Tell Me When I Was Supposed To Act

 Charlie and Dean were still sitting at the dining table, digging into pizza and guzzling down beer after beer, long after Sam had gone upstairs. After their small hunt together, Dean had meant to show Charlie to the room they had deemed as hers, while he would drink his burdens away alone. Though he rarely cared that people were around while he drank, he hadn't wanted anyone to witness his latest drunken attributes.

"Aw come on Dean, fess up!" Charlie squealed, laughing at herself. Her cheeks were rosy, red hair flaring out, and couldn't keep herself still. She kept swaying back and forth, trying to focus on Dean as she also tried to keep with the amount of alcohol he consumed.

He stared at her, certainly more self-aware than she was at the moment. When he realized that she wouldn't leave him alone, he had come up with the brilliant idea to make her match him drink for drink, knowing he had the higher tolerance. Hopefully, she would drink herself stupid before his own stupid antics came into play.

Unfortunately, the more she drank the feistier she got, and the more adamant she became about getting the answers she wanted. As her stubbornness increased, Dean's resolve was gradually weakening, and he knew he no longer stood a chance at resisting giving her what she wanted. Still, he wasn't giving up without a fight.

"Fess up about what?" He growled playfully.

She laughed even louder. Apparently, she had confessed earlier that day, she thought it was adorable when he got all tough and sharp-edges, knowing he meant none of it towards her. "You know. Dreamy Cas."

"Stop calling him that."

"That's what the books calls him."

"Yea right."

"No seriously," she reached out to place her palm on his shoulder in a sisterly manner, attempting a serious expression. "I know Dean. Everyone who reads the books knows." She hiccupped. "Hell, anyone who has seen the two of together knows."

He rose an eyebrow at her statement. "You haven't seen us together. You haven't seen him at all."

"But I know."

He sighed. Her eyes were so huge, so filled with desire for a response, while the rest of her fought against the urge to sleep away the blurry senses the alcohol was causing. "And what more do you want to know?" This time he actually did growl out his response, and not necessarily playfully. He didn't want to scare her, or push her away, but he really didn't want to talk about it, and he was hoping for one last out.

As expected, though, Charlie was resilient, and she the feral undertones of his question didn't faze her at all. "Why haven't you acted on it yet?"

He almost felt like asking, "Acted on what?" To keep on playing dumb. To keep pushing away the subject until everyone got it through their thick skulls that it just wasn't happening. That no matter what he said nothing would change, so why were they so hell bent on him talking about it?

But it was late, and he was drunk, and he was on the verge of breaking into his new habit gained from excessive drinking and excessive stress.

It wasn't like it was secret anyways, as much as Dean wanted to pretend it was. Like Charlie said, everyone knew. Everyone could see the way Dean and Cas looked at one another. Everyone could see how protective they were of each other, not only of their physical health, but also concerning everything else. They could see how much Dean had changed Cas, and how much Cas had changed Dean. It was obvious they had something that went far beyond a "profound bond".

"You've read the books. You've heard us talk. You tell me, when exactly was I supposed to act on something?"

This sobered Charlie slightly, enough for her to lean back and stare deep into bottle-glass, green eyes. "What do you mean?"