actual worried boyfriend dean winchester because what else do you actually need
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Neither one of them could honestly say they knew how long it had been.
Just a few hours turned to more than a few hours turned to days turned to weeks. It was unusual, but it wasn't like they just didn't see each other any more. It was just...all too hurried to really see each other.
Occasionally they'd cross paths in the great room of the bunker at one a.m, when Dean was getting back from a quick salt and burn, and Cas was stopping by for some random ingredient he needed for a spell. Maybe they'd see each other in the morning when Dean was grabbing coffee, and Cas needed a specific weapon for some new creature or other.
So they were seeing each other. Yeah. It was fine. Just a little...less than usual.
"You heard from Cas lately?" Sam asked out of the blue during one late night of research and more caffeine than either brother needed. He looked up from the broken-spined book he was leafing through with a tired frown.
Dean shrugged, fingers pressed to his forehead as he continued skimming through old newspapers. "Nah. You?"
"No," Sam responded almost questioningly, and paused as if he were going to elaborate, but didn't. With decisive shrug, he turned back to the book.
"M'sure he's just doing angel stuff."
Sam grunted in agreement. A clock ticked softly on the wall.
I'm sure he's just doing angel stuff. Dean was supposed to be finding more connections between annual deaths that were occurring in a town nearby, but they were nearly two hours in and had still found next to nothing. It was eleven at night, and Dean hadn't gotten his four hours in longer than he cared to admit. How could Sam expect him to stay awake when he was practically being lulled to sleep by a labyrinth of black and white photos?
The ticking grew quieter.
..."Do we have any chance of surviving this?"
"You do."
"So, odds are, you're a dead man tomorrow."
"Yes."
"Oh. Well, last night on earth, what, uh...what are your plans?"
"I just thought I'd sit here quietly."
"Dude. Come on. Anything? Hmm? Booze, women?"
"..."
"You have been with a woman before, right? Or an angel, at least?"
"..."
"You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?"
"Look, I've never had occasion, okay?"
"All right, let me tell you something. There are two things that I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch."
"It was the virgins!"
"Wha...what?" Dean jolted awake, finding his face stuck to a drooled-on newspaper clipping. He blinked rapidly, vision focusing on Sam. What...had he really fallen asleep?
"I'm such a dumbass," Sam said, scribbling something down quickly. "None of the victims were married, but in each picture they're all shown wearing the same ring. Some kind of promise ring, I'm assuming. It's not like we haven't dealt with something like this a million times. How did I miss..."
