Drunken Valentine - A Supernatural Oneshot

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Dean gritted his teeth as the familiar sound of an empty glass hitting a table rang through the empty apartment. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his dirty blonde hair and letting out a long sigh. What a way to spend his Valentine's Day. Although, there wasn't really any other way to spend it besides banging drunk college girls he picked up at some bar.

5 years ago, he would have been spending his night having a romantic dinner with... with Castiel. Dean groaned. He couldn't even bear to think his name without feeling like he had just been punched in the gut. To get his mind off of the idea, he thought more liquor would help. He stood shakily and made his way to the kitchen.

He didn't quite make it to the liquor cabinet, though. He stumbled into the kitchen island and nearly fell, but caught himself on the marbletop counter. He pulled himself up and leaned against the counter heavily. And, for the first time in God knows how many years, a tear fell from his eye.

One turned into two, and soon enough, he was a sniffling, sobbing, hiccupping mess. God, what was wrong with him? Why couldn't he get those perfect baby blues out of his head? Or the way that stubble felt on his neck, the way his breathing slowed down as he slept, and how he laughed when Dean stuck a spoon to his nose and made a funny face. Why did it ever have to end?

It was because he was a selfish asshole. It was all ruined because Dean only wanted him for bragging rights. At least, that's what Castiel had said when he was screaming at him and packing his bags. And how he was constantly drinking, and how he spent more time with Sam than with him. Dean had tried to explain, but he just wouldn't listen. The last thing he saw before he left were his eyes- sparkling with tears as he said 'goodbye' through gritted teeth.

That was 5 years ago. Dean still couldn't cope. He really, truly did care for him... but it was too late. He had tried everything. Texting, calling, email. He even showed up at his apartment building in the middle of the night. Nothing was good enough. He was gone. Last he heard, he had found someone else.

He growled and pushed himself off of the counter. He didn't give a shit. He could care less about what Castiel was doing now. He pulled his friend Jack Daniels off of the pantry shelf and slid down to sit against the counter.

"Happy motherfucking Valentine's Day," he grumbled, twisting the cap off of the bottle and taking a long drink.

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