The Story Teller (Destiel)

4 | Let's Go to the Mall

August 23, Sunday, 11:38pm

For the first time in his life, Dean had a friend stay over. In fact, scrap that. Dean would say they were still just acquaintances. After last night, Dean decided he couldn't just ditch Castiel and find another friend, as originally planned. He guessed it wasn't so bad. For now.

"Should we wake him?" Sam asked, leaning a little towards Dean as the brothers stood side to side in their living room, watching the dude that was asleep on their couch. Dean was about to reply no, as after a night of drinking the last thing you want is to be woken by a stranger, when the guy in question rolled off the couch with a thud.

"Never mind. Heh," Dean chuckled. But of course Sam had left his side to assist Castiel, who was looking about the room rapidly with the same expression he'd had when refusing Becky's hug. This only made Dean laugh more, but he figured he should try and calm him down since he had no idea who Sam was and would maybe shit himself with the fear he'd been kidnapped. So Dean stepped in, where Sam was kneeling beside a fallen Castiel saying a jumble of different things.

"Cas, buddy, don't worry you're just in my house. You're safe here," he assured him. When Castiel met eyes with him, his tense shoulders and rigid posture relaxed, and Dean smiled at him without a second thought. It was nice knowing that the guy felt calmer in his presence. Although a second later his face contorted and he pressed a hand to his head. Oh right. Hangover.

"Hey, Cas, sit on the couch again I'll get you an aspirin and some water," he said quickly.

"No, it's fine. It's fine," Castiel said. Although he did clamber back up to the couch. Dean shrugged and figured that Cas must just be one of those people that are a bit weary taking medicine, but he still grabbed some water bottles from the fridge. He tossed one at Castiel, who caught it easily before placing it carefully on the coffee table in front of him, as if he was worried of it collapsing.

"Cas, I'm serious. I know you've never even touched alcohol before--" Castiel lifted his head, ready to protest, "--don't even lie. I can tell." Dean continued. "You're gonna be dehydrated, okay? Take the damn water,"

Dean watched Castiel as he thought for a moment, his deep blue eyes very contemplating, before he huffed like a child and uncapped the water. Dean smiled triumphantly when he took a swig.

"Isn't that better?" he beamed.

"Don't talk to me like a child," he retorted. Dean held his hands up in surrender, then he sat himself down beside Castiel. He noticed Sam standing by, looking quite on edge as if he was itching to be given something to do. When he caught Dean's eyes, he widened them and flicked them towards Castiel, then back at him.

"Oh. Cas, this is my brother Sammy," Dean said, waving a hand towards his geeky brother. Sam frowned. Dean frowned back. It wasn't often he misread Sammy's Secret Signals.

"No, it's Sam. Don't call me Sammy. Hi though," said Sam, waving at Castiel and offering a friendly smile. Dean shook his head amusedly. Dean had been calling him Sammy since the day he first saw him in that hospital, and he wasn't going to stop any time soon. If anything, he'd do it just to piss him off. Castiel returned the smile, even waving awkwardly.

"Hello, Sam, I'm Castiel," he said gruffly.

"Yeah, he knows," Dean almost laughed as he leaned back on the couch and stretched his arm out over the back of it. "Dude, you don't need to talk like that to us. Just chill out. Chillax. Whatever,"

Sam was beginning to pull out some plates and knives from the cupboards spread about the kitchen. Dean didn't feel like eating, but toast was his go-to hangover food, and he wasn't about to break that tradition. If Castiel thought anything of it, he wasn't showing it.