Okay! So here's the big date! The love you people left with the last chapter was amazing and all your reviews just encouraged me to write faster! So, as always, if you like what you read, I would love love love to hear about it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, it's sort of the other way around:)

Chapter 7

Dean looked uncomfortable and fidgeted in his corduroy green shirt. "Dude, they set us up on a chick date. This is somehow your brother's fault."

Castiel looked around the restaurant at the millions of sequined hearts that adorned the rafters, the windows and the banisters. Bouquets of roses sat on piles of glittering red and pink confetti and laced doilies occupied the spaces under patron's drinks.

Castiel could hardly believe the chances of Dean choosing his burger amid all the other exotic and carefully prepared foods and laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

"Is it not close to Valentine's day? This would be expected at most places. Although I am relived to discover you do not harbor any fondness for confetti hearts."

"Of course not. This is just the stuff you put up with if you're trying to impress a girl."

"I wouldn't know about that," Castiel said shortly.

"Oh. Right."

Dean still couldn't seem to relax. He readjusted his seat every few moments and swirled his glass of ice water, saying nothing. It was going to be a long and painful night if things continued this way.

A waitress with a long blonde ponytail approached to cheerfully inquire about their order. "And what will you be having to drink, sirs?"

Dean sifted through the menu, eyes flashing through all the different colored sweet drinks whose names he probably couldn't pronounce. Castiel would clearly have to take matters into his own hands.

"A beer. Darkest one you've got please."

Dean looked up at him as if those were the most wonderful words he'd ever heard. "Uh, yeah. Me too on the beer."

So they sat back, slouched in their seats and enjoyed their manly beers amid the sparkling decorations.

Castiel found it easy to talk with Dean once he loosened up. He tried to pay attention to the conversation but caught himself frequently watching the spattering of freckles across his cheeks or staring intently at his lips as they moved. He couldn't tell if it was wishful thinking, but it almost seemed like Dean had the same problem—every once in a while he would pause, staring at Cas like he had lost his train of thought.

Time flew by and the check was paid before Castiel was ready to say goodnight. They stepped out of the restaurant into the packed snow and Dean started fidgeting again.

"So, ahh, there's a second part to the date. It's pretty girly too; you don't have to come if you'd rather not." His breath billowed in foggy tendrils as he spoke.

"Just spit it out, Dean."

"Doyouliketoiceskate?" Dean rushed all at once. He shook his head. "What I meant to say was, do you ice skate?"

"Quite excellently."

"That didn't even phase you, did it? Ice skating," he said again as if to confirm Castiel wouldn't run screaming in the other direction.

"You forget that Gabriel is my brother."

"I don't even want to know what actually phases you then."

"Probably not."

A limo drove them to a small lake on private land that had frozen over for the winter. Lanterns hung from the trees and two pairs of ice skates sat on a worn down bleacher. Snow fell slowly in individual flakes.

Thankfully, Gabriel had come through and secured a winter jacket, gloves and hat for Castiel that evening. Still though, his feet were instantly cold as he stripped out of his lined boots and slipped into the ice skates.

He almost tripped over himself getting to the ice and would have fallen if a strong pair of arms hadn't caught him. Dean's face was only inches away and he could have counted his freckles if he had concentrated. The green eyes crinkled at the corners and a gloved hand reached up to brush his cheek; Castiel couldn't help it, he closed his eyes at the sensation.

"You have snow in your eyelashes."

"You have snow in your eyelashes."

Dean laughed and propped him up. "Okay, so let's do this stupid figure skating thing."

Castiel's gaze landed on a rectangular box that sat by the lakeside. It had been left unlocked. "How do you feel about ice hockey instead?"

"How do you feel about losing?" he quipped, following Castiel's gaze.

Dean tore into the storage box and came back with a pair of sticks and a puck. They skated to the center of the ice and Dean held the puck overhead, prepared to drop it.

Castiel looked him dead in the eye. "Just so you are aware, I have no intention of losing."

"Hells yeah! It's on then! Best date ever!" Suddenly the date was a competition.

Where Dean was enthusiastic and reckless in his game, Castiel was calculating and precise. And while Dean unarguably scored the more interesting and unlikely goals, the score was still tied by the time they stopped, both panting and trying to catch their breath.

"Okay, wow, that really took it out of me." Dean rested both hands on his knees as he tried to recover.

"Are you saying you need a break?"

"Yeah, just to…catch my breath," he wheezed.

"Hmmm. I shall be interested to see how you prevent me from scoring while on your 'break'," Castiel said mischievously and stole the puck from where it sat by Dean's skates.

With a groan, Dean was once more in pursuit as Castiel sailed down the ice. Castiel raised his stick to score the winning shot and BAM! He found himself laying face first on the ice, a large body on top of him.

He groaned and rolled over underneath Dean. Dean made no move to get up and grinned down from where he rested on the smaller man's chest.

"I'd call that some awesome prevention. Tell me I'm awesome."

"It's called cheating you idiot. You're a big fat cheater."

"A big fat awesome cheater."

"Fine. You are more than proficient at cheating." Castiel didn't want to get up now. It was actually sort of comfortable on the ice; he was warm from the exercise and could barely feel the chill through all the layers.

Dean moved over to lie beside him and they both looked up into the night sky. Castiel wondered if he realized the backs of their hands were touching.

"This didn't suck as much as I thought it would."

"Should I feel complimented?"

"Nah, I meant the activities, not you. I'm gonna have to do this on every date."

Castiel was silent and Dean seemed to realize what he'd said. He glanced over to where the solitary cameraman sat shivering on the bleachers and turned on his side so that all the camera would see as he addressed Castiel was his back.

"Cas, you don't have to answer this, but how did you know you were gay? Did it just hit you, or have you always been that way?"

Castiel took a moment to answer. "I don't know. I was never really interested in anyone growing up. It never occurred to me that I was gay until I met this guy in college. Gabriel's called me a prude on several occasions, but I rarely date. Is it so bad to want someone special instead of just someone?"

"No. No, it isn't."

"What about you?" Castiel asked, trying in vain to sound nonchalant.

"Lately, I don't know anymore. I still like girls and I've always liked girls. But I like you too. Is that insane?"

"Maybe you just like the people you like. Maybe it doesn't matter. I like classical but I also like rock and roll."

"That's a terrible metaphor."

"Yes," Castiel agreed.

"You don't understand the kind of pressure I'm under," Dean began after a moment. "My dad's famous and everywhere I go, people know who I am. He expects me to be this…someone. Someone important. He's always told me how I should live and what I should like and now, after all these years, I'm not even sure what I actually want anymore. It's all confused."

"That does sound like a terrible burden."

"He wants me to marry a respectable, wealthy woman. I'm supposed to have 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and follow in the family business. Sam's already trashed the 'family reputation' so I'm expected to be the good son and pick up the pieces. I wish I was Sam sometimes."

Castiel didn't know what to say. Instead he wrapped his hand around Dean's and laced their fingers together as they lay on the ice.

He had a feeling, for better or worse, he had passed the point of no return when Dean Winchester failed to eliminate him once again the following night.