He frowns a little. That's—actually, that's a good question. "I didn't—" His dick is still half-hard, maybe a little more than half, and uncomfortably pressing against the zipper of his jeans. He shifts. "I didn't want you to think I was pretending. Like. That I was pretending to enjoy making out. I wasn't." He meets your eyes. "I did actually enjoy it."

More than enjoy. His eyes drop down to your lips, the tip of his tongue tracing over his own as he remembers what you taste like. He's never going to forget that taste, Cas. Never.

"We could still pretend the rest." He meets your eyes again, gives you a bit of a smile. "The burgers, and the sleeping. In your house." He would like that. He may be a lost cause when it comes to relationships, but that doesn't mean they couldn't pretend for one night. It's just one night. Nobody else ever has to know.