“Ok, I’m going to go on record saying this is a bad idea - ”
“And I agree.”
Dean’s already got his hand raised in the air, making a gesture to whatever invisible viewers of the future that will someday get ahold of his cellphone camera, so it’s only natural that the hand comes up to his mouth when a combination of shock and horror rushes through him.
I’m really doing this, he thinks, a little hysterically. He’s not sure if it’s the weed or the impending sense that his life is about the end that’s got him more fucked up.
And Sam really isn’t helping. He’s the one who started this whole thing anyway and now he’s acting like he has no idea what Dean’s talking about.
“I agree,” Sam repeats.
Dean tries to swallow a laugh. “Ok.”
It doesn’t work - he bursts out into laughter anyway, reaching for his phone screen. He taps it so the view switches, and instead of looking at his own face in selfie mode he’s looking at Castiel, chilled out in a chair on the other side of the room. His hair hangs in his face a little, and his t-shirt is stained dark with sweat.
“Cas. Cas,” Dean giggles. The bottoms of his shoes are still sticky with the stale beer and sweat that slicked the club floor earlier in the evening, so he trips over his feet a little as he makes his way over. “Hey buddy.”
Castiel opens one eye, eyebrow cocked lazily in Dean’s direction, a faint smile on his face. “Hm?”
“Hey, c’mere,” Dean slurs, even though he’s the one moving closer. “C’mere, I gotta do something. Sam said I have to.”
“No, no I didn’t,” Sam sighs.
“Yeah he did. Yeah.”
Dean drops unceremoniously into Castiel’s lap and slings his arms around his neck. Castiel goes without a fight as he pulls him up into a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss, open-mouthed and wild.
“Oh my god,” Sam starts to laugh. “Oh my god, no way.”
Dean’s too busy making out with Castiel to answer him, honestly. If he had enough braincells to spare he’d probably try to give Sam the finger, but right now Castiel tastes like the acrid tang of pot smoke and he has to hold the phone steady or else the bet won’t count and then Sam will never let him live it down -
Then Castiel brings both hands down to grab at Dean’s ass and all higher brain function stops.
“Christ alive,” Sam snorts. “Ok, I’m leaving now.”
Dean pulls away from Castiel’s mouth with a horrifying slurp. “Bye,” he replies, a little breathlessly.
Sam shakes his head as he starts to leave the room.
“You’re the one who said, ‘You dare me to kiss Cas?’ The, ‘Yeah, on camera,” thing was a joke.”
Character Aesthetics: Geralt’s hansa (The Witcher)
“What a company I ended up with,’ Geralt continued, shaking his head. ‘Brothers in arms! A team of heroes! What have I done to deserve it? A poetaster with a lute. A wild and lippy half-dryad, half-woman. A vampire, who’s about to notch up his fifth century. And a bloody Nilfgaardian who insists he isn’t a Nilfgaardian.”-Baptism of Fire (Andrzej Sapkowski)