"Are you sure about this, Dean?" Castiel whined from somewhere behind Dean.
The bar was cozy, if not a little cramped. The dark oak paneling and dim lighting made for a comfortable and intimate atmosphere, the bass heavy music just loud enough to isolate conversations across the room. Dean grabbed the arm of Castiel's trench coat, pulling him up to the front of the bar. He motioned to the bartender, an older but still quite attractive woman, ordering two beers from the tap for himself and Castiel. Dean pushed Castiel onto the bar stool next to him, and Castiel shifted uneasily, nearly slipping on his long coat as he tried to get himself situated.
"Jesus, Cas, you'd think you'd never been to a bar before," Dean jeered as their two beverages were pushed in front of them. "Drink up."
Castiel picked up the mug and peered into it, eyeing the contents suspiciously. He leaned forward to smell the brew, but pulled it back quickly, the smell evidently doing nothing to convince him of the appeal of the drink.
"Dude, it's beer. It's not going to bite you," Dean scoffed, pushing the mug closer to Castiel.
Castiel sighed, stowing his look of apprehension, the quickly tipping the mug forward into his mouth. He pulled the glass away, his cheeks filled, then gulped heavily. He looked as if he'd swallowed a bug.
"Well?" smiled Dean, his laughter only just slipping out from behind his words.
"I don't think I like this drink," Castiel responded, staring at the beer sourly as if it had personally insulted him.
"More for me then!" Dean declared cheerily as he grabbed Castiel's mug, tipping the contents into his own mouth. Castiel looked relieved not to have drink looming over him anymore. Dean signaled the bartender over again to make another order.
"Just give him something really girly," chuckled Dean, motioning towards Castiel's frown. The bartender smiled and turn to start mixing some sort of pink concoction that Dean was sure would be syrupy sweet.
"I'm not sure if I want to-" Castiel began, eyeing the spirits going into the brightly tinted glass.
"Cas, just relax. We deserve it once in a while. We've been working cases nonstop for weeks," Dean chided, returning to his own beer after polishing off Castiel's.
"We relax at the motels after our jobs..." sulked Castiel.
"That's sleeping, not relaxing, and we don't get nearly enough of that either," scolded Dean. Dean heard the bartender chuckle at their slight squabble as she slid the pink concoction in front of Castiel. Castiel regarded this drink with about as much trust as he had given the last one, but relented after a few moments, and took a careful sip of the colorful potion. He swirled his tongue around the liquid a few times, and relief spread across his face as he swallowed easily.
"This one is much better," he conceded, reaching to take another sip.
"When in doubt, there's always the good old Cosmo," the bartender hummed, taking away Dean's extra empty mug.
"Thank you very much, ma'am," Dean said, donning his best charismatic smile and tipping his drink towards the woman. She nodded and moved to another customer waiting at the bar whose gin and tonic had been had been emptied quickly.
Castiel sat next to him, quiet and content. With the help of the buzz from the Cosmo, Castiel's eagerness to take flight from the bar had toned down considerably. Dean leaned back against the bar counter, glad that the outing had evolved from a struggle to acceptance. He really needed a break.
Over the course of the past few months, Dean had gleaned little bit and pieces of information about the life and personality of his now partner in crime. The first thing he had learned was that Castiel had the tendency to throw himself headfirst into his work, even when he had been a doctor. Hence why Dean had insisted on them going out to a bar tonight despite Castiel's immediate protests about the job they had to do in this town. Dean knew well enough that constantly immersing yourself in hunting would just lead to insanity later down the line.
The second thing he had learned was that the woman Dean had discovered lying dead in Castiel's arms was not his wife or lover. In fact, Castiel didn't seem to have any family at all, at least none that he had mentioned, and Dean figured it should have come up by now. Dean often wondered how much of this contributed to Castiel's odd nature.
The third thing Dean learned was that Castiel's odd nature was the most amusing thing he had encountered in a long time. Castiel's combination of serious personality oblivious charm frequently sent Dean into stomach pains with laughter. Until Castiel had come along, Dean hadn't realized how badly he had needed a friend.
Dean chugged back the remainder of his second beer, return his mind back to the present. During Dean's absent reverie, Castiel had managed to down most of the drink in front of him, and was pleasantly smiling to himself. It was almost a bit creepy. Dean asked the bartender to prepare another Cosmo for Castiel before turning around on his stool to survey the bar.
A quick glance around the room and Dean found what he had been looking for quicker than he had hoped. He spotted a dark haired woman eyeing Castiel appreciatively. Dean had surmised he would be able to find someone at the bar. He recognized objectively that Castiel was attractive, in a bookish sense at least. And if anyone needed to unwind, it was Castiel.
"Hey, Cas," Dean said, nudging Castiel's shoulder and gesturing towards the table,"I think there's someone over there you should meet."
Castiel turned towards the woman, and she smiled coyly, pleased she finally had his attention. Castiel just looked perplexed.
"Do you know her?" Castiel asked, turning back to Dean and tilting his head slightly.
"Just get over there," Dean snorted, pushing Castiel off the bar stool. Castiel stumbled on his coat again, and turned to Dean to give him another perturbed stare. Dean just handed Castiel his drink gave him a sly grin. Castiel furrowed his brows, but as he was told, and made his way over to the table. Hopefully his severe expressions didn't change her mind too quickly.
The woman quickly motioned for Castiel to sit next to her. Dean patted himself on the back at the sight of the two beginning to make conversation, and then turned back to the bar to give Castiel his privacy and get another bit of poison. He raised his glass to signal the bartender, signaling his lack of alcohol.
"Shot of tequila, if you don't mind," Dean winked.
"Playing wingman tonight?" she inquired conversationally as she poured the clear liquid into the small shot glass.
"Sometimes you gotta take one for the team," sniffed Dean, as he through back his head and the alcohol burned his throat.
"You always so generous?" the bartender smiled, leaning against the counter.
"He deserves it," Dean responded sincerely.
"Deserve, maybe," she lilted, peering over his shoulder. "Desire, I'm not so sure about."
Dean took a glance back at the couple. The woman was chatting away at Castiel, who was making a face like someone had just told him he was going to need to stop wearing trench coats.
"He'll figure it out," coughed Dean, turning back to the bar.
"If you said so," the bartender said, skeptically. Her eyes moved back to Dean and she continued making pleasant conversation. "You two work together?"
"Yep, business partners. He's been doing good work lately, so it was time for a bonus," Dean responded proudly. At least most of that was true.
"Your friend seems to be doing a bit better now," she said, looking over his shoulder. Dean took a peek himself, and saw Castiel talking someone unusually animatedly, making odd gestures with his hands. He felt the corner of his mouth tug up in a half smile at the sight of Castiel's excitement.
"Think he'll get anywhere with that?" she joked, watching for Dean's reaction.
"He's a little awkward, but I think he could win her over," Dean concluded.
"Well, what I mean is," she said carefully, "Are you sure there's even room for her there if he did?"
"What?" Dean responded, turning back to raise an eyebrow at the woman. She smiled back at him again knowingly, before the expression faded into one of bemusement as she took another look at Castiel.
"Uh, you might want to check on your buddy," she giggle, turning back to the bar to go take care of other customers.
Bracing himself for another one of Castiel's "adventures," Dean turned back around to the tables. The woman was now standing, moving away from the table looking like she was about to cry. Castiel was just blinking at her, face blank confusion. He said something more, and she hastily reached for her purse still on the table and ran out the bar like she was late for a funeral.
Dean wasn't sure if he was even surprised.
"So..." he broke in, sauntering over to Castiel's daze,"what in the hell did you do?"
Castiel looked up at him, clearly flustered by the whole experience, his cheeks tinted from the Cosmos. "She said she liked me eyes," he mumbled.
"And?" grimaced Dean, just waiting to see where this was going.
"Well she started talking about how her parent's both have eyes the same color as mine. I told her that it was statistically very unlikely, as she had brown eyes. It's all very fascinating. I mean, it is possible, but it would be about as likely as-"
"Cas you did not just tell this woman her daddy was the milkman," Dean groaned, rubbing his face and feeling amusement creeping in despite himself.
"No, I didn't," Castiel affirmed seriously, "but what does that have to do with anything?"
Dean shoved down the impulse to go into hysterics, instead opting to grab Castiel's arm and drag him back up to the bar.
"Come on, you heartbreaker, it's time for us to get some more alcohol."
Dean recounted the tale of Castiel's lost love to the bartender, much to her amusement. By the end of it, the two of them were nearly on the floor clutching there stomachs, while Castiel sulked, still not understanding what exactly he had done that was so comical to them. However, he loosened up when the woman set down another brightly colored drink, blue this time, in front of Castiel in a gesture of peace.
"A little courage for your next try," she winked. He took a small sip, but soon downed it quickly, clearly enjoying it as much as the last drink she had chosen for him.
But the night, instead, was spent between the three of them, exchanging stories and knocking back more drinks. The bartender, named Angie as it turned out, told them all about her fiance who could apparently rival Castiel in obliviousness. The night hadn't followed any of Dean's plans, but it was a pleasant night nonetheless.
When they arrived back at their motel, Dean pulled Castiel's arm from behind his shoulder and flopped the drunken doctor onto his mattress unceremoniously. Castiel turned out to be quite the lightweight, and had almost fallen into garbage cans on the way back a few times before Dean had forcefully volunteered his help in keeping the man standing.
Castiel let out a slight groan at his landing, then rolled over, grabbed his pillow, and hugged it to his chest, smiling at it like it was his new best friend.
"That was more pleasant than I expected it to be," he confessed, clutching his pillow tight as he sat up to observe Dean shucking off his boots.
"I told you it would be you lush," Dean bragged, tossing a boot at Castiel, that bounced uselessly off of the pillow shield. "You should listen to me more."
"I listen to everything you said, Dean," Castiel responded earnestly. Castiel was known to hang on to every word of Dean's occasional lectures in supernatural phenomena.
"That's not what I meant," Dean sighed. Sometimes speaking only in the most literal sense was exhausting.
Castiel just continued to watch Dean's winding down ritual from his mattress perch with his peaceful, contented smile. Dean didn't usually see much besides a deadpanned expression from his partner, but apparently drunk Castiel had a lot more to be happy about. Dean figured this was true for most drunk people. He knew it was true for himself at least.
Dean stood and turned to check his duffel. He always made sure that his bag was ready before he went to sleep, in case of emergencies. Inside of the bag, his gun and silver bullets were accounted for, as expected. If he was following the clues correctly, he believed they were probably dealing with a werewolf in this town.
Dean felt the pessimistic air settle around himself. Werewolves were always quite an unpleasant business. A couple of previous encounters had taught him not to dare hoping to finish this job without having to gank someone who had no understanding of what was happening to their own body.
Dean turned back towards the center of the room and that Castiel had moved. He was now standing directly in front of Dean, only inches away. It seemed drunk Castiel had less of a sense of boundaries even more than sober Castiel. However, before Dean could say anything, Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean's middle in what resembled a sloppy bear hug.
"Uh... Cas?" croaked Dean, pulling his arms into the air, not sure what to do with them. "What are you doing?"
"You looked like you needed a hug," Castiel answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Ok, I think you're a bit white girl wasted," Dean observed as he patted Castiel's back and attempted to carefully remove Castiel's arms from his own sides.
"I was told hugs make people feel better," Castiel said as he relinquished his grip without a fight and moved to return to his bed. He plopped back down on the mattress, reuniting himself with his pillow and curling around it in a small ball.
"Angie told me," Castiel yawned, taking Dean's unresponsiveness as a cue for more explanation. Castiel sounded as though he was on the edge of drifting to sleep.
Dean just shook his head at Castiel and grabbed his clothes to head for a quick shower. He really needed to take Castiel to more bars. Maybe if he talked to more people, eventually Castiel would start acting like a normal person.
Probably not though. Something told Dean that Castiel's personality was beyond help.
Dean found he didn't actually mind all that much.