A/N Let's play a game of Count the Twist and Shout references!

"Hey, Cas, wake up," Dean coos, shaking his boyfriend slightly. "At this rate, you're not going to sleep at all tonight."

Castiel just groans, unmoving.

"Come on, up and at 'em," Dean reiterates.

"I don't wanna," Castiel mumbles.

"You'll thank me when your sleep schedule doesn't get screwed to hell."

"Yeah, it'll only be screwed to purgatory," Castiel jokes halfheartedly.

"Purgatory?" Dean repeats. "The one in Miami?"

Castiel chuckles at that. "Yes, Dean. The one in Miami," he says sarcastically.

"I'm very confused but I'm not going to question it," Dean tells him. "Come on, get up." When Castiel doesn't move, he adds, "We still have to pick Misha up from your place."

Castiel sighs. "Fine." Misha always comes first. He tries to push himself out of bed, but his arms hurt too much and he opts to return to lying face down on the bed instead. "On second thought, this is comfortable."

"Cas," Dean whines.

"I hurt," Castiel complains. "I don't wanna get up, or, like, move at all."

"Even for Misha?"

"Even for Misha."

Dean scoffs. "Wow, my Cas truly is gone," he jokes. "No, but for real, it'll stop hurting so much when you start moving again, and if you keep moving, you'll be fine."

"I know, but I don't wanna keep moving."

Dean sighs. "Of course not. Do you want me to go get Misha without you?"

"Mm hmm," Castiel agrees.

"Alright, I'll be back soon."

But, apparently "soon" means over half an hour. Castiel wants to be upset that he disappeared for that long when he easily could have been back in less than half the time, but he hears Misha's collar jingling and he can't help but smile to himself. His dog is such a precious little baby, even if he is the about size of a small teenager.

Misha trots into the room and over to his bed, circling around himself a few times before curling up in it. He looks over at Castiel for a few moments, then, when he sees he's not going to be pet, lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Hey Cas," Dean says, and he can practically hear the playful smirk on his face. "How are you?"

"I feel like death," Castiel deadpans.

"I think you need a hug to make you feel better," Dean tells him teasingly.

"I don't think I'm physically capable of standing up."

"Drama queen," Dean jokes.

"Um, excuse you, I'm the queen of everything, not just drama," Castiel replies indignantly.

Dean laughs. "That was perfect, oh my god."

"Were you recording that?" Castiel asks, but he can already guess the answer.

"Maybe..." Dean replies in a way that definitely means he was.

"Are you posting it?" Castiel asks. They haven't let the public see very much of their relationship, but it's not as if they specifically decided against it, and occasionally a few of the numerous photos they've taken together and of each other do end up getting posted online by one or both of them.

"I wasn't going to, but you're just too adorable, and I have to ask," Dean replies. "I don't know if the fact that you're just wearing sweatpants is gonna be an issue, though."

"I don't care," Castiel replies. "It's not the first time I've been on camera shirtless. Thus is the life of a celebrity. Besides, I'm dying a slow and painful death over here to look this good. No reason to hide it."

"Because then it's not as special for me," Dean replies, kneeling on the bed next to him. "This is, like, giving out my eye candy for free."

"Sharing is caring," Castiel reminds him.

"Yeah, but I don't care about them. I just care about you."

Castiel chuckles. "Okay, you know you're actually supposed to like the people who support you, right? Or at least act like it?"

"Oh, please," Dean replies, rolling his eyes. "They don't care about me. My followers blew up after you and I got back together. Let's be real, if you and I weren't together, I'd just be the replacement for Mr. Deflategate over there."

"Well..."

"Don't even try to deny it," Dean says. "We both know it's true."

"Well, you would still have New England on your side," Castiel replies. "Probably just New England, but it's better than no one."

"Yeah, true," he agrees. "Ooh, hey, you know how I barely ever check Twitter?"

"Because you don't know how to use it?" Castiel substitutes. 'Course. Why?"

"I know how to use it," Dean mumbles before adding in a clearer voice, "Well, I finally got around to checking my mentions for, like, two minutes, and it looks like you won the Patriots some fans. Granted, they're mostly teenage girls who know nothing about football, but they're still rooting for us."

"Well, with the extra pressure, you can't not win the Super Bowl this year," Castiel tells him.

"I have no plans to not win the Super Bowl, so that works out great," Dean replies. "And whether we play or not, you should definitely come watch it this year. I'll either be by your side or on the field, depending on how well we do."

"You'll be playing for sure," Castiel assures him. "Way I hear it, you're pretty much the best quarterback in the league."

"Well, I don't know if I'm that good, but I hold my own."

"I guess I'll have to watch one of these games, then," Castiel replies. "When does football even start?"

"I've got to be back middle of July," he replies.

"But that's only, like, two months," Castiel complains. "You can't leave in two months!"

"Unfortunately, I don't really have a choice in the matter," Dean replies. "I'm still under contract for three more years, and I'd be surprised if I'm not signed again."

"But I don't want you to leave," Castiel protests. "I just wanna stay here with you forever."

"Forever's a long time."

"That's the point."

Dean chuckles and lies down next to him. "You could always come up to Massachusetts with me," he suggests.

"I kind of want to go back to New York, though," Castiel tells him.

"What's waiting for you in New York?" Dean asks, not sounding offended; just curious.

"A few friends," he replies, mostly thinking of Amelia. "And my piano."

"You play piano, too?" Dean gapes at him.

"Well, I'm not very good at it, but I'm working on it," he replies. "It's a lot harder than guitar."

"But still something you're interested in?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, 'course. More ways to write music. A new sound, too. It shouldn't change the official song, but maybe for concerts, it could be cool to do a piano version of something I recorded with the band. I don't know if it would sound too weird because it's not how the song people know goes, but it could be fun to experiment with. I just realized I'm ranting and you don't really care so I'm gonna stop now."

"I like listening to you babble," Dean tells him. "It's adorable. Then again, just about everything you do is adorable, so I'm not surprised."

Castiel feels himself blushing slightly at that, and, to turn the attention away from him, suggests, "But about football, what if I go home after you go to Massachusetts, but come back for your first game?"

"Our practices are open to the public, too, so you could come watch those," Dean suggests.

"Maybe I'll watch a practice or two, not go to your first game, but go to your second?" Castiel counters thoughtfully. "Because I don't want to have to worry about people expecting me there and going looking, so if I don't go to your first game or first practice, people probably won't be expecting me later, either, so when I show up later, people probably aren't going to even try looking for me."

"That works, too," Dean agrees. "We've got, like, three weeks of open practices, so take your pick."

"Maybe I'll come the beginning of the third week for a few days," Castiel suggests. "Gives me a little time back in New York, but not long enough that I start going through Dean withdrawal."

"Sounds good," Dean replies. "Guess I'll see you then."