"Tom Hiddleston is hot," Castiel says randomly about half an hour later.
"I mean, you're not wrong," Dean says slowly, clearly confused about why he just blurted that out.
"Like, really hot," Castiel says. "Well, he's hot as Loki. In real life he looks like a grandpa."
Dean opens his mouth, then closes it silently. After a pause, he says, "Yeah, he looks hotter as Loki, but I don't think he looks like a —"
"He does," Castiel interrupts. "He really does. It's okay, you can say it. It's just us here."
"No, he really doesn't look like a grandpa," Dean says. "He's only, like, 20 years older than us."
"Yeah, but he still looks like a grandpa."
Dean shakes his head at him. "Okay, Cas. Whatever you say."
"I think I want another beer," Castiel says.
"I thought you didn't like beer," Dean says, confused.
"But I wanna try it again," Castiel says.
"You're probably going to hate it again, but go for it, I guess," Dean says uncertainly.
Castiel stands up, about to head to the fridge, but he stumbles. He quickly slams his hands down on the table, catching himself. "I'm good."
Dean chuckles. "You're drunk, Cas."
"No I'm not," Castiel says. "I'm doing just fine."
"No, you're drunk," Dean says.
"I'm not!" Castiel insists. "You've had more to drink than me, and you're not drunk."
"I've built up a hell of an alcohol tolerance," Dean replies. "You, on the other hand, are very drunk."
"No, I'm not!" Castiel insists. "Now I'm gonna go get another beer."
Dean shakes his head and gestures for him to go. "Okay, go ahead."
Castiel takes his hands off the table, trying to regain his balance. He slowly walks over to the fridge, shuffling his feet across the floor so he doesn't trip over them. He takes the handle and tries to pull the door open, but it has a hell of a magnet and it takes a lot to get it unstuck. Castiel throws his bodyweight backwards, and while the fridge does open, he also flings himself accross the room, landing on his butt.
"Okay, that's an ixnay on the beer," Dean says, walking over and closing the refrigerator door. He reaches down, offering Castiel a hand to his feet.
"I can stand up on my own," Castiel pouts. "I'm not drunk."
He pushes himself to his feet, still crouched on the ground, but that's as far as he gets.
Dean extends his hand again. "Come on, up and at 'em."
Dean pulls Castiel to his feet, wrapping an arm around his body and helping him back to the kitchen table.
"Oh, crap, I never turned the camera off after the shots game," Dean says, rushing over to his phone to stop recording. "Well, this is gonna be fun to rewatch."
"Why?" Castiel asks. "I'm not drunk."
"Trust me, Cas, you're very drunk," Dean replies. "Alright, let's get you to bed."
"It's only 7:55," Castiel whines.
"Cas, sweetie, you wanna try that again?" Dean and with an and smile, using the pet name almost condecendingly.
"What?"
"It's 8:55," Dean says. "And if you were sober, you'd be able to read a clock. Come on, let's go to bed."
"I knew that," Castiel says. "And I'm not tired."
Dean takes Castiel's hand and drags him away, and Castiel lacks the coordination and commitment to stop him, so he reluctantly follows Dean to bed.
"Alright, goodnight," Dean says, pressing a kiss to Castiel's forehead.
Castiel wraps his arms around his fiancé, pulling him close and pressing their lips together. Dean gently pushes him away.
"Cas, sweetie, what are you doing?" Dean asks, amused.
"I wanna have sex."
Dean chuckles. "Wow, you really are drunk, aren't you?"
"No," Castiel says indignantly. "I just wanna have sex."
"No, Cas, you really don't want to have sex, which is how I know you're drunk," Dean says. "Come on, time for bed."
Castiel crosses his arms. "Do you not want to have sex with me?"
"Not when you're drunk, no," Dean says.
"I'm not!" Castiel insists. "I told you I'm not! So, what, you just don't want to have sex with me?"
"Cas, I've made it very clear that that's not true," Dean says. "Come on, let's go to bed."
"If you wanna have sex, let's have sex," Castiel says insistently.
Dean just shakes his head in amusement.
Castiel wraps his arms around him, trying to kiss him again, but Dean turns his face to quickly, and Castiel end up kissing his cheek instead.
"Cas, it's time for bed," Dean says.
"But —"
"If you still want to have sex tomorrow, we can do that," Dean says. "How 'bout that?"
"Promise?" Castiel asks.
"I promise," Dean says. "But right now, I'm tired, so let's go to bed."
As they are down together, Dean adds, "And, for the record, you can't convince me you're not drunk when you're slurring your words like that."
Castiel mumbles in annoyance. "I'm not drunk."