Castiel wasn’t one that was prone to moping, or drowning his sorrows in booze, but after his most recent fight with Dean, he found that he couldn’t resist the pull of the bar down the street from their loft.
It was after his fifth glass of whiskey, that someone dared to slid into the seat next to him. A familiar hand covered one of his and his head jerked up, finding remorseful green eyes staring at him.
“I’m sorry.” The ex-angel took his other hand off the empty glass and covered Dean’s, smiling softly at the author.
“I know. I’m sorry too.” Dean smiled back, before sliding off of his seat and tugging Castiel up from his.
“Let’s go home.” Cas nodded and tucked himself into Dean’s side, using his boyfriend to balance himself in case the alcohol threw him off kilter.