The 1967 Chevy Impala's keys rattled as Dean Winchester picked them off the crappy motel table, twirling them in his hand. Turning towards the door, he checked on his Ivory-handled pistol that was tucked between his back and his belt. He snagged his greenish military jacket off the coat rack.
"Bar, strip club or fast-food place?" The question came from the other side of the small room where Sam sat at the edge of one of the twin sized beds hunched over his computer. Dean shrugged on his own jacket and stuffed the keys inside his front pocket.
Adjusting the collar he replied, "Neither. Ice cream sounds good right now. You want anything?"
Sam looked at him, raising his eyebrows before he frowned and shook his head.
"I'm good." He turned back to the computer on the table in front of him.
Dean swiped and pocketed one of the hotel keys before opening the door with a twist of a cheap, loose plastic handle.
"Suit yourself," He called out as he stepped out onto the pavement, shutting the door behind him. The mid-afternoon sun beat down as he readjusted his jacket once more. Walking across the parking lot, its surface uneven with bumps and cracks, he reached the black Impala.
"Hello baby," Dean mumbled as he slapped a hand on its roof and unlocked the door. Sliding into the drivers seat, he inserted the keys and her engine roared to life. He shifted into gear and the car accelerated out of the lot with a long push of the gas pedal; music blaring.
The Impala turned into the lot of a small, locally owned ice cream parlor. Dean parked and stepped out with a creak and a swing of a car door. Pocketing the Baby's keys once more, he made his way up the sidewalk around to the front of the building. Opening the parlor's door for a young lady, he gave her a winning smile before walking in himself.
Icy air hit him with a blast and the scent of sugar cones and chocolate reached his senses as he set a foot in the foyer. The place was illuminated with bright white lights and decorated in cheesy, stereotypical ice cream parlor decor. Wooden ice cream cones and cherries littered the walls around him.
Dean blinked. "Well isn't this place just scoops n' smiles," He muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from each word.
Striding over to the display case, Dean ran a finger over the cold metal rim as he scanned the selection of frozen delights. Dozens of buckets filled with colorful treats lined up behind the glass cover, the light reflecting of it as he walked down the length of it.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Dean looked up from the display case, his green eyes meeting to browns of the woman standing behind the counter. She stared at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and stepped up to the counter, stealing one more glance at the display case then looking up at the menu that hung behind her. As he read, his brows furrowed at the sight of a cartoon figure: a banana split with large eyes and big mouth. The caption underneath it read: "We'll make sure to give you the scoop!"
He snorted and shook head slightly looking back down at the woman. The employee narrowed her eyes at him in a curious… glare? What was that expression? Dean cleared his throat again and put on an amused smile.
"So, what's the scoop?" He raised his eyebrows in question.
The employee gave him an unimpressed look and an over-exaggerated sigh.
"Is there anything want from me?" She asked in annoyance, tugging on her plastic gloves.
Dean's charming smile didn't falter as it turned toothless. He sucked on his teeth as he held her pointed stare. She didn't budge a bit.
Wow, tough luck
He cleared his throat for a third time, shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his gaze back up to the menu.
"I'll take two scoops of your rocky road," He said after he was done being indecisive. The woman sighed again, this time a little quieter and turned to prepare his order.
"Cone?" The question was sharp with her back turned to him.
"Waffle," Dean answered with a smile and a lift of his head, still keeping his voice light and somewhat cheery. "So," He started as the woman turned to the display case and grabbed a scoop, a waffle cone in her other hand. "Nice weather today, huh?"
He looked over his shoulder behind him in a meaningful glance out one of the large windows. The view showed a very sunny, very hot day. Dean looked back at her with a wide smile, pouring all his charm into the expression. She only glanced up briefly at him and mumbled something close to an agreement before plopping two scoops of rocky road on the cone.
"That'd be five ninety-nine,"
Dean paused, then nodded. "Right," He fished his black leather wallet out of his back jean's pocket and dumped a five and a one onto the counter. He took the ice cream cone from her and gave her another smile. She gave him a deadpan look in exchange. Boy did he hate being neglected like this. His smile dropped as he turned away.
"Keep the change," Dean mumbled under his breath when he was out of her earshot. He crossed the parlor and plopped down in one of the red booths.
Dean shifted in his seat, leaning back, enjoying the somewhat peaceful environment around him. In some ways this place was better than the noisy chatter-filled bars and strip clubs he had become accustom to. It was nice to just relax, eat some ice cream, and escape the chaos once in a while.
Occasionally… if not under very rare circumstances.
Readjusting the paper wrapper around his cone, he looked out the window and watched as cars flew past on the interstate. Their engines were low hums through the thin walls. Shiny domes hypnotizing as the sun reflected off them as they passed.
The stifling hot day made his lids feel heavy. He shook his head and took a bite of his ice cream. Just because he had endured a late night's research session on a Wendigo the night before, didn't mean he could pass out right out in the open of an ice cream shop. No need to piss off the cashier more than he already had.
Dean chuckled to himself and took another bite.
"Awesome!" He said, a little louder than intended. The employee glanced over at him with a watered down glare. He chided himself for being so out-spoken before taking another cold bite. He savored the sweet, rich flavor as it melted in his mouth.
This ice cream is friggn' delicious!
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps a little ice cream would make his day a whole lot better. Or everyday, he thought to himself, on that matter.
He took another bite.
"Hello Dean."
Dean practically spat out his mouthful as he nearly jumped out of his skin. Whirling around he saw Cas standing next to his booth staring intently at him, trench coat and all. Swallowing—and almost choking—Dean gave him a deer-in-the-headlights stare back.
"What the hell Cas?! Personal space!" Dean blurted.
Looking around , he noticed that the cashier was occupied with another customer. Another sweep of his eyes confirmed everyone else in the parlor was too occupied with themselves to notice anything. He turned back to Cas, who's face yielded that he had done nothing wrong.
"Sit down," Dean said in a gruff voice as he yanked Cas by the collar of his tan trench coat into the seat in front of him. Cas complied. Dean gave way a sigh of relief when he realized no one had noticed the Jack-in-the-box man who had appeared in the middle of an ice cream shop. That relief soon faded away.
He turned to cas with a look of concern. "What did I say about MacGyvering out in the public! People don't like surprises! Especially random angels appearing out of thin air!" His voice was soft so no one else could detect their conversation.
Cas's brows furrowed at the mention of the TV star.
"I don't understand that reference."
He leaned in on his for arms. "You get my point."
Dean sighed in slight agitation and took another bite of his melting ice cream. When he looked up, sea blue eyes were still watching him. He swallowed as soon as the question dawned on him. Why was Cas here? Why so suddenly and out in the open? Fear stuck him deep in his core.
"Why are you here, Cas? More problems in heaven? Angels gankin' each other over the power seat?"
Cas shook his head and sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. "No. There hasn't been any news about Raphael or any of his followers,"
"How about Crowley then, did he do something to make him a bigger pain in my ass?"
Again, he shook his head, his gaze flitting down to his hand where he tapped a finger on the table. Dean stared at the angel expectantly, waiting for the answer.
When he didn't give an answer Dean pushed further. "So…?" He opened his arms in a gesture.
Cas looked back up at him. There was something in that gaze. Yes, there was always something in the looks he sent Dean's way, that was nothing new, but this was different. This had a little something extra special.
Dean found himself returning the gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. He flitted his eyes back down to the table after a couple seconds—very long seconds—had passed. He couldn't shake the heavy feeling pushing against his chest nor the strange flush heating his cheeks.
His fear and anger had melted away into nothing by the time Cas spoke up.
"I …" The angel trailed off. Dean could hear his swallow and clear his throat quietly. Hear how Cas shifted on the seat in a nervous rustle of clothing. "I—I just wanted to… you know…um…hang out?"
Dean looked up, his greens meeting the angel's blues in a locked stare again. Confusion turned into realization as he read the clear story in Cas's eyes. Gilt washed over him when he realized how much of a dick he had been not mere seconds before. Always assuming Cas was only here to solve their problems and nothing more. Never considering the angel might just want some friendship, some companionship, every once in a while. Well, he had considered that aspect of it, when he met the other man's eyes in that stare he could get lost in for hours…
"That's still the term right?" Dean blinked and realized he was still staring. "'hang out'?" Cas's brows were furrowed in confusion.
Dean shook his head, broke the gaze, trying to clear his mind, "No… I mean Yes! Yes," He said, reminding himself to breath. "that's still the term."
He rubbed his eyes and exhaled, trying to calm his (apparently now) beating heart that was pounding against the confines of his chest. God, why was he so flustered? Every word Cas seemed to utter today echoed inside his ears and made his head feel all fuzzy.
"Is that ok with you?"
"Is what ok?"
"If I can, sometimes, 'hang out' with you?" Cas made over exaggerated air quotes and put on one of those wonky smiles Dean secretly loved.
Dean looked down and genuinely smiled, that foreign in blush creeping up his neck again. "Yeah Cas, it's more than ok."
Way more than ok, actually.
Dean didn't let that thought play its full course. Now wasn't the time to let his mind wander in such a direction. Not with all that was happening in both of their lives at the moment. It was best to keep those ideas hidden and buried deep down to keep anyone from getting hurt. More likely himself or Cas rather than anyone else.
That was how he tried justify it anyway.
Melted rocky road dribbled onto the table. Dean cursed when he realized he had forgotten about his ice cream that was now melting onto his hand. He grabbed a wad of napkins and wiped the mess up, licking any salvageable ice cream off his cone. He tossed the used napkins to the side of the table with a sigh.
"Well, there goes my bliss. Should have known it wouldn't have lasted long anyway." He smiled at Cas playfully who gave him a small, awkward smile back.
It never does.
Dean cleared away that thought and what it meant, taking a large bite of his now soggy cone. It took some effort to swallow the strange texture. Like to wet cardboard. He made a face and tossed the ruined cone into the trashcan.
Cas didn't take his eyes off him for a second, his stare intent, full of other worldly knowledge. Dean just couldn't get over those blue eyes; crystal clear like to ocean itself. They pulled him deep into their depths.
"Do you want any?" Dean barley managed to get the words out, barley a stutter at that.
"Any what?"
Dean refrained from rolling his eyes, instead giving the angle a deadpan look.
"Ice cream you feathery ass."
Cas hesitated with a look of confusion before slowly nodding, obviously still unsure. Dean nodded back and slid out of the booth, the other man to following.
"So, whatchue' want?," Dean piped up as they reached the display case. "You've got lots of options. Rocky road, which is personally my favorite, rainbow sherbet, vanilla Carmel, mint chocolate chip chunk—"
"What is it with you humans and your need for such strange foods?"
The cashier gave them a funny look and Dean smiled awkwardly, before turning back to the angel.
"None of that angels-are-better-than-humans crap right now, Cas. Do you want ice cream or not?"
Cas bowed his head as if ashamed and said, "Vanilla Carmel would be nice."
Dean nodded at the choice and called the employee over. After another awkward exchange, the two walked back over to the booth, this time with an ice cream cone in Cas's hand. Cas gave Dean an unsure look, as if waiting for permission, before taking a messy bite. His eyes instantly widened and he gave Dean an amazed stare.
Dean chuckled. "Humans can't get a lot right, but they sure didn't screw up when it came to creating ice cream,"
Cas nodded in agreement before taking another bite. Melted ice cream dribbled down his chin. He looked almost childish.
"Uh Cas.. you, um, got something," He tapped his own chin and the angel looked at him in confusion. Grabbing a napkin, Dean leaned over the table and wiped the rouge droplets. His finger brushed against Cas's cheek and the blush creeped up his neck again. Daring to look up, he found Cas's eyes fixated on him. He found himself staring back for far too long. Dean flinched away back into his seat and adverted his eyes.
The next few minutes passed with awkward silence, as Cas finished devouring his ice cream. When he finished, they both stood. They stayed, looking at each other, neither knowing what to say.
"So my car's out there…" Dean pointed to the far side of the parlor.
"Then I'll walk with you," Cas said, straightening his back just the slightest. Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and exited the shop with angel in tow. When they reached the Impala, they faced each other, and for what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon, they stared at each other.
"So, um, thanks for the ice cream," Cas rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yah, yah sure. No problem." One more long look then Dean opened the car door. He was about to get in when,
"Dean, wait." Dean's heart fluttered as he turned. No sooner had he Cas was right there, those blue eyes staring up at him. Standing on tip-toe, Cas pressed a light kiss to his lips before vanishing in a whirlwind of wings. Dean was too stunned to move, his lips still buzzing from the contact. So he stood there, in the parking lot of an ice cream parlor, a small smile gracing him, cherishing the ghost feeling of the angel's lips on his.