That's good, because Cas is just going to take a moment to calm himself down. He drops the towel and ice into the sink before gripping the sides tightly and hanging his head, leaning his weight on his arms.

No. Before, as an angel, what he felt for Dean had transcended the physical; Jimmy's body, while it had needs of its own, had been more a container than his. With Castiel's Grace, it hadn't wanted for anything.

Now, though.

Cas runs the tap and washes his face quickly, not bothering to pat it dry. He closes his eyes, feels the water drip down his neck and wet the collar of his T-shirt, feels it stick his eyelashes together and creep through the scruffy beginnings of a beard on his cheeks, chin and throat. Calm.

Thankful that Dean hadn't tried to press the issue, Castiel emerges from the bathroom. Hopefully Dean is already out, because as Cas removes his boots he decides to take the floor just to be safe and curls up on his side, back tucked up against the side of the mattress.