"I'm going on a date."
Dean chokes on a mouthful of cheap beer. He struggles to swallow before he spins to look at his best friend.
"A what?!"
He and Cas are sitting in his apartment, enjoying the one night where Dean's football player neighbors aren't stomping around above them to bad house music and nineties rap. So they're doing what any college kid does on a Thursday night: drinking the cheapest beer the convenience store offers, eating the student special pizza the place next door offers, and watching The Avengers. Dean actually hadn't realized how quiet they both had been until Cas had spoken.
On that note…
"A date?! Like, with a real, breathing human being?" Dean sputters as wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Cas frowns, eyebrows knitting and his head cocking to the side slightly in his typical manner.
"No, Dean, with one of the dissection frogs in the Biology lab," he deadpans. Dean snorts at that.
"Give me some credit, Cas," Dean replies with a roll of his eyes, putting his beer down on the coffee table. "I mean, in three years I haven't even seen you look at someone. I didn't even know you were interested in that sort of thing. " Cas shifts in his corner of the couch, his face an interesting blend of irritated and embarrassed.
"Well, I am interested in that sort of thing. Balthazar is setting me up with one of his friends. He says he might be a good match for me. We're going out next weekend," Cas says, tucking his knees into his chest with a soft hmph. Typically, that's Cas' cue that he's finished talking about something, but hell will freeze over before Dean lets a topic like this go.
"Do you know the guy?"
"No, he's Balthazar's friend, like I said."
"I fuckin' heard, Cas, don't get all prissy on me. What are you even gonna do?"
"I don't know Dean, you said yourself that I don't really participate in these sorts of things."
Cas now looks less annoyed and more uncomfortable and pink. Dean feels bad for the kid. He's been dealing with Dean's revolving door of a love life for three years now, so he doesn't have a good role model when it comes to love. And fuck all if his family is any goddamn help. Anna's been dating the same guy for years (and should seriously just tie the damn knot already) and lives in Chicago, so she's not really accessible for these kinds of conversations. Gabriel sleeps with anything with a pulse, so he's only good for bedroom tips. And Michael is just Michael; talking to him is the equivalent of talking to a priest: it's just plain awkward. Dean's pretty sure he only became friends with Cas because he pitied him for having such an awkward family.
"Hey, enough with that face. I'm sure you'll knock the kid dead," Dean assures him with a soft punch to Cas' shoulder. Cas' mouth finally twitches into a small smile and he shoves Dean's arm away. He looks at Dean for a long moment before he begins to chew the inside of his cheek.
"Would you… uh… would you help me?" he says shyly, eyes darting down before looking at Dean again. "You know, just help me learn what to do, what not to do, the basics of dating. Then perhaps it will be a successful date."
Huh. Well, Cas doesn't really have many other options. With the lack of sibling advice, not to mention the fact that Cas is already socially awkward, he'd be heading into this unprepared. The idea of some pretentious douche (because Dean's damn sure the only people Balthazar is friends with are all English majors too, and they're all snobs in Dean's book. Bunch of know-it-all bookworms with permanent smoke stench and inflated egos.) laughing at Cas already has his blood boiling. At least he can send Cas in prepared to charm the kid's pants off.
"'Course, Cas. With my expertise, I'll probably get you laid. Never tried any of my moves on a guy, but I'm sure it'll work the same," he says with a smile.
He pointedly ignores the way his chest constricts at the idea of Cas going home with the mystery date.
When Dean met Castiel Novak at Kansas University's freshman orientation, he had no intentions of associating with the kid, much less end up as his best friend. He was this gangly kid with blue eyes peering out behind permanent bed-head and a hipster's wardrobe (except Cas lacks the capacity to be a pompous asshat like the hipsters on campus, so he kind of just looks like your average art student, complete with the paint smears and charcoal stains). He talked like he swallowed a thesaurus and was inherently brilliant without really attempting to be. That was more of the reason he started to talk to Cas in the first place. He was taking an art history course for his GenEd requirement and really needed the extra help. Fortunately, Cas lived in his hallway so it was easy enough to find him and ask if he wouldn't mind tutoring Dean. He was pleasantly surprised to find that behind the intimidating intelligence and piles of art supplies, Cas had an awesome taste in movies. So, he inadvertently found himself going to Cas' room for more than just studying.
Somewhere in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon, Dean decided he'd keep Cas around for more than homework help. Cas told Dean he decided to keep him around after Dean showed up at his door with the special edition of The Dark Knight.
That was three years ago. Now it was their senior year. Dean had moved out of the dorms so he could be in walking distance of both his jobs at the local mechanic's and the Roadhouse bar. Closer distance equals more shifts. With the amount of loans he had, he really needed to start paying for stuff if he plans on affording graduate school. His advisor had already landed him a spot in a really good Forensic Science program in Nevada, with a seriously big scholarship thrown in, so it was really a matter of saving for housing and the rest of the moving/living costs.
So, unfortunately, his schedule had become filled pretty quickly between work and class. With Castiel still living on campus in honors housing, swamped with his own mountain of portfolios and work, they barely get to see each other. Whenever they both have a time slot free at the same time, they're instantly together. Dean doesn't like to think of the idea that by next year, he and Cas would be living separate lives. The amount of time he didn't see him now already had him antsy.
Maybe that's why he's feeling a little uneasy about Cas going on a date. As much as he knew Cas deserved to finally have his own love life, a relationship would take away from the little time he already had with his best friend. He only had so much time left; he hated the prospect of someone taking that from him.
Dean becomes aware that he sounds like a jealous kindergartener clinging to Cas on the playground going, "No he was mine first!" to the snotty kid trying to push him on the swing.
He's gonna blame it on the senior year emotions.
Yeah. Definitely that.
Cas bursts in the next day. He makes a beeline to the couch where he promptly flops down face first. Dean guesses the deep mumble he hears is his 'hello'.
"Dude, that couch smells like dirty feet, sit up before you vomit and add another stain on it," Dean scolds as he walks over to Cas' prone form, still drying a dish. "And what did I fuckin' say about wearing your paint clothes on my shit! You're getting this couch fuckin' fancy cleaned for all the stains you have on it." He snaps the dishtowel at Cas' ass. The smaller boy yelps and flails himself off of the couch with a loud 'thud'. From the tangle of limbs on the floor, he scowls up at Dean.
"I'm tired. I had a ride here so I wasn't about to waste a break from walking just to put on clothes for you," he grumbles as he clambers to his feet.
"Glad you make an effort to impress me, Cas. Just go put on one of my shirts before you Pollack my couch."
Cas smirks and walks off to Dean's room. "I'm appreciating the culture I'm instilling in your brain, Dean," he gloats. Dean chucks the towel at him as he laughs and ducks behind the bedroom door.
"Very funny, asshole. You gonna talk to your hot date like this?" Dean shouts as he returns to his dishes. He's imagining Cas inserting art facts into the conversation. He's always had this habit of spewing out random trivia as if he is doing whomever he's speaking to a favor by educating them. Dean's always teased him about it, but he'd be the first to admit he now gets a lot of the questions on Jeopardy right.
Castiel appears next to Dean with the towel and begins drying the dishes. "I don't think he'd appreciate the topics. Nor would he take them with as much humor as you, Dean," he says. Dean glances at Cas out of the corner of his eyes and smirks at him. He looks so small in Dean's shirt, his lanky frame not filling the material like Dean's does. But, Dean admits to himself, the look suits him. He finds himself liking the idea of Cas wearing his clothes.
He shakes the thought away quickly, shoves it in a mental box, and sits on the lid.
Not something he's interested in thinking about right now.
"Well, we have to make sure we don't send you off in paint-covered clothes," he laughs. "Do you even own anything without a stain on it?"
Cas frowns. "I can't afford to do my laundry every time I get something on me."
"Not every time, but damn, Cas, you need like a drawer just for scrubby clothes. And a drawer for looking good in public clothes. You can't look like the homeless guy who lives outside of Michael's when you're on a date. Where are you even going?"
"The Roadhouse. Ellen doesn't mind my clothing choices."
Dean frowns slightly. The Roadhouse is a surprisingly good choice. It's got great food, good beer, and pool. It's not too busy where it's hard to talk, but not too quiet so you have to talk in a whisper or everyone will hear.
"Want me to see if I can get a shift for that night? I can come to your rescue in case anything happens," Dean says with a laugh.
"No!"
Dean just about drops the plate in his soapy hands. He looks at Cas, who looks mortified, eyes wide as saucers. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. "I-I- I didn't mean to shout that. Sorry. Uh, I just think if you were there it would be… awkward. Everyone knows we're friends and it would most likely make him uncomfortable. It would look like spying," Cas rattles off quickly. Dean relaxes and nods in agreement, still slightly curious as to why Cas seemed so quick to say no.
He lets it drop and they finish the dishes in silence. That is, until Castiel cracks the towel at Dean's ass. Then it becomes a very loud game of Cas running away from Dean wielding a wooden spoon.
"Cas, you're awful at this. It's like flirting with a wall."
Castiel frowns deeply at Dean, letting out an irritated huff while he straightens up in his seat. They're sitting in The Roadhouse, in one of the back booths that Cas usually picks. He typically comes in at the end of Dean's shift when he's free and they grab some free fries and burgers. Tonight, Dean decided to surprise Cas by giving him flirting lessons. Where better than at the place itself and most likely the exact table they would get? Cas looked less than enthused about the idea, but he's been going along with it pretty well.
Well, except for the fact that Cas can't flirt at all.
"Come on, dude, all you have to do is look interested."
"Dean, I am interested."
"Yeah, but you don't look like you're interested in getting in my pants."
Cas flushes straight down to his neck. This is about their fourth "date lesson". They're not so much lessons as they're little crash courses every so often about seduction. Castiel has pointed out numerous times that his goal isn't to get laid, but to get to know the boy, but Dean has argued that the only way to get a man to stay around is if you tease them. ("Cas, trust me on that one.") Four lessons, and Cas still sucks at it.
"Dean," he hisses, "I don't understand why this is important. Shouldn't I get to know him first before I decide whether I want to get in his pants or not?" Dean sighs and leans forward over the table, bracing himself on his forearms. He's gonna have to demonstrate.
"Okay, Cas, how about you tell me about your day and I'll show you how it's done?" he says lowly. Castiel looks like he's about to run away, but he finally gives Dean a curt nod and visibly forces his shoulders to relax. He starts to slowly explain the current exhibition at the gallery he works at. As he does, Dean looks directly at Cas and nods and 'mhms' every so often. He gently slides his leg between Cas' underneath the table, just enough that it brushes against the tight material of Cas' jeans. The dark-haired boy actually pauses mid story to gasp.
"What is it?" Dean says innocently, smirk clear on his face. The face that Cas makes at Dean is the best combination of annoyed and just a little bit aroused. Dean feels a smug sense of satisfaction that he managed to get Cas to be even a little ruffled. The boy tries to continue his story, but he's already flustered, so Dean steps up his game. He presses himself forward a little more, never breaking eye contact, but he starts to chew absently on his lip. Cas' eyes snap to the movement. His voice falters a little, but he forces himself to continue, tearing his eyes away. Dean responds by brushing his leg against Cas' again. When Cas meets his eyes, Dean notes that his pupils are a little blown, then looks to Cas' mouth.
He has a really nice mouth, Dean finds himself thinking as he licks his lips. Dean had never really thought to look at Cas' face this close before, but he's noticing the way his mouth bows perfectly, the little stubble on his chin… Cas is actually kind of handsome. Well, kind of is an understatement. If Dean was going to be honest, Cas was hot and he was pretty damn sure there were nerdy artists who drool whenever they see him walk by.
"Dean."
Dean looks back at Cas' eyes. The boy is flushed pink, a thin line of blue surrounding his pupils. He looks terrified and Dean cannot understand why.
"I think I get the point. I will try to remember your tips," Cas struggles to say. He's actually shifting further into his seat, trying to get away from Dean. Dean frowns, but shrugs and leans back into his side of the booth.
He shoves the little hurt he feels into the mental box and adds a padlock to it.
"Well, good. Now, I want a damn beer."
One damn beer becomes about six, plus two shots that Jo shoves at the two of them (she accidentally poured the wrong kind for an order and Ellen would shoot her if she caught her ditching good booze). Dean is drunk, and even Cas is a little giggly. The stumble out, Ellen shouting at Dean not to forget he has the night shift tomorrow, and head the block back to Dean's apartment.
"We haven't done this in so long!" Dean laughs, slinging his arm across Cas' shoulder. Cas laughs and nods, his entire body rolling with the motion. Dean keeps the boy pinned to his side as they head down the street.
"No, seriously! We're about to be adults and we don't even go out and enjoy ourselves any more! How lame are we?" he continues, voice booming in the quiet of the night. Cas is laughing and shushing him.
"We have other responsibilities Dean. We can't act like we did three years ago and get drunk every weekend," Cas explains with a slight slur. Dean snorts at the memory of the two of them freshman year stumbling from party to party. He releases his hold on Cas to gesture exaggeratedly.
"Not even going out and being drunken messes, Cas! I mean, we both work and go to class and sleep. Already we don't even get to hang out for more than like a few hours every week, and we used to be with each other about 16 hours out the 24 a day," he complains as they reach his building. He fumbles with his keys for a few minutes, dropping them twice (which sets Cas into a bout of giggles each time), and finally manages to get them into the building.
"Well, it's a good thing we get to have nights like this, then," Cas answers. Dean frowns and trots a little further ahead to his door.
"But, if you end up hitting it off with your date, I mean, when are you gonna even have time to hang out with me?" he blurts when he reaches his door, turning to face Cas.
Castiel has one hand gliding across the wall as he walks, keeping his fingertips pressed against it when he stops. His eyes are just the littlest bit glazed over from the alcohol. It makes them shine brightly in the dim light of the hallway. One corner of his mouth is pulled down, and he looks almost sad. Dean didn't want to ask the question; it kind of came out before he could think about it. He didn't want Cas to hear the clingy part of him. He didn't want Cas to think he wasn't allowed to go and have the things Dean's always flaunted around him. His goal isn't to be the asshole in Cas' life that rubs his love life in his face. Cas should have his own, too, with someone who appreciates him.
"What makes you think I'd spend less time with you, Dean?" Cas asks gently. He's moved closer, only a few inches away from Dean now. Dean blinks at him, mouth open and ready to say something, but he has nothing. He presses his lips together.
"Well we only have a few more months left-"
"Dean, you're the one moving away."
Dean blinks again at Cas, startled by the bite in his words. Cas is still meeting his eyes defiantly, but he's chewing his bottom lip in the way that shows he's actually nervous. Dean hadn't thought about Cas' reaction to him moving. He honestly just presumed after they graduated that Cas would move on to something better and leave Dean behind. That's why he jumped at the internship; at least then he could leave before he was left. He never thought that Cas would be upset about the idea. He never thought about Cas wanting him around permanently.
Dean shakes his head slowly, not quite sure at what, and bites his own lip. "Yeah, I guess I am," he said softly, suddenly feeling much more sober. He sees Cas's expression crumble for a second before the boy shrugs his shoulders. Suddenly Cas seems fascinated by the molding on the floor.
"But I'd rather have you."
Cas' attention jerks back to Dean. Dean just shrugs helplessly, turning to the key in the lock. He lets the two of them into his apartment, tossing his keys and coat onto a nearby chair. The familiar thrum of a bass line through his ceiling vibrates the floor.
"I'll get you a pillow," he mutters as he shuffles towards his room. He kicks his shoes off as he goes and starts ridding himself of each of his shirts.
He feels like he's opened a can of worms and he's afraid Cas is gonna start looking for the bottom of that can.
When he returns with a pillow and a blanket, Castiel has already stripped down to his boxers and tee shirt, clothes set in a new pile on the floor. He's lying on his back on the couch, eyes closed. Dean rolls his eyes. Cas usually passes out quickly. He walks over and throws the blanket over his friend. He leans down to attempt to slip the pillow under Cas' head when he opens his eyes. Dean sort of just freezes, inches away from Cas' face, arms braced on the back and arm of the couch. Cas looks so innocent, blinking owlishly up at Dean with his ridiculously round blue eyes. Dean swallows hard. He makes a move to back away, but Cas's hands shoot up suddenly. He finds himself being tugged forward gently and then the light brush of Cas' lips against his cheek. His lungs suddenly forget to work and his breath hitches slightly.
"I'd pick you over anyone else, Dean," Cas says lowly. Then, Cas is moving away and burying himself under the thick blanket. Dean catches a small smile on Cas' face before he pushes himself away and heads back to his room.
He's lying in his bed for about five minutes with his cheek and neck burning from Castiel's touch before it's all too much. He rolls onto his side and shoves his hand into his boxers.
He comes to the thought of blue eyes looking up at him.
After, he rolls onto his back once more and scowls at the ceiling. The mental box breaks open, and a flurry of thoughts swim through his head angrily.
It's here that Dean realizes miserably that he's nursing a crush on his best friend.
"I am so fucked," he breathes to the ceiling.
The boys upstairs start stomping around as if in agreement.