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This was not how Castiel had wanted to reunite with Dean Winchester. In fact, now that he was at that point, Cas wasn't sure he'd wanted to reunite with Dean Winchester at all. Guilt sank heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach and he was still getting used to the intensity of feeling.

He'd thought things were confusing as an angel. Twenty times worse with a human ticker pumping away in his chest.

Still, there wasn't exactly an option of running when the only exit was prowled by the Leviathan just beyond the door, held at bay only by the wards Cas had carved into the wood and accented with blood from the gash clotting on his forearm. He checked the shells in his shotgun (useless), the bowie knife against his thigh (also useless) and finally, finally looked over at Dean, not sure what he was going to see.

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"You should also call your brother."

Cas. Starting a conversation like that is not conducive to rest.

"I'll call him after the Leviathan's dead. No point getting his hopes up."

Cas twitches his fingers towards Dean's duffel. "I meant with your new phone number. So he knows what it is."

Oh. Right. Dean rolls over, reaching across Cas to dig his phone out of the bag before flopping back onto his back and dialing Sam.

The conversation is brief; he doesn't mention the Leviathan, though he confirms that he and Cas are doing fine. He does tell Sam about Cas' skill at poker, though, grinning a little.

"Bobby and Sam say hi." He chucks the phone back into his bag.

"They did?" Cas doesn't mean to sound so surprised, he- Well yeah, Sam he expected, just to be nice, but Bobby? Bobby doesn't do nice. He's too old and to tired for all that nicety bullshit. It's one of the reasons Cas likes him, actually.

To be fair it was more like Sam asked Bobby if he wanted to say hi and Bobby waved him off with a "not now, busy", but that's pretty close to hi for Bobby. That and Dean is lying to make Cas feel better.

"They dropped a Leviathan of their own a couple days back. Got your Grace in a jar." That should be good news, right?

"I hope they didn't look directly at it. It could cause permanent blindness." It's an honest concern but comes out sounding like a joke.

"Sam said they covered it up first, should be fine." It's okay. Dean takes it pretty seriously, jokey or not. He pats Cas' leg. "Soon as we're done with this one, we'll get up their way so you can pick up your spare mojo from storage."

Sounds good to Cas.

He rolls onto his side, then rolls just a bit further so he can rest his hand on the mattress on the other side of Dean's hip, caging him in slightly. "Do you want to keep our activities a secret from Bobby?" Cas considers himself highly insightful for even thinking of it. It took a lot of thinking to bring him to that conclusion, that Dean might prefer Bobby not know.

Dean looks uncomfortable. Dean is uncomfortable. "...Yeah. Yeah, actually, that'd be good." It's not that Dean thinks Bobby would condemn him, exactly, considering how determined Bobby is for Dean to find happiness. But happiness, for Bobby and the Winchesters, doesn't quite mean shacking up with another dude. It especially doesn't mean shacking up with a fallen angel who betrayed all of them.

See, Cas was going to kiss Dean after he answered, but now that he has that expression on his face he stops. "...there's a problem." He doesn't know what it is; just that there is one.

"It's not you." Which just means there is a problem. "I told you, Cas, this is just kind of weird for me."

Dean is supposed to settle down with a nice girl. Have a kid. Enjoy barbecues and working in the yard. Not...make out with an angel in a male body in a motel room in Vegas while hunting things that are trying their damnedest to eat him. That's not happiness.

And yet, Dean's feeling better now than he ever did living with Lisa.

Cas isn't always perceptive when it comes to nuances of human behavior, but he's depressingly good at reading Dean. He has the same look on his face that he had in the Lisa's hospital room, and when he'd walked away, a hand over his mouth, out of the hospital and down to the Impala. Cas had watched him go.

Bringing it up will hurt. It'll dig a knife into a closing wound, peel it open, expose something neither of them want to look at. "I'm sorry," Cas says, and that's all he says.

"Not your fault, Cas." Dean's voice is rough. He reaches up to pull Cas' head down to his shoulder. "Only one thing here was your fault, and you're fixing it. Can't complain."

A lot more things are Castiel's fault than Dean knows, and Cas shakes his head though he doesn't lift it. He grips Dean's sides, strokes a hand over his chest. "I said everything was for you but I was wrong. Everything I did, I did for myself."

"Everyone's allowed to be selfish sometimes, Cas." If only Dean would take his own advice. "You did a lot for me and Sammy. And even the end...it was a bad choice, Cas. But I know why you made it."

Dear God, they're having a conversation. Not for the first time, either. Dean must be sick.

More than a conversation, they're having this conversation. Cas doesn't know why the hell he brought it up either.

"I don't want to be selfish." Cas tilts his chin up so his lips are against Dean's neck as he speaks. "I want everything to be about you again, like it was before. You, Sam and Bobby."

"You don't want to make everything about me, Cas, trust me." Dean is broken and knows it. "My track record with friends and family isn't great. Thought you knew that. Be selfish."

"Then I'll forget about heaven." Cas kisses his neck again, right up to the underside of his jaw. The room feels too warm so Castiel sheds his jacket without stopping. "I'll forget about the other angels, and if Raphael attempts to open the cage, I'll just torch him with holy fire until he stops." It's so, so easy to make bad decisions when his mind can't grasp the enormity of the consequences. Thank goodness for human limitations. "Would that be sufficiently selfish? Throwing away my duties to stay here with you?"

"Cas--" Maybe it's just Dean, but he's got the distinct impression Raphael won't be trying anything of the sort. Even Crowley came right out and announced he was going to keep his cronies out of their hair. ...Dammit, Cas. Dean rucks up his shirt so he can splay a hand over the small of his back. What can he say? He likes Cas' back. "Yeah. That sounds pretty selfish. Go for it."

Good God, but human emotions are strong. Cas doesn't even want to begin deciphering and categorizing everything he's feeling.

Cas swings his leg over so that he's straddling Dean's hips and starts kissing him in earnest. He shoves his hands up beneath Dean's shirt to trace patterns over his ribs, his stomach and chest.

That's okay. Dean can't even begin to decipher what he's feeling. Maybe if he'd ever had a healthy relationship in his life, but he hasn't so he can't.

Dean tries to say something about needing to prep in case the Leviathan shows up, but he can't get a word in edgewise. Not that he's complaining. Or trying to stop Cas. No, he's a little busy trying to get Cas' shirt off so he can manhandle him, stroking his hands down Cas' spine and over his hips. Dean's jeans are just a little big on Cas. Makes it easing to tuck his fingers beneath the waistband.

Cas, ever the soldier first and Castiel second, will point it out even though Dean's hands feel so good on his back. "We should be resting," he whispers against Dean's lips, thumbs flicking over his nipples.

Really. Dean huffs. "You're really gonna say that now?" Let Dean enjoy himself, Cas, don't get him all interested and then blueball him. He kisses Cas, biting at his lip, reaching out blind with one hand to grab at the edge of the blanket and pull it over them both. "Fine. We rest."

Cas pushes Dean's shirt up so he can kiss down to his belly, ducking beneath the blankets. Not thinking about the implications, unaware of the fact that usually when the partner on top does something like that it usually leads to a blow job. He just...does it.

Also he's ignoring his own advice.