So, Destiel in a movie theater. They're not together yet, so don't think they're about to go off sucking face the whole time. Sorry to disappoint.

First Destiel fic, so bear with me here

Hands. So many fucking hands. All grabbing, and groping, and tugging at every piece of him that they could, trying to get him to touch them, or talk to them, or sign something for them. All for them That's why he did these stupid meet-and-greets. The voices were the worst. Screaming, yelling, shouting voices. "I love you Dean!" is screamed from his side just as a hand tugs at his back pocket, and someone is crying directly in front of him. All three are different girls, but at this point, it's almost getting to be impossible to tell the difference between one girl and ten.

Dean continued to push through the crowd filled most with women, head down, sunglasses on, and collar popped, almost as an attempt to re-hide himself, even though his cover had been blown a while ago. A clutzy elderly woman had bumped into him, knocking his glasses off the bridge of his nose in front of- wait for it- a group of his biggest teenage fans. Before he knew it, he had been surrounded inside the small music shop, and had just barely made it outside.

You know you're popular when it takes over 30 minutes to get to your car from a corner store.

He heaved a sigh of relief once he was safely inside the vehicle, and his chauffeur was pulling away from the curb. He peeked out the window and saw a crowd of women still chasing after the car. His driver noticed as well. "I assume we won't be returning to the hotel as soon as we hoped, sir?" the man up front supplied.

Another sigh.

"James, I told you two things. One; don't call me sir, and two; don't call me sir."

"Sorry sir- I mean Dean," the man, James, corrected. "Well then, Dean, where to?"

Dean stared out the window, noticing the women still chasing him, a few trying desperately to hail a taxi. "Anywhere, man. Just get me the fuck out of here."

Dean blinked up at the large neon sign. A few bulbs near the top of the letters were flickering, but aside from that, the place looked pristine. "A movie theater?" Dean questioned, whirling around to face his driver. "You want me to go see a movie?"

James just blinked at him. "…yes… What, too good for public theaters?"

Dean shook his head, spinning back toward the building. "No, it's just… This isn't exactly hidden. I'd rather not have fangirls clawing at me, especially in a darkened room." Dean shuttered. "Not like last time."

They both winced at that. That middle-aged woman sure was persistent.

"No, of course not," James responded a moment later. "Which is why I sped to get here, and why I suggest you go in now. Like, right now. I'll try to lead your hoard away."

"You're not coming with?" Dean looked back over his shoulder as the other shook his head.

"No. Now hurry up," he said, stepping forward to shove Dean at the darkened doors, whirling around and heading back to the blacked-out SUV.

Dean chanced a glance back, and noticing James departure before heading in.

He bought a ticket for the very next movie showing. It was some children's film he'd never heard of before, and the poster for it looked awful, but it was well over 2 hours long, and that would be more than enough time to ensure he wasn't followed back to his hotel.

He bought himself some popcorn, and snuck into the nearly packed theater, finding an open seat in the back. He plopped himself down next to a dark-haired man, who was wearing- get this- a trench coat. Yeah. Dean made a face, but didn't really let it bother him much more than that. It was cold outside, after all.

He settled down, sending a glare at the child who wouldn't stop moving around to his left, and popped a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth as the theater went dark.

He tried to watch the movie. He really did. But between the fact that it was an animated children's film, and the man next to him was surprising gorgeous when lit up by the giant screen, it was a little bit hard to focus. Not to mention the plot of this film was complete shit. Seriously? Penguins stealing a steak from a lion? What the hell would penguins do with a steak?

Apparently Mister Trench Coat had the same thought process as him, as they both shook their heads at the same ridiculous things, and before long, Dean caught himself smiling. It was almost a game to see if he could guess how the other was going to react. He was right most of the time.

Unfortunately, staring at people to gauge their reaction to something is still considered staring, and to most people, a bit creepy. And Trench Coat was no exception. Dean had misjudged what reaction would come of the man, and soon caught himself in an eye-lock with him. Holy shit. Could his eyes be any bigger? And does he blink?

No, apparently. He doesn't blink, and Dean can only maintain eye contact for so long. He turns his head back toward the screen, yet the other man continues to stare for a moment, before snapping his gaze away.

Dean waited a few minutes, but once again found himself growing bored from the film. He leaned over and tapped the man's hand, receiving a started jump in his seat in return. Dean grimaced and leaned in closer. "Hey," he whispered. "Sorry for staring before. Didn't mean to creep on you."

The dark-haired man's lips twitched up as he leaned closer to Dean. "No worries," he whispered back, and how the fuck is this man real? "I needed a bit of a distraction from this movie."

Dean snorted, gaining some shushes from the parents surrounding him. He grimaced and leaned in closer. "Tell me about it. This is fucking awful."

"I know. I don't even know wh-" Another shush cut off the man, and they both frowned. He frowned at Dean, and gave him a shrug. Neither of them could get too mad, however. They were in a theater.

Trench Coat went back to watching the movie, but Dean wasn't satisfied. He needed to place a name to the man. He's done calling him Trench Coat.

The singer began patting on his body, looking for his cell phone. Maybe he could just slide it to the other, get his number if he was interested, but he couldn't find the damn thing. He'd probably left in in the car. He sighed and began to pat himself over once more, just to check, when he came across something that was decidedly not a phone.

He pulled the object out and looked over it, grinning as he shifted in his seat. A sharpie from earlier. He'd probably stolen it from a fan, but he doubted they'd mind. He uncapped it, and grabbed Trench Coat's hands, pulling it toward him and quickly scribbling down 'Dean'.

Trench Coat hopped a little in his seat, but didn't really fight Dean over it. He frowned when Dean was done, and quickly snatched the pen from him, grabbing his hand in the process.

'No,' he wrote back on Dean's, handwriting neat and pristine, almost as though he were writing on paper. 'my name is not Dean'

Dean had to cover his mouth as he let out a breath of a laugh, trying to keep quiet as he brought the other's hand back over. 'No, but mine is'

Trench Coat's eyes widened, and he shook his head. 'How silly of me. I'm Castiel'

Castiel. Dean could be down with that.

'What kind of name is Castiel?'

'An angel, apparently. Ask my mother.'

'Remind me to do so'

Castiel frowned down at his ink covered hand and, after a moment, decided to wiggle in his seat. Dean was incredibly confused until he realized the tan coat slowly sliding down his shoulders. Once down far enough, he slipped his arms out, pulling the sleeves of his sweater up as far as he could. Dean followed suit, slipping his leather jacket off, followed by his button up, leaving him in a white t-shirt.

'Sorry for that I ran out of space' Castiel wrote over Dean's wrist, holding the pen out for him to take.

'No problem I dig the sweater'

Castiel dropped his head down. Was he… blushing? He recovered a moment later. 'Thank you my ex bought it for me'

Dean's eyebrows raised. 'Ex?'

'Yeah,' Castiel paused, almost deciding whether he wanted to continue or not. He finally decided, quickly scribbling down 'he was an ass'

Dean grinned a bit. 'Sounds like one if he left you'

'I left him'

'Cause he was an ass?'

'Cause he was an ass'

Dean grinned. 'I know what that's like'

'Girls act like sociopaths?'

'More like psychopaths though guys do seem to be on the sociopathic side'

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed 'You date guys?'

Dean had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. 'Yeah' he wrote. 'I'm not just flirting with you for nothing'

Castiel appeared to blush again, his head snapping down and away from Dean. The singer grinned.

'I apologize Dean. I'm not very good at noticing… attention given to me'

'So what, the other guys you've been with just come up and ask you on a date just because you're pretty?'

'I assume so, yes'

Dean frowned, grabbing ahold of Castiel's wrist for a moment, feeling his skin heat up before he let go, scribbling on his arm 'That's not exactly fair to you'

'How so?'

'Cause only assholes do stuff like that'

Castiel frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Dean thought it was adorable. 'Are you implying that I'm an asshole?'

'No but I'm saying you're exes are'

'You'd be correct'

Dean moved to go write a response, but noticed two things: the movie appeared to be nearing it's end, and the other's arm was nearly completely full. He grimaced as he pulled Castiel's arm closer, sliding his sweater up as absolutely far as he could, finding the largest space to write. '785-555-0274 CALL ME'

Castiel stared at the ten digits, smiling after a moment. He snatched the pen back from Dean, writing 'I will, promise' down, just as the final scene of the movie was coming to a close.

They walked out of the theater together, though both went their separate ways after, Castiel leaving out the front while Dean snuck out the back.

A few hours later found Dean lying on his bed, flipping aimlessly through the channels available to him. He wasn't really paying attention though, too focused on the spirals of black writing decorating his arm. He was running his fingers over the large 'CALL CAS:' scrawled across his bicep when a strange sensation came from his rear. He pulled a face and reached back, feeling his phone. "Seriously? It was there the whole time?" he murmured, slipping it out, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

A deep voice answered from the other side, an obvious smile in the tone. "Hello, Dean."

Hey! So, literally my first attempt at Destiel, so if it was awful, let me know! Well, and visa-versa.

Thanks for reading! :D