Whiskey, Nerves, and Unnaturally Green Eyes

Castiel was almost—almost—ashamed of the fact that he was sitting at the counter of the bar down the road from his apartment at only 5:00 on a Friday evening. He was nursing a tumbler of whiskey, trying to remind himself that he'd promised himself only one drink while he was here. Just one. He can't be getting drunk before the big night. Castiel groaned to himself when he thought about the hours ahead.

He had foolishly agreed to allow his sister Anna to set him up on a blind date. And by "agreed," he means he had been seriously blackmailed. The guy Anna was setting him up with was a supposedly "other-worldly" hot, and was a classmate of Anna's at UCLA. Castiel had no doubt in his mind that the date would be utterly horrific; he was determined to find a proper method of revenger for Anna.

Castiel just couldn't imagine what he could possibly have in common with any of Anna's friends. She was studying math, he'd graduated a year ago with a music degree. While Anna enjoyed complicated proofs and theorems, Castiel was busy interning at a recording studio, trying to establish himself as a reputable producer. Anna was a flaming red head with a penchant for nice dresses, skirts, and blouses, and Castiel sported a disarray of wild, black hair and didn't even bother to try to hide the tattoos snaking up his arms with the short sleeves of his preferred t-shirts. Where Anna was the family angel, Castiel had earned the reputation of family rebel and wild child. Really, all he was guilty of was a little too much for music and an unimaginable appreciation for body art.

So Castiel could only imagine the khaki-wearing, tie-owning, math nerd that Anna thought appropriate for her brother. He started counting the ways in which he could gracefully back out of the date once it started going south. He wondered if he could even get away with just skipping out entirely; then again, Anna has the wrath of about a thousand avenging angels, so he figured, better not.

While Castiel was lost in thought, slowly circling the rim of his whiskey glass with a lone finger, a stranger straddled a stool two spots down from him and put his head in his hands. When the bartender walked over, he mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "whiskey," and didn't bother to even look up until the shot was directly in front of him. He lifted his head, grabbed the glass, and tossed it back like a cool drink of water, immediately signaling for another.

Castiel had no idea why he decided to open his mouth. It probably had something to do with the man's insane beauty; he was practically a Greek god. His sandy hair overlooked strong features, his eyes were unreal shade of green surrounded by innumerable freckles, and his lips pursed in what looked liked a perpetual pout. Castiel was almost entirely positive that he opened his mouth for no reason other than those eyes and lips. But whatever the reason, he shocked himself as he spoke to the man.

"Rough day?"

The stranger glanced over and simply stared for a few moments before replying, "Not yet."

Castiel smiled a little at the curious answer. "Are you expecting it to end poorly?"

The man considered Castiel for another moment for answering once again. "Well, I'm not expecting it to end well."

"Hmmm," Castiel said. "And why is that?"

The Greek god turned his eyes back down to his whiskey glass. "I have a date tonight."

Ah. A date. Of course Freckles has a date. It's a Friday night, he's gorgeous, of course he's going on a date. Castiel was so focused on his slight, irrational jealousy of the mystery date that he almost missed the stranger's next words.

"It's just… I haven't exactly been on a date in a while. I'm finishing up school, so I don't really have a lot of time, and I've been taking care of my brother for so long that I'm used to spending all of my time with him, not really worrying about stuff like dating. I guess I'm just nervous, but I don't really see tonight going too well. I'll probably find a spectacularly horrible way to mess it up."

Castiel chuckled a little. "Well, you and I are in the same boat, my friend. I am absolutely atrocious at dating. I get so awkward that I have no idea what to say to my date, and things just go downhill from there. I'm sure you'll be fine tonight. You seem like you can hold your own in conversation, at least. "

The stranger smiled a little. "Thanks, man. I hope it goes well. Is a little bit of fun, at least. I'm Dean, by the way."

"Castiel."

"Well Cas, what brings you in drinking at 5:00 this lovely day?"

"Mmmm, same thing I guess. Nerves. I decided to come in to get a drink to try to calm myself down a little."

"Is it working?" Dean asked.

"Not really," Cas said with a smile.

Dean and Castiel talked for the next hour about any and everything. Dean told Cas about his brother Sam, about how he was at Stanford studying to be a lawyer, and Cas almost drowned in the pride pouring out of Dean. Dean mentioned that he practically raised Sam after their parents died when Dean was 16, so Castiel could tell that there was clearly no one else in the world who meant more to Dean. In return, Castiel told Dean what it was like to grow up with five siblings, about his desired career in music production, and about his slightly embarrassing, but unbelievably serious obsession with bees. Dean countered with his almost unhealthy love of cars and told Cas about his part time job at an auto shop. Cas told Dean about the various musicians he'd met working at the music studio. Neither noticed the time passing.

"Oh, shit!" Dean exclaimed, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. "My date is in an hour and I still have to go shower and get to the restaurant."

Castiel smiled a little and replied, "Being late would definitely not be a good start to the night."

Cas wondered how tacky it was to ask a practical stranger for his number, knowing that he had a date the same day. Probably way too tacky to actually do, he decided.

Dean stood from his bar stool and turned to Castiel with a smile on his face. "It was nice to meet you Cas. See you around."

Castiel rummaged in his coat pocket for his wallet, settling his bill as well, and following Dean out the door. As he walked to his car, he couldn't help wishing he had asked for Dean's number, wondering if he would ever run into the man again. He had no idea that Dean was driving down the road thinking the same thing.

Castiel went back to his apartment to quickly change his clothes and attempt to calm his hair a bit before leaving for the restaurant. He spent the entire drive trying to convince himself to turn around and drive right back home. No matter his argument though, his polite side always won.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, a small Thai place at which Anna had made reservations for him and his date, he exited the car, nearly catching his tie in the door as he closed it. He cursed to himself and tucked his tie against his chest before buttoning his vest over it. He wore dark jeans, a black button-down shirt, and a charcoal vest over a dark blue tie. He hoped that he had not dressed too casually for his date.

Castiel crossed the lot and opened the door to the restaurant, then walked to the maître d'. When the man looked at him expectantly, Castiel said, "I should have a reservation for two under 'Milton.'"

The maître d' smiled and said, "Ah, yes, the other member of your party arrived just a moment ago. Right this way, Mr. Milton."

Castiel followed the man around the corner and weaved through the tables toward the back of the restaurant. Castiel tried to swallow his nerves, but could only feel the tight ball of anxiety in his chest growing, threatening to take over his heart and his lungs and any other vital organ that might get in its way. Castiel was so not prepared for this; he did horribly enough on dates he arranged himself, he could only imagine what he would do to terrify a complete stranger.

Cas wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he followed the maître d' around a corner. Castiel could see one man with dark blonde hair sitting in a booth a few feet away. His back was turned to Castiel; he silently cursed at the fact that he couldn't even catch a glimpse of the man before he was expected to sit down and socialize with him. As the maître d' and Castiel neared the booth, Cas took one last deep, stabilizing breath.

As the maître d' stepped back to allow Castiel to sit down, Cas approached the booth to say hello. But as Castiel opened his mouth, his words caught in his throat and the oxygen in his lungs seemed to escape his body all at once. Because all he could see were two familiar, vibrantly green eyes, framed by freckles, lighting up with an absurdly beautiful smile.

Cas felt a smile stretch across his face. "Hello, Dean."