Dean had never looked so out of place. Castiel watched him closely, because… well, there was nothing else to do.
The Impala was currently mired in the most ridiculous traffic either man had ever seen.
"It's insane." Dean scowled, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He'd been blurting occasional, repetitive commentary on the traffic for the better part of a half hour, and Castiel was pretty sure he could actually see worry lines forming on Dean's forehead.
"Utterly mad. We're never going to get to the game on time. Shit."
"What's wrong?"
"Huh?" Dean jerked around like he'd been shocked. He almost looked like he'd forgotten Castiel was in the passenger seat. The drumming fingers only stopped for a moment, before picking up the same fervent rhythm. Castiel gave his best calming smile and spoke again.
"What's. Wrong."
"Nothing. Traffic. The game…" Drum, drum, drum.
"Dean, did you kill someone on your way to picking me up?"
"What? No!"
"Then you're not about to be arrested, so the only other explanation for your obvious nervousness is that something's wrong." Cas levelled him with a no nonsense stare. "What's wrong?"
"I, um…" Dean shrugged, staring out of the window and drumming his fingers against the wheel some more. It sounded like a stampede of mice. "I just wanted to get to the game, you know? Hang out with you. But, that's looking kind of screwed."
"We can go somewhere else, Dean, it's not a problem." Castiel rested a hand on Dean's elbow, but was forced to reconsider approaches when Dean pulled away like he'd been burnt.
Cas stared at him. Dean carried on staring out of the window. The drumming resumed.
"Have I offended you in some way?"
"What? No, I just… Hockey, man."
"Dean, would you please just tell me what's wrong?"
Dean glared at the sea of traffic for a while. Castiel was starting to get a little worried that Dean might kick him out of the car.
"I shouldn't have kissed you. I never would have done it. You should have told me you have a girlfriend."
Castiel blinked at Dean for a moment, trying to untangle the selection of statements.
"Dean," he said, eventually, "what exactly do you think 'gay' means?"
"Yeah, well, who's Pamela?"
Castiel was a little taken aback.
"A friend. She and Gabriel helped me get through medical school. Why do you ask?"
"I just… Gabriel said you were spending thanksgiving at hers and…" Dean shrugged, suddenly looking very sheepish. He started drumming his fingers again. "I got it wrong, whatever. Nothing new there. Forget I mentioned it."
"Dean…"
"I said forget it."
Drum, drum, drum.
"I kissed you."
"What?" Dean didn't seem to hear Castiel. Whatever it was that was going through his head must have been utterly agonising, Castiel thought. He tried again.
"That night, when we went up to the roof and got drunk. I kissed you. You didn't kiss me, I was the one who… initiated the contact."
Drum, drum, drum.
If he had Dean's attention, he was probably going to get kicked out of the car for saying this. If not, he would have to say it again, later. It would be easier to tell if he could look anywhere in Dean's direction, but he found himself struggling to make eye contact with the glove box.
"I let you think it was your action, and I am very sorry about that."
Drum, drum, drum.
"However, I was having trouble coping with the idea that I would act so unprofessionally, and so I thought letting you believe the kiss was your doing would…"
Drum, drum, drum.
"Would be easier for everyone. The fact is, I have found counselling you rather difficult given your emotional problems and the fact that I have always thought you incredibly attractive, both physically and… will you please stop that infuriating drumming?"
Before he could stop himself, Cas found his hand had shot out and grabbed Dean's, pulling it away from the steering wheel. While it did stop the drumming, it also meant forcing them to look at each other. Dean stared at Cas. Cas stared right back.
"Um…" Castiel's voice had apparently decided to make a run for it, along with most of his common sense. "I mean… Sorry."
"You… kissed me."
"Yes. That was the general point I was trying to get across." He dropped Dean's hand, dragging himself away from the awkward eye contact. That was when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and then, in some sort of physics-defying rush, the hand was on the back of his neck, his hands were in Dean's hair and their tongues were in each other's mouth.
This was bad, Castiel thought, as Dean pulled him closer. Not the traffic or the car, they hadn't moved in the past ten minutes and as such he wasn't worried about Dean keeping his eyes on the road. No, he reprimanded himself, as his hands slipped under Dean's jacket and trailed over the soft cotton of his shirt. It was bad, because he really shouldn't be doing this with someone who'd only been out of counselling for a week. Should he? It felt right, and Dean certainly seemed to be enjoying it, if the way he was clutching at Castiel's waist was anything to…
With almost poetic bad timing, the sound of an angry car horn jolted them apart. Dean smiled awkwardly as he pushed the car into drive, his lips flushed pink and his hair sticking out at odd angles. They managed another hundred yards before the traffic stopped them again.
"Uh… Yeah." Dean was still smiling that awkward, embarrassed smile. Castiel fought to keep himself under control.
"If you would rather we… parted ways, I would understand."
"No, no. No, I… we should stick together. I'm just… not sure hockey is really where I want to go with you, now."
"What would you suggest?"
Dean seemed to swallow a breath, regaining control of himself.
"Dinner?" Dean glanced across at Castiel, slipping his hand down to rest on the seat. "I mean… I'm kind of new at this whole thing, obviously, but… In my experience, you can't go wrong with buying someone dinner."
"I'll pay." Castiel smiled, resting his hand next to Dean's. "A sort of 'coming out congratulatory meal'. And then… we can see where you want to take it."
Dean nodded, his fingers brushing briefly over the back of Castiel's hand. Interestingly enough, once they'd picked a new destination, the traffic seemed to get a whole lot freer.
(-*-)
Dean wasn't inexperienced, per se. He'd been physical with a man before, but he had never done it while freely admitting to himself that he was gay. He'd only ever been physical with one man, and that had certainly not been a relationship. So now, having safely removed his 'counsellor' badge and placing himself firmly in the realm of Dean's personal life, Castiel was free to observe Dean's intimacy issues in practice.
Dean would go out to dinner with Castiel. He'd call him Cas, he'd marvel at the occasional brushes of contact, stating how amazed he was that it felt right. He'd even occasionally indulge in a little charm, if his confidence allowed it. Castiel couldn't resist smiling, the few times Dean had worked up the courage to try flirting with him.
But he didn't like it being made obvious that they were a couple. He would never invite Castiel back to his and Sam's apartment. He had asked Castiel not to mention it to Sam or Gabriel. He wouldn't hold hands in public.
Then there was… well…
It had been about a week since the hockey-game-that-wasn't, and the two of them had seen each other every day. Lunch dates, usually, with two dinner dates. And it was a Saturday, which meant Dean didn't have work the next morning, so he had allowed himself to drink a little more than usual at dinner. Castiel, who had ended up drinking along with him, had been surprised, and more than a little overjoyed, when Dean had uttered the immortal line, asking if they could go back to Castiel's place for coffee.
Castiel had never before been so thankful for the over-caffeinated nature of American culture.
They fell through the front door together, Dean's mouth hungrily chasing Castiel's, his hands tracing delicate lines across his face, his neck, his shoulders… Dean often seemed to hold Castiel like he was afraid he might break him. Castiel liked that.
They were struggling out of their jackets, trying to lose layers while still holding their lips together. Castiel backed through the apartment by memory, guiding Dean to the couch.
"God…" Dean gasped a breath, as he fell onto the couch and pulled Castiel with him. "You're good at that."
"You're not too bad yourself." Castiel laughed, as Dean reclined over the full length of the couch and pulled him down for another kiss. Castiel found himself crouched, one knee either side of Dean's hips, staring into his eyes. Dean faltered.
"We don't have to do this." Cas read the tension instantly. "Not tonight. Not if you don't want to."
"I… I want to." Dean chuckled, his eyes oddly serious as he scrutinised Castiel's face. "It's just… kind of a big moment." His hands rested on Castiel's back, and Cas was surprised to find himself being pulled into a hug. A pleasant surprise, of course, but… in all the time he'd known Dean, he didn't seem that big on hugs. Or embraces. Or quick squeezes. And certainly not cuddles, which he felt this was fast becoming.
Of course, Dean was slightly drunk.
"You should only do it if you're sure." Castiel said, resting his hands on Dean's chest. "And we're both a little drunk…"
"No. I'm sure. I'm sure I want to do this. But this is kind of a 'point of no return' thing. Commitment."
"To me?"
"Yeah." Dean said, nudging Castiel's chin and pulling him up into a kiss. It was all about committing to Cas. And not at all about committing to being out, no matter how much Dean's conscience told him otherwise.