Statues and Revelations

It was a little weird that Cas never turned up for breakfast at all, but Dean was determined not to overthink things this time. He probably just got caught up in working out or something.

Or not.

Cas was already downstairs, sitting in one of the makeup chairs while Balthazar did up his face. The guy was supposed to be supervising hair and makeup and everything, not doing the work himself. And why was Cas looking at him like that? That was Dean's look!

"Whoa, breathe, Dean," Sam said in his ear.

Dean's breath hissed out through his teeth. "What is he—what are they—?"

"I'm just going to go… over there," Jess said, edging away.

Sam pulled Dean into a corner and let him fume for a few minutes. "Okay, but what exactly are you mad about, Dean?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, why don't you just think about it," Sam said. "Jess is creating a distraction."

As if on cue, there was a loud crash and the sound of Balthazar's furious cursing.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the space to Sam's right. If he knew why he was mad, he wouldn't be hiding in the corner with Sam, obviously. And he could tell from the look on Sam's face that he knew, or thought he knew, exactly what Dean's problem was. Why was Dean always the last one to know these things?

Sam settled into a gilded armchair, which was among the junk in the basement for no discernible reason, with the air of one who was prepared to wait all day.

Dean kicked the chair leg, which did nothing but make his toes sore, and peered out behind the edge of the sheet that hid them from view. Cas was standing under one of the lights, dust motes sparkling around him and making him look almost otherworldly. He was laughing with Jess as they helped set the chairs upright again. Balthazar wasn't helping, probably because he was a lazy ass, but also because he was watching Cas bend over, mesmerized. Which he didn't have any business doing, and Dean was going to march over there and make it perfectly clear that smarmy bastard that—

"Oh my god," Dean said.

"Oh thank god, I was afraid I'd have to send Jess out for sustenance before you figured it out," Sam said with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"I like him," Dean said, still stunned by this revelation.

"Yes, but do you like like him?" Sam asked, smugly.

Dean elbowed him in the stomach.

"Oof! Don't blame me for your idiocy, Dean. It was practically love at first sight."

Dean thought he might hyperventilate.

"Or, crush at first sight. Whatever."

"But I'm not gay."

"Dean, relax. If you're gay, it's fine, and if you're bi, it's fine, and if you're totally straight and we're all misreading this, it's still fine. But seriously. I think you should go for it. Jess, too."

"Yeah, I don't know…"

"Can you at least hold it together for the rest of the day, or do I need to run interference between the two of you?"

"I don't need a chaperone, Sam."

"Good, because it looks like Charlie's found us. Smile."

Dean snarled at Balthazar as he went by, which was almost the same thing. And Balthazar's hasty step back warmed his heart.


"We're doing something really cool today!" Becky said, bouncing into the makeup area. "I can't tell you how excited I am! Dean, Jess, you guys follow Charlie, you're getting ready in another room. Sam and Cas, you two stay here. Balthazar knows what to do. I can't wait!" She clapped her hands and danced back out again.

"My alarm increases proportionately to her excitement," Cas said.

Dean laughed before he remembered that he was being awkward around Cas right now.

"Let's go, peeps," Charlie said, grabbing Dean and Jess's arms and hauling them away. "We have a lot of work to do."

The other "room" was just a huge white sheet on the floor with more sheets forming temporary walls on three sides. There were a few standing mirrors along the sides, but it was otherwise completely empty.

"Okay, put these on," Charlie said, throwing a handful of clothes at them.

A bit of sorting revealed "these" to be two pairs of underwear and a bra, all in white. By mutual unspoken agreement, Dean and Jess turned their backs on each other to change. Dean tried not to listen to the rustle of clothing fall to the ground because (a) she was Sam's girlfriend and (b) he was apparently gay now? At least a little?

"Great, now I want you to cover yourselves with this," Charlie said, kicking their clothes unceremoniously to the side and handing them pots of some white gunk. "And make sure you stay on the sheet. We're trying not to make more of a mess than absolutely necessary."

"Uhh…" Dean said.

"Ugh, it's cold," Jess said, slathering some on her stomach. "What is this?"

"It's a special body paint," Charlie said. "I mixed it myself. It's hard to find something that won't rub off when you sweat. But don't worry, it will wash right off if you use the counter-agent. I think."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, pausing with his hands poised over his left calf. "I'm going back to work tomorrow, and I'd rather not look like the Pillsbury Doughboy."

"Just tell them you're considering a career in mime, you big baby," Charlie said. "And it will come out. I'm like 72% sure. And considering the odds that the Rebellion would successfully destroy the Death Star, you should feel very secure with that."

"You are dead to me," Dean said, slathering the goop on his leg with a resigned sigh. It was cold, and had a weird texture. Not like sunscreen; more like wet flour, or runny clay. Gross.

"You'd better watch it if you don't want to get any of this on your tongue," Charlie said, brandishing a tube of the body paint/oobleck.

"What are you—mmph!" Dean glared as she spread lipstick generously over half his face.

"Quit whining, you have to cover your face anyway," Charlie said. "I'm doing you a favor not making you put the regular stuff on your lips. It tastes like crap."

"So does lipstick," Dean said, talking through closed lips so he wouldn't get more in his mouth.

"No comparison," Charlie said, so firmly Dean wasn't tempted to test it. "I made a special modified version for your lips. It tastes like apple pie."

"Wait, really?"

"If you lick all of it off, you can just make do with the body paint," Charlie scolded.

"Do I need to get under my clothes?" Jess asked.

"Try and get as much under your bra as you can, but just go to the hem of your underwear. We do have a costume for you to wear, but I'm not sure how much cleavage coverage we'll end up with."

"Got it."

"Make sure you get your hair, too," Charlie told Dean, going to help Jess with her face.

Dean wasn't one of those people who spent a lot of time on his hair—a quick rinse in the shower and he called it a day—but he still grimaced as he spread the stuff through his hair. This was never going to come out.

By the time he was done, Charlie was back to help him with his back.

"So, what exactly are we doing?" Dean asked.

"You'll find out soon! Now put this on."

"This is a sheet."

"Haven't you ever been to a toga party? Here, like this."

Charlie wrapped the sheet around his face then draped it over one shoulder, leaving most of his chest bare. She finished the look with a crown made out of plants, spray-painted white.

"Argh, you missed a spot," she griped ruthlessly, dumping more and more stuff in his hair, then in his ear.

"Ergh!" Dean hissed, trying to squirm away.

He was sure he looked ridiculous, and this was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Whoa," Jess said.

He turned. "Wow, you look awesome."

"Yeah, you, too. I hope you're not as uncomfortable as I am, though."

"Wouldn't count on it. We'll just have to hope that they dipped Sam in black licorice or something. Maybe fire ants."

"Fingers crossed."

Charlie scolded them both for not painting the soles of their feet, then brought them each a pair of obnoxiously pink crocs. Their feet squished unpleasantly as they walked back to the photography area.

"At least the shoes will probably be ruined," Dean whispered.

Jess snorted.

Sam and Cas were both waiting in perfectly ordinary, comfortable clothes.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said.

"I'm sure you've probably guessed what we're doing by now," Becky said, appearing in their midst. "Sam and Cas are artists, and Jess and Dean are their sculptures. They pour their passion into their work, and when they finish, the statue comes to life. Do you understand the concept?"

"Um, sure," Dean said. "But what does that actually mean we should do?"

"You have to feel it in your soul," Becky said.

Sam kicked his shin. "If you roll your eyes any harder they'll fall right out of your head," he whispered.

"Maybe you're not hearing this crap," Dean whispered back.

"Well, Sam and Cas need to go to hair and makeup, so why don't the two of you just… drip dry," Charlie said, smirking.

Dean muttered unkind things under his breath.

'Drip dry' was a bit of a misnomer. As much as it looked like it, this wasn't really paint. If was uncomfortable and sort of greasy-feeling, but it never got stiff like real paint would. A few clumps fell out of their hair—and Dean's ear—which was, frankly, disgusting, but it could have been worse. Chafing, for example, was a serious concern of Dean's.

Sam and Cas finally came back. Sam was wearing what looked like scrubs, splattered with paint the same shade as what covered Dean and Jess. Cas looked like a complete nutcase. He was wearing blue plaid pants and a black vest over his bare chest, along with one of those hats like from the Renaissance, complete with obnoxious gold tassel. He was also paint-splattered, and his arms from hand to elbow were as coated as Dean's.

"Well, shall we get started, then?"

Sam and Jess went first, which was nice because Dean had literally no idea what he was going to do. This was a bit more adventurous than the creative lounging of previous shoots.

Jess did something with her sheet so it looked like the end was fluttering behind her, and as Sam smoothed his hands down her arms, "finishing" her, she seemed to come to life, leaning up on her toes to kiss him.

Becky loved that, and she appropriated Balthazar to wipe the white stuff off Sam's face between every picture so they could try various concepts of the "kiss of life".

Dean was uncomfortable with how comfortable Balthazar was with this task.

However, this was less than helpful as far as his own inspiration was concerned. Unless he wanted to kiss Cas. Which he didn't.

Okay well maybe he did. A little. A very little. He liked Cas as a person; he was funny and socially inappropriate and the most honest person Dean had ever met, all fine qualities, and Dean'd love to take him out for a game or a burger or a spin in the Impala, which Dean was absolutely stealing on the way out of here. You know, hang out. Not make out.

Okay, put like that, it really sounded like he wanted to date him and maybe he did and maybe he didn't, but even he did want to date him they had to wait until at least the end of the date to kiss, and that was a sweet promise of a goodnight kiss, not a 'literally bring me to life from my lonely statutory existence'.

It was possible that Dean was losing his mind. He was pretty sure he'd read that kissing rule in a magazine somewhere. Sans statue reference.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked.

Dean didn't actually jump out of his skin, but it was a close thing. He half expected to see all the paint lying on the floor at his feet. "Errrmmm?"

"Becky is signaling us," Cas said.

"Right."

Hopefully Charlie's promises about her gunk held up, because Dean was sweating. He could feel it trickling unpleasantly down the back of his neck.

"Relax," Cas said. "It's just a few pictures. We've been doing this all week." He practically led Dean by the hand to stand in front of the camera.

The camera started flashing the minute they were in position, and Dean was as stiff as, well, a statute under Cas's hands. Cas was starting to look concerned.

"That's good, Dean," Becky said. "I like the whole statute motif you've got going. But maybe a little more emergence?"

"Dean, are you all right?" Cas asked, so softly only Dean could hear. "You're behaving very strangely."

"I don't want to kiss," Dean blurted out.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Okay… I can work with that."

"But I also sort of do?" Dean said.

"Ah." A slow smile broke out over Cas's face, transforming it. He rested one hand on Dean's bicep and rested the other on the side of his face, keeping Dean from looking away. "Well, I can work with that, too."

This did nothing to solve Dean's internal turmoil, but his body must know something his mind had not yet decided, because his whole body seemed to orient itself towards Cas, and even though he was pretty sure he hadn't moved, they were suddenly impossibly close, his vision filled with nothing but Cas.

"That's perfect," Becky said. "We've got it, everyone."

Dean rocked back on his heels, the moment broken. But that was undeniably a moment. Fuck.


Dean spent the next four hours in the shower with Charlie's foul-smelling neutralizing agent, and even so he was pretty sure he would have paint in his ear until the end of time.

It did not, however, give him any more clarity about the Cas situation. If there even was a situation, which there may not have been.

"Oh my god," Sam said, the moment Dean stepped out of the bathroom. "I'll be in the other room where I won't be smothered by your man angst."

Dean threw his wet towel at the back of Sam's head.

"What does he know?" Dean muttered, throwing his crap into his duffel. Sam had packed last night, of course, but since Dean wasn't bothering with folding he didn't need three freaking hours to get the job done.

Once he was packed, he still had twenty minutes to kill before they were supposed to clear out. Becky had threatened a goodbye extravaganza, but someone, probably Charlie, had talked her down to champagne and finger foods.

Dean was avoiding going down—no, he was packing, which wasn't avoiding at all—and come to think of it, maybe he should have folded his clothes. Just in case.

"Sam sent me to get you," Jess said, appearing in the doorway. "Personally I find it hard to believe that you're turning down free food."

"It's probably shrimp and… and canapés," Dean said. "Rich crap."

"Oh my god," Jess said, "you really are sulking. Come on, there are mini pastries and things." She didn't let him waffle any longer, grabbing him by the ear and hauling him out the door so quickly he barely grabbed his duffel in time.

He made it through the toasting and snacking without actually having to talk with Cas once, but his luck wore out on the doorstep just as he was about to make his escape.

Sam and Jess, the bastards, made themselves scarce. Even nosy Becky was elsewhere.

Dean flailed his arms in a futile effort to think of some clever excuse to leave the impending conversation, or possibly fly away.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Cas said. "I didn't expect much from this weekend except a chance to get closer to having my own school, but I've had fun. I'd like to get together some time, just to hang out or maybe to date, if you think you'd like that." He leaned forward and kissed Dean on the cheek, stubble rasping against stubble. "Here's my number."

Dean was left clutching a piece of paper and mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"See now that was exactly what I was talking about," Sam said, from where he'd been watching from the bushes, the creeper. "Except it sounded way better when he said it."

"Shut up."

"Come on, Romeo, time to get in the car."

"Romeo? Really?"

"Well, I was going to make 'your princess is in another castle' reference, but I couldn't figure out how to make it work."

"…shut up."


Cas had written his number on a cocktail napkin. It had a little ring in the corner where a glass had sat on it, and Becky's initials in elaborate script because she was a lunatic who had monogrammed napkins.

There was nothing, objectively, about this number that was any different than any of the hundreds of others he'd gotten over the years.

Well, except the monogram. Because that was pretty fucking weird.

But that did not explain why Dean had been brooding over the thing for over a week. He was one, very small step away from tearing a page out of his Lisa Frank notebook and sending Cas a note saying 'will you go out with me, check yes or no'.

"You're pathetic," Sam said.

Dean couldn't even muster up a comeback. He was pathetic. He was the most pathetic person to ever pathetic. In fact, they could build monuments to his pathetic-ness. "I think I need a Lisa Frank notebook."

"Oh my god," Sam said, and left.


The next day, Cas called. "Hello, Dean."

Dean who used to think of himself as pretty suave, dropped the phone.

Another, better person might have pretended not to have noticed, and spared Dean the necessity of moving to a tiny island in the Pacific in shame. Cas, of course, was still laughing by the time Dean had retrieved his phone and settled on the couch. "Shut up," Dean said. "How did you even get my number?"

"Sam called me," Cas said.

Dean made a mental note to kill his brother.

"He said that you wanted to talk but were afraid to pick up the phone."

"That's an exaggeration."

"He also stopped by the Y and left a long, very specific list on what we should do for our first date."

"Oh my god," Dean said, deciding that the only thing left to do was suffocate himself in the couch cushions.

"I think the best part is the last item, which just says 'fade to black.'"

"This is the most mortifying experience of my entire life," Dean mumbled.

"Nowhere to go but up, then!"

Reluctantly, Dean felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "You are the strangest person. I'm pretty sure Sam didn't mean for you to actually tell me all of that."

"I have seen a movie once or twice, and I know that kind of thing never ends well. It's better that we all know that your brother is approaching setting the two of us up together with determination and colored inks."

"That sounds like him. So, um-" Dean coughed. "What's exactly is on this list?"

"Well, there's a list of things you like in green, and things you don't like in red. There's a subsection on food that's all in purple gel pen, which I think is an interesting artistic choice, and a breakdown of your musical preferences in blue. And of course the bit at the end, which is in pencil and I think might have been added by someone else, judging by the handwriting."

"Great, now Jess is in on this, too."

"I made a list for myself," Cas said. "I thought it was only fair. I don't really listen to music though, except for the playlist at the Y."

"That's just a crime. You and me, we are totally going to listen to some real music."

"Alright, when?"

"Well, we… wait, I thought we were planning a date."

"Isn't this what a date is? Spending time together and doing something we both enjoy?"

"Sitting around listening to music isn't a date, I do that with Sam. Okay, and now I'm in a bad mental place. But dating is, you know, dinner and a movie, or a nightclub, or… well, date stuff."

"We can do dinner and a movie," Cas said. "How about you organize dinner and music—two things that traditionally go very well together, or so I'm told—and I'll handle the movie. Say, this Friday night?"

"Um… sure. Okay."

"Is five too early?"

"No, that's fine."

"See you then. Bye, Dean."

Dean stared at the phone for a moment. "Well, apparently we have a date."


It seemed like Dean blinked and it was Friday night. From five o'clock until five thirteen, on the other hand, seemed to last about a thousand years.

Finally, there was a knock at the door.

"Sorry I'm late," Cas said. "One of the bus tires got stuck in a drain and we had to wait for another bus."

"Seriously?"

"Well, the man behind me thought that an alligator had climbed out the sewer and seized the bus in its mighty jaw and they were telling us the tire story to prevent a mass panic. Personally I think that theory's a lot more interesting."

Dean laughed and shook his head. "So that week at Becky's was pretty much the usual for you. Weirdness and all."

"Pretty much," Cas said. "I don't generally hold much stock in normal. Which is a nice conversational segue into telling you that I planned something a bit non-traditional for the movie tonight. It does fall within your Sam-acknowledged liking of superhero movies, though. Oh, and I brought you that list."

Dean blinked. "Is this crayon and construction paper?"

"When Sam turned up I was monitoring an art class at the daycare, so I decided to utilize the tools at hand. This way we both have color-coded guides."

"Huh," Dean said, reading over Cas's list of likes and dislikes. It was a bit… eclectic, not that he would have expected anything less.

"Should I take my coat off?" Cas said eventually.

"What?"

"Are we going out somewhere, or can I put my coat down?"

That was when Dean realized that he and Cas were still standing in the doorway to his apartment. "Oh, um, sorry, come in. It sounds kind of weird now that I'm about to say it out loud, but I really wanted to introduce you to some good music and I have a great stereo here in my apartment, so I made food and I thought we could just eat here. It's just burgers and fries, only I remembered you liked them at Becky's so I thought that would be fine."

"Dean. It's perfect. I did dress up in case we were going somewhere, but really I'm happy to stay in."

Now that the trenchcoat was off, Dean could see what Cas was actually wearing. "Dude, you're wearing jeans and a My Little Pony t-shirt."

"But I changed out of my uniform and I showered, so that still counts," Cas said. "Now tell me about Led Zeppelin."

That conversation lasted through all the food Dean had cooked, two bowls of Dinosaur Egg instant oatmeal and a couple pieces of bread with an egg fried in the middle that Cas insisted was a thing in England.

"I've never seen anyone eat as much as you," Dean said, before he realized how rude that sounded.

"Not even Sam?"

"That kid, I swear I don't know where he gets his height from, he went through a vegetarian phase in elementary school that lasted for like six years, and even now he's always harping about a balanced diet and whether I'm getting enough Omega-3. If there were any justice in the world he'd be 5'2"."

"I've heard that eating healthy actually promotes growth," Cas said, grinning.

"Whatever, man, I'll take a cheeseburger over a tofu wrap any day."

"Well, to answer your implied question: I like to eat, I work out a lot, and I have a fast metabolism. I've been told the metabolism will fade would time so I should get used to eating better now, but it seems much more logical to me to use it while I've got it."

"I'll drink to that," Dean said. "So is there a timeframe for this mystery movie event?"

"No. But we can head out if you're ready."

Cas helped with the dishes, and in less than fifteen minutes Dean was pulling on his favorite leather jacket and they were out the door.

"I'm driving, though," Dean said.

"If you want."

"Oh, I want." Dean sat behind the wheel and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. He patted the steering wheel. "Don't worry, baby, I'd never cheat on you with the bus."

Dean looked up to see Cas giving him an odd look. Dean shrugged, and the awkward moment stretched as Cas failed to look politely away. "Have I seen this car before?" Cas said finally.

"It was at Becky's," Dean said. "She had this beautiful vintage car, just sitting around gathering rust. Now if that's not a crime, it should be. Apparently it's the car that my 'character' drives in Chuck's weird books, and when I mentioned buying if from her she went nuts and basically gave me the thing. I did have to promise to participate in future promotional pictures, but this girl is totally worth it." He pet the steering wheel again.

"Interesting," Cas said, still making uncomfortable eye contact.

Dean wasn't sure he wanted to ask, but- "How do you mean?"

"You have a nice apartment, but there was very little of you in it. Interesting that you've only just gotten this car, but it's already so much a part of you. It suits you."

Dean had no idea what to say to that. "Well, on that note, where are we going?"

Where they were going turned out to be a storage facility.

"Okay…" Dean said, parking in the nearly deserted lot. "I'm confused, but curious."

"Excellent," Cas said. "That's something I aspire to every day. This way."

Cas led him down one dimly lit and frankly creepy row of little sheds, then took a sharp right and pulled out a key. "Well, here we are."

"So, this is where you keep your stuff?" Dean said, remembering that Cas was essentially homeless at the moment.

"Yep. It can be difficult reconciling a nomadic lifestyle and packrat tendencies, but I do my best." Cas flicked a light switch, and Dean stared.

"Wow."

There were paintings and tapestries and decorative blankets on every wall and on the ceiling, and the entire room was full of boxes and just stuff. There was no logic to it that Dean could see. An elaborate and very old-looking vase was leaning against an inflatable green dragon in one corner, and on the other side he could see a typewriter, some kind of saxophone and a long scroll covered in some kind of Asian language. The floor was covered in a massive patchwork quilt, and one relatively clear area had an obviously handmade wooden rocking chair and a Ninja Turtle beanbag set in front of a tiny tv.

"I found this at a yard sale," Cas said, "and I haven't had a chance to watch it yet. I thought this would be a good time."

"Well, now I can see why you didn't give me a hard time about my cassette tapes," Dean joked, opting for the beanbag.

"I don't know what you mean," Cas said, putting the VHS in the tv. "I usually keep a stash of food here—let me see if there's anything appropriate for movie viewing."

"Ooh, Batman," Dean said, as the credits started to roll.

It didn't take long before both of them were choking back laughter. "What even was that shark?" Dean said. "And since when does the utility belt have Shark Repellant?"

"Technically I think it's a utility helicopter now," Cas said, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. "Personally, I liked how they wrote the sound effects onto the screen, just in case we couldn't tell it was a fight scene."

"This might be the best movie ever made," Dean said. "By the way, did you ever find any food?"

"Mostly spices and sauces, but I did find these," Cas said, holding up a bag of marshmallows. "I think I probably have some candles around here somewhere, we could toast them."

"I'm pretty sure candles don't get hot enough to toast marshmallows," Dean said.

"Well, have you ever tried?"

They did find two enormous candles in elaborate candlesticks that had apparently come from a church in Detroit and one Christmas-scented candle from Yankee Candle, but the experiment was an unfortunate failure; all that happened was the marshmallows turned a funny grey color.

So they ate cold marshmallows and watched Batman run around with a giant, ticking bomb on a pier full of nuns and everything smelled like candy canes and altogether it was the best date Dean had ever been on, hands down.

And then the night monitor person came and yelled at them for violating the fire code and told Cas to take his stuff and get out.

Dean felt pretty bad about that, but Cas insisted that it wasn't a big deal. "I'll just find somewhere else to put everything, don't worry about. Stuff like this happens to me a lot, actually."

Now that Dean could believe.

"I just need to make some phone calls," Cas said. "I need to find somewhere to put all this before it gets late."

"Well," Dean said, because apparently Cas's impulsive craziness was contagious, "why don't you just come back to my place with me."

Cas paused. "What?"

"Not, like, move in with me, obviously, but this is partly my fault, and I have plenty of space, and I've had a great time tonight and I'd like to spend more time together, and anyway it is pretty late so why don't you just sort it all out in the morning?"

Cas smiled, and as if Dean's babbling hadn't made this enough of a middle school moment he could have sworn his heart actually turned over. "Well, if you're sure."

"Well, you know, I haven't really gotten a chance to drive the car yet, so taking a few trips across town sounds like a perfect way to end the evening. Actually, do you drive? We can borrow Sam's car, too."

"Thank you, Dean."

"We're going to have to deflate that dragon, though."


Sam called the next morning. "How was the big night, Dean?" he teased.

"Oh, I asked him to move in with me," Dean said. "How's Jess?"