Before I can greet Dean, he points to the bedroom and says 'get changed'. I take off my shoes and coat before going towards the bedroom.

"What do I wear?"

"Jeans and a shirt, I dunno, casual stuff."

"Why?"

"We're going to get ice cream."

"Why?"

"We're celebrating."

"What?"

"Um… being happy about something."

"No, celebrating what?"

Silence. A breath. "An anniversary."

"Of what?"

"The conception of your idiocy." Friendly tone.

"Hard to celebrate an event that hasn't occurred."

"Good thing it has, then."

I walk out of the bedroom, changed. Dean looks me up and down, before meeting my eyes, an expectant look on his face.

"Shall we go?" I ask him.

Small smile. "Yeah, okay." He jingles the keys in his hand, and turns around to leave the house. I smirk and roll my eyes at his back.

###

"What can I get for you guys?"

"I'll have whatever he's having," I say, gesturing towards Dean. He casts me momentary, slightly suspicious glance, but orders as normal. Before he opens his mouth, I start conversation. "Is this in lieu of dinner, or merely a pre-dinner snack?"

"It can be either, but I'm thinking ice cream for dinner sounds great." He licks his lips, still a wary glint to his eyes.

I laugh. "While this cold outside?"

"But it's warm inside."

"You make a compelling point. Ice cream for dinner it is."

He grins at me. "I don't think one bowl each is gonna be enough for a full meal."

I groan. "We're going to get diabetes before the time we're forty."

"And it'll be a really fun journey." His grin is turned to the waitress as she returns with our dinner, and she seems a little flustered.

His grin can do that to a person. I'd like to say I'm immune, but I'm not – I've merely learned to cope with how consistently attractive my boyfriend is. I'm not as gifted as he in that department, but he tells me my flasher coat works wonders for me. I'm pretty sure he's being sarcastic.

I realise I'm staring at him adoringly whilst my ice cream is melting. "Why don't you tell me when I start staring?" I grumble.

He looks up, wide-eyed. "You were staring?" I give him a look, and he swallows before continuing. "I dunno, man. It's like your natural state. I don't even notice any more."

"You didn't notice I was letting my ice cream melt?"

"I was a bit preoccupied with not letting my own ice cream melt. I'd have gotten there." He waves a spoon at me. "But that's not the way to respect ice cream, Cas. Have I taught you nothing?"

"You have taught me how to subvert attention from the matter at hand with offhanded compliments. Would you like me to show you?"

He narrows his eyes. "I think you just did."

"I'm glad you noticed." I smile.

"So have you remembered yet?"

"Remember what?"

"What we're celebrating."

I pause, then I smile at Dean. "This is really good ice cream, I'm glad you took me here tonight."

He smiles with half off his mouth. "You're not funny."

"But I learnt from you."

"Says something about me, then, doesn't it? You're ordering our next bowls." He hands me the menu.

"There's too much choice!"

"Man up, trenchcoat."

"Now you're calling me an item of clothing I'm not even wearing."

"Why aren't you wearing it? You're always wearing it."

"You rushed me. Plus, it's warm inside."

"I hate you and your memory for things I say."

"You make it sound so creepy."

"It kind of is."

"I love you, too." The waitress appears, and asks if we want to pay. "No. Could you bring us each a bowl of a random ice cream? Something you like." I smile. She blinks twice, nods jerkily, and walks off again.

"Okay, you cheated."

"What?"

"Firstly, you didn't choose. I told you to choose." He pouts. I roll my eyes. "Plus, you flirted with the girl to bring us stuff!"

"No, I didn't."

"Really."

"Really!"

"I told you that you don't know what flirting is!"

"I hardly think smiling at a girl constitutes flirting."

"So her reaction didn't tell you that she thought you were flirting?"

"No, it told me my request wasn't a common one."

"You flirted with someone whilst on a date with me. I'm wounded." He clasps a hand over his heart.

"Are you sure we're not celebrating the anniversary of the conception of your idiocy? Because if we are, I don't think we should be celebrating such an old holiday."

"That hurts." He can't clasp his heart, because he already is. Small victories make life worth living.

The waitress returns, and she flushes when she smiles at me. Since she smiles at me second, it's unmistakeable that she seems to believe I hold an interest in her. "Thank you." I make an (easy) effort to gaze at Dean, instead. His eyes tell me that he knows I've figured it out, and he's smug.

The waitress almost walks into a table when she leaves us.

"Shut up."

"I said nothing."

We eat our ice cream quickly, and in companionable silence. We talk with eye contact and smiles, both obstinately refusing to start conversation. I don't think I mind.

"Aw, fuck. I always get sticky hands after ice cream."

I roll my eyes. "Go wash them, I'll pay and meet you at the car."

"Okay. Hey, here; take the keys. You'll have to get them yourself, though; sticky hands." His grin is salacious, "they're in my front pocket."

I grab the keys with an eye roll from his tight jean pocket. "You're a teenager."

He waggles his eyebrows. "At least I'm legal."

"Wash. Your. Hands."

"Yes, sir." He winks and goes.

When he meets me in the Impala, I'm sitting in the driver's seat. "What are you doing, Cas?" He's wary, but his tone isn't quite as dangerous as I've heard it when others have suggested driving his baby. Boyfriend perks.

"I'm driving. Get in."

"Are we going shopping?"

I tilt my head.

"You don't get… no, of course you don't. Fine. You know the drill, any scratches and consider yourself castrated, etc."

"That seems as though it work against your welfare."

He narrows his eyes. "Are you suggesting sex is an integral part of my welfare?"

"Yes."

"Carry on."

I nod, and I start the engine.

"Where are we going?"

"We're celebrating."

"I don't like your sarcasm. I shouldn't have taught it to you."

"I was aware of sarcasm before you."

"But you didn't use it."

"I may well have adopted it without your influence."

"Less likely, though."

"I knew Sam before I knew you."

"Relatively likely. Where are we going?"

"Celebrating, Dean, as you told me."

"I don't like feeling out of control in my own car." He sinks deeper into his seat, seemingly sulking.

"It won't be that long."

"Don't condescend me."

"Okay, now I know you're pouting."

When we pull up at a park, Dean is confused for a second. In that second, I'm out of the car and getting a bag out of the back. I try to hide the smirk.

When he figures it out, he gets out of the Impala quicker than I did. "You're a dick." He punches my arm, but it doesn't leave even a dull ache.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You knew all along."

"How could you think I'd forget the anniversary of our first date?"

"You pulled it off."

"And you tell me I can't lie. Dean, I'm wearing the same outfit. I made you order for me. I didn't wear the coat. How obvious did I have to make it?"

"Maybe saying you remembered? That's what normal people would do. And how did you get this in Baby without me noticing?"

"I took it with me to work this morning – you're never properly conscious when I leave – and when I got home, I put the bag in the back before I came inside. Regardless of whether you had plans, I was taking you out today."

"You told me stargazing was a cliché first date thing to do."

"You started the date with burgers. I never thought a little bit of a cliché was a bad thing."

He smiles at me as we walk over to the skateboard ramps no one use. "I still don't understand why you couldn't just tell me."

"That would be boring."

"Instead you thought you'd slowly break my heart."

"Only to put it back together." I say dramatically as he spreads the blanket over the ramp; we have a slope to lean against and a blanket to protect us from cold metal. We are ready to stargaze.

"You're an idiot and I love you."

"I love you, too."