Day 19: In Formal Wear

Title: Meet The Miltons

Summary: Dean is nervous to finally meet his boyfriend Castiel's family. Cas isn't really helping (okay, so maybe he helps some…).

Notes: My first AU of the series! Of course, this is set in an all human universe. I'm also happy to announce that instead of this being an oneshot like the rest, this will be a two-shot. Next chapter will be continuation of this story.

Dean Winchester stood in front of the mirror and took in his reflection, trying to see the smart, handsome boyfriend Castiel deserved instead of the dumb greaser dressed in a monkey suit that he truly was. He failed miserably. With a frustrated sigh, he raked a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock, dread coiling in his stomach like a poisonous serpent. He knew any second now Castiel would wonder what was taking him so long and come up here to see if he was okay. He was considerate like that, Dean thought to himself with a smile and thought back to the day he had first met his boyfriend only seven months earlier...

A hard, grueling day at work was weighing heavily on Dean's sore body. His muscles burned with exhaustion as he worked aggressively on some rusted Toyota, trying to finish as fast as he could so he could go back to his apartment and take a well-needed bath. It wouldn't quell the loneliness that plagued his heart, but it'd at least loosen up the knots in his back and wash off the grease and oil that caked his skin.

Just putting the finishing touches on the truck, Dean felt actual hope swell in his chest of finally making it home at a reasonable hour for the first time in weeks (the garage had been slammed recently, and his boss—the gruff yet oddly endearing Bobby Singer—was too damn stubborn to hire more employees and instead worked the few he had to the bone). With a smile on his face, Dean inspected the Toyota thoroughly for the fifth time, leaning over the front to look closely under the hood—

When he heard the door open and slam shut, the smile was wiped from his face. Of course, he—being Dean—instantly thought the worst and didn't even bother to straighten up and turn around as he said in a curt, heated voice, "Dammit Gordon, I didn't take your fucking toolkit, okay? Now fuck off."

It was quiet for a moment, which made Dean immediately straighten because Gordon Walker was never quiet for more than a second or two. And just to his misery, when he turned around, he discovered his guest was not Dean's asshole of a co-worker. Instead it was...

Well, to put it frankly, it was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Toned, lean body (from what he could gather under that baggy trench coat, that is), a strong, muscular jaw, mussed up sex hair, blue bedroom eyes...

And then there was Dean—calloused, dirty, bowlegged Dean, who felt like a greased monkey in front of this beautiful, business suited God.

You know, he never really understood what God had against him. He guessed it was either his lack of faith or the fact that God was a spiteful, vindictive dick.

Probably both.

"I hate to disturb you," The man began, his voice so low and hoarse that it was like the guy had gargled gravel before he waltzed in here, "But I was wondering if you could help me with my car. It's been...problematic over the last week or so."

"Really?" Dean said, finally recovering his voice as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag, "What do you mean?"

For a moment, Dean had thought the man's gaze lingered on his lips before he met his gaze again, but he must have imagined it. The guy looked like a clean-cut example of an average joe—probably had a boring job as a tax account with a wife and kid at home.

"My brother messed with it and won't tell me what he did," The man confessed almost sheepishly, the florescent lights above highlighting the faint blush that decorated his cheeks, "I know it's late, but I'd just gotten off of work, and I saw the sign on my way home, and I thought—"

"Dude, relax. It's cool," Dean assured him with a grin, cutting off the man's ramble, "Brothers are dicks. Hell, I used to pull that kind of shit on my little brother all the time." Before he went off to college and became too busy for me, he thought with spite before immediately regretting the bitter thought. He should be proud of Sammy—the little nerd got a full-ride to Stanford just on his smarts. And Dean? Dean didn't even finish high school.

"I, uh...I was wondering if you could look at it real quick?" The man said hesitantly, breaking Dean out of his mental reverie, "I mean, if you aren't busy or anything."

"No, not at all," The words slipped from his lips before Dean's brain could catch up with his mouth, "I have time."

The man sighed out in relief and gave him an anxious smile before he stuck his hand out, "Castiel. Castiel Milton."

"Dean Winchester," He began to extend his hand, but after realizing it was coated in dried motor oil, he dropped it with an apologetic smile, "I'd shake your hand, but..."

"That would end unpleasant on my end." He finished with a smile—the kind of smile that sent both Dean's brain and heart stuttering.

They just stared at each other for a moment—both too wrapped up in the task of taking in every detail of the other with intense fascination and thinly veiled desire. Finally, it was Dean who broke the silent with a cough, rubbing the back of his head nervously and saying, "Well, Cas...show me the damage." Castiel gave him a bemused look at the unintentional nickname, but before Dean could take it back and stutter out an awkward apology, a smile found its way on his face again, brighter than before and a lot less impersonal.

Suffice to say, Dean made it home later than he'd first hoped, but he couldn't complain much with a newly acquired phone number resting safely in his pocket.

Now, months later, Dean was hiding upstairs like a coward and Castiel was entertaining his family members with a fancy buffet table and idle small talk as he waited patiently for Dean to grow a pair and come down to meet his family. His palms sweated at just the mere thought of their inevitable disapproval and Castiel's heart-breaking disappointment, and he once again entertained the idea of slipping out the window and avoiding this horrid nightmare of a night altogether. But of course, he could never do that to Cas.

He actually loved the guy, for fuck's sake.

But when he heard a tentative knock on the door, he did start thinking of maybe hiding out in the closet. Though before he could reach a decision, Castiel opened the door.

"Dean, what's—" Cas cut off when he caught sight of him, a suddenly intake of breath stealing away his inquiry. Dean didn't know how he had invoked such a reaction from the man—he himself looked like an angel in his sharp, classy attire while Dean looked more like an ape in a flashy suit.

"Dean," Cas said with a breathtaking smile, slowly moving towards him until they were mere inches apart, "You look beautiful."

Dean scoffed, stiffening an eye roll as he glanced downward to stare at Castiel's polished shoes, "Oh please. My Impala is beautiful. I'm just..." He looked down at himself—at the expensive, tailored suit that felt as foreign on him as another person's skin, "Me."

"As I said," Cas whispered as he seized Dean's chin and gently forced him to meet his bright, adoring gaze, "Beautiful."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, glancing at the door with anxiety brewing in his system, "Well, let's get this show on the road." He cracked a wry smirk, "Any last warnings?" He meant it as a joke, but Castiel regarded his sarcastic inquiry with the upmost seriousness.

"My sister Anna wants to be your best friend, so she'll be glued to your side the entire evening," Castiel began with a sigh, "My brother Gabriel wants to know everything about our sex life—don't indulge him, or we will not have a sex life any longer." Dean shuddered at the threat, "My cousin Raphael and uncle Zachariah will make low, demeaning comments about your profession as well as homophobic jests. Please, just ignore them. If they become too inappropriate, Michael has promised to escort them from the grounds personally. Michael, my eldest and most protective brother, will grill you with questions that range from what you have planned for the future to what your intentions are towards me. And my cousin Balthazar..." He swept his gaze over Dean's attire once more before flashing him an apologetic smile, "He will most likely attempt to grope you at every chance he receives. It's be best to just avoid him at all costs."

Dean felt his eyes widen, "God, they're going to eat me alive, aren't they?"

Cas rolled his eyes and swatted his side, "Don't be so dramatic. I've set out enough appetizers to quell their hunger for the evening."

Dean scoffed. "You're a fucking riot, Cas."

"Look, Dean, just lighten up," Castiel told him with a comforting smile, "You'll be fine. You're charming."

Dean gave him a skeptical look as he corrected flatly, "No, I'm annoying."

"I disagree," Cas argued, entwining their hands and somehow unknotting the clenching anxiety in Dean's chest, "Dean, you must know that it doesn't matter what they think of you. I'll love you regardless of their opinion. But don't worry," He kissed Dean's forehead chastely and his lips lingered, his next words breathed against Dean's skin, "They'll love you. Just like I do."

Dean sighed, letting Castiel's reassurances wash over him and drown out his fear. When he finally found at least an ounce of confidence, he looked at Cas with a fierce, brave expression, "Okay. Let's do this."

Author's Note: Review, follow, favorite.