Since I promised Chris dinner and a movie, I can’t really take it back.
Here’s me keeping my promise ;D
Dean was freaking out. No, Dean was seriously freaking out. To be fair, he had been slightly drunk when he made Castiel the promise, and Cas had been miserable enough to just pull it out of him; but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the worst idea he had ever had. In vino veritas, and yet he’d been having beer, and maybe tequila at some point, he couldn’t really remember.
The thing is that telling Cas he didn’t want to go through, that it had all been a drunken mistake, that this thing was not a good idea at all would have only made things worse than actually going through with it.
When he’d very subtly – fuck you, Sam, that had been subtle – presented the problem to his lovely, accepting, dumbass asshole of a brother, Sam had just looked at him very seriously in the eyes and said: “I knew your balls had to have retracted somewhere around the height of your tonsils when you started denying your big gay crush on Castiel and though nobody had noticed.” And then had left the room in a sweep of blinding sarcasm.
And where had that even come from anyway? That was his line, thank you very much.
So, apparently, the avoiding the circumstances tactic wasn’t really a good idea. He would man up, and do this. He was Dean Winchester, for Christ’s sake, he fought monsters and demons, he went to hell, a date wouldn’t hurt his stupid reputation. Not if nobody ever talked about it again, anyway.
It would be something quick, he thought, just some burger in some silly diner, maybe some walking where nobody could see them, and then back home to pretend nothing had happened.
Well, Castiel had other plans though.
When Dean got dressed that Friday night, Castiel shyly looked at the floor and murmured: “I might have made a program for tonight.” Then he lifted his big blue eyes to Dean’s and attempted a small smile in his direction.
Needless to say, there was no going back.
So they went out, and they followed Castiel’s plan.
First was dinner, this one part went almost exactly as Dean had planned himself. They took the car to a nice little place that reminded Dean of a diner out of the 50’s, one Castiel had particularly liked in their last visit, and got a boot with a window on its side. The lights from the outside weren’t exactly on their faces, but there was enough so that neither of them had to try really hard to see the other’s face.
It did feel a little awkward at first, but Dean couldn’t really care. Castiel was smiling more and more openly, looking around, his eyes sweeping over the tables and the kitchen in the middle. When he finally looked at Dean with the sweetest and happiest expression on his features, Dean realized he’d been studying him closely, entranced, and couldn’t really make himself stop. So he looked back at Cas, and smiled sincerely.
They got what the waitress suggested, too concentrated on each other to really look at the menu, and briefly after their order was delivered to their table.
To be fair, they didn’t talk much, just some comments here and there about the food, just silly words here and there when Dean felt he was going to say something stupid.
After dinner, Castiel wanted to go to the movies. Dean panicked about it for about 6 seconds before realizing that it was actually a really good idea. He wouldn’t have to make small talk, and he could just get distracted by the movie.
He was wrong. Well, almost completely wrong at least.
Castiel loved it. He chose a gripping story about a little girl who was killed and then came back as a spirit to get his murdered captured. And if that wasn’t romantic.
Dean didn’t really watch the movie, too put off by how wrong ghosts were depicted. But Cas, Cas was absolutely sucked in, completely mesmerized by the story, the emotions, the words and the music. It was as if he was watching a movie for the first time. And Dean realized it might have actually been.
But for him to know how concentrated and engaged Cas was being, he had to look at him often. In fact, it was all Dean really did that night. Once again, he was completely distracted by the sheer enthusiasm on Castiel’s expression.
He looked as Castiel’s eyes got bright in realization at finally understanding who the murderer was; looked at his furrowed eyebrows when nobody in the movie seemed to realize such an obvious thing; looked at his pinched lips, at his sad frown when the little girl tried to take her mother’s hand just to pass through her skin.
Dean couldn’t really tell how the movie ended, but he knew Castiel must have liked it as he memorized the melancholic joy settling on his features. That was when Cas looked back at him, so Dean coughed awkwardly and looked away. He stood up and gestured to the exit where the other few people in the room were disappearing to. Castiel just nodded and got up.
Almost at the door, Castiel stopped, waiting for Dean to reach his side and took his hand.
The walk to the car was a bit of a blur to Dean, too focused on the heat seeping through his fingertips, on the beat of Castiel’s heart beating from the angel’s wrist right into his. And when they had to separate, he realized they were in front of the car.
They stayed in silence during the drive back, Castiel rarely moving his eyes from Dean’s profile, and Dean trying hard to concentrate on the road ahead instead of his furious heartbeat.
They were about to get out of the car when Castiel spoke again: “I really enjoyed tonight, Dean.”
He looked out of the window, then back to Dean, and leaned in; his lips were soft and light on Dean’s, his breath short and hot, hitting on his cheek.
Castiel got out of the car and into the bunker, Dean left shocked in the car. When he finally focused on where he was again, he grinned, unable to stop it, and hid his face in his arms, resting on the steering wheel.
Maybe alcohol hadn’t betrayed him as much as he’d previously thought. After all, he made the best promises when drunk.
