"We're not going pshycobilly."
"Why? It's not like it's such a far-fetched style for us," Dean said. "We started as a rockabilly band years ago, you know."
"It's not that. It's your lyrics," Ash said.
Dean crossed his arms against his chest. "And what about them?"
"They're fucking dark, man."
"Oh, come on," Dean said.
Ash took a swig of his beer. "I don't know, man. The last time we played one of your songs, the bar erupted into chaos."
"It was the end of the night, everyone was drunk, and I think some fucker was hitting on some other guy's girl, which in turn started the fight," Dean said.
"Yeah, yeah," Ash said. "Though, you-know-who wanted us to close the set like we do every Friday."
Dean leaned across the table. "Aren't you sick and tired of playing the same fucking songs every week? I mean, covers of songs that aren't even our style. If I play fucking Lynyrd Skynyrd one more time."
"Hey, we get paid in free beer." Ash downed the rest of the bottle. "I'm not complaining."
"Can't we at least play a cover from The Cramps or something?"
"Wait until Benny gets back," Ash replied.
"Fine. I'll be right back." Dean pocketed the loose leaf paper that sat on the table. Earlier that week he had copied down the words and some chords. It was high time that they started playing something new. Even if it was just a Cramps cover. Perhaps he could get his band mates behind 'TV set'. "Maybe that song's too dark for Ash," Dean thought.
Outside on the patio, Dean took his smokes out of his back pocket. He placed one between his lips and patted himself down in search of his lighter. It was metal. A Zippo that his father had bought him when he turned eighteen. "The thing better be in my car," he mumbled behind his cigarette.
"Need a light?" A hand appeared in front of Dean's face holding a purple BIC. Dean lined up his cigarette with the flame and took a long drag.
"Thanks," he replied before sending the smoke out the side of his mouth. The stranger lit his own cigarette. Dean watched the man with curiosity. "You come here often?" Dean mentally kicked himself after saying that out loud. It sounded less like a pick up line in his head.
"No," the stranger replied. "I'm not much for the bar scene."
Dean chuckled. "Then why are you here?"
"I was set up on a blind date. I didn't pick the place, my coworker did. He came with me so I wouldn't bolt."
"Would you have bolted?"
The stranger smiled. "Definitely."
"I take it you met the chick. I bet she was homely. Always seems the case for blind dates," Dean said, figuring that at eleven this guy probably already had met the girl.
"Yeah, not my type," he replied.
"Too skinny? Too fat? Not a real blonde? Fake tits?" Dean emphasized the last question with his hands like he had D cups in front of him.
The guy laughed as he put out his smoke in an ash tray that was on one of the patio tables. "No dick." And with that, he went back into the bar leaving Dean standing there with a lit cigarette clinging to his lips.
Dean slid into his seat. "Well, that was interesting."
"What was?" Benny asked. He had joined the booth while Dean was outside. Dean gathered quickly that the chick Benny was hitting on had turned him down. Seven times out of ten the guy would leave the bar for a quick fuck in the alley. Fifty percent of the time he'd get busted by Ellen, the owner of the place. For him, it was worth the risk.
"This guy I met, who thankfully had a lighter on him," Dean said.
"Brother, you need to quit," Benny said.
"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, waving the notion off. He heard it enough from his uber health conscious bother. The kid recently took on the gluten free fad. Dean would be fine with it, if he didn't constantly bitch on about how great he's been feeling since he went sans gluten. It'd be a cold day in hell when Dean would ever stop consuming his favorite food groups; burgers, beer, and pie. Everything in his diet was apparently riddled with the stuff.
"So, what'd you guys talk about?" Ash asked.
"He came here with a friend who had set him up on a blind date, and he wasn't happy with how it turned out," Dean said.
"Fake tits?" Benny echoed Dean's earlier remark.
"No dick," Dean said behind his new bottle of beer that the waitress had dropped off for the boys.
Ash sat up in his seat. "Is he still here?"
"Yes, tan trench coat, backwards tie," Dean said. "Why?"
"No reason," Ash said he stood up to make his way towards the bar where this mystery guy was sitting.
"Fuck you, Ash."
Ash flagged down the bar tender for two shots of whiskey. He placed one of them in front of the man that Dean had talked to on the smoker's patio. "On me," Ash said.
"Thanks," the man said quizzically. They both downed the amber liquor. "I don't mean to be rude, but you're not really my type."
Ash laughed. "My intentions are not for myself."
"Then why the whiskey?"
"My friend over there mentioned you," Ash said, nodding his head in Dean's direction. "Said you had a bad date. Thought the shot would help."
"Thanks," the man said again.
"Ash." He stuck his hand out for the guy to shake.
"Cas."
"Well, Cas, is it true what my man Dean said? That you didn't like the chick because she didn't have a dick?"
Cas lightly chuckled. "Yes, it's true."
"Alright. Prove me wrong." Cas looked at Ash with a questioning head tilt. "Dean has claimed bisexuality since high school, but we have yet to see him with anything other than easy women."
"And how am I supposed to prove you wrong?"
Ash smirked a devilish grin.
He joined his friends back at the booth. "His name is Cas, go talk to him, make a friend."
"You're a fucking ass hat, you know that?" Dean said.
Ash and Benny started cracking up as Dean reluctantly made his way to the bar.
"Sorry about Ash," Dean said as he sat down.
"It's okay, Dean," Cas replied.
"Cas, is it? Is that short for something?"
He nodded. "It is."
"What is it? And don't fucking say that it's Casanova. Cause that would be the worst way for you to pick up a guy."
Cas chuckled at this remark. "It isn't, I can assure you."
"Are you gonna tell me then?"
"It's short for Castiel."
"Well that's one I've never heard before."
"My parents are hardcore Christian, thought it'd be suitable to name their brood of children after angels. My luck I was born on a Thursday." Dean looked at Cas questioningly. He clarified. "Castiel is the angel of Thursday. Or so they say."
"Ah," Dean replied. "At least you weren't named after a woman."
"What do you mean?" Cas asked.
"I was named after my grandmother, Deanna. Never met her, died before I was born." Dean said.
"Isn't it an honor, though? To be named after someone?"
Dean shrugged. "I guess."
Cas took a sip of his drink. "So, Ash. Does he know that mullets are out of style?"
"It's become his trademark," Dean answered. "I cut it off in tenth grade while he was sleeping, before picture day, and he barely talked to me for a month after it. I probably deserved worse."
"Noting how long it is, I can assume as much." Castiel swiveled in his seat. "Who's the other guy then? With the World War One sailor hat?"
"Benny, my bass player," Dean replied.
Cas nodded, "Of course, you're in a band."
"So?" Dean asked, not liking the tone the guy had.
He took another sip of his drink. It was nearly empty as it was mostly ice. "You have a certain air about you."
"An air, huh?"
"Yup, an air," Cas said.
"And how does this air pin me down as a guy in a band?" Dean asked, curious about how one would judge someone in this manner.
Cas smiled behind his drink. "I saw you in some of the pictures on the walls leading to the bathroom."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Stalker."
"Hey, when I start calling you at two in the morning for nothing more than to hear you breathe, then you can officially call me a stalker." Dean looked uneasy at hearing this from a guy he just met only a few hours ago.
"Well, now I'm beginning to see why this blind date didn't work out for you. She saw right through your handsome exterior and right to your 'I see you in my Frigidaire' interior."
Cas quickly said, "I'm kidding."
"And I'm not. How am I supposed to tell if you're not going to eat me for a midnight snack?"
"Depends on what you mean by eating you, Dean." Cas winked and left his stool for the bathroom.
"Fuck," Dean mumbled. This guy had him on his toes. He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it even more in frustration.
"He's pretty hot," a girl's voice said above him. Dean looked up to see Jo, the owner's daughter, behind the bar. "And I can tell that he's getting you all hot and bothered."
"Jo, shut up," Dean said.
"Can't. I've never actually seen this bisexual side of Dean Winchester. I've only heard of its existence. I take it, it doesn't happen often? Or are the all slutty women busy tonight?"
"Fuck off, Jo."
Jo put up her hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just the dude behind the bush watching the mating ritual from a far."
"And could you stop using National Geographic references? Seriously."
Jo laughed, leaving a beer and a new glass of rum and coke on the bar in front of Dean. "Just use a condom. We don't want little Deany's running around these parts just yet." Dean crumpled up a napkin and threw it at the girl. She playfully shrieked and dogged the projectile easily. Jo couldn't contain her laughter as she made her way to the kitchen.
"Never go to a bar where people know you," Dean said to Cas once he sat down.
"Why is that?"
"They know how to fuck with you when you're hitting it off with someone," Dean said.
"So, you're hitting it off with someone?" Cas asked like he wasn't sure who this person could be.
"I think so," Dean said.
"To be honest, I think I'm hitting it off with someone as well," Cas said.
Dean shifted in his seat. "Can I put on a show for my friends?"
Cas looked directly at the man next to him. "What are you suggesting?"
"When I saw that cigarette between your lips earlier," Dean said, letting his thumb trace Cas's bottom lip, "I couldn't help it. I didn't want to think anything of it, but thanks to Ash," Dean cut himself off.
"Ash is expecting this. He told me he's never actually seen you with a guy," Cas said.
Dean smiled. "I've just never met the right guy."
Both men were feeling uninhibited by the alcohol that had been consumed that night. The thought of having just met each other only hours ago was of little thought. As Dean leaned into Cas, he could smell the sweet fragrance of the rum and coke he had just drank. It was covering up the hint of tobacco that lingered. Dean graced his lips against Cas's. It clearly was just a tease for Cas as he became more forceful, pulling the other man in closer for more than just a swift kiss.
"Cas," Dean said under his breath.
"Yeah, Dean?"
"Can I have your number?"
"Only if I can see you again," Cas replied.
Note: I did in fact quote the Cramps song that I mentioned within the conversation between Dean and Cas. I just had to. And as for my multific, I'm getting there with it. I lost chapters ten through eighteen when my fucking flash drive broke on me. I'm trying to outline everything before I dive back into rewriting it. So, this is what I ended up writing in the mean time.