Disclaimer: I own nada.

Okay, this is the most mushiest, most not-well-written thing ever, but I don't care. It's far from my best work. Definitely far. But oh, well. Here it is! Possibly, slightly, sorta, kinda ooc. Pretty much pwp.


It took a moment for Castiel to regain enough mental clarity to register his bearings, to actually know where he was. This was Gabriel's doing. He stumbled and blinked rapidly to control his swirling vision, wings clumsily folding in. Dizziness plagued him from the flight in. Or rather the push in.

"Well? Go on! Have at him, Cassie! You're supposed to wake the conked out princess with a kiss!"

"Gabriel... Dean is not a female sovereign."

"Oh, and you're well aware of that, aren't you?" Wiggly eyebrows. A suggestion.

Confusion. "...what?"

"Just give in to your naughty libido! I know it's whispering to you!" A wink. "He needs it, don'tcha think?"

"Fine. But what is the means of this item?" Rustling.

"Oh, jeez, really?" An impatient forebearing sigh. "Just wear it, silly. Dean will get the pun."

"What does it have to do with a pun?"

"Go already! Hype it up!"

The push Gabriel drove at him was so staggering, Castiel nearly became lost in a disjointed flickering of his own wings, the blurred colors and lights, the sensation of sudden flight. It was complete disorientation that crippled him, even now as he was on a solid plane.

He blinked. Mountains upon mountains of books. Dust motes. A cluttered accumalation of a hunter's long, hard life.

Bobby's house.

A soft tide of voices rose and fell around him, swelling rythmically and lapsing back as a wave recedes. Ever-familiar voices, always a pleasure to his ears. He could pick them out of any conversation.

"Bobby, how is he?" A concerned, wary voice. Sam.

"Ah, hell, boy. You know's well as I do, Dean's been through scratches worse than this. A damn good alcohol spree ain't gonna kill 'im." Bobby. A gruff, reasoning voice.

"Zzzzzzzz." And Adam. But the child wasn't contributing at all to the conversation.

"Why's he doing it, though?" The sound of a fretting man biting into his fingernails caused Castiel to cringe. Ah, Adam's typical stress-induced habit. Sam must've picked it up from him.

Bobby didn't reply, and the long interval of silence was like an invitation for Castiel to go ahead and herald his arrival. Hello! I'm here to drag a stubborn Dean out of his depression, whether he's willing to permit me or no!

Castiel fidgeted in hesitation. A gloom was presenting itself to the room. Already, he was rueing this decision.

"Take a chance, baby bro! He's gonna love you!" Gabriel's voice reverberated in his head.

The nervous angel straightened himself, operating a clumsy dexterity to smooth his windblown clothing. I hope you're right, brother. He inhaled, then shattered the silence with an explosive exhalation.

The silence that followed after was almost deafening and the tension was palpable. The clicking sound of a gun being cocked. Finally, a voice. "...Hello?" Sam's size twelves clomped into the library where the angel was standing, rim rod straight. The middle Winchester recoiled at the sight of him, dropping his gun to his side, blue-green eyes blinking quizzically. "...Cas?"

"Hello, Sam," the angel greeted him. "Bobby," he tacked on when the elder hunter appeared, his gun falling limp as well. "Where can I find Dean?"

"Um..." Sam, eyes held captive by the thing around Castiel's neck, hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "He's... sleeping off a bender in the guest room. Hey, Cas?" He querried imediately, scratching the side of his head with the barrel of his gun. "What is that?"

"Thank you," the angel immediately freak-flashed out of there, not bothering to answer the most dreaded question.

Unfortunately, his equilibrium was still off as he appeared in the room Dean was in. He landed on Dean, much to his dismay, straddling the hunter's hips. Wind whipped the bed-ridden hunter's hair about as the angel folded his wings. Castiel frowned as his vision finally settled. Dean's face was contorted, rugged, unshaven and he bucked his hips in a restless, fitful way as he tried to turn over.

Uncomfortable, or way too comfortable, Castiel went to scoot off of his sleeping charge when Dean's hand struck out and grabbed his arm, fingers bruising the angel's vessel. The hunter sat up, alert, other hand flicking out to press a blade to Castiel's throat. The angel stilled instantly.

Of course, realization then sparked to life in Dean's eyes. "Shit... Cas?" The bitter tang of liqour dressed his breath.

Wide-eyed, the angel replied, "Hello, Dean." He swallowed a phantom lump in his throat. Silence confined them.

This idea was reckless. Gabriel, you imp!

"What're you..." Dean shook his head, dropping the knife and relinquishing Castiel's arm. He squinted in the dimly lit establishment, dragging a hand over his weary face. "Dude, what up with the blueberry getup?" Or, hey, why are you on top of me? is what his tone and expression seemed to convey.

Castiel frowned acutely as he looked down and plucked idly at the lei, a wreath of blue flowers around his neck. "I understand it's a series of objects strung together with the intent of being worn. A Hawaiian tradition," he denoted the obvious, feeling flushed with... some emotion.

"Oh, yeah, feather boy?" Dean's eyebrows skyrocketed as he hooked a pinky through the garland. "Huh, imagine that." He rolled his eyes. "I know what a lei is, Cas."

"Did you get it?" the angel inquired, cocking his head to the side.

The hunter was already itching to shove the angel off of him, irritation biting him. He sighed tiredly, blowing out a puff of that retched aquavitae into the air. "Get what, Cas?" Before the idea was fully born, Dean gave up on pushing Cas off- the angel was strictly not moving- and simply fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Whatever, this action seemed to say.

"The pun, of course."

One bloodshot eye squinted open, "Heh?" Attention snared.

"The, um, pun. The..." Castiel fretted his bottom lip between his teeth, beginning to lose confidence as he trailed an unpracticed hand up the exposed flesh of Dean's thigh.

Dean's eyes widened as he jolted forward into a sitting position, hands clenching into the fabric of the bedsheet. His mouth fell open, dry for words. He just stared at Castiel stupidly.

"In the words of my bother, Dean," Castiel took off the lei and coaxed it delicately over Dean's head and around his neck, fingers brushing ghost-like over the hollow of his throat. Dean shivered. Castiel made sure to get the words right, "you're getting... 'lei'd', tonight."

Dean blinked.


Dean blinked again.


Castiel was about to smite that damned clock.

Alas, he couldn't take the rejection any more. Castiel blinked, frowned, and slumped a bit in disappointment. "Perhaps, I said it wrong..." he was inclined to move but then the best thing happened before he could.

The slightly innebriated hunter's eyes glowed with anamor, and then crinkled before he doubled over, roaring with laughter. His head collided with the angel's shoulder, sliding into the crook of his neck, his shoulders heaving beneath the force of the breathless cackling. Callused fingers dug into Castiel's trench coat as Dean clung to him, tears moistening the angel's flesh.

The angel allowed himself a small smile at the warmth, the warmth that'd been dorment for so long. The laughter, that beautitude from Dean was... amazing. He held the hunter back.

Finally, the laughter ran its course and Dean slapped Castiel's back as he leaned away and stared up mirthfully into the angel's blue eyes. "God, what would I do without you?"

Castiel gave a patented head-tilt, one that particularly enchanted Dean, and smiled. "Was that a... consent?"

Grinning, Dean swooped forward and captured the angel's lips with his own. He twisted and had the angel on his back within seconds.


His long neck flexed sinuously as he arched his back and mewled against Dean. The hunter's butter-silk fingertips ghosted against his poreclain-alabastor skin, dragging currents of pleasurable flames down his trembling frame. "Dean-"

Dean crawled up his body gradually placing open-mouth kisses on every inch of exposed flesh, fingers teasing him to an overloading, quivering mess. "I love you," he told him between the kisses. "I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over.

Tender, caring, affectionate, passionate LOVE.

This is what Castiel's been waiting for the whole day. To prove them wrong.

Dean was a live wire. He wasn't cold. He wasn't lost. He just needed... a reminder that things could look up again.

Castiel had perfected that mission.

"I love you too, Dean." More than anything, he loved the feel of those words on his lips, the taste on his tongue, and the pleasant ache in his heart.


"Well, that was... something," Dean chuckled. He stretched nimbly and lay back, closing his eyes, basking in the euphoric touch of his angel. Castiel moved away as he eyed Dean's flexing pectorals, ignoring the stimulation the sight stirred.

"Dean?" His voice quivered a bit. He started reclothing himself to keep his eyes from meeting Dean's. They were collecting an obscene amount of water.

"Hm?" came the muffled reply.

After re-cladding in his boxers, dress shirt, with that askew blue tie dangling over his shoulder- it was appropriate enough- , he rested his head on his corded arm and lay down next to the relaxed hunter. "Do you regret me?"

Dean's eyes snapped open and he sat up to look down at the angel in horror. "I...WHAT?" He launched into a double speed litany of "What the fuck, Cas?" and others of the like.

All the while, the angel kept his eyes cast down and played with the cotton lints of the comforter beneath them. When well Dean's rant was out and spent, Dean tugged daintily on Castiel's chin until the angel was staring up at him, submissive, wounded. He nearly drowned in the poor angel's throes of fear. Rejection. The hallowed harp-strumming bad ass of a nerd angel was afraid of rejection. Not just any rejection.

Dean's rejection.

"Are you serious, Cas?"

Castiel forced a smile and shrugged. The smile was barren of amusement, one meloncholic inverted crescent of sadness that nearly broke the tough hunter's heart. Dean had seen death, monsters, horrible bloody ohmygod-things but this look here... well, it took the cake. It was the scarriest fucking thing to ever cross his sight, and he'd be damned... again, if he'd ever have to see it again. "You look at me, Cas."

Cas looked away.


The angel flinched and peered up at him, wide eyed. It was rarely ever an occurence that Dean didn't use the diminutive of his name. Using his full name was like a command, he was bound to obey.

"I love you, you moron. Say you love me too," Dean's lips quirked up into a smile as he let his fingers stroke the smooth skin of his angel. "No matter how girly I sound right now, I have to know: Do you?"

"Beloved, more than anything," Castiel nodded eagerly.

Dean chuckled, regarding him with a look of incredulity. "Good. Jeezum, what the hell brought that on?"

Castiel shrugged and graced his love with a real, genuine smile. "I just... needed to be sure."

"A wise man once said... when in doubt, eat cookies."

"Dean, what does that have to do with anything?" The angel inquired, flabbergasted, staving off a laugh.

"It doesn't, I'm hungry," Dean replied with a chuckle, feeling the sensation of pliant lips on his forehead. He groaned as he sank back in the arms of his angel. "Then again, I already have my angel food cake."

"Dean, even I know that's corny."

"You just haaad to ruin it."


"Uh...Dean?" Sam stiffled a laugh, biting into his fingernail as he eyed his disheveled brother and said brother's angel.

Cookie divots sprayed from Dean's mouth as he muttered, "Hm?" , obliviously inoccent, as if he wasn't half-naked with a stringy band of blue flowers hanging...

Sam waited until Dean caught his eyes and then looked down and up again repeatedly in rapid succesion.

Dean examined his own midriff. "Huh...how'd that get there?" The garland of bright blue petals was wrapped half-hazardly around his waist. "Huh..." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shared a secret smile with Castiel. The angel was leaning against the kitchen table, chewing a cookie timidly.

"Al...righty then," Sam arched a quizical brow, but let it be. Whatever had happened, he was just glad Dean was in good spirits again. "Spare me the gory details, just..." Alright, just no. No. Sam could not ever let Dean live this moment down. Of course, he started giggling, flailing all over the place, laughing so hard, he nearly cried, swearing to God that for the rest of his life, he'd lurk around with a video camera to catch something as equally amusing as this, just so he'd have the evidence.

Glaring, Dean flung a cookie at Sam's head. The cookie bounced off of his head with a chocolate chip flourishing thunk! Sam immediately sobered. "Bitch!"


"Idjits! Clean up the damn kitchen!" Bobby's voice bellowed from somewhere in the house and synchopatedly, Sam and Dean hung their heads.

"Sorry, Bobby," the chorused.

"Oh, Sam," Castiel suddenly recalled. He snapped his fingers and materialized a PINK lei around the tall, gangly hunter's neck. "Gabriel says he's waiting. He says you're next." Back to nibbling his cookie, the angel went, oblivious as usual.

"Oh, that's classic!" Dean cackled triumphantly as Sam reddened maddeningly. "Oh-ho! Look at Sammy blush!"

"Shut up!" Sam grumbled.

"You look good in pink, Samantha!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Bite me entirely, dude."

"Not if Gabe bites you first!"


"Hey, what's-" Adam froze in the doorway. He took one look at their flower decor and pivoted on his heel, returning back to the sofa where he'd been catnapping. "Nevermind..."

Review? Maybe? Even though it's sucky...ish? Please? Cookie? Lei? Okay, I'll shut up now.