Um.

[ His fingertips are damp with liquor, and something in his mind has his imagination working overtime -- he can see it clear as day. Cas comes close, he takes Dean's hand. Their fingers twine, lacing together, liquor and all, smearing over both of them. Their eyes meet, and Dean is stupid and stares, mouth slack, lips parted, watching Cas for some kind of cue, something that tells Dean it's alright, you're alright, this is fine, kiss me, let me drink from those kisses, sweet wine like honey, ambroasia on your lips

His body twitches in real life, imagination on overdrive, Cas' thumb on his palm and he wonders if he should suck it, take that blunt finger in his mouth and lick him clean, taste his skin, the salt of his sweat, trace over skin and muscle, what it tastes like to have him twitch under his mouth-- ]

Uh.

[ You're...welcome? Is that what he's supposed to say here? He isn't sure, he's lost track, it's only base instinct and breath, Dean's shortness, the way it catches in his lungs and refuses to let go. ]

You're - here.