Dean was shaking so much he felt like he was going to jump out of his own skin. He kept thinking he was hungry or dehydrated, so he drank about three bottles of water and whatever leftovers he had in his fridge, but the nervous feeling wouldn't subside.
He ran to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Dean looked at himself in the mirror, his tanned face unusually pale. "Pull yourself together." He said to his reflection. "It's just a date." He smushed his face between his hands and took a few deep breaths. "Get yourself the fuck together."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and tried to button his flannel shirt again. His outfit was entirely pre-approved by Charlie, who stopped by earlier when he wasn't home, picked his lock and set out all of his clothes down to his underwear ("A little too thorough there, Charlie." "You'll thank me later." She had said when he caught her leaving and demanded an explanation.)
She wouldn't let him wear the flannel at all if it hadn't matched the green and brown scarf she brought. And the forest green beanie she picked out also matched the scarf, so that he "didn't look like some art hobo." The green in the scarf and beanie brought out the green in his eyes, Charlie had noted.
"You'll look more like a domesticated cowboy." She resolved, pecking him on the cheek as she ran out of his spotless apartment. Domesticated cowboy…whatever that means.
After he showered, Dean could only button up half his plaid shirt before he had to take a break for water.
Now, he left the bathroom again and pulled on a pair of clean blue jeans, and started to re-attempt to button the top half of his shirt. His phone whistled.
big date 2night? J
It was Sam. He swiped the screen and tapped the keyboard to respond.
getting ready now. should've worn a sweater. buttons suck
He shook his head and managed to get the top button clasped. Dean exhaled. After eating the container full of old lo mein noodles in his fridge he felt nauseous. Christ.
He cursed himself. Get your shit together, Dean.
Dean draped the green scarf over his collar and pulled on the green beanie. He half-regretted wearing the hat because his hair looked damn good.
His phone chimed again when he was pulling on his shoes.
relax. dnt break ur neck skating. send updates
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's text and shoved his phone back in his pants, giving himself a final once-over in the mirror. Domesticated cowboy was definitely a strange category of style but it worked, thanks to Charlie. He was an art student after all.
Dean grabbed his coat off the hook by the door and slipped out into the chilly hallway, making his way down to the crowded December sidewalk.
His hands shoved in his pockets to protect from the biting cold, Dean felt his phone buzz a few more times. He knew it was either Charlie or Sam, the only two people who texted him, and they demanded details about the date that hadn't even begun.
Dean made his way around the cobblestone walkway that differentiated the campus from the rest of Chicago, and turned a corner to meet the anxious blue eyes of Castiel.
Cas was perched upright on a bench in the mostly-dead garden that sat in the middle of the academic quad, not at all bothered by the cold. He looked perfectly contented in the weather and winds that whipped around him and through his messy brown locks of hair. Dean gave him a once-over, and identified that his foot tapping and furrowed brow was the result of Dean's one-minute tardiness. The incessant tapping immediately ceased when Dean caught his eyes from around the limestone building.
Castiel looked well put together, obviously ready for any type of date in his outfit. He wore a blue-striped white collared shirt under a dark grey sweater that looked so soft. Over his sweater he wore a black coat and half of the collar was sticking up, which Dean found absolutely adorable. Dean's eyes travelled down Cas' body as he stood up from the bench to greet him.
Dean couldn't help but notice how Cas' dark wash jeans hugged the man's thighs. Of course, Dean quickly recovered by smiling like an idiot as Cas ran his fingers through his brown mop of curls as he walked.
"Hey, Cas." Dean absentmindedly repositioned his forest colored beanie.
Cas greeted him with a small smile, "Hello, Dean." His breath formed a little speech cloud in the air.
They stood in front of each other, a little too close for a handshake or pat on the back. Dean raised his arms for a hug and quickly dropped them before Cas could lean in, so they looked like they were performing an awkward mating dance.
Cas thankfully took the initiative to go for it again, giving Dean a quick hug. His squeeze warmed Dean from the inside out, making the chilly weather more bearable. They let go after a beat.
Dean took a breath that was made physical in the winter air. "Ready?"
Cas nodded eagerly.
They set off into the sharp Chicago night.
^^^…^^^…^^^…^^^…^^^…^^^…^^^…^^^
Cas tried a few times to get Dean to reveal their secret destination, but he was keeping it to himself. Every time Cas would ask him where they were going, Dean would just answer with another question about Cas' childhood or favorite hobbies or anything else.
"Dean, seriously, where are we going? I'm not the biggest proponent of surprises."
"So Castiel Novak, you said you moved here two and a half years ago. Where are you from originally?"
Cas sighed. He was obviously not going to win. "I'm from D.C, my parents are politicians."
Dean laughed, "You don't strike me as the preppy Washington-type."
"I'm not, really." Cas walked a little more to the right, as Dean walked in some sort of zigzag, and he didn't want to end up walking in the street. "My older brother Michael was your typical preppy golden boy, but Gabriel, who you've met, liked to cause a lot of trouble."
"That's no surprise." Dean interjected, recalling the dinner where he served the Novaks. Gabriel had left him an extra $5 tip "because of the work you do on your caboose."
Cas finger-combed a stray curl back. "My parents just wanted us to be happy and independent. In Washington, they were considered a little…" He paused and his brow furrowed. Dean smirked and bumped into Cas again. "…unconventional."
Dean scanned the sidewalks ahead of him. He didn't want to get them lost on the first date. He steered Cas around a right turn in the direction of Millennium Park. Cas looked briefly startled, until Dean softened his grip on Cas' arm. Slightly embarrassed, Dean dropped his hold. He cleared his throat.
"How so?"
"Well," Cas started, rubbing the back of his neck, "They campaign for separate political parties, so they met a few times in debates. My parents were ruthless; they hated each other until they met at an inaugural ball. They describe it as this click. They still love to argue about politics, of course, but it makes it interesting for them."
"Would I know them?"
Cas shrugged. "Maybe. My mother is a more prominent public figure than my father, who prefers the background." He fished his cell phone our from his coat pocket, and scrolled through a digital photo album. He pulled out a picture of a smiling couple and handed the phone to Dean.
Dean recognized the face of the lively middle-aged woman, her blonde hair chopped and curled in at her shoulders. Her crisp black power suit juxtaposed her chipper attitude. Her smile extended through her entire face and made her eyebrows look surprised. The man that she was holding looked scruffy and more rumpled than she did. He had a full beard and mustache that complimented him, his brown hair streaked with grey. He was wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt that was unbuttoned. No jacket, no tie, he definitely looked more relaxed.
"Your mother is Rebecca Shurley? So he must be…" Dean thought back to the issue of the Chicago Tribune he read a week ago. "Chuck Shurley? Why is your last name Novak?" He handed Cas his phone back.
"My parents wanted us out of the public eye, so they chose the name when we were born." He shrugged again. "They like Hitchcock movies."
Dean nodded. So was Cas famous? He didn't seem at all pampered or snobby. He knew that Cas had a job somewhere. He'd save this question for later. They were a few hundred feet from the entrance of the park. They walked past the Millennium Monument, a great steel structure, which gave Cas an obvious clue of the plan for their date.
They pushed through the gate of Millennium Park, and Dean led the pair of them toward a covered front desk in front of the outdoor ice-rink. A young woman with spiky hair was sitting behind it, wrapped in blankets and popping a wad of bright pink bubblegum.
Dean walked confidently toward her, and realized that Cas was frozen a few paces behind him.
"You okay?" Dean asked, backtracking.
"Dean. I've never been on skates before." Cas looked wide-eyed at the people skating laps around the rink.
Dean's stomach dropped. This was not exactly the romantic-comedy moment he was looking for. He put his hands on Cas' upper arms, hoping to offer a bit of security.
"If you want to do something else, we could leave right now. Just say the word." Dean looked at Cas steadily
Cas' forehead wrinkled. After a beat, he nodded slowly, and said, "Let's do it."
Dean smiled, and led Castiel to rent out a pair of ice skates.
