Dean appreciates Castiel's devotion to the rapid destruction of Dean's liver.

He chugs that beer, too. And a third.

Actually, by the time he's done, between the whiskey at the club and the beer at the motel, Dean is fast approaching intoxicated. It's not too bad. He could still drive. Maybe. If he had to. But he's definitely approaching the threshold of drunk.

He gestures to Cas, crooking his fingers in a beckoning motion. "C'mere."