"JEEZ, DEAN!" Jo shrieked, throwing her arms in the air. "Could you be more of a square?" Dean looked away from her, grinding his teeth. He shouldn't have told her. A slick blonde curl fell from her bandana into her eyes. She flicked it away impatiently, only for it to fall right back into place. "I bet he feels nice and clutched now, huh? How could you do that to him?"

"Would you calm down? You weren't there, Jo! It was a madhouse!"

"Dean, it was Petey's. I have been there before. It might be antville but I don't see why you ditched him!" She turned away, shaking her head. She was the only "hep" friend he had, if that's what hep meant. What with the leather pants and the tight blouses and all the makeup. Of course, Ellen never saw any of that. Jo only ever went full-grease when she left her mom's house. Her ma would kill her.

"Jo, I was scared, okay? There were a bunch of people I didn't know, I just..." He closed his eyes in frustration, trying to come up with the words. It was like a big bubble had exploded inside of him and he hadn't been able to breathe. He hadn't meant to be mean or anything, but it just flew out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Jo came over to him, a hard look on her face, and slapped her hands on his shoulders. "Dean Winchester, we gotta do somethin' about you." She gazed at him shrewdly, turning her head to the side a little. "Maybe grow out that cubey flat-top and get you some pigskin. You're too...pastel."

Dean looked down at his sweater vest and frowned. This was his comfort zone. His short hair and his clean nose and his little bow tie. This was wear he fit. "Look, Jo, I know you want the best for me, and maybe this guy is cool and all, but-"

"Dean, sweetie, you're all caught up in the implications. Don't think about it." She smiled at him, revealing that little overbite that always made him smile right back. "Now, buck up, waltz back down to my Ma's place, and talk to him. Apologize."


Dean paced back and forth in front of The Roadhouse for what seemed like hours. He wanted to get it over with, and he didn't wanna do it at all, and he looked so stupid, and Cas would never listen. Eventually, he smacked himself in the face, getting a couple odd looks from passerby, and pushed open the door before he could stop himself again.

Oh God, there he was. He looked so tame here, without the jacket and without the grease. This was the Cas he liked, with the soft cotton apron and the hairnet. This was safe. He walked up and sat on one of the shiny red stools, folding his hands into a pile of clammy awkwardness on the bar. He looked at his fingers, hoping that maybe Ash would come and take his order instead, but no dice.

"Hey there, kiddo. Feeling better? Or are you still all chopped up?"

Dean looked up through his lashes to see Cas leaning right into him, his face not a foot away. The jukebox was playing 'Heartbreak Hotel' and Dean couldn't stand it. It was too weird, all this passive-aggressive stuff. "I thought you might be a bit upset," Dean whispered, looking back down at his hands.

Cas scoffed, turning to check the burgers on the grill. "Why would I be upset? You're the one who went all loopy on me. I'm doin' juuust fine, kid." Dean stared at his back incredulously. He couldn't honestly be trying to say he was never in a dark mood after that disaster of a date. He was the one who stormed away, after all.

"Oh come on," Dean said, pulling his brows together. "Don't fake me on this, Castiel. I know you were a little torn up, and I didn't me-"

"Torn up? Pssh. Dean-o, bud, I'm fine. Maybe I expected we would jazz around a little bit and hang later, but it was no big thing." He smiled, and it didn't reach his eyes. Dean looked down at his hands again, which were now ice-cold. He could understand if Cas was trying to play big for his friends but there was no one here and he wished Cas would be real with him. There was no need to be all macho.

"Fine. Whatever. But I wanna try again, okay. I know this sounds corny, Castiel but-"

"Cas. How many times I gotta tell you?" Cas ran his hand unexpectedly across Dean's hair, chuckling. "And yeah, man, we can give it another go. Not Petey's, though, obviously. Maybe we could go up to the movies? Or hang here?"

Dean gazed up at Cas with eyes the size of plates. He was a bit shocked he'd agreed so quick, let alone that he was volunteering ideas. "Y-yeah. Uhm. Could we just have dinner here and then maybe go see The Killing? You like crime stuff?"

He smiled when Cas nodded, and tapped his fingers on the bartop. They were just kinda sitting there at this point, Cas relaxed against the back counter, Dean leaning towards him subconsciously. Trying to break the tension, Dean straightened up, grinning, and said, "Hey, you ever use that kinda grease for your hair? Or do you only use that smelly pomade stuff?" He pointed to the fries, and the boiling oil.

Cas laughed loudly, showing all his teeth and nearly doubling over. "Y'know, I never thought of that. If I ever run outta smudge, I know what to do now." He sighed heavy, smiling. "Well kid, it's only 10 now. So unless you wanna order something or make it a lunch date, I kinda have to kick you out. House rules."

"What happened to me 'chillin' around here'" Dean asked, imitating Cas' accent and failing. Cas laughed again.

"You know Ms. Harvelle don't like loiterers, and even though you're almost family...she don't even let Joey hang 'round here without eatin'"

Dean scrunched up his nose at the mention of Jo, especially with that nickname he knew she hated, and slid off the stool. "Fine then. See you at 6, okay?" And he felt a little streak of confidence run through him, so he added, "And don't forget your apron, Cassie."

He walked out of the diner with a smile on his face and something hot gathering in his stomach as he heard Cas laugh at his joke yet again.