Chapter Text
The first time isn’t Dean’s idea. Okay, so he bought the three six packs of beer and the two bottles of tequila (seriously it’s the only thing that gets Cas drunk) but it was Sam who drunkenly suggested they play the damn game at friggin two in the morning, all of them high off alcohol and adrenaline from the vampire hunt they’d just come back from; not ready to sleep just yet.
“What’s truth or dare?” Cas asks immediately, as soon as Sam lurches into the room declaring they should play it, a brilliant grin on his lips, his hair mussed and cheeks rouged.
Unfortunately, in his drunken state, Dean has little to no resistance to the idea, and you know how it is – it all seems like a marvellous idea at the time. So he flings his arm around Cas’s trenchcoated shoulders, both of them sat on the floor of the motel room for reasons he can’t remember, slumped against the foot of his bed.
“It’s a game! An awesome game, you’ll like it a lot I swear. C’mon.” Dean replies, staring Cas right in his soulful eyes, possibly a touch too far into the precious ‘personal space’ he’s already made such a big stink about, but who cares? He turns and beckons to Sam, gesturing with his hand to try and convey the message ‘bring the alcohol’.
Sam understands – somehow he understands – and grabs the tequila along with one of the six packs of beer before slumping to the floor in front of them both. Dean unwinds his hand from Cas, only realising it’s still there when he feels the Angel fidget slightly.
“What are the rules?” Cas asks warily, taking the half empty bottle of tequila from Dean’s hands with trepidation.
“Oh it’s reeeal simple Cas,” Sam says enthusiastically, wrestling with the cardboard locking the beer necks in place, because everything is that much harder when you’re tipsy and your fingers seem weak and fumbly, “we’ll take it in turns, ask each other truth or dare.”
“An’ if you pick truth,” Dean continues, leaning forwards and digging out his pocket knife to jimmy two beers out because he doesn’t fuck around, “we ask you a question, you gotta tell the truth.”
“And if I don’t?”
Dean’s eyebrows shoot skywards and he glances at Cas, watching him sip from the bottle in his hands, his face deadly serious. Dean turns to Sam, amused.
“Forefeit.” They declare together, grinning mischievously.
“I see. And what about the dare option?”
“We get to dare you to do something, and you gotta do it no matter what.” Dean replies, turning to face Cas again and leaning back against the bed. He twists the cap of his beer easily and throws it before taking a long gulp, his eyes never leaving Cas’s. This is going to be awesome, he can tell. An Angel of the Lord playing truth or dare with the mud monkeys for the first time? Brilliant. “No chickening out on me now Cas, you’ll do what I dare you, won’t you?”
Cas stares back for a long time, his slender fingers stroking slowly up and down the neck of the tequila bottle. He appears to be studying Dean’s face, trying to suss his motives, but Dean’s careful to keep his expression neutral despite the drink, avoiding those narrowed cobalt eyes. If Cas figures out that he’s planning on messing with him a little, the game is up.
The Angel nods minutely, and takes another sip. Sam coughs suddenly, and Dean realises he’s been in a staring match with Cas for what feels like at least a minute. “Sorry.” He mutters, turning so he’s more evenly facing both other people in the room, and then he grins, bringing his beer to his lips. “Let’s play.”
“Okay Cas, seeing as it’s your first time, it’s only fair we start with you.” Sam says, smiling broadly as the angel looks mildly fearful. “Truth or dare?”
Dean shivers with excitement, whirling to face Cas immediately. He’s practically clapping his hands with glee.
“Um, dare.”
Dean has to admit, he’s a little shocked by that one. Most people have to be significantly more loosened up before they choose ‘dare’, and he gapes a little in surprise.
“Alright! Good man, Cas. Dean? Shall we confer?” Sam is saying, and Dean tears his eyes away to look at his brother. “Or did you have something…” Sam smirks, averting his eyes as he takes a gulp of beer. “…in mind?”
Dean thinks for a moment, his mind running a mile a minute with the thousand things he could have Cas do at this moment with the right phrasing. It brings a flush to his cheeks to hold this much power over the Angel, even if technically, technically he could still refuse…
Angel. How often do he and Sam have an Angel to play this game with?
“I dare you,” Dean begins, and as he drains the last of his beer he notices Sam looking a little put out, as if he wanted to be part of the decision making process on this one, “to fly and get me an English ale, brewed in the heart of… some English place up North I don’t know. Proper English though, none of this imported crap.”
Castiel looks a little relieved when he hears Dean’s request, and it annoys Dean a tad. Meh, he started off easy; let Cas think it’s all simple flights to good old Great Britain, later he’ll see what’s really in store.
Cas glances at Sam, who shrugs and nods vaguely, gesturing at him to go for it.
“Hold my tequila.” Cas says, low and demanding, shoving the half empty bottle into Dean’s free hand, and then he’s gone. There’s a few moments wherein Dean’s too drunk and too surprised to do more than turn blearily towards Sam, exchanging a look of bewilderment, and then there’s a flutter of wings, and Cas is back by his side. Except this time he holds a tankard of frothy liquid in his hand.
“Holy hell, that was awesome!” Dean exclaims, grinning as he exchanges the ale for the tequila, letting his empty beer bottle drop to the floor. He takes a sip, not caring that his nose dips straight into the head. It’s cold and pure and bitter, definitely authentic. “Well played, Cas.”
Dean grins at Castiel, catching one of those rare slight-smiles on his lips, and then flushing as Sam starts laughing at his beer moustache.
“Truth or dare, Sam!” Dean exclaims angrily, wiping his upper lip with his sleeve. The ale is strong, he can feel it, it’s making him a little dizzy already.
Sam barely even contemplates the question before shouting “truth!” and manoeuvring himself into a laying down position on his side.
“See what we have here Cas, is a sissy girl.” Dean says conspiratorially, leaning towards the Angel and winking, which he regrets doing two seconds later. “Alright, alright,” he cries in response to Sam’s bitchface, “truth it is. Have you ever had a lap dance?”
The pink staining Sam’s cheeks spreads across his entire face and he directs his gaze into his beer bottle before he takes a swig. Dean just grins, loving that he made his brother so uncomfortable so fast.
“Um,” Sam begins, his fingers playing absently with the label on his bottle, “once, yeah.”
“Oh?” Dean asks, mock innocence in his voice. Sam glares.
“Actually,” he says, his face tilting as he thinks about it, “no, twice.”
Dean nods, a little impressed he must say. His brother’s got a kinkier side to him it would seem. “Who?”
Sam’s back to flushing now, and he darts a look at Cas, maybe in the hope that the Angel will save him from this torturous interrogation. Cas actually smiles, as if he’s enjoying himself thoroughly, and Dean’s never been more proud.
“Um. Well, back in college, Jess…” Sam says, and Dean’s jaw drops open. Jess?! He knew that girl looked like she was into some naughty stuff. Sam sees Dean’s reaction and rolls his eyes, giving his third bitchface of the evening, and yes, Dean is counting. “We were drunk, okay? She was- never mind.”
He downs the rest of his beer and rips another one out of the pack, scowling slightly, still flushed.
“Who was the second?” Dean presses, gulping down some more ale because it’s gorgeous stuff truly, like liquid velvet.
Sam sighs and runs a huge hand through his hair. “Ruby, okay? Ruby.”
Dean doesn’t even bother suppressing the shudder that runs through him at the sound of that bitch’s name on his brother’s lips. Vile, disgusting, treacherous Demon. But… Dean has to admit she was hot. Both times. So it makes sense that she would be the one to give Sammy a lap dance, but still. It doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“Really Sam? Good Lord.” Is Dean’s only response, and he opts for snatching the tequila out of Cas’s hands, taking a gulp of that instead. It burns on the way down but at least it’s a nice distraction.
“C’mon, was I really gonna stop her giving me a lap dance?” Sam protests feebly, but senses his turn is over by now. Dean’s stomach flips; this means it’s his turn.
“What is a lap dance exactly?” Castiel pipes up before Sam can spit out the ultimate question. His head is tilted in that way of his as he asks, his hand reaching slowly to prise the tequila back out of Dean’s unresisting grip, keeping his gaze fixed on Sam.
Sam can’t help it, he dissolves into laughter, dragging Dean along with him. “Dude. Oh man, you haven’t lived at all have you? All those years under your belt and you’ve never had a lap dance?”
Dean stops laughing abruptly, draining his ale and grabbing another bottle. “Okay, that’s enough, leave him alone.” Sam’s eyebrows lift but he says nothing. Cas looks vaguely disappointed that he didn’t receive an answer. “C’mon, my turn, I pick,” he turns to Castiel, leaning in towards him and smirking as they lock eyes, meaning to be dramatic but probably only coming off as predatory, “dare.”
As soon as the word leaves his lips he feels it’s a mistake; he really only said it to prove he was as much of a man as Cas himself, but the minute he hears Sam’s delighted chuckle, he knows he’s for it. He leans away from Cas, but not too far; for some reason he likes the feel of him being so close right now, though it’s almost definitely not helping him in the current situation, what with Sam’s dirty mind.
“Oh Dean.” Sam giggles, shaking his head sympathetically at his brother. “Did you forget that you should never underestimate me?” Sam laughs, loud and deep in the messy room. He sits up a little, holding his beer out towards the two of them and grinning. “I dare you to give Cas a lap dance. Show him what it’s all about.”
Cas starts at that, eyes wide, and he lets out a squeak of protest – surely a result of the tequila, because he’s never made that sound before. Dean just closes his eyes slowly, a deep loathing for his brother’s twisted little brain filling him up, and a bead of cold sweat runs down his neck.
His eyes flick open; Sam is watching with animated interest, his eyes darting between him and Cas as he takes hurried sips of beer. Dean turns to the Angel in question slowly, not wanting to freak him out, though it’s possibly a little late for that. At least he doesn’t exactly know what a lap dance entails – perhaps he thinks it could be something entirely innocent?
Dean has apparently forgotten that though ignorant, Angels are not stupid.
Cas looks petrified, the same look on his face as when Dean dragged him into that bar all that time ago, back when Cas had declared his probable demise with a nonchalant shrug, and Dean had been so shocked it had left him a little dizzy, and suddenly hookers seemed like a real good idea. “Can’t do it, Sammy.” Dean finds himself saying, not breaking his stare with Cas. “Cas is too innocent, y’know? It’d be like tarnishing a shiny new apple.”
A delicious apple at that, says Dean’s mind without permission, his eyes training themselves on Cas’s full pink lips.
“What?! Oh come on, you’re not serious! It’s just a lap dance!”
Cas looks so relieved at Dean’s refusal that Dean himself is stuck between feeling hurt and being happy that he took the fear out of Cas’s eyes. “Nah, I forfeit. Sorry Cas, guess you’ll have to wait to find out that particular one of life’s delicacies.”
“Okay… well, you know you have to do the forfeit right?” Sam asks, a glint in his eye that Dean already despises. He sighs nonetheless, looking over at his brother and nodding. “Right. Then your forfeit is to kiss him. Kiss Cas. And before you protest, that’s nowhere near as bad, and I bet you he doesn’t mind you being his first – right Cas?”
Dean’s almost too stunned to move, but he has to know Cas’s answer to that question, so he whirls to face him, face flushed and eyes wide. “Cas, you don’t have to-”
“I… don’t think I…”
Relief cascades through Dean’s body, because that’s undoubtedly the start of a tentative ‘thanks but no thanks’ surely to God. Dean turns to Sammy, jabbing a finger at him and getting ready to rip him a new one for making things so unbelievably awkward not ten minutes into the game.
“Ya see? He’s perfectly happy as a pure, chaste, feathery little-”
“I don’t think I would mind.”
Sam lets out a whoop of pure joy at that, exactly the same time as Dean feels his body freezing up on him. “You sure Cas? At least you know you’re getting someone with experience.”
“Oh my god Sam, you are not surviving this game.” Dean hisses at his brother, and slowly, reluctantly, he turns to the Angel, soaking up his slightly wary, hesitant expression.
“Yes… exactly. And if that is the dare, well, Dean is my friend. I think I can tolerate kissing him.”
Dean scoffs at that, unable to help his defences rearing up a tad because he’s a little inebriated, and hey, it’s not like he brags about a lot – but he’s a damn good kisser! “Wow, that’s a ringing endorsement there, Cas.” Dean says, ripping another beer out of the pack and twisting the cap off quickly. “You shouldn’t kiss someone just cause they’re tolerable though, and don’t listen to Sam, this is just a stupid game, you can do whatever you want.”
Dean can’t fathom why his heart is beating so fast right now, just like he has no comprehension of why his eyes keep gluing themselves to Cas’s lips. The lips he may or may not have to kiss quite soon. Hmm.
“But I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to ‘chicken out’?” Cas says, his eyebrows lifting as he brings the tequila to his lips. When he lowers the bottle it almost looks like he’s smiling a little. Dean doesn’t really have an answer for that one. He shrugs, not wanting to look at Sam, but doing so anyway and getting an eyeful of smug, extremely punchable little brother. “Regardless, it would be much better to experience my… ‘first kiss’, the thing that seems so significant to you humans, with a friend – wouldn’t you say? As opposed to a stranger, or worse, kissing nobody at all before my inevitable demise.”
“Mmhmm, uh huh, quite right Cas.” Sam is saying solemnly out of nowhere, a smirk in his voice that probably only Dean can hear, and Dean grits his teeth, chugging more beer. “And you don’t mind that Dean is… well, a guy?”
“Why would I care about that? I am a celestial being, I have no gender preference, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
Sam shrugs, just brimming with glee, the bastard. “Seems pretty legit to me. Pucker up Dean.”
Dean glares again, his blood thrumming through his veins as he realises yes, this is actually happening. He takes a long swig of his fine ale, hoping Cas likes the taste too – yep, that’s a thought that just ran through his brain – and turns to the Angel beside him.
“Okay.” Dean says as firmly as he can, shaking himself all over, preparing. “We can do this. I’m cool, you’re cool, we’re gonna… gonna… we can do this.”
“Yeah Dean!” Sam calls from behind him. “I believe in you!”
Cas tilts his head a little, confused by Dean psyching himself up. “Whenever you’re ready Dean.”
Cas sets down his tequila bottle and places his hands in his folded lap. The damn guy goes and closes his eyes too, making everything that much more real, and Dean nearly pees himself with nerves or excitement or… y’know, the fact he’s had three beers and not been to the bathroom yet.
Dean decides to just do it, never mind that Cas is his best friend and it’s all super weird, and they’re drunk and they’ll probably regret it tomorr-
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Sam yells after about a minute of Dean doing nothing, and before he knows it, Dean is being shoved brutally forwards, straight into Castiel, who promptly falls backwards onto the floor, Dean on top of him.
Castiel’s eyes open in shock, and then even wider as he sees how close Dean’s face is to his own. Dean can’t help it, he smiles at the Angel’s confusion, remembering why he likes this guy in the first place. He dips his head, and their lips are fused, soft skin against softer skin, stubble scraping a little, but not in an unpleasant way. As expected, Cas seems a bit unsure what to do at first, so Dean coaxes him into it, pushing gently at his bottom lip, and eventually flicking his tongue against the supple, chapped flesh.
It’s a surprise, not a bad one either, when Cas decides to explore on his own, letting his own tongue sweep over Dean’s, eventually twining and venturing across the landscape of Dean’s mouth. Dean is lost in sensation; everything is warm, wet, sweet like rainwater. Cas is beneath him, his hands are twisting in his Angel’s coat lapels, Cas’s hands are on his shoulders, smoothing over his back, running up and down his arms.
A terrible noise breaks Dean out of his other-worldly experience, sending him crashing back to the physical plane with alarming speed. His lips leave Cas’s, and their eyes meet briefly, both in awe of what just occurred, before Dean sits up, reddening, remembering the situation.
The source of the noise it clear all too soon; Sam is crashed out on the floor, beer bottle clutched to his chest like a teddy, his mouth open and emitting harrowing snores that must surely be akin to those of a Wendigo or worse.
The giant idiot had apparently gotten bored waiting for them to finish and promptly fallen comatose.
“It appears the game has been cut short.” Castiel states, sitting up dazedly, his hair in slight disarray.
Dean nods, avoiding Cas’s eyes but chuckling. He genuinely can't decide whether that's a good or a bad thing.