Why did I invite him again? Oh yeah, because I'm an idiot. Cas wanders his room anxiously, fidgeting with the fringe of his shirt. His heart is pounding, his hands are sweating, and he is all together a wreck. Dean Winchester is going to be at his home in less than an hour, and Cas has absolutely no idea what to do. The sprout of confidence that encouraged him to ask Dean out at the library is long gone, replaced by fear and ultimate confusion. What if he did something wrong? What is his family finds out Dean is here? Or the worst, what if Dean decides Cas isn't worth the risk and doesn't show up at all? All of it make Cas' hands shake.

"Castiel? Whatever are you doing, brother?"

He jumps in surprise as Michael appears behind him, a light hand landing on his shoulder. Cas turns around reluctantly, trying to hide the tremors that are rocking his body. His brother is already dressed like a prince, doused in a black suit with a snakeskin mask on his face, and the smile he gives is absolutely mischievous.

"Would you care to knock?" Castiel says broodingly, giving Michael a small glare.

"Oh Castiel, always so touchy," Michael says with a small laugh. "But that is besides the point. What has got you so jumpy?"

Cas avoids Michael's gaze and turns back to the closet, fishing through the racks. "Oh, nothing in particular. Just…get a little nervous at social events. It is not like father lets me see people often, you know."

"Hush now. You know quite well why father has you under a tight leash. Maybe if you were better behaved, he would loosen the reigns."

"Must you always talk to me like I'm an animal? I'm a human being, you know."

Michael looks onto his brother with a quiet stare, one that holds ultimate pity. "You know he is still angry about your disobedience, Castiel. He won't forgive that lightly. Unless you go back and change your mistakes."

Cas scoffs. "I would rather be chained up here for eternity than change my actions, Michael. My disobedience is not killing in cold blood, and I would hardly call that a mistake."

Michael sighs slowly and pushes Cas' hands aside, throwing suits and ties left and right on the floor. "I've always admired your moral code, Castiel, even if father cannot see it. But that is besides the point now; the real question is what are you wearing tonight? Everything in here is second rate at best, and this is a high class affair. Don't you have anything decent at all?"

Cas ignores his brother's jibe and grabs at the garments that are being thrown his direction. He can't help but laugh; everything Michael is suggesting he wear is absolutely hideous, even suggesting a velvet suit his father gave him for his fifteenth birthday.

"Are you serious right now?" Cas asks. "I'm a twenty-four year old man; I'm pretty sure I can pick out clothes."

"I'm sure you can Castiel, but you know how picky father is when it comes to these events. I'm pretty sure that Batman t-shirt you have on isn't going to cut it."

Cas is about to respond, but his brother emerges with something that Cas has to admit isn't all that horrible. A simple navy suit with a tie, and he even pulls out that old abandoned trench coat Cas forgot he owned. All in all, not horrible at all.

"Okay, I guess that will do," Cas says tiredly, trying to push Michael out of his room. "Now can you please let me be?"

His brother laughs lightly as he makes his exit. "Whatever you say. Oh and by the way," he says with a smirk, "whatever girl you're trying to impress, your nerves are utterly obvious. Better work on that."

"…There is no girl!" Cas calls after his brother, but Michael is already long gone.

After he gets dressed and steals a masquerade mask from Gabriel, Cas descends the stairs into their grand foyer, the hype of the entire ball. He looks from above at the mass amounts of people in their black tie attire, men in clean cut coats and women with three inch heels on their feet. His father has really outdone himself this time; the room is decked in crystals and golden leaf garlands line the banisters; pumpkin scented candles line the counters and there are butlers scurrying about in ridiculous dress, attired in golden suits that gleam against the bright light of the chandler overhead. The extravagance of his father's parties always made Cas want to gag, but this one takes the cake for nausea-inducing surplus. There is even a damn life sized cornucopia in the middle of the room to celebrate the Thanksgiving season. Really now, Father?

"A cornucopia? Are we in The Hunger Games or something?"

Cas spins around to find Dean standing above him, a small smirk on his lips. He looks like James Bond himself, dressed in a tight black suit that accentuates his..assets. He also has a velvet black mask on his face and…is he wearing freaking eyeliner? Cas is absolutely flustered, just like he was back at the bar when they first met. Goodness, is there anything Dean Winchester can't pull off?

"Well uh…," Cas stammers, "you…clean up well."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I clean up well? I'm risking my life by being here and your only compliment for me is that I clean up well? We really need to work on your dating game."

"And you're being a little overdramatic with the whole 'risking your life' thing don't you think? I think we need to get you a dictionary."

"Whatever you say," Dean says sarcastically, grabbing Cas' arm while pulling him down the stairs into the throng of people. "Now tell me Novak, who am I avoiding tonight? I'm sure Sammy wouldn't be too pleased to find my body on our front porch after this is all over."

Cas knows he should laugh at this, but he simply cannot. Entertaining the possibility of Dean dead is already too much for him to bear, and he hardly knows the guy. "Don't joke about that, Dean. You know it's a real possibility if we ever get caught together."

He huffs out a breath. "Geez, Cas. Just trying to lighten you up. You seem so tense."

Dean isn't wrong; Cas has been worrying about this party for days, and now that Dean is standing by his side, in his own house, surrounded by very trained mobster assassins, he is anything but calm. He knows Michael always keeps a shotgun on his person, and his cousin Balthazar a pocket knife dipped in deadly poison. Dean could easily end up dead by the time the night is done if he isn't careful.

"Sorry," Cas apologizes, guiding Dean into a discreet corner of the room. "I just know my family and their intolerance for Winchesters. But if you want to stay alive, you will want to avoid that group right over there."

He points to the opposite corner of the room where his family is located, all lounging about with glasses of expensive wine in their hands. Everyone is there; Gabriel with a ridiculous feather boa around his shoulders to match his outrageous pink mask, Michael in his dapper suit, even his cousins Balthazar and Hael are laughing along with the group, dressed in matching silver attire. The Milton part of his family never fails to impress at these events.

However Cas can't help but scowl at them; they look totally at ease, just like they were only an aristocratic family and not a group of felons. All of the blood on his family's name, all the people who are no longer on this earth because of their acts, the whole ordeal makes Cas sick.

"Wowza. Wouldn't take that group for a band of high class mobsters," Dean says, eyeing the group with undisguised grimace in his glance.

Cas rolls his eyes. "Well what were you expecting? That we would all be dressed like we were in a Godfather film and speak with ridiculous accents?"

Dean just laughs, guiding Cas away from the corner. "No, its just interesting to see the other half of the mob world. When I think of this life I think of gangly, dirty lowlives like my family, not high society like yours. I feel so out of place."

"Well then," Cas says quietly, "welcome to my world."

Dean just shakes his head lightly and expertly pulls Cas away from the crowd, sidestepping aristocrats and royals, mobsters and their thugs. He can't help but notice that it is impossible to tell anyone apart, and that for one night the lowlives can live with the high lives in perfect harmony. It is strangely poetic, in a way.

He doesn't realize he's outside until the cold hits his face, the classic violin tunes fading into the distance as they walk. Dean is silent as he cautiously intertwines his fingers with Cas', shooting him an uncertain glance for approval. Cas only grabs his palm tighter in response.

"So what's it like, being a Novak? This is some pretty high society stuff you've got going on here," Dean asks, a bit of bite in his voice.

"Nothing special, really. I hate it most of the time," Cas replies quietly, his voice coming out shaky. He is very aware that Dean's hand is still wrapped around his, his palm growing clammy from the cold. "Father always invites these aristocrats over and asks us to pull the 'healthy, happy family' routine, but we're so dysfunctional I'm surprised people haven't seen through our ruse yet."

"I'm sorry it's that way for you, but my family isn't much better. If I didn't have Sammy, I would've been long gone by now," Dean says, leading Cas over to a bench on the pathway. He brushes off the lightly dusted snow before he sits, his hand still clamped around Cas'. He knows it should be awkward, they hardly know each other after all, but it is strangely…calming? The warmth radiating from Dean is making Cas forget that there are trained killers just feet away from him.

"May I ask why?" Cas asks as they sit.

Dean probably doesn't notice, but Cas feels Dean's grip get more tense as he thinks it over, obviously trying to devise up the right words to say.

"It's a long story, but my mom died in a crossfire shooting about three years ago, against your family nonetheless," Dean beings, and Cas can already feel himself cringing. Why did all the pain stem from his family?

"My dad…he never truly…recovered," Dean stammers, his eyes darting back and forth between Cas and the ground. "Became a drunk first, a drug addict second, and then took over the family mob from my grandfather about a year or so ago. He's been on a rage against your family ever since and automatically put Sam and I to work as hit men. We didn't get a say, only got a gun slammed into our hands and were told to do our duty. I didn't question it, naturally. I wish now I would've."

Cas doesn't realize he's rubbing small circles into the back of Dean's hand until he gets a strange look from the other man. "Sorry," Cas apologizes quickly, ducking his head to hide the redness in his cheeks. "My mother used to do that when I was a child to comfort me. Back before…she left us."

He doesn't know why he says it. Cas has never been open about his mother's departure, one without any explanation at that. One day she was here and the next she was gone, like a cloud in the sky. He always wondered where she went, what she was doing now. He wanted to know if she found a new family, a husband who would actually hold her close and treat her right, not use her for a power play like his father did. He wondered if she had more kids, half brothers and sisters he would never know. And Cas couldn't help but get a nostalgic feeling in his gut when he thought of her, always having that deep and forbidden desire that she would return to them, even if that thought is childish and improbable.

Dean huffs out a short laugh. "Well then, look at us. Both misfit pieces in a puzzle where we don't belong."

And suddenly, Dean's arms are around Cas, bringing him close to his body. At first Cas is shocked; nobody has ever really hugged him since his mom left, but soon a feeling of warmth rises in his stomach, making it flip in tiny circles. A smile glows on Cas' face, and he snuggles in closer to Dean without thinking about it.

"Yeah," he says with a grin, "I guess we are."

They stay like that for God knows how long; Dean tells Cas stories about his family, growing up learning how to kill instead of how to play, how to shoot a gun instead of how to swing a bat, how to fight with real swords instead of foam ones. He learns that Dean got his first gun at the age of seven, was going to target practice by the age of eight, and got into his first major fight when he was twelve against a boy twice his size who was bullying Sam. He smiles when Dean talks about his brother, his cold tone he used for his family earlier instantly melting away when he mentions "his Sammy" and the stories that go with him.

Even though they grew up in the worse environment possible (Cas cringes when Dean tells one story about how him and Sam once tried to run away and were locked up in their rooms for two weeks, only being fed bread and water like dogs), they still managed to have somewhat of a childhood. Apparently Sam was a huge nerd, playing games like Dungeons and Dragons with his friends from school, and Dean spent the better half of his time fixing up cars for cash, fancy ones at that. And yet all the while that dark world of theirs was always lurking in the background, waiting for the right them to claim these boys as its own.

Dean is telling a very hilarious tale involving Sam and a date gone wrong when footsteps echo down the path.

"Castiel? You out here brother? Show yourself, you loser!"

Cas tenses, untangling himself from Dean's arms quickly.

"Hide!" Cas whispers harshly, pushing Dean away from the bench and behind the nearest line of bushes just as Gabriel stumbles into view, clearly drunk. He also can't help but notice that his brother is lacking some essential clothing items, like a shirt…or pants, for that matter…

"Ah, it's mah favorite brother!" Gabriel slurs, a half drunken bottle of champagne in his hand. "I've been lookin' for ya alllll night."

"What are you doing out here, Gabe?" Cas says harshly, trying to hide his clear fear. "Isn't it a bit cold for your attire…or lack thereof."

"Ah yah know, those stuck up floozies don't know how to have fun! Our lovely brother kindly suggested I take a walk-" he pauses, glancing down at the bottle in his hand-"and somehow my alcohol disappeared. Any idea how that happened?"

Cas just sighs, guiding his brother back down the path. "Well you're going to freeze, so let's get you back inside and have someone find you some clothes."

He watches as his brother stumbles off, just waving his hand sluggishly. "Thanks bro. I owe you one!"

"Ugh, he really is obnoxious isn't he?" Once again Cas jumps as warm arms wrap around his chest, and once again he blushes when Dean leans close, his lips against his ear. "Ruining our perfectly good conversation like that."

Cas shivers, turning around so he is inches from Dean's face, the palatable tension rolling off his body in waves. He hasn't figured out why yet, but everything is heightened when he's around Dean. Sensory feelings, emotions, thought, everything feels like it is attached to a live wire that slaps him in the face with tangible energy, making Cas feel alive for the first time in his life. Funny how he has known Dean only a short week and he already feels like they are slowly becoming one, their energies combining into one unit.

"So it looks like it will be my time to bow out soon," Dean says with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I told Sammy I was scouting out a job and he will worry you guys got me if I'm not home soon. But," he pauses, unlocking his arms from around Cas to grab his hand again, "Any chance I can have a dance before I go?"

He doesn't even respond, just grabs Dean's other hand and brings it to rest on his shoulder, guiding the other to his waist. The violin music from the party drifts from the open doors, Cas and Dean clearly hidden away from prying eyes. And as the tune slows to a waltz, the two of them sway along with the song, Cas' head resting easily against Dean's shoulder, hands placed around his waist. It is like they are suspended in time, and it is only the two of them in the world, the rest fading away until it is but a glimmer in the distance. Cas realizes quite quickly he doesn't want this to end; the Winchester has become a part of his life now, and he's accepted it.

"So, when will I see you again?" Cas whispers into Dean's shoulder.

"Is tomorrow too soon?" Dean whispers back, his lips dangerously close to Cas' ear again.

"Never too soon," Cas mutters, just swaying along with the luxurious tune. "Meet me at the library around one-ish?"

Cas feels Dean's light breathing humming through the air. "It's a date."

The song ends, too soon in Castiel's opinion, fading into a more upbeat tune. Dean disentangles himself from Cas' arms and leans back on his heels, staring around the garden with a slightly fretful glance.

"I guess that is my cue to leave," Dean says with reluctance in his voice. "But before I go…"

Cas could never have predicted what comes next. One minute he is standing feet away from the Winchester, and then the next he is centimeters away, his hand coming up to capture Cas' face.

Then there is fire. Burning, consuming, brilliant fire. Dean's lips find his easily, soft and warm in the cold night. The smoldering that fills Cas' body is tangible. His lungs spring to life in a gasp, catching the other man's lips back. Dean's free hand comes up to grab the other side of Cas' face, pushing the two of them together closer. Cas immediately responds back, bringing his hand around Dean's back to make their connection complete.

Everything is Dean in that moment, at least in Cas' mind. He doesn't worry about if people will come out and see them, he doesn't care about anything other than the flushed cheek that is springing to life under his hand, how Dean is breathing into his mouth for tiny gasps for air. He doesn't give a damn if Michael comes out and shoots them both dead right then; dying in Dean's arms would be the greatest death he could come by. He doesn't care about anything other than a beautiful man whom he may love is kissing him fiercely, unashamedly, entrapping Cas' lower lip between his teeth. It takes all of Cas' strength not to moan.

And yet all too soon, the fiery kiss turns into a light smolder. Cas and Dean are both breathless, leaning against the other for support. Cas has only been kissed a few other times before in his life, and none of them were like this.

Cas opens his mouth to say something, but Dean puts a finger to his lips. The look he gives Cas is quite endearing, making the Novak blush uneasily.

"Well, I will see you tomorrow then," Dean whispers, leaving one last gentle kiss on his lips before he wanders out of the gate, leaving Cas behind.