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Who's ready for some first date fun? =)

Chapter Nine

The day after New Year's, Castiel was standing in his bedroom, trying to decide what to wear for his first date with Dean. A suit was too formal for where they were going, but should he do jeans or slacks? T-shirt or button down? It was a cold day. Would a sweater look too nerdy? He had a really nice long sleeved cashmere blend that hugged his shoulders and biceps flatteringly without being uncomfortably tight, and it was a soft gray-blue that he'd been told brought out his eyes. In fact that and a pair of dark wash jeans was his go to first date outfit, and he'd taken it out of his closet twenty minutes ago before he started second guessing himself.

The week between Christmas and New Year's had been some strange combination of heaven and hell. Castiel had lost count of the number of times he'd had to restrain himself from kissing Dean senseless in the middle of the kitchen. They'd agreed that as long as they weren't actively trying to hide it, there was no need to make an announcement, so they had no idea how many people actually knew about them. No one had said anything.

Most importantly, Naomi hadn't said anything. It was common knowledge that she disapproved of liaisons among the staff, but she'd never gone so far as to make an official rule against it, probably because she'd have to fire half the waiters. If she decided to make an issue of it in their particular case, Castiel was certain that was a battle he could win, but he'd really rather not fight it at all, especially not when things with Dean were so new and fragile and breathtakingly wonderful.

"Fuck it," he muttered and put on the blue sweater. It was warm and comfortable and he knew he looked damn good in it. Unfortunately pulling the sweater over his head mussed his hair which he had carefully combed as soon as he got out of the shower. It could only be tamed when it was wet, and since he'd taken twenty minutes to choose his clothes, it was now completely dry. He considered undressing long enough to stick his head under the tap, but of course that was when the doorbell rang.

Dean. Prompt as usual. Castiel generally appreciated that in a date, but today he wished the man had been just a few minutes late. He tried to use his fingers to bring some semblance of order if not style to his hair but only succeeded in making it look like he'd run his fingers through it. He gave up and went to the door in his sock feet.

Dean's mouth fell open as soon as Castiel opened the door. "Holy shit," he breathed.

"Is that a good thing?" Castiel asked uncertainly. Maybe the sweater was too nerdy after all.

"It's a very good thing. Fuck the Chinese, Cas. I want you for lunch."

Castiel laughed. "Come inside while I get my shoes."

As Dean stepped over the threshold, he brought one hand out from behind his back. It held a green ceramic pot full of dirt with a cluster of spiny green leaves growing in it. The plant gave off a distinctive spicy smell that made Castiel's mouth water. "Usually I'd bring flowers," Dean said with a bashful shrug, "but I thought you'd like this better."

"I do," Castiel said, taking the tiny rosemary bush and burying his nose in it for a moment. "I'll put it in the kitchen window. I can't wait to cook with it. Thank you, Dean."

He had "met" Dean's car several times now. Dean had taken to driving him home from the restaurant every night so they could have a little time to talk and just be together without anything else competing for their attention. But this was the first time he'd seen it in daylight. It — she, he mentally corrected himself — was beautiful in a way that modern cars never were. There was grace and power in every sleek line of her, and Dean took such good care of her that you would never know she was over half a century old. She was indeed a lady, dignified and timeless.

"I saw that," Dean said.

Castiel turned to see a twinkle in the other man's eyes that was part amusement and part something else. A soft, affectionate warmth that made Castiel's heart do a strange, fluttery dance in his chest. "What?"

"You were admiring the car, Mr. Not-A-Car-Guy. Have I converted you?"

Castiel chuckled. "I will probably never find cars in general very interesting, but I have to admit that this particular car is a work of art. I think perhaps that's because I'm learning to see it —"

Dean opened his mouth to object, but Castiel was already correcting.

"Her. My apologies. Force of habit. I'm seeing her through your eyes. You clearly love her, and when we put love into something, it becomes more than the sum of its parts."

Dean smiled and swooped in to kiss Castiel's cheek. "You are a grade A sap, you know that? I like it."

"You never told me how you got this car," Castiel said once they were driving. "It can't have been easy to find a model this old in such good condition."

"I, um …" Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "I actually inherited her from my dad."

"Oh." I know from bad fathers … "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry into a painful subject."

"It's okay." They were stopped at a light, so Dean turned to look at Castiel and took his hand. "I'll tell you the whole story, Cas. I will. Just … not today. Okay?"

"Okay." He squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly. "I understand. I have a story of my own, Dean, and I won't ever push. Take all the time you need."

Dean smiled gratefully, and when the light changed, he drove one handed and continued to hold tightly to Castiel.

They let conversation lapse for a while except for Castiel giving directions, but there was nothing uncomfortable about the silence. It occurred to Castiel that he'd never had a relationship quite like this. There was no dancing around each other, no question of if or even when. They were going to have sex, and they were going to talk about their respective pasts. When they were both ready. And in the meantime they could kiss and hold hands and talk about everything else or just sit in silence, enjoying each other's mere existence. It brought him a sense of peace and safety that he had never felt with a partner before, not even the ones he'd stayed with for years.

The restaurant Castiel had chosen was another of his first date standbys. It had a casual, homey atmosphere that put people at ease, but it could still be considered nice, and the food was amazing even by his exacting standards.

As Dean shrugged out of his coat before sitting down, Castiel's mouth went dry. Dean had dressed casual too, brown jeans and a dark green henley that showed off his broad chest and muscular arms to perfection.

"What?" Dean asked when he noticed Castiel staring, but his amused smirk said he already knew what. He just wanted to hear Castiel say it.

Castiel was happy to oblige. "You look pretty edible yourself." He didn't even have to try to make his voice low and seductive. Just looking at Dean in that shirt made it drop half an octave.

Dean's cheeks flushed a little, but Castiel didn't think it was embarrassment.

Dean sat down on one side of the booth. Castiel slid in next to him instead of across. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yes. For once we don't have to act professional, so I will be as sappy and romantic as I like." Then, realizing that Dean might have been hinting that he was uncomfortable, he added, "Unless you'd rather I sat over there."

Dean's hand clamped down on Castiel's knee. "Don't you dare."

They managed to stop staring into each other's eyes long enough to look at the menu and place their orders. The waiter gave them a you're-too-adorable-for-words kind of look and made no comment.

"That is one thing I love about big cities," Dean said when they were relatively alone again. "No one bats an eye at two guys obviously on a date."

"Yes, it is nice," Castiel agreed. He decided to take the opportunity to segue into typical first date conversation and asked, "Where have you lived besides New York?"

Dean snorted. "It would be easier to tell you where I haven't lived. It's a much shorter list. My dad was in the military, so we moved around a lot when I was a kid, and when I grew up … I don't know if I'd gotten a taste for the gypsy life or if it was just the only way I knew how to live. The older I get though, the less I like starting over. It's exhausting."

"And lonely I imagine." He didn't really have to imagine, but he'd rather not get into that right now.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that too. I manage to keep in touch with a few people, but it's not the same as having friends you can actually hang out with."

"What about your brother? Where does he live?"

Dean suddenly went a little pale and took his hand off Castiel's knee.

"Oh. I've strayed into sensitive territory again. It's okay. You don't have to —"

"No, I do," Dean interrupted him. "I really, really do have to, and I was going to tell you today anyway. I was just gonna wait until nearer the end of the date so it would be easier for you to … I totally get it if this scares you off —"

"Dean." Castiel wanted to reach out and take his hand, but Dean looked as tense and wary as a wild animal. "Just take a deep breath and tell me before I start imagining worst case scenarios."

Dean laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Oh, trust me, it doesn't get much worse than this. My brother … He's in prison, Cas. For murder. And before you ask, no, he wasn't falsely convicted. He did it."

Castiel stared at Dean open mouthed. No part of him thought that Dean would joke about something like this, but it was so unexpected that his brain needed a minute to make the right shaped space to fit the information into. Finally he said, "Okay."

"Okay?" Dean echoed. "Like, okay, you'd like me to take you home now?"

"No. Like, okay, thank you for telling me, now I have a few questions." He hated to draw out Dean's agony, but he needed to fully understand the situation if he was going to make the right decision.

The waiter came back with their food at that moment, and they both hastily plastered on polite smiles and thanked her, but once she was gone, they ignored the tantalizing smells rising from the dishes.

"You said he was supposed to come visit you over Christmas."

"Yeah, he was up for parole, but he didn't make it."

"And when he does get out, you'll be spending time with him, helping him adjust?"

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Castiel held up a placating hand.

"I'm not suggesting you shouldn't. I understand the importance of family. What I'm asking is, does his presence in your life pose any danger to Claire or myself?"

Dean dropped all defensiveness immediately. "No. No, he would never hurt you or the kid or anyone. I know that sounds weird because I just told you he killed someone, but … Look, it's a long story, and I can't tell you all of it. Not without Sam's permission. But can you trust me when I say he's not dangerous? He made a mistake that he can't ever fix, and he knows that, so he's doing everything he can to prove that he'll do better next time around. He's not a psycho."

"I believe that you sincerely believe that," Castiel said levelly, "but you're his brother. I'm not sure you're the most objective judge of his character."

Dean sagged, the last spark of hope going out of his eyes.

Castiel instantly hated himself. He reached out and touched Dean's cheek. "Dean, I'm not breaking up with you."

Dean's head shot up. He still looked wary, but at least he looked alive again. "You're not?"

"No. You are the one I'm in a relationship with, not your brother, and you I trust completely. But I need to make sure we're on the same page here. When Sam is free, I will want to meet him on neutral ground, and then I will decide if I'm comfortable allowing him near Claire. I may need more than one meeting to reach a decision, and whatever that decision is, both you and he will have to respect it. Is that clear?"

Dean nodded quickly. "Yeah. Of course, Cas. It's totally your call. You're … you're really not breaking up with me?"

The uncertainty in his voice broke Castiel's heart, and it was suddenly a very good thing that they were sitting on the same side of the booth because it meant he barely had to move to press his lips to Dean's in a deep, warm, reassuring kiss. "If I was breaking up with you, would I do that?" he said when they parted.

Dean laughed. "No, probably not."

And just like that the tension was gone again, and they dug into their food. Dean made some very appreciative noises that had Castiel's jeans feeling just a little too tight. He retaliated with a few happy moans of his own, and then they looked at each other and giggled like children.

"There's something I've been wondering about," Castiel said once they had settled down. "The night we met, you told me you learned to cook because of a girl you had a crush on in high school, but you've since told me that you consider yourself gay."

"Oh. Ha." Dean blushed but answered readily. "Okay, so the thing with Jo was … I was fourteen at the time. And she was more than just a pretty face. She was smart and funny and tough and did not take shit from anyone. I liked her in every possible way. Except one."

"You weren't physically attracted to her."

"No, but I was fourteen. I'd never been physically attracted to anyone in real life. And to make things even more complicated, my dad was a raging homophobe, and I was so scared of disappointing him that I couldn't even admit to myself that I might like boys."

Castiel sighed. He'd done it again. "I'm sorry. I keep trying to pick a lighter topic, and I keep accidentally bringing up painful subjects."

"It's not your fault," Dean said with a half smile. "My life is kind of made of painful subjects, and I don't want you to tiptoe around me, okay? I'll tell you when it's time to change the subject. I promise."

"Okay. So can I ask how you finally figured it out?"

Dean's smile widened. "How do you think? I kissed a boy and I liked it."

Castiel laughed. "Yes, I think that pretty much sums up everyone's story. Although in my case it was a man, not a boy."

"How old were you?" Dean asked curiously.

"I was twenty. He was thirty five. He was one of my teachers at Cordon Bleu."

Dean almost choked on his soda. "Cas!"

"I know," Castiel chuckled. "It was terribly reckless, and I don't know what his excuse was. I thought I was in love. In retrospect I was just getting my first rather belated taste of real lust. It was completely overwhelming, and I didn't know what to do with it."

"I'm getting the impression that this didn't end well."

"No, decidedly not. He took a job at a restaurant in London and left without even saying goodbye. I think he was disturbed by how infatuated I'd become, and he wanted to avoid the inevitable tears. He … wasn't a man who was at home with emotional outbursts."

"Still that's … that's a dick move. It wasn't your fault that you were too young and inexperienced to know the difference between sex and love. He used you and then left you to deal with the fallout. That was cruel and you deserved better."

"I know." Castiel couldn't help smiling at the genuine indignation in Dean's voice. "It was a long time ago, Dean. I'm over it, but thank you for taking my side anyway."

The conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next, and they didn't shy away from the heavier subjects that Castiel would generally avoid on a first date. They established that they both wanted an exclusive relationship and confirmed that they were both certified STD free. No condoms would be necessary. There was a moment of heated staring while they both contemplated all the possibilities that opened up. Fortunately (or unfortunately) that was when the waiter interrupted with the check.

Castiel insisted on paying. "Technically I asked you out this time, and I picked the place, so I should pay. You can choose the venue and foot the bill next time." The casual assumption that there would be a next time fell out of his mouth before he thought about it.

Dean just smiled and opened his fortune cookie. "You know I've been waiting my whole life to get one that says 'Help, I'm being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory.'"

Castiel burst out laughing. It went on so long that people at nearby tables turned to look at him. "What …" He struggled to stop laughing long enough to talk. "What would you do if you did?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know." He was watching Castiel laugh with the same look of warm affection he'd worn when Castiel appreciated his car, but now it was mixed with a glint of possessive pride.

He likes that he's the one who made me laugh like that … No, not just that, Castiel realized. He likes that people are looking at us, that they know he's the one who made me laugh, that they know I'm with him and I'm happy to be with him. The idea that someone like Dean, who could clearly have anyone he wanted, was proud to be seen with him made Castiel feel about ten feet tall.

On the drive home they talked about normal first date stuff, favorite books and movies and music. They had hardly anything in common in those areas, but that didn't give Castiel the panicky this-is-not-going-well feeling that he'd so often gotten on first dates. Dean listened to him rattle on for ten minutes about the genius of Jane Austen, and he listened to Dean extol the virtues of some medical drama/soap opera unsubtly called Dr. Sexy. A few sticky moments aside, this was unquestionably the most fun he'd ever had on a first date. And even the sticky moments had played a part in the overall success of the afternoon. They'd actually gotten to know each other on more than just a superficial level.

When they pulled up outside his building, the absolute last thing Castiel wanted to do was get out of the car and watch Dean drive away. Clearly thinking along the same lines, Dean said, "So that two dates thing you mentioned. Is that really a rule for you?"

Castiel sighed and ignored the vote from his dick. "Yes, it is."

"Okay. On a totally unrelated subject, can I take you out to lunch tomorrow?"

Castiel laughed. "I wish you could, but tomorrow's Friday."

Dean groaned. "Right. Staff meeting." Once a week the restaurant staff had a lunch meeting to go over any changes to the menu, make sure all the waiters were well versed in the specials, and address any questions or issues that applied to everyone. "I don't suppose we could count it. I mean, we'll be having lunch together in a fancy restaurant."

"It can't be a date if Naomi is there."

"Fair point."

Castiel slid along the bench seat until their hips were pressed together and took Dean's hand. "Believe me, I am as eager to take this to the next level as you are, Dean. I've wanted you practically since the moment I laid eyes on you, and I'm not putting it off because I'm not sure. I just want us to have a solid foundation. One thing I learned from my first spectacular failure of a love affair was that sex is not a good place to start. It's too easy to let it become the whole focus of the relationship, and that's when people get hurt. I don't want to hurt you."

Dean tilted his head so that it rested against Castiel's. "I know. I don't want to hurt you either. I'm sorry if I sounded pushy. I had a really good time today, and I want to do it again soon even if the next time doesn't end with sex either. I don't want you to think I'm just spending time with you to get in your pants."

"If I still had any doubts about that, I don't after today. If all you wanted was sex, you would never have risked telling me about your brother."

"Probably true."

"The restaurant is closed on Monday," Castiel pointed out. "If Missouri can babysit Monday night, we can have our second date then, and that way …" He brushed his lips against Dean's but so lightly it was more a nuzzle than a kiss. "We'll have all night instead of just a couple hours before I have to pick up Claire from school. You did say you wanted to take your time." He pressed their lips together more firmly.

Castiel had fully intended to tease Dean just like Dean had done to him, but he lost himself in the kiss for a moment, and the next thing he knew he had Dean's tongue in his mouth and a fistful of the man's shirt and they were making out like horny teenagers. Again.

Dean regained control first, and he laughed when Castiel chased after his lips. "Whoa. Slow down there, cowboy. No sex on the first date, remember?"

"Stupid rule," Castiel grumbled, letting his head fall onto Dean's shoulder. "Who made that stupid rule?"

"You did, and you'll remember why as soon as you've had a minute to get the blood flowing in the right direction again." Dean pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel's temple and stroked his hair. "I want you like crazy, Cas, but I also want you to still like me after."

Castiel smiled into Dean's shirt. His dick might be incredibly frustrated right now, but his heart had never been more content.