It's a fairly normal day for Dean. He's down to the bare minimum in his pantry and fridge, so it's time to go to the grocery store. Picking out the food goes by without a hitch.

But when it's time to check out, and the self-checkout lanes are full with people, Dean has no choice. He has to use the regular lines.

See, Dean has social anxiety. He does not like doing things that he isn't used to. He doesn't like interacting with strangers that he thinks there is a possibility he will see again, he doesn't like approaching people. And he does not like checkout lanes.

Dean puts the small amount of food on the slowly moving rig thing by the cashier. She smiles at him, asking if he found everything okay. He nods mutely, swiping his card through the little machine. A bagging boy comes over to put the food in the flimsy plastic bags. When the kid hands Dean the last bag, Dean is shocked.

This isn't some nerdy teenager. This is a full grown man. With a wide mouth, piercing blue eyes, and a strong-looking body. Dean is stunned, which is embarrassing. He grabs the bag and stares for a few seconds before shaking himself and leaving.

Dean returns to the store two days later. He needed coffee filters. He learns the man's name is Cas, from his name tag.

Dean returns the next day. He needs sugar. Cas smiles at him.

Dean returns every day for the next week, buying various items he doesn't need. By the seventh day, Cas is at the cash register. He welcomes Dean by name. By. Name.

"Hello, Dean," Cas says. That. Voice. Deep, gravelly, and sexy. It sends a zing straight to Dean's groin.

"Hey, Cas," Dean returns, if a little breathlessly. Cas winks as he gets the receipt.

On the way back to his car, he hears, "Hey, Dean!"

Dean is already panicky, because he hasn't flirted with anyone since Lisa, two years ago. And hearing his name is kind of freaking him out.

"Dean!" Cas continues. And he's sure it's Cas, because who else could have a voice that sounded like he'd been screaming all night?

Stop thinking about his voice, Dean thinks.

Dean stops and turns around. He tries to mask his face into one of cool indifference. Which he fails. Miserably. Cas can read every emotion on his face. And Dean is turned dumb by the blueness of Cas' eyes.

"Dean, I was wondering if you maybe want to get an ice cream or something." Cas' hands are in his pockets, a look of confidence mixed with fear on his face. Like he's truly afraid Dean will say no.

Like hell he will.

"Ice cream?" is all Dean can think to say. Isn't getting ice cream for teenagers who hate coffee? Or pansy second dates?

"Well, I would suggest coffee, but it's summer. In Texas."

Oh. Right. Duh.

"Oh. Yeah." Dean scrambles in his mind for all the words he knows are there.

"I get off at nine," Cas says, winking again. Dean's legs want to give out. Cas starts walking away, his ugly khakis showing off a truly fantastic ass.

Dean trembles his way into the car. He has thirty minutes until Cas will be expecting him. He wants to go on this date. Wants it so bad. He considers taking a Xanax, to calm his nerves, but he quickly diminishes that idea. He wants to be at full faculties here. He's expected to make decent conversation.

He forgoes the pills, and freshens up his look. He has a mini-panic attack, seeing his car is messy. But the ice cream parlor is only two blocks away; they can walk.

Dean is waiting by the employees-only door when Cas walks out. He's in a t-shirt and jeans, the shirt proclaiming something about a Florence and her machine. Cas smiles and reaches for Dean's hand.

Cas knows Dean was nervous, can feel the pounding of his radial pulse against his own wrist.

"Are you okay?" Cas asks. He panics for a minute, thinking he has done something inappropriate, that maybe Dean isn't into guys—but squashes that, remembering all the looks he'd been given, and Dean wouldn't have shown up at the back door if he didn't want the date.

"Yeah, I'm just—it's been a while since I've been on a date." Dean stares at the pavement.

"Good thing—I haven't been on one in over a year. I think I've forgotten how it's supposed to go."

Dean barks out a laugh.

"What?"

"You're kidding me. You? Over a year? You're, like, really pretty." Dean's face turns dark red, and he faces the ground again. Cas starts shaking with laughter.

"I mean, you're an attractive guy, you know, and you're the one who asked me, so you're a confident guy, obviously." He was more mumbling than anything now.

"I only asked you because it was clear you were just going to ogle."

"Oh." Dean's embarrassed. To be truthful, Dean wouldn't have ever said anything about his attraction to Cas.

"And it's good to know you think I'm pretty." Cas swings his head up to grin at Dean.

They were at the ice cream parlor now, and it was one of those hipster, self-serve frozen yogurt places. Cas and Dean filled bowls, and Dean insisted on paying, despite Cas staring at him with that terrifying glare.

"So, you know what I do, but all I know about you is that you don't make grocery lists," Cas says, eating a bite of his diabetes-inducing dessert.

"I'm actually a columnist. For two magazines." Dean stirs around his fruity bowl.

"What magazines?" Cas is talking with his mouth full. It really shouldn't be adorable, but it is.

Dean blushes. "Uh… Advocate and Out."

Cas chokes on the bite of his treat. Dean mixes his strawberries with gusto.

"So, you work from home?" Cas changes the subject.

"How'd you know?"

"You come in at all hours of the day."

"Oh. Yeah, I do. I write the articles and send them to the editor. Sometimes I get to write more than just a column, if the subject is strong enough."

"Wow. That's really nice, actually. So what do you usually write about?"

"The politics side, you know, like, developments in society for LGBT rights."

Cas nods, putting in another bite. Now that Dean's mixture is complete mush, he starts in on it.

"So do you just work at the shop?"

"Officially, yes. I paint when I can, but I don't make enough revenue to live off selling my paintings."

Dean took a few art history classes at the local community college; it was something he was very interested in.

"Really? What style?"

Cas is intrigued; he wasn't expecting Dean to know about art. "I like surrealism, but photorealism is also fun. Once, I got a commission from this couple, who wanted me to paint their dog. It was dead. They'd taken it to the taxidermist, and ugh."

Dean chuckles. That is pretty bad.

They continued for the next twenty minutes or so until their ice cream was gone. Dean stood up and grabbed Cas' hand. Cas grinned widely.

Dean walks Cas back to his car behind the shop. He has a Pinto.

"Dude. Really?"

"What? It still works… Sort of."

"This is literally the most unsafe car in the history of forever."

"What?"

"The gas tank is in the worst possible location. Somebody rear-ends you, you're toast."

"Really? I've never gotten in an accident before… Honestly, I've been putting off getting a new car. This was my birthday present when I was 16, and it was old then."

"I cannot, on a clean conscious, let you drive that home."

"So, what? You gonna drive me?" Cas raises his eyebrow, daringly.

"Yup," Dean hears himself say. Cas is floored.

"Wait—what? Seriously?"

Dean nods, not believing this. "Come on." Dean leads the way back to his car, and he can feel the heat of Cas' eyes on his backside. When Dean stops at his car, Cas gapes.

"Wait—this is your car?"

Dean grins, and smiles widely. He opens Cas' door for him.

"She's beautiful," Cas sighs as he slides into the passenger side.

Dean gets a thrill; almost nobody refers to his baby with feminine terms. Dean practically runs over to the driver side, jumps in, and starts the car. They lapse into companionable silence, Cas breaking it every once in a while, telling Dean where to turn. They end up at an apartment complex that's only a few blocks from Dean's own. When they pull into the parking lot, Cas looks over at Dean.

"Give me your address," he says. Dean's pretty confused, but writes it on a napkin for Cas anyways. "Okay, I'll be at your place Friday night at seven. We're going to see a movie. Do you like action films?"

Dean stares.

"I'll take that as a yes." Cas leans over, gives him a very quick peck on the cheek, and gets out of the car. He turns around and winks before he goes into the building.

Dean foggily drives back to his own apartment.

It isn't until he's in the shower, getting ready for bed, that he realizes that he wasn't panicking at all during his date. He realizes that Cas makes him feel at home, feel comfortable.

Dean thinks he's going to enjoy being with Cas.