Dean was drinking when Castiel recovered his equilibrium, although by itself that didn't mean much. Bobby was nowhere to be seen, and the first floor of the house was quiet.

"So," Dean said, pouring himself another glass of reeking liquid. "I guess we need to have a talk."

"That would be sensible," Castiel agreed, eyeing the bottle with detached interest. Maybe one day soon he would be unangelic enough to get drunk.

They sat in silence for a long moment, each staring across the table at the other, but never meeting each others' eyes.

Finally Dean downed the rest of his drink, cleared his throat, and said, "So, um. Cas. Do you have feelings for me?"

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he said simply, and Dean's heart leapt for a split-second before he realized his mistake.

"No, I mean," and here Dean almost choked on his own ineptitude, "I mean romantic feelings."

"Yes."

"Like, sex and dating sort of stuff. Wait, what?"

Castiel gave him a look that fell somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

"I love you," he said, and frowned at the look that crossed Dean's face. "You thought I didn't?"

Dean had no answer to that.

Castiel badly wanted to kiss him again. He reached for him, fingers tracing the line of Dean's collarbone before grabbing a handful of his t-shirt and tugging him forward across the narrow table.

Dean was slower to respond this time, hands resting uselessly on the tabletop as Castiel's lips brushed against his. Sparks of something new and terrifying raced down Castiel's spine, and Dean's hand came up to cup his face, thumb brushing the smooth skin just below his ear. Castiel made a soft noise against his mouth and inexpertly pushed his tongue forward to lick at where Dean's lips were still pressed chastely together.

There was a screech of metal on tile as Dean stood, sending his chair flying backwards. Castiel regarding him with wide, unfocused eyes was a pretty sight, but Dean wasn't made of iron, and a second later he was kissing Castiel again, slipping an arm around to pull his body flush against Dean's own.

Castiel tensed a little at that, hips rolling forward of their own volition. He could feel Dean's body heat through four layers of clothing, and he realized with a sudden disorienting jolt that he wanted to feel it better, bare skin against bare skin. Dean's teeth caught his bottom lip and he made an involuntary, embarrassing sound that might have been a variation on the word "please."

One of Castiel's hands fell tentatively against Dean's side, fingers sneaking up underneath his t-shirt to the trace the line of his ribs.

"Cas," he said faintly, "can I...?" His voice trailed off, but Castiel didn't need to hear the full question in order to agree.

They broke apart for a moment, Dean shucking off Castiel's trench coat and suit jacket while the angel stood there like an obedient kindergartner being helped out of his winter coat. Dean untucked his shirt for good measure, but hesitated over the waistband of Castiel's pants, even though he'd felt Castiel's erection up against him not five seconds ago.

It was worse than high school, Dean thought. Never knowing if they were counting on him to make the first move, or if they were going to turn out to be waiting for marriage or something. What was the opposite of casual sex? Formal sex? Professional sex?

Castiel mercifully derailed this train of thought by undoing his own trousers. Dean, who had never considered navy briefs especially sexy, swallowed hard. There was a dark stain where the head of Cas' cock was pressed against the fabric. Castiel watched him stare, waiting for a response.

"Cas," he breathed faintly, and tucked his thumbs underneath Castiel's waistband, pulling his briefs down slowly over his erection.

Dean stared for a long moment. "Enraptured," Castiel thought hazily. before pulling Dean's soft gym shorts down as well, and tugging him forward to rub their cocks together. They made twin noises of surprise and pleasure, Dean pulling him into a deep kiss; Castiel's hands finding their way to his lower back, fingertips trailing along Dean's spine. They thrust together inelegantly, smearing precum onto each others' skin.

Castiel made a wordless, needy sound deep in his throat, and Dean pulled back for a second, in order to wrap a hand around their cocks, jerking them both together. Castiel gasped and Dean caught it against his mouth, before moving to kiss just below his jawline, suck at the side of his neck, bite his earlobe. Castiel was trembling at each touch now. Dean shoved him two steps back into the refrigerator, and Castiel let his head loll back against it as Dean fisted* their cocks a little faster.

"Nngh," Castiel said, and then, "Dean."

And then he was coming, with a gasp and a flicker of lights and Dean suddenly coming with him, messily onto both their stomachs.

As they regained their senses Castiel was wide-eyed and breathless; disheveled, come-sticky and absolutely the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

He said Dean's name again, very softly.

Dean took a step backwards, pulling free of the hands resting on the small of his back.

"Well," he said, and swallowed. His first instinct was to make a flippant remark, but nothing came to mind.

Castiel's gaze dropped to his stomach, curiously trailing a finger down Dean's sodden t-shirt.

"If he puts that in his mouth..." Dean thought vaguely, and then "Oh sweet jesus, I can't–"

There was a soft, wet sound as Castiel sucked his finger clean. "Can't what?" he asked.

Dean swallowed. "Nothing," he said, pulling his shorts back up. "Um. Let's get cleaned up?" Evidently Cas was still a little out of it, because he just nodded and let Dean lead the way to the bathroom, offering none of his usual polysyllabic observations. Dean didn't look him in the eye the entire time, changing his clothes as quickly as humanly possible and wordlessly thrusting a clean shirt into Castiel's hands.

None of this kept Cas from watching him with something close to wonder, or from following the movements of Dean's hand with his own, as if looking for the right moment to catch a hold of it.

So in the end, Dean did what he always did when someone told him they loved him: he woke his brother up, and fled the state.