Dean knows that he needs to get back to the bunker, sooner rather than later. He and Sam have to get on the hunt for a way- any way- to get Cas and the his de-feathered siblings sorry asses back through the pearly gates, because the way Cas looks at him, all defeated, Dean just wants that look to disappear. Not having to worry about Cas' next date disemboweling him would be a plus too if he could get back that whole immortality thing that had worked so well for him so far (though Dean kind of hopes that there won't be a 'next date').
He has to leave, but staring at Cas in baby's passenger seat as he rifles through Dean's cassette shoebox is too fantastic. He hadn't forgotten how much he missed Cas in those weeks after he kicked him out of the bunker, but he'd suppressed those feelings; drowned them in whiskey and worry over Sam. Funny how Cas squinting to read the smudged lettering of one of AC/DC's b-side tracks can bring everything to the surface. Again.
The sun has yet to peek over the mountains, they've just left Nora's, and the silence is only broken when Dean asks Cas where he needs a ride to. Dean does it only as a formality though, because he knows the answer: a small gas station in a shit part of town with a sleeping bag from goodwill and a shelter issued toothbrush. He pushes that thought aside and grasps for anything that he can use as an excuse to stay longer.
"Hey, Cas, you hungry?" Dean asks in a laughable attempt to sound nonchalant, but it comes out stilted and awkward. Still he presses on, "We passed a diner 'bout half a mile back. Sign said they had the best pie in the state." Silence answers him. Cas still has his gaze zeroed in on the tapes, and Dean briefly wonders if maybe the guy could use some glasses. A different problem for a different day.
"You didn't go on the date, right? Means you probably didn't eat dinner. Sound good?"
Cas nods in affirmation, but whether it comes from a genuine desire to spend more time together or a wish for Dean to shut up and stop pestering him, Dean doesn't know. He hopes that it's the first option, but after the stunt he pulled back at the bunker, he doesn't expect anything but the latter. Dean makes an illegal u-turn at the next stop sign, and drives on. The purr of the impala's well tuned engine fills the cabin. It's the only thing in Dean's life that isn't broken. As they near the restaurant, there's a slight hitch in her crankshaft and a rattle to her fan belt. They get out of the car and Dean pushes it to the back of his mind.
Dean's been to a lot of diners in his life, having lived on the road, and this one melds into the others. The decor is dusty and the linoleum has scratches that make it look dirty even when it's not. The pair grab the booth farthest from the front, back in the corner next to the emergency exit and peruse the menu. Dean gets steak and eggs and Cas orders an omelet; both of them drink copious amounts of coffee.
They fill the time waiting for their food with mindless chit chat. Dean dances around their stand-off at the bunker and Cas doesn't bring it up. They are at a stalemate, a precipice, and neither is brave enough to take the first leap. Soon the time for talking is over, their plates are empty, and their waitress impatiently taps her foot as she presents the bill.
"Let's go dutch." Cas says, picking up the check and glancing at the total. "I promise that I am not like the females you were warning me about." He eases his wallet out of his back pocket and places exactly half of the total plus tip on top of the check, even though his meal cost less.
"Come on, man. It's not on me, it's on Marcel Hubert." Dean waves the stolen AMEX in front of Cas to further illustrate his point.
"I am not particularly fond of credit card schemes." he says, "Before, money was meaningless. Now that I know how hard one has to work in order to obtain such funds, I want to respect it."
They pay their respective amounts and get back into the impala. When the waitress comes to collect their payment, she sees that they've both paid in cash.
The sun has risen by the time Dean pulls up to the service station. Castiel's shift starts in an hour and he has to make the coffee and stock the cart with breakfast sandwiches; he told Dean about it while they were at the diner. He went over his responsibilities at the gas station, told Dean about the malicious intentions of their slushie machine and how the cheese sauce for the nachos never got quite hot enough.
Cas gets out of the car and walks to the front door, keys shaking ever so slightly in his hand as he unlocks it. Dean can't watch any more. He peels out of the parking lot and heads south toward Lebanon.
He'll find a way to reverse this; Crowley's translation be damned. He's Dean Fucking Winchester.
