Schizo||Destiel||#Wattys2017||

Year 20: Vodka (SMUT)

Light shimmering down through the window in the Winchester home brought Castiel a sense of security. It was a warm, August evening, the sun shining through the drapes. It was orange light, and Dean was in the kitchen making dinner. Cas had a cold, and Dean insisted he watched TV while he made Cas some New England clam chowder. Castiel was surprised when Dean had offered, because, in all honesty, Cas didn't think Dean could make silica an elaborate dish from scratch. Hell, one time he burned a corn dog in the Microwave. Needless to say, Castiel didn't quite trust Dean around food items. He was cute when he tried, though. He would always cuss out the food, like he was, now. Cas could hear him, and he chuckled to himself. He's hot. He's so damn hot covered in flour, sweat dripping from his face, and red hit frustration burning in his veins. "Fucking potatoes, think they're so amazing because they taste like shit not all grown up as undercooked, spoiled, little fucking kids." He handed Castiel a bowl of chowder, sighing. It actually looked good, if he was being completely honest.

"Thanks Dean." Castiel put the spoon to his lips and smiled. "For what it's worth, you did a good job."

"Fucking potatoes," he repeated. I could hear him rummaging through the cabinets and I sighed. It was one of those days, and Cas could tell. Dean had a long day, and Cas wanted to make him relax, but he forced Cas to take some off brand nasal medicine and take a nap. Cas had woken up, and Dean was in the kitchen. Dean hadn't felt like talking that day. They both just enjoyed each other's company, but Dean had to go out and help Sam with some trouble with his air conditioner. By the time he got home he was beat. That's why Cas knows exactly what he's doing, and he wasn't gonna stop him. Dean poured a shot of vodka, and downed it like it was fresh water in the middle of the desert. Cas sighed. He didn't like when Dean drank. Frankly, it was because he always got Cas to drink as well. Cas didn't like hangovers. They were like someone took his guts, chopped them up, and then shoved them back inside him for him to upchuck. That was the worst part of being drunk.

--Smut starts here--

Dean took another shot, and another, and another, until, finally, he was strutting back into the living room with a cocky grin on his face. "Hey, Cassie, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?" He slurred, keeping that stupid smirk on his face. He spilled a little bit of the beer on the carpet, and Cas sighed.

"I really don't know, Dean. Tell me, how good did it feel when you crawled out of Hell?" Castiel looked down and back up at his husband, who now had a bottle of beer in one hand, and the vodka in the other. Cas chuckled, placing his hands in his lap, carefully.

Dean set both of the beverages down on the end table, and he sat in Cas's lap, biting his lip, he leaned in, the stench of alcohol tickling Castiel's nostrils. "Oh, baby, it was amazing." Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him into a deep kiss. Cas pulled away, placing his thumb in between their lips, making Dean pout. "Aw, wanna play like that?" He whispered, chuckling a little bit. He grabbed the vodka. "Let's play a little game called, 'I'm gonna make you drink this until you can't feel your throat.'"

Castiel laughed, pushing Dean off him and grabbing the half-drank bottle of vodka. He flipped Dean onto the couch, taking a big gulp of it before resuming their positions, Cas on top of Dean, now. He pushed a smug look onto his face, the one sip beginning to take effect. He took another swig from the bottle, beginning to empty it with every addicting sip. "Damn it, Dean. You see what you've done?" Cas dropped the bottle next to him, rolling his eyes at Dean. He pulled on the collar of his shirt, gently. "You know, this shirt looks good on you. There's only one place I'd rather have it," Cas grinned. His voice was a buzzed rasp, the voice he knew Dean liked. It was awful, really, that Castiel knew exactly how, where, and how hard to push Dean's buttons. "On the floor."