Dean's glad of the sudden attention if it means he's spared a lecture on how fucking bullets work, more than content for Derek to have the gun and Stiles if either of them think taking chances with Castiel's life for the sake of quiet is an acceptable risk.

"C'mon," he growls, channeling his frustration into a faster pace, one hand still fisted in Castiel's sleeve as they pass through a gilded door and into a smoky lobby. Spying a restroom door, Dean hauls Castiel through it.