They go to the same place where Cas first acted as Dean's wingman, the slightly grotty bar just out of town that's frequented by men with handlebar moustaches and leather chaps. Dean feels more than a little comfortable about going on a date with a dude to this place, but he figures that at least his date is an angel of the Lord and can smite anyone who gives them shit. Not that they're going to be here for very long, of course. He feels like kind of an asshole for it, but hey, it's not his fault. He's just not looking to bang a dude tonight.

Sam had sounded disapproving, but he still agreed to act as a stand-in wingman. One hour. That's all Dean has to put up with.

When they finally get served by a waiter with the dumbest looking stare that Dean's ever seen, he orders the same thing he had last time he was here, a burger and fries, and Cas doesn't order anything. Dean narrows his eyes. Cas shrugs.

"I do not require food, Dean," he says.

"You like hamburgers, though," Dean points out.

"Yes, but I can take some of yours if I wish."

"Can you?"

"Will you stop me?"

Dean considers it.

"Probably not."

The waiter stares at them blankly like a cow chewing cud.

"Is that everything?" he asks.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean replies. Cas furrows his brow.

"Your mother is not angry with you," he tells the waiter. The waiter looks at him.

"What?" he asks. Dean facepalms.

"Me," he blurts out. "My mother. We had an argument before I came out. To here, that is. Not like, coming out. But yeah. He's just reassuring me, you know? That my mom's not angry with me. So that's nice."

Cas stares at him.

"Your mother is dead, Dean," he says.

"That's everything, thanks," Dean tells the waiter, firmly. The waiter walks away from the table slightly hurriedly, casting a suspicious look over his shoulder when he reaches the bar, and Dean fixes Cas with an exasperated glare. "Dude," he says.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Did your experience at the brothel honestly not teach you anything?" Dean sighs. Cas seems to consider the question.

"That I am not sexually interested in women," he supplies. Dean closes his eyes and counts to three. He could kill the angel if he weren't so damn endearing half the time.

"I mean... look. You can't go round telling people that you know personal things about their lives, man. It's fucking weird. You're gonna get pegged as a stalker or something."

"I'm sorry, Dean," says Cas. Dean rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't apologise to me," he says. "Just, y'know, stop doing it."

"I will try," says Cas. "I do not mean to cause discomfort. I am merely trying to help. That waiter – Keith Bride – believes that his mother is angry with him due to the fact he has fallen in love with the daughter of her ex-boyfriend. In fact, his mother is happy, believing it to offer the chance of a reconciliation between the two. She has not told him this and he is suffering unnecessarily. I thought it pertinent to assist."

Dean takes a moment to process this.

"OK, the intentions are good," he begins. "But the execution is a little off. Just... don't be creepy about it, OK?"

"All right."

They don't say anything for a few minutes until the waiter – Keith, Dean reminds himself, and then feels somehow sullied because he knows the name of a total stranger and that's just fucking weird – returns with Dean's food. Dean wordlessly hands the burger to Cas, who accepts it with a grateful look. Dean can't fight back the grin. He picks up his fork and starts eating.

"So, how do you know all this stuff about everyone, anyway?" Dean asks around a mouthful of limp salad.

Cas shrugs.

"I know your every indiscretion, Dean," he says. Dean blinks.

"Well, that's not at all creepy," he responds. Cas just looks at him.

"They're written on your soul," he continues.

Dean skewers a French fry with his fork and contemplates what he's just heard. Cas knows all the shit he's done and he's still here with him. He still asked him out. He's still content to sit here and watch Dean eat and occasionally pick at his food. Dean likes that.

"OK then," says Dean. "A test. Have I ever had a threesome?"

Cas blinks.

"No," he says. "You have not."

Dean grins.

"Indeed I have not," he agrees. "Always seemed like too much effort. I'm more of a bracket A, bracket B kind of guy. Bracket C just complicates things."

Cas furrows his brow.

"I do not follow."

"You're not missing out," says Dean. "Man, I envy you sometimes, y'know? Must be great to be unburdened with sexual desire. To just be able to look at someone and not have your opinion clouded by the fact you want to bone them or anything."

Cas chews thoughtfully on a mouthful of burger.

"I would not say that I am unburdened," he eventually says. "I would say that I am less burdened than most."

"OK," says Dean, and then he doesn't know what else to say until he does. "But you just said you weren't sexually attracted to women."

"Not particularly," Cas acquiesces. "I would not say that I am sexually attracted to humans in general. However, I believe that I would be amiable to the act with someone with whom I had already formed a close bond."

Dean blinks.

"You're a closet romantic," he says. "Great."

Cas has the grace to blush.

"Is this a negative aspect of my character?" he asks. Dean laughs.

"In today's society? Yeah, probably." He watches Cas finish his burger, watches him reach over to steal a French fry from Dean's plate, and is suddenly struck by the fact that his fingers are long and – dare he say it – graceful. He bets Jimmy Novak was a pianist. He can't deny that Jimmy Novak was a damn good looking guy.

Sometimes he thinks it's weird that Cas' body isn't his own, that it once belonged to someone else, was controlled by someone who might have been scared of crowds or flying. He wonders if Cas thinks of the body as his now. He's stopped calling it his 'vessel' since Jimmy passed on for good. Cas wears it differently now. He doesn't wear it like a skin. It fits. He owns it now. He's comfortable, and he's still full of weird mannerisms and social faux-pas, but he's Cas now, not the angel of Thursday in Jimmy Novak's body.

It hits Dean a bit like a ton of bricks, really, when he realises that he's not exactly physically attracted to Cas. He knows that, has known that since he met the guy. What makes Cas attractive – and Dean isn't going to deny it – is the fact that he's Cas, the fact that he drums his fingers on the table when he's impatient and cricks his head to the left when he's confused and to the right when he's contemplative.

Cas looks at him, blue eyes filled with concern, and Dean realises that he's been staring. He swallows. "Cas - "

And then his phone rings. Dean answers it quickly. He needs to tell Cas now or he never will, and that's never productive. He'll get rid of whoever's ringing him, tell them to call back later.

"Hello?" he says.

"Dean, you are a horrible person and Cas deserves better," says Sam. "This is your get out of jail free card. This is your day release from the prison of your inflated ego. I hope Cas goes home with a 6ft blonde."

Dean sits still. Cas looks at him, thunder in his eyes. He heard. Of course he did. Even if he didn't, 'your every indiscretion'. He knows. Dean hangs up on his brother wordlessly. Cas looks down at the table.

"Cas," says Dean again.

"You told me once that you had to be cruel to be kind in these matters," says Cas, bitterly. "But Dean, there was no kindness in that cruelty." He stands up, and Dean can't bring himself to protest. He doesn't know what to do. "Enjoy the rest of your meal," Cas says neutrally, turning to leave, but it's anything but neutral, Dean knows.

"Cas," he attempts lamely yet again. Cas doesn't turn around.

Dean swears under his breath. He should write a book on dating, he thinks. He could call it 'How To Die Alone'. It'd be a bestseller.

He doesn't even know what he wants to say to Cas. He doesn't know how he feels. He knows that his heart thuds a little when he sees him for the first time after a long absence and he knows that Cas' idiosyncrasies make him smile and he knows that even when he complains about Cas' weirdness, he doesn't really mind it.

"You finished?" Keith asks from behind him. Dean nods. Keith stares at him. "Not the burger," he says. "With that guy. He didn't look happy."

Dean thinks about it.

"No," he says. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Right," says Keith. "That'll be $4.99, then."


Dean drives back to the motel in silence, ignoring the Asia cassette in the glovebox. He sleeps on top of the covers in his clothes and doesn't dream.

He formulates a plan that night. It's not the greatest plan in the world, but he thinks it might work.

He hopes it does, or Sam's going to have enough blackmail material to last them both a lifetime.