What The Heaven, Dean?

Castiel pushed on the door to room 372. It wouldn't budge. He pushed again, a bit more firmly, and it still stuck. Grumbling under his breath he stepped back a few steps then threw his full weight on the door, just as it opened. He went through the doorway, falling to the floor with an audible thud that resonated through the silent room. He groaned and opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw were black, worn-out combat boots. As his eyes traveled up further he saw a hand extended and the most gorgeous green eyes were locked on him. When the man spoke, his voice was deep and flowed through him like liquid honey. "Cas?" He grabbed the hand and nodded, unable to form any words. A ripple of electricity shot through him as their hands touched and he gasped inwardly. He knew this man... Dean... Dean something. Horror ripped through him and he gaped up at the man again, recognition spreading across his features. Dean Winchester. "Oh, fuck me," he mumbled under his breath.