A/N: Hey buddies, just so you know I'm going on holiday for two weeks. I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write over there, so the next update might be a bit late. But then again, it might not. What a tangled web we weave.

Chapter Two

It's a few days later when a ridiculous pop song comes on the store radio and Cas rolls his eyes. They only play music when the place is pretty much deserted, and 7pm on a Tuesday provides just that.

Cas wanders aimlessly through the aisles, folding this and straightening that. Lucifer smacks him on the back of the head as he passes, calling "later" over his shoulder as he heads for the exit.

The song continues. Making an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, Cas forces his foot to stop tapping. It's only him and Gabe left in the place now, and Heaven knows that guy has a penchant for pop music. If he listens carefully, which he's trying not to, Cas can hear Gabriel's warped singing voice coming from the back. He rolls his eyes once more, heading back to the register to start closing up for the night.

But before he can move, the song changes to one that Cas has actually heard of, and doesn't mind. It's not one of his favourites, not a classic per se, but it's tolerable. Enough so that suddenly he finds himself dancing.

He awkwardly sings along with the words as he struts up and down the aisles, shaking his hips and punching weirdly with his arms. I should dance more often, he thinks, I'm bad at it. But who cares, it's fun, and he's alone, right?

Wrong.

"Hey, Cas."

Cas spins around and knocks into something solid. He steps back quickly. "Oh. God. Hi."

Dean chuckles, putting his hands on his hips. "Hey there. Havin' fun?"

"Sorry," Cas says, blushing furiously. He shoves his hands in his pockets and avoids Dean's eye. "How are you?"

"I'm great, yeah, thanks." Dean is smiling. Cas feels safe enough to meet his eye. "You're still open, right?"

"Yeah. Place closes at 8. What are you looking for?"

"Uh, when I was in here a couple of days ago I noticed that you do suits?"

Cas nods, holding back a smile. Dean in a suit. That's something he's got to see.

"Yeah, so my brother's getting married in about a week and I need something that hasn't been to five Zeppelin concerts."

"Congratulations," Cas says, his low voice making the word sound more beautiful than it is. "Yeah, we have a whole range of formal wear. Follow me." He starts walking and again, Dean falls into step beside him, like they'd never been apart.

"Tell me about your brother," he says, surprising himself at how forward he's being.

"Oh, he met this chick in college a couple years back and they've been joined by the glasses ever since." Dean's voice swells with pride for his brother. "Gotta tell you, man. Sammy's really got it all worked out."

"How do you mean?"

"You know. He's got the girl, the house, the job. His whole future – his whole family – is already planned out. He's lucky, I guess that's what I mean." He coughs.

Cas hums, the noise accompanying his frown. Dean turns to him. "What?"

"It's just... your brother's lucky, but you don't have to have everything to be happy. Like, aren't you happy being, well, free?"

Dean mulls it over for a few moments. They come to a stop at the formalwear and Dean leans one hand against a rack. "I don't know," he admits in the end. "I just kind of assumed I was, but... I don't know."

Suddenly he changes his posture dramatically, standing up straighter and folding his arms across his chest. "Right. That's enough Gilmore Girls for one day. Time to try on clothes, like a man."

Cas nods, accepting the change of subject. They've only known each other for an hour, after all. Not like he should force Dean to spill his heart and soul if he doesn't want to.

Over the next few minutes Cas shows Dean around the formalwear, talking about lengths and cuts and colours, while Dean frowns and asks a lot of questions, obviously out of his comfort zone. Eventually they narrow it down to a few suits, and Cas points Dean towards the changing rooms with an encouraging smile.

He waits outside the door while Dean changes, glancing around the store. The radio's been turned off, and the place is eerily quiet. All he can hear is Dean's occasional cursing as he slams an elbow into the side of the cubicle.

"Hey, bro," comes a voice from behind him suddenly, and Cas spins around to find Gabriel leaning against a wall, watching him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," replies Cas, working to keep his voice even. He's always been a terrible liar. Unfortunately, Gabe is very aware of this.

"Nothing my ass. Who's in there?" He waves a hand towards the cubicle.

"A customer."

"Who's in the cubicle, Castiel?" Gabriel says loudly, and Cas shushes him frantically, face turning red.

"Alright!" He whispers. "It's the guy from a few days ago. Now get out, will you?"

The sound of the door unlocking means both men turn to look as Dean steps out in a black tuxedo. "Hey," he says uncertainly to Gabriel, before turning to Cas and saying, "So?"

Cas looks him up and down slowly, marvelling at how fucking hot Dean looks. He has to stop himself from letting out a low whistle. "Uh, yeah. Looks good. How does it feel?"

Dean shifts uncomfortably. "I feel like a fuckin' funeral director, that's how I feel. But I guess the fit is alright."

"No no no no," Gabriel says suddenly, stepping towards Dean and running his hands over the man's upper arms. Cas glares, which Gabriel ignores. "No, you can do better than this. See, we have suits specifically tailored to guys like you. I mean, with all the muscles and stuff." He waggles his eyebrows.

"Uh, right." Dean steps backwards out of Gabriel's reach. "Thanks, yeah. It is a little tight, come to mention it."

"This calls for one thing," says Gabriel, pulling out his phone.

"What's that?" Cas asks scathingly, really hoping that one of the ceiling lights falls on Gabe's head.

Music starts blaring out from Gabriel's phone. After a few seconds, Cas recognises it as Vogue.

"What are you doing," Cas says, and it's flatly not a question.

Gabriel throws his hands in the air, grinning, and cries, "Montage!"

Twenty minutes later, Dean is changing back into his own clothes, and Cas is dragging Gabriel out of the store by his arm.

"Alright alright I'm going," he cries, pulling his arm out of Cas's grip with a glare. "My God you are possessive."

"Go home, Gabriel," Cas pleads. "Please."

"Fine. But you owe me." He walks off into the night, with Cas yelling profanities after him until he's out of view.

Cas walks quickly back to where Dean is emerging from the changing room, holding the chosen suit gingerly. "This was the one, right?" he asks as Cas approaches.

"Yes. I'm sorry about my colleague. He's... eccentric."

Dean chuckles, his eyes lighting up. "That's a mild word. Don't sweat it. At least I don't have to live with it." He slaps Cas on the shoulder. "Alright, ring me up."

They walk towards the cash register. "You been in town long?" Dean asks.

"No, actually. I moved here a few months ago. This is the first job I've had in the area."

"Nice. What, you got family here or something?"

Cas looks over to find Dean looking at him. He tries to maintain the eye contact but knows that if he doesn't glance in front of him occasionally he'll end up tripping over something. "No, I just wanted a fresh start. It was actually my family that drove me away."

Dean nods. "Right. Sorry." He senses the sensitive subject and changes it. Hot and respectful, Cas thinks. Is there nothing this guy's not good at? Apart from shopping, of course. But that kind of works to my advantage.

"My family's lived here for years. Kansas boy, born and raised. The band's not bad, either." He looks at Cas hopefully, hoping the reference will register. He's met with a frown and a squint. "Ugh. Nothing, nevermind."

Cas slips behind the counter and takes the suit, scanning the labels and removing the security tags. "That's eighty dollars."

Dean hands him four twenties. "If this thing rips, I'm out for your ass."

"I don't doubt it," Cas tells him with a smirk. "Hey, if you get a store card you can knock ten dollars off the price."

"Huh." Dean shrugs. "Sure, okay. I'm gonna be coming here often, so why not."

Cas drops his pen.

"I, uh, sorry." He picks it up off the floor and looks at his feet.

"God, relax, man." Dean's body shakes with silent laughter. He's holding it in for Cas's sake, which fills Cas with the low buzz of embarrassment. "There is a hole in my wardrobe the size of Kim Kardashian's ass. Had to be filled sometime."

"Well, I'm always happy to help," Cas mumbles, filling in a few details on a store card application form and waiting for his blush to recede. "Okay. Can I take your surname?"

"Winchester."

"Right." Cas writes it down and looks up at Dean. "Like the gun?"

"Hell yeah." Dean beams with pride. "Awesome, huh?"

"Violent." Cas's nose wrinkles a little. He's never used a gun in his life. "Though I sense that wouldn't be a problem for you."

Dean's eyebrows shoot up. "Hey, whoa, Mr Judgey, where'dyou get that from?"

"The plaid shirt, mostly. And the boots. You work at a clothes store long enough, they become their own kind of language." He rolls his eyes. "It's a nightmare."

"What, so everyone that comes in here with heels, you wanna reunite them with their father?"

"...something like that, yeah." His fingers begin tapping on the desk. "Can I have your number?"

Dean smirks with surprise. "Sorry?"

"I mean uh – for the card. I need your phone number. For – for the store card. The... card. See?" He points to the blank section on the form he's holding. "I need your number."

"Ah. No problem."

Cas slides the paper and pen across the counter towards Dean before shoving his hands in his back pockets and willing himself to stop shaking. What is it about Dean that makes him so damn nervous? It's probably his eyes, Cas thinks. They're so green, like the grass after rain. Or maybe it's his face. Or his body. Or his voice. Or, you know, his whole personality. Oh, shit.

"There we go." Dean hands the pen back to Cas. "I filled in the rest of it for you."

"Thanks." He grabs one of the small plastic cards from under the counter. "I'll just activate your card and you'll get your ten dollars back."

"Thanks, man. Hey, listen." And the way he says it makes Cas's head shoot up.

"Do you, uh..." Dean scratches the back of his neck. "Do you have a sports section?"

Cas visibly deflates, losing about two inches in height. "Uh, yeah. Yes."

"Good, cos Sam's hooked me up playing tennis with this girl on Friday and I don't think I can swing it in jeans."

Cas hands him the card and his ten dollars, making sure their hands don't touch. I don't know why I bother, not like my face can get any redder. "Come back before then, we'll get you sorted out."

"Awesome." Dean raps his knuckles on the counter. "See ya."

And that's it. He's gone.

As soon as Cas is sure that he's completely alone, he kicks over the stool next to him. "Can I have your number?" He mocks himself as he runs his hands through his hair and starts pacing. "Shut up, Cas, just learn to shut up."

But at least he's got a promise. At least he knows Dean's coming back in the next couple of days. Hopefully this time Gabriel won't fuck it up.

And even if it kills him, he's gonna ask Dean out.