sorry.

title: (i'd rather not be) in formal wear

It takes an evening of watching TV for me to be able to broach the risky topic with Dean. My fast heart beat is distracting, and there is no appeal in talking with a dry mouth. I force myself to do so regardless. "I have a proposition."

He looks at me, and his posture changes immediately to one that knows this is a serious conversation. His face is blank. "Well, this ought to be fun."

"My boss wants to have a business dinner with me. She's bringing her husband. I… would like to take you."

Dean gives me a level look. His hands clutch each other a little bit, and he otherwise looks unperturbed. He's not. "You know how I feel in… in formal settings." His mouth contorts around the words.

"I do."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Moral support, mostly."

"Bring someone-"

"I said 'mostly', not all." I smile a little bit, then bite the inside of my lip. "You've gotten better about… everything since when we first met. I think you could handle it."

"I can't. And even if I thought I could, I wouldn't want to take the chance around your boss."

"I'm the one who's being assessed, not you. Your presence won't affect her impression of me or not, regardless of what happens. In that way, it's basically the one circumstance I can guarantee no repercussions for what could happen. And… and I don't think anything would happen."

"No."

"How long has it been since you last had an 'incident'?" I use quotation marks in a futile effort to get Dean to smile.

"Cas-"

"Dean. How long?"

Pause. "I don't know."

"Over a year."

"So I don't think I should jump straight into a pit of alligators."

"Neither do I. We could go out for dinner – formal dinner – with, say Anna and her husband beforehand. Or just us. We can afford one dinner, and work will pay for the business dinner."

"I just don't feel comfortable with it."

"I wouldn't expect you to, that's not the point of it."

He looks sick as he shakes his head. "No."

I look down and close my eyes as I nod. "Okay."

"You can still take someone else, I'm sure Anna would be willing-" He reaches an arm out to me, but I've still got to make dinner, so I jump up quickly. He looks like a wounded puppy.

I try for a smile. "I don't want to take Anna, Dean."

He lets me get to the kitchen without continuing the conversation. It's what I want, but it somewhat makes me more sad.

I hear his sock-clad feet pad over when I'm about halfway through cooking. "Cas…" his voice is quiet, hesitant. I don't respond, but he knows that if I didn't want him to continue, he'd know. "What's the dinner about?"

"It hasn't been explicitly stated, but one of the senior members of my team is retiring soon and we all know she's looking for someone to promote. I suspect this dinner would be about gauging how well I would fit the position."

"She'd be a fool not to give you the post."

I laugh a little. "You may be a little biased. Others are also well-suited."

"Nah, you're a shoo-in. You've worked your socks off for this." I smile down at my bare feet, because he intended that, but I only hum in response.

He pauses, but it's a pause that says he will continue, given enough time.

I can hear him hunch his shoulders defensively. Quietly, he says "but you'll get it without me at the dinner with you."

I close my eyes and try to count, because he's not getting it. But dinner's almost ready, and I shouldn't take my eyes off it, so I turn off the heat before just turning around to Dean. "Maybe I will, and maybe I won't. But that doesn't change that I'd rather like the one person I love most to be beside me for it."

I serve up food for him, and leave the rest on the side. "Enjoy dinner. I'm not hungry."

I read in our room until I start to feel tired, whereupon I get ready for bed, and curl almost in foetal position on my side of the bed. I'm not asleep when Dean joins me, and not for a while after. I don't often reach out for him in sleep, acknowledging his declaration of not being a cuddler, but we do tend to be closer than this. He seems to decide against reaching out for me.

It takes a long while for his breath to even out, and longer still for me to fall asleep.

###

I wake up first in the morning, and decide it's been too long since I last went for a run. I slip out of bed quietly to get changed.

I run out of breath quicker than I remember I used to, but that isn't really a surprise. I last a decent while, and return home sweaty.

Our shower isn't quiet, but Dean would probably sleep through a hurricane if no one called his name in it. Still, it seems he didn't sleep well last night, and he's sat eating cereal, bleary-eyed, at the kitchen table when I get out.

I resist the urge to run my hands through my very recently-combed hair, and start talking. "I think I'm going to go out. We're running out of milk, and I need to get a few books. Do you want anything?"

"If you wait a couple of minutes, I'll come with you." Green eyes are boring holes in the back of my coat as I slip it on.

"No need. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Before I shut the door, I hear the thump similar to one made when one drops one's head on a kitchen table. I bite my lip, but we do need milk, especially if he's just had cereal.

###

When I return home, Dean is dressed and sat again at the kitchen table with a kind of resolution in his eyes that means he's placed a panicked phone call to Sam. I can feel the ghost of a smile twist my mouth; this is so like the beginning of our living together. "Hello, Dean."

"We need to talk."

"I get that." I pull off my shoes and sit across from him.

"You know I'm no good at this, so I'm just gonna skip straight to the point and hope it doesn't offend you any more…" he lifts his eyes to meet mine solidly. Something you wouldn't have done a few years ago, Dean. "It doesn't seem like you to get annoyed about me rejecting a dinner with your boss. That means there's… other factors. Can I get the full back story?"

I take a deep breath, careful to maintain eye contact. "You're right. It's been building up for a while… and I've tried to ignore it, but I can't anymore." I notice I'm rubbing my hands over one another, and make a conscious effort to stop. "I don't think you have enough faith in yourself, and honestly? I'm tired of… this sounds so selfish." I rub my hand over my eyes. I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Dean waits for me to finish. "Give me a minute to phrase it properly." He nods.

"I'm tired of… pushing. It's not like you never try to get better on your own, like with holding hands or that you choose to take me out on dates when you couldn't for months after our first… but whenever you try it's with tentative, tiny steps. And it's good that you do try, but I feel like it needs to be more.

"Don't get me wrong. I have no problems with you… being unable to do things. That's fine. It's that you can't test limits, at all. And that means I miss out on certain things… like being able to bring my boyfriend to dinners.

"I never wanted to bring it up. It sounds… awful when I say it out loud. I love you, all that you are, but… I guess that's the truth of it."

"So… what do you want?" He tries to look stoic, but he's just scared.

I shake my head. "Not to break up, definitely not. You're stuck with me for a while yet." I laugh weakly. Dean doesn't respond, except to relax slightly. "I… guess I want to be able to introduce you to strangers in situations where they don't care about who you are, but where your presence matters to me. Actually… I suppose it's not that, not really. I suppose it's more that I want to be able to rely on you for moral support in the same ways I try to be around for you. You go to dinners with my boss, I go to parties with your colleagues… I don't know, Dean. It's okay if you can't, seriously."

He's looking in my direction, but it's not at me. He's thinking. So I go to the chair nearest him, facing the opposite direction he is, and I take his hand. I wish we hadn't fought.

I know he does, too.

It takes a few minutes until he nods. "I'll go to the dinner."

"You don't have to."

"No, I want to. You're right. If she does care about how I act, then she isn't a good boss, and… you should be able to rely on me for moral support, too. You're always there for me; I really ought to return the favour." He nudges me, squeezes my hand.

I nudge him back. "You are. It's just time to up the ante."

He smirks. "You know I can't resist a challenge."

I smile at him. "Thank you."

He smiles back. "You're welcome."

after writing this, i realised a later prompt was 'arguing'. whatever. i spent too long figuring out how to do this prompt to go back and redo it.

Shameless self promotion below, feel free to close this now.

okay, so my tumblr's in my profile (ishouldnotlietomrfizzles for those who haven't seen it), and if anyone would care to follow, you'd make my day. aaaaand if anyone would like to enter my follower contest, well, my love would be unabiding.