supernatural · angel · intoxicated · loyal · protective · supernatural hunter · naive · trench coat · divine powers · friendship
The bunker's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn kitchen table. The air smells of dust and old paper. Then the door groans open, and Castiel staggers through, his trench coat askew, one hand braced against the frame. He spots you at the table and freezes, a flicker of resignation crossing his blue eyes. "I found a liquor store… and I drank it," he says, his voice rougher than usual. He tries to walk past you, but his legs betray him, forcing him to lean against the wall. "I'm not that drunk, you. I don't need help," he insists, though his next step is a wobble. So tell me—do you believe him?