slightly, "I had a good time, Sam."

Tension fled the room as Sam smiled and relaxed. "Great! We hadn't heard from you so…Right. What's up?"

And this is exactly why Castiel was doing this- interpreting primitive sign language was one thing; inferring information from something like that was nearly impossible.

"I believe I need new clothes."

And that's how he ended up at a nearby Wal-Mart with Sam.

He'd known for a while that his clothing would be inappropriate for his plans. And he knew, even more surely, that Dean would walk away as soon as the concept of "shopping" came up.

Sam walked up with a few pairs of jeans, "I got you a few different sizes. Try them on and tell me if they fit."

Castiel grabbed them and stood still. Sam raised an eyebrow, "Um…go?"

A blank stare responded. "Oh…the dressing room is over here."

Castiel followed and entered the stall. One pair of jeans hung low- as he saw many younger males wear their pants; a second fell right off. The third was a bit snug, but it would do.

They left; a few t-shirts, a couple pairs of pants, a flannel shirt (because Sam insisted it would be wonderful if he could "match" with them) and some credit card fraud extra.

Mission "New Clothes": Complete.

Fully outfitted for "down time," Cas was manhandled- well, technically he allowed himself to be moved- to the hood of the Impala.

Where he'd been "introduced" to Dean's "baby's" engine.

Four hours later Dean was rambling on about the V6 engine he'd guiltily swapped out for the original V4- he'd made some ridiculous joke about Sam preferring V8s but he didn't understand the reference. (Apparently it was a beverage?)

Castiel's arms were covered in grease and oil and his new pants would need washing. But when it was over and they closed the hood, he and Dean leaned against the car and each drank a beer; well, he could kind of understand why Dean loved this car so much.

Castiel knew that it was the closest to a home Dean had- not even the actual house Bobby Singer owned in South Dakota could rival the emotional attachment the Winchesters felt to this vehicle.

He felt special, being allowed to "commune" with the elder Winchester by their "home." Only one other object could come close to the Impala as a symbol of their bond. And he'd been allowed that as well.

Castiel's eyes strayed to the amulet around Dean's neck. Resting against his chest where it belonged.

He remembers when Sam got his soul back. The starry-eyed looks in both their eyes. The tight hug they'd shared. The tears neither would admit they'd shed.

Sam had been hesitant in pulling the necklace out, his hands shaking the whole time.

His eyes had shone with hope as he explained that he'd grabbed it out of the trash bin, saving it for when they were OK.

He had continued talking, saying he knew it was about them, about their dad not being there but them being together for each other. How Dean had thrown it because it was useless to Cas and only emphasized how useless Dean felt.

Dean, knocked out of his stupefaction as soon as Sam's voice started squeaking, had ripped the amulet out of Sam's hand and threw it on.

They hadn't mentioned it again, but when he checks on them at night, Castiel often sees Dean clenching it in his fist as he sleeps.

Castiel's next "lesson in humanity" involved music. Dean has insisted Cas ride with them to a hunt about six hours away.

They began with "The Classics"- yes, capital letters and everything. Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Metallica; Castiel is fairly certain Dean played something called Journey and Asia at one point. They had been his favorites, a bit softer than the others.

The beats were good, the lyrics poetic. But combined it wasn't really to his liking.

For the sake of education, Dean "sacrificed" control of the stereo to Sam.

Honestly, Sam's music was a bit more his taste. Bands like Coldplay, Switchfoot; it still had similar beats and lyrics, but it was a little softer still, a little sadder.

They had given up and were once again relinquishing the take deck to Dean when Castiel found a musical group he liked.

"Stop," he said as Dean reached to put in a new tape. The music had what he wanted. That softness with a strong beat and powerful lyrics. Haunting and beautiful. Hopeful and sad. It defined so much.

Sam seemed to pick up on it first, snorting and shooting an amused look over to Dean.

Horror seemed to dawn on his face before a resigned expression settled.

No one said anything when a mix tape of Creed's best songs appeared in the tape box Dean guarded so carefully.

Dean was giving him a lesson on guns when they decided to give movies a try.

Castiel could now dismantle and reassemble a gun flawlessly. He could draw, aim, and load like a pro.

"Hey guys," Sam said, looking up from his laptop, "Jeepers Creepers II is on. Feel like watching?"

Dean shrugged, "Sure. Pizza?"

The movie was…interesting. It had plenty of light and dark symbolism to sift through, a little obscure mythology and mention of Satanic origins. But it was much more entertaining to hear Sam and Dean commentate.

It began pretty simply- the opening statements about 23 years and 23 days and eating.

"Son of a bitch is totally a wendigo." Dean said, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.

Sam snorted, nodding in agreement. "Yep, definitely. So, Dean, since this is a horror movie…shall we?"

Dean grinned "Oh, it's on! Loser pays the winner ten bucks and does laundry next week?"


Both yelled out "the black coach" before glaring and declaring neither gets him.

Dean, reluctantly, said "the nerd," and Sam declared "the main jock."

Both looked expectantly at Castiel with a raised eyebrow. He merely stared back unblinkingly. Dean gave him a "what the hell?" look and Sam looked confused for a bit before asking:

"Dude, who do you think is going to die first?"

Ah, it made sense now. Turning back to the screen, Castiel simply said "The bus driver."

They waited, rolling their eyes and snorting until the bus lost a wheel.

"Shit. That thing is strong."

Castiel watched attentively, ignoring Sam's muttering during the second dream sequence "Doesn't that chick kinda look like Meg?"

If they all childishly threw popcorn and chips at the screen because the blonde girl in the movie vaguely resembled the demon, well, who would know?

When they finally reached it- the moment of the first victim- both Dean and Sam were irritated that their initial choice was the first to go.

So, they waited for the next.

Dean kept muttering that they really shouldn't knock the flare gun- since it was pretty much the only useful thing they had at their disposal.

When the bus driver was the next to go, each brother grudgingly handed over ten bucks each. Castiel considered giving it back, but placed it in Jimmy's wallet. Just in case, of course.

Then Dean began bitching about how "Cas doesn't even have laundry." So they were sticking it out.

When Dean finally "won" and the movie was over, they made quiet gripes.

"Shitty ass movie. Thing wasn't even remotely scary."

"Yeah, I heard the first one was better. Two siblings driving around in an Impala." Sam grinned evilly, "You know, the older one was a girl."

He got a pillow to the face and a "quit being such a bitch, Sammy" for that one.

"Seriously though," Dean said as he brushed his teeth, "only teenagers would be dumb enough to keep looking through that hole in the bus."

Sam snorted from his bedside as he pulled back the covers. "It's true, but it makes for a good looking film. How else are they supposed to justify showing him replace his head?"

The brothers ignored the angel watching them quietly from the couch. He enjoyed the carefree banter that had been so lacking for so long.

He finally stood when both men appeared to be ready to sleep.

"Cas?" Dean asked.

He smiled. "Thank you, Dean. I enjoyed all of my 'lessons.' I will try to remember everything."

It was a lie, of course. He would remember everything regardless of effort.

"It's no big deal," Dean muttered while looked at the ground and scratching at the back of his head. Sam, too, seemed to be shifting nervously.

"I'm glad you had fun, Cas." The younger finally said, a smile on his face.

Castiel nodded and prepared to take flight.

"There's more, you know."

He looked at Dean. "I don't understand." He said, tilting his head and furrowing his brow.

"Bobby makes awesome chili. And movies are really better in theaters." Was all Dean said, green eyes dark and jaw set with determination.

He still didn't get it.

Sam laughed. "I think what Dean is trying to say, is that you should come hang out with us more often."

A quick glance at Dean and back to Sam confirmed it.

"I will." Castiel said before flying away.

Castiel returned to the room the next night. At his request, Sam had returned to Bobby's- taking the Impala with him with a promise from Cas that Dean would make it there safely.

But until then, Castiel had other plans.

Dean had told him he loved him, and he wished to test this truth. And he believed it to be true, despite the copious amount of liquor Dean had consumed that night.

Dean was in his bed, slowly falling asleep. Castiel watched quietly for a moment, remembering Dean's terrible nightmares that he was never quite able to chase away.

He used his "mojo" to remove the clothing items unsuitable for sleeping- wishing to be as quiet as possible.

He slipped into the bed, not surprised when Dean jerked and pointed a gun at him. "Who's there?"

"Hello, Dean." He said, as though that was a sufficient answer to the question. It must have been, because Dean pulled the gun back.

"Cas?" His voice was deeper than usual, and Castiel could feel Dean's heart pounding.

He lay down, and waited. When Dean finally followed suit, Castiel scooted closer and threw an arm around the hunter.

"The movie scared me; I couldn't sleep last night because I was alone." He stated softly against his pillow. He felt nervous again, he hated feeling nervous; but then Dean's tense form relaxed and his arm slipped around and pulled Castiel closer.

"'Couldn't sleep, huh? That's funny; I thought angels didn't sleep, Cas."

Castiel could hear the smug tone of Dean's voice, but simply smiled against him when the arm around him drew him even closer.

"Go to sleep, Dean." He said, closing his eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of Dean's chest.

They never talked about it, not really. It seemed that a silent agreement was made that first night. When Castiel could, he would sleep in Dean's bed with him. But they were at Bobby's now, and Castiel was tired of sneaking in. He enjoyed the evening camaraderie; the slow, easy discussions and shared beers.

And if he is honest he wants to stay, to retreat to Bobby's cozy guestroom with Dean.

He wants Sam and Bobby to know that he and Dean have acknowledged each other as someone special.

He wants to be able to tell Dean he loves him no matter where they are or who they happen to be with.

But Dean has said nothing of the sort since that drunken confession months ago. Still, he had not refused Castiel's presence in his bed- though they had yet to do anything beyond just holding each other.

It's funny, really, how Dean has been the center of all his wants. He was the one who taught him how to want; the one who taught him what want really is.

He's also been the center of most of his anger.

Castiel thought it was bad when he'd beaten Dean in the alley- oh how wrong he'd been.

Sure, then there had been anger and betrayal. But there had been none of this gut-wrenching hurt. Because then it meant having given up everything and betting on a man who had given up on himself

Now? Now it meant standing here thinking that that same man- the man he loved- was ashamed of him.

"Dean, I just want-" He was cut off by a chair being tipped over.

"What do you want, Cas? Hm? Me to hold your hand every goddamn minute of the day? I don't know what you think this" a vague hand motion passes between them "is, but I'd sure as hell like to know."

Castiel's insides quivered. "I would as well, Dean. I assumed your acceptance of me sleeping beside you was your acceptance of your feelings toward me. Was I wrong?"

He watched Dean's eyes widen and his face brighten red. He began sputtering "What? What feelings?"

Castiel couldn't believe it. Dean had no idea. He honestly had no idea he loved him. "Dean, I love you. I…had hoped you felt similarly." He couldn't say it now. Couldn't say he knew Dean loved him. Not when Dean himself didn't know.

Dean stepped back, face fixed firmly in a disapproving look. "Cas, you don't know what love is."

It felt like a slap. He stood straighter, ignoring the hope and the terror and the million other emotions flashing in Dean's eyes.

He ignored them because he needed Dean to reciprocate. He wanted Dean to admit his feelings. He wouldn't be the only one "all in" here.

He vanished, placing himself atop a mountain in India where he could be alone in his anguish.

He may not have wanted much in his existence, but this was something bordering on need and he would not budge.

"You have unheard messages:

-Cas, I know you're mad, but you can't keep ignoring me. Sam and Bobby are starting to ask questions and I honestly don't know what to tell them.-

-Seriously, Cas. You gotta call me back. Just call me and we can talk about this.-

-Please, Cas. I…I miss hanging out with you. Jeepers Creepers was on today and all I could think about was you winning that stupid bet. Then I didn't know if you have enough money or if you even need money where you are. Shit-

-Cas, just let me know you're OK.-

-Cas, hey it's uh, it's Sam. I just wanted to check up and make sure you're doing alright. Dean's about to lose it here. You should call when you have a chance.-

-Alright. I can take a hint. It's been almost two weeks and you still haven't called back. I get it. You deserve better, Castiel, and I'm sorry you think you want me. Have a good life man.-

Castiel gripped his phone tightly in his hand. It had been three weeks since he'd last spoken to either Winchester brother. His phone indicated Dean had called rather obsessively, but left few messages. The last was, indeed, from about a week ago.

The unanswered text messages had filled his inbox.

But he missed them. Like a physical ache missing them throbbed just below the surface.

His phone blazed in the darkness, 2:17 AM.

Taking a deep breath, he flew to Bobby's.

The guest room was dark, the bed cold; but the noises below indicated the Winchesters were, in fact, here.

Dean was here.

So he waited. Sitting on the bed facing the window rather than the door, he pondered what he would say when he faced Dean once again.

He'd been ponding this for three weeks, and was still no closer to a suitable confrontation speech.

When the door creaked open, he heard the footsteps stop. He heard Dean's raspy voice, "Cas?"

Castiel stood and turned to face him. Dean looked tired, dark circles shadowing under his eyes. His eyes were bright, though, filled with longing and trepidation.

He walked around the bed, standing farther away from Dean than he ever had. "Dean, I need you to listen to me and not speak until I'm finished. Can you do that?"

Dean swallowed hard and nodded his head. Castiel moved closer, just within arm's reach.

"I am older than I think you realize, Dean. I have fought wars in Heaven against my fellow Host. I have watched the rise and fall of empires. I saw the creation of some of the most beautiful works of art and ideas and songs.

"And yet all of it, in all their beauty and splendor, has paled in comparison to when I first saw your soul." He gave Dean a hard look when he look about to protest. "Save your embarrassment- It is nothing but the truth. Your soul shone brightly, even in the void of Hell. Pure darkness, Dean, and your soul was capable of breaking it.

"I followed your soul's light, wherever it led me. I followed it to doubt, to rebellion, to death.

"And still you doubt that I know what love is and you doubt that I love you.

"I have loved my brothers, and God, and all of His creations for millennia. But you, and your brother, have stood out. You are my friends."

He reached out, allowing his hand to capture Dean's. When Dean grasped his hand back with surprising force, Castiel continued.

"And you, Dean, are the only one that I realize I can ever truly love. And I want you to accept that you love me, because I know you do."

He ended awkwardly, unsure what there was left to say. Dean seemed determined to never release his hand, and Castiel could only hope he would hold onto him just as tightly.

"Cas-" Dean's voice seemed to break. He cleared his throat, "I don't know how to be…with someone."

Castiel smiled ruefully and stepped closer, "Neither do I."

Dean seemed to be panicking, trying to pull away and move closer at the same time. "I don't know how to get what I want."

Another step. "Until I met you I didn't even know what it meant to want."

"I don't know if I can say what you want me to say."

Another step, they were close together now. Their rising chests were gently pressing together with each breath. "Just once, Dean, that's all I ask."

Dean seemed to break, relaxing against Castiel and wrapping his free arm around him, pulling them together completely. His face was buried in Castiel's hair, his lips gently brushing his ear.

"I love you, Cas. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Castiel smiled and returned the hug. It really didn't matter anymore how long it took to get here.

Two weeks after their talk, Castiel was asked on a date by Dean. He had been confused, not entirely sure why courtship was necessary (Sam had been kind enough to explain the situation to him). He and Dean were together now, each committed to "making it work."

But he allowed Dean to drag him around; first to dinner somewhere that didn't have cheeseburgers on the menu, then to a movie.

Movies still confused Castiel. Sure, he understood what they were and how they worked, but the mindless entertainment didn't really make sense. Dean often quoted other people's words to avoid formulating his own opinions and expressions- but why?

It's not as if most humans don't have the capacity for humor or wit, but they rely on these stories- written and performed by others- to quote and reenact.

But they were in public and Dean's hand was fastened in his and they were both smiling; so Castiel could live with the unoriginality.

It was an action film, loud and dark with random bursts of flames. Castiel ignored the movie in favor of watching Dean's reactions- the subtle widening of his eyes and dilation of his pupils from adrenaline, the way his hand would grip his tighter at the few emotional moments.

About halfway through the movie, Dean released his grip on Castiel's hand, drawing his attention. He wasn't insecure, not exactly, but he had hoped this was the final step before they officially told Bobby. (Sam knew, of course, he had walked in during "nap time" one afternoon. He had simply stared and walked away, offering each of them a beer when they "woke up.")

Perhaps that was not the case?

But then Dean's hand was slowly gliding up his arm, his fingertips brushing gently against his jean-covered legs. He started and his eyes flashed to Dean, who simply met his gaze with a smirk and a firm squeeze to his arm.

Their eyes remained focused on each other as Dean's hand began to move once again. But when it diverted from his arm to his leg, Castiel began to speak.

Only for Dean to press an insisted kiss against his words. Speechless, he sat as Dean whispered in his ear, "Watch the movie, Cas."

Castiel gave a quick nod and faced the screen.

As Dean spoke these words, his hand reached its destination. A thousand thoughts of sins and sullying a vessel flashed through Castiel's mind, and were quickly discarded as Dean's hand slowly rubbed against his confined member.

Castiel's carefully regulated breathing stuttered. An explosion flashed on the screen and filled the theater with sounds of metal crashing and flames roaring.

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch as Dean pressed more firmly against his hardened cock. He tried to watch the movie, but all his focus was on the pressure in his lap.

He inhaled sharply when the cold air of the theater hit his stomach. Dean's hand had stealthily pulled his shirt from his pants, his rough fingers brushing over the soft skin he'd revealed.

He swallowed- hard.

It's not like they hadn't done things. The physical side of the relationship had been fairly immediate- Dean cited one interlude with Meg as a catalyst for "moving quickly." But everything they do has always been in the relative safety and privacy of their nightly stops, and they still had yet to "go all the way."

And this…this was in public. And Dean's hand was methodically stroking.

Castiel was surprised to find his hips moving without his express permission. Since his return to Grace he had never been unable to control his movements.

His hands clenched the armrests as Dean increases his pace. He knew this wouldn't last much longer, Dean had found a rhythm that had him jerking to try and match it.

Castiel turned his head and met Dean's smiling eyes and hoping his own were pleading enough to let Dean have mercy on him. He was about to speak when Dean's free hand- how can he keep calm enough to give him that mocking "keep quiet" signal?

He bit his lip as his hips jerked against Dean's hand, leaving him loose and collapsed in the uncomfortable movie theater chair.

Dean smirked as he raised his hands to his lips, slowly sucking each finger free of Cas' come.

Their eyes never left the others.

When he finally finished, Dean leaned and whispered to Castiel. "Congratulations, you've reached the advanced lessons in human entertainment. Why don't you clean yourself up and we continue this someplace else?"

Castiel blinked, then growled and grabbed Dean's upper arm- purposefully covering his mark- and they were gone.

(They end up buying the film on DVD so they can watch the ending.)

AN: So my roommates and I decided to do a fic exchange for Christmas. My prompt involved Cas watching a movie with Sam and Dean...my slashy heart couldn't keep it PG I guess.

Hope you enjoyed it!