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Shall We Dance?

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Miami, Florida

Castiel woke the next morning to the irritating sound of someone knocking on his hotel room door. Groaning and forcing his eyes open, he glared blearily in the direction of the noise, then fumbled for his phone on the nightstand to check the time. The screen was annoyingly bright, and when Castiel saw that it was only 9:30, he let out a frustrated sigh and closed his eyes again. Whoever was knocking would just have to wait.

He hadn't slept well during the night. His conversation with Dean had gone about a thousand times better than he'd expected, but after they'd finished talking he'd realised that he was faced with a new problem. He had a date to plan - a date that he absolutely could not afford to mess up. Everything needed to be perfect - the food, the conversation, the atmosphere, the location… even the weather, although of course Castiel knew he would have no control over that. Nothing was allowed to go wrong. Dean had, by some miracle, given him a second chance, and Castiel was determined to make it the best date of Dean's life.

As a result, he had been up most of the night on his phone, searching through pages of classy restaurants in Kansas City in an attempt to find the perfect place - only to end up with a stupidly long list of possibilities and no idea of how to narrow the options down. He had finally fallen asleep, after resigning himself to the fact that once again he would have to ask Gabriel for help, at just before 5am.

Four and a half hours' sleep was nowhere near enough.

Castiel had almost succeeded in dropping off again when his phone buzzed in his hand, the sudden vibration making him jump and nearly throw the offending device on the floor. The too-bright screen told him that Gabriel had sent him a text and, knowing that the man would go on to actually call him if he didn't reply soon, Castiel reluctantly opened it.

Breakfast! :D

Another groan found its way out of Castiel's mouth, followed immediately by a massive yawn, as he sleepily replied.

Fine m awake. Cme in

His eyes closed again, and when the phone vibrated with another message a few moments later, he succeeded in dropping it on his face.

Ur door's locked. Get ur lazy ass out of bed! I want details from last night's convo with the bf! ;) ;) ;)

Castiel scowled as he typed out the most eloquent retort he could come up with.


Without waiting for Gabriel's response, he rolled out of bed - getting the sheets caught around his foot in the process and ending up in an extremely disgruntled heap on the floor. If Gabriel hadn't ordered a large amount of coffee with this breakfast, someone was going to get hurt.

He disentangled himself from the blankets and shrugged on a bath robe, then grumpily shuffled across the room to open the door. Gabriel was waiting outside in the hallway, and Castiel was momentarily blinded by the obnoxiously colourful Hawaiian shirt he was wearing.

"Well, don't you look like a ray of sunshine," Gabriel remarked, visibly trying to stifle a laugh at the sight of Castiel's sleep-ruffled hair, bare feet, and generally barely-conscious state. "You really didn't need to go through all that effort just for breakfast, you know."

"Where's the coffee?" Castiel grumbled.

"All in good time, Cassie!" Gabriel replied, strolling through the door and over to the curtains, throwing them wide open to reveal a typically bright Miami morning. The two of them had decided to take an impromptu vacation in the city following the Michael Kors shoot, and even though this was the first morning that hadn't seen either of them nursing some sort of hangover, Castiel still winced and squinted against the sudden light. Gabriel raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"I arranged for breakfast to arrive at ten, since I figured - apparently correctly - that you'd still be half-dead any earlier than that. Now why don't you go wake yourself up and try to look a little less zombie-like while I admire the lovely view from your balcony and see if you've got anything good left in your mini-fridge."

Castiel gave a short, unintelligible grunt and obediently disappeared into the bathroom, grabbing some clothes at random on the way.

One long shower later, he was feeling markedly more functional - at least until he was getting dressed and realised which shirt his half-asleep self had picked out. It was bright blue and decorated with pink flamingos, and was undoubtedly the result of some drunken shopping trip. Whether said drunken shopping trip was his, Gabriel's, or Balthazar's fault, he couldn't remember, but apparently he'd also been drunk when he'd packed the shirt for this stint in Miami.

He considered rummaging through his other shirts to find something a little more sensible, but decided that finding out if the coffee had arrived yet was far more important.

Gabriel was sitting at the table on the balcony when Castiel left the bathroom, checking his phone and sipping a tall drink that looked like lemonade. A tray sat on the table too, laden with two plates of fluffy pancakes and - much to Castiel's delight - a generous pot of dark, freshly made coffee. He sat down, poured himself a mug, and took a large, grateful gulp.

"Feeling more alive now?" Gabriel asked, looking up from his phone.

Castiel finished his coffee with a satisfied sigh. "Just about," he replied.

Gabriel grinned and grabbed his plate of pancakes, pouring on enough maple syrup to give even the healthiest person diabetes. "I'm glad I've never woken you up when you've got a hangover," he remarked. "If you're that bad without one, I think I'd be safer poking a bear in the middle of winter."

"Ha ha," Castiel deadpanned, pouring himself another mug of coffee.

Gabriel looked him up and down, and smirked. "Nice shirt."

"Says the guy who looks like he's wearing a Hawaiian garden."

"Hey, I'm not the one who wears designer brands for a living," Gabriel pointed out.

Castiel rolled his eyes and ate a forkful of his pancakes. "Maybe I'm making a fashion statement."

"Maybe you are," Gabriel agreed with a grin. "So, are you going to tell me how your phone call with Mr Gorgeous Green Eyes went?"

Castiel couldn't help smiling. "It went well," he replied. "Better than I thought."

"Has he forgiven you?"

"I think so. I hope so, at least." Castiel paused. He needed to ask for Gabriel's help on planning this date, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to stand the inevitable smugness. "Gabe?" he asked tentatively.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Mm?"

"Er - you wouldn't happen to know any restaurants in Kansas City that do really good pie, would you?"

"Maybe. Why?" Gabriel asked suspiciously. Castiel blushed, and Gabriel's eyes instantly lit up with excitement. "Have you got a date with him?"

Castiel tried to stop his smile getting too wide. "Next Thursday."

"Ha!" Gabriel grabbed his phone again and started tapping away at the screen. "Hold on a moment. I've got to tell Balthazar he owes me fifty bucks."

"You were betting on this?" Castiel asked incredulously. "Why do you always - wait, you told him I was going to talk to Dean?"

"Of course," Gabriel replied. "Why wouldn't I? He was wanting to know if he could have a shot if Dean turned you down."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "A shot at me or a shot at Dean?"

"Either of you, probably," Gabriel shrugged. "Or both. Knowing him, you might be getting an invitation to a menage-a-thirteen at some point soon."

"Great," Castiel sighed. "Please don't let him show up anywhere unannounced."

"I won't, don't worry," Gabriel said dismissively. "Now, about this date. You said you wanted good pie?"

Castiel nodded. "Dean said he wasn't picky, but pie is his favourite."

"Right. Let me have a think…"

Castiel went back to his coffee and pancakes while Gabriel sipped his lemonade thoughtfully, then scrolled through something on his phone, tapping his fingers absently on the table.

"Ah-ha! Got it," he announced after a few minutes. "My friend Baldur owns a rather nice restaurant in downtown KC. I don't know about pie specifically, but the place has some of the best desserts in the Midwest."

"Coming from you, that's saying a lot," Castiel remarked. Gabriel had eaten his way through most of the dessert menus in the country, and had developed a rather discerning palate. "Can we get a table for next Thursday evening?"

Gabriel grinned. "Well, normally that place has a waiting list about a month long," he said, "but luckily for you, Baldur owes me a favour. He'll fit you in, don't you worry. I'll call him later. Will you want anything extra with your table? Champagne? Candles? Rose petals? Your own private string quartet? A horse-drawn carriage?"

"What? No!" Castiel replied. He frowned. "Do they even offer that stuff?"

"Well, maybe not the string quartet or the carriage," Gabriel admitted, "but they could probably do the rest if you asked."

"No, Gabe," Castiel sighed. "It's a first date, not a marriage proposal. I want to keep it nice and simple. Less to go wrong that way."

"Oh, fine," Gabriel conceded. He started typing out a note on his phone. "So that's one table for two… next Thursday evening… at Elysian Fields. Done."


Kansas City, Kansas

Dean spent the next seven days experiencing a wild mixture of nerves, excitement, and smugness.

The morning after his late-night phone call with Cas, Bobby had called to let him know that it was safe for him to return to work that evening. The media attention around the bar had died down, either thanks to whatever legal action Gabriel had threatened them with, or because Cas's fling with Dean was now almost a week ago, and therefore old news.

While he was pleased to finally be able to do his damn job again, being reminded of the paparazzi's interest in him made Dean wonder what the hell he was getting himself into by agreeing to see Cas again. There was no way their date would go unnoticed. Cas was practically followed around by a load of asshole photographers, and Dean didn't think he could cope with them latching onto him too.

When Cas texted him shortly before his shift was due to start that evening, the panic got even worse.

Hello Dean. I've got us a table at the Elysian Fields restaurant, next Thursday at 7:00pm. I hope that's all right with you. Let me know if it's not, and I'm sure I can change it. -Castiel

Dean had never been to Elysian Fields before, but he knew where it was - and how fancy it was. Attached to one of Kansas City's best hotels, the five-star restaurant had won numerous awards and was owned by one of the country's top chefs. He had no idea how Cas had managed to get them a table there with less than a week's notice, but the thought of going there, where he would stick out like a sore thumb, was terrifying.

Part of him wanted to beg Cas to change the booking to somewhere less fancy - but going to some run-of-the-mill burger joint instead would only make Cas look out of place, and Dean definitely didn't want to embarrass him like that. The guy had probably never even set foot in a place that served food for less than $10, and the last thing Dean wanted was for the press to go nuts about how Cas was lowering himself like that for some nobody he hooked up with at his brother's wedding.

It wasn't until he checked his phone again during his break that some of the nerves gave way to giddy excitement. Cas had texted him again - twice - and the first message made a silly smile creep onto Dean's face:

As much as I like being in Miami, I wish it was next week already. I can't wait to see you again. xxx

The second just made the smile worse. Cas had sent him one of those selfie-things that Dean had never gotten the hang of, the picture showing Cas on a beach, wearing a ridiculous shirt and holding a fancy-looking cocktail. He was looking at the drink critically, one eyebrow slightly raised, and the picture was accompanied by another brief message:

Yours are better. ;)

Butterflies were going crazy in Dean's stomach, and for a brief, insane moment, he forgot how nervous he'd been feeling before. This was Cas - gorgeous, amazing, ridiculously sexy Cas, who had given Dean one of the best nights of his life, braved Bobby's wrath in his attempts to contact him again, and could apparently make Dean's heart do a backflip with only two short texts.

Quickly, before his break was over and the butterflies calmed down, he typed out a reply.

Haha, glad to hear it. Plans sound good - fancy place! I can't wait either. Btw, nice shirt. :P

Cas's response was almost immediate.

It looks better on the floor. ;)

Dean blushed scarlet and had to quickly look around to make sure no-one was watching.

Dude I'm at work! Save the distracting mental images for when I'm not playing with flaming booze!

My apologies . Let me know when you're in bed.

If anyone walked into the break room now, Dean wasn't sure he could even begin to explain why his face was so red. He was no stranger to suggestive text conversations, but for some reason it was different with Cas. His fingers fumbled on the phone's screen as he wrote out another reply.

Won't be til after 1am I'm afraid. Gives you time to sort the shirt out tho. ;)

As he hit 'send', Dean knew he was falling for Castiel's infamous charm faster than he could down a shot of whiskey.

The flirty texts didn't stop there either, and every night Dean found himself sneaking quick glances at his phone when there was a lull in customers, the giddy feeling getting more intense each time. Sam was definitely suspicious, as were Charlie, Benny, Jo, and probably Bobby and Ellen too. Even though they had no idea that Cas was the reason for Dean's almost-constant good mood - only Bobby knew that Cas had been in contact since the wedding, and none of them knew anything about the up-coming date - they all noticed that he was looking unusually happy whilst acting pretty strangely, and whenever they asked Dean what was going on, he just added to their confusion by grinning and dodging the question.

Even the occasional journalist who managed to slip under the bouncers' radars didn't faze him like everyone seemed to think they would. Dean knew that the media had no idea that his relationship with Cas was anything other than a one-night-stand, and he felt an odd sense of satisfaction whenever his phone buzzed in his pocket with another of Cas's adorably romantic or downright filthy messages while he was in the middle of telling some nosey reporter that he barely even thought about the night of Anna and Michael's wedding.

All through the week, Dean toyed with the idea of telling someone what was really going on. He knew full well that they deserved to be told - especially Sam - but whenever he thought about what to say and how everyone would react, he chickened out, remembering Bobby warning him that Cas was bad news.

In the end, he decided to see how the date went first. If it went well, he would tell them. Probably. If it didn't… well, then he wouldn't have anyone giving him a load of fake sympathy. Besides, he didn't want the thrill of seeing Cas again to be dampened by the knowledge that his family and friends disapproved, and he sure as hell didn't want to have to deal with the inevitable 'I-told-you-so's if things did end up going horribly wrong.


When Thursday evening finally arrived, Dean's nerves came back in full force.

Cas would be picking him up at 6:30 to drive him to the restaurant, having agreed with Dean earlier that having a chauffeur would just be awkward. It was now 6:25, and Dean had yet to decide on which tie to wear with his suit. He had spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out what he was going to say when Cas arrived, and had completely forgotten about getting all dressed up until he only had fifteen minutes left. He still wasn't at all sure how he was supposed to act. Despite the texts they'd been exchanging during the week, Dean didn't really know if Cas meant this dinner to just be a one-off.

It was stupid, he knew, worrying about things like that before the date had even started, but he didn't want to completely misread the situation and end up looking stupid. He was going to be bad enough just going to such a fancy restaurant.

His phone suddenly went off with a text, and Dean swore under his breath. That would be Cas, he knew. Cas was outside his apartment block, right now, and Dean still wasn't ready. He gave up on all the colour co-ordinating bullshit he'd been trying to figure out earlier, and just grabbed a tie at random instead. It would have to do. He couldn't keep Cas waiting.

He checked that he had his phone, keys, and wallet, then took a deep breath and left his apartment. He made a vague attempt at calming himself down in the elevator, but when he reached the front door of the building, his heart was beating so fast it was a wonder he hadn't passed out yet.

Mentally berating himself for once again behaving like a teenage girl, Dean steeled himself and opened the door.

Cas was standing on the step outside, looking predictably amazing. The dorky selfies he'd sent during the week had made Dean think he was prepared to actually see him again in person, but it turned out he was wrong. Just like at the wedding, Cas was wearing a black suit that had probably been tailor-made for him, and this time he had paired it with a deep blue tie that matched his eyes.

Dean felt a pathetic wave of relief that he hadn't chosen a blue tie for that exact same reason.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, as if they were both surprised that the other was actually standing in front of them. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but had completely forgotten everything he'd rehearsed earlier in his head.

Thankfully, Cas's brain was still functional.

"Hello Dean," he said with a small smile.

Dean couldn't help returning it. "Hey, Cas."

Cas's eyes wandered up and down Dean's body, and for a moment Dean was convinced that he had already made an idiot of himself by having his fly undone or something equally dumb, but then Cas was staring straight into his eyes again.

"You look amazing," he said softly.

Dean ducked his head self-consciously and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "Er - thanks," he replied, letting out a quiet laugh. "You're not looking so bad yourself. Not that that's unusual."

Cas laughed too, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I beg to differ. You haven't seen me in the mornings."

"Yet," Dean added cheekily, then mentally smacked himself in the head. "Er - I mean -"

"Yet," Cas agreed, dropping his voice to a low, suggestive growl.

Dean blinked and felt his face grow warm. Cas held his gaze enticingly for a few moments, and when Dean was apparently suitably flustered, he broke into another grin.

"Shall we go to dinner?" he asked, gesturing to a shiny red Chevy Corvette parked on the road.

Dean managed to nod and followed Cas to the car, settling into the front passenger seat while Cas got behind the wheel.

"Have you been to Elysian Fields before?" Cas asked, as they started to drive down the road.

"No," Dean replied. "I've heard of it, but… Have you?"

"No, admittedly," Cas answered. "Gabriel has, though. He recommended it. He said it does good desserts, so hopefully they'll have some kind of pie."

Dean grinned. "Awesome. Er - you know you didn't have to pick somewhere just for pie, right?"

"Perhaps," Cas acknowledged, glancing over at him, "but I want this to be perfect for you, Dean. I really do."

Dean couldn't think of what to say to that. Cas sounded so sincere and suddenly looked alarmingly nervous, and Dean remembered that this was technically meant to be an apology dinner as well as a date. Cas was probably almost as terrified of screwing up as Dean was.

"It sounds great so far," he said.

"Really?" Cas asked hopefully.

Dean nodded. "Really."

They pulled up outside the restaurant a few minutes later, and Dean stared up at the place while Cas handed the car keys over to the valet attendant. Even from the outside the hotel looked super-classy, all polished and modern, metal and glass reflecting the bright city lights.

The sudden flash of a camera made Dean jump and turn around, worried that the paparazzi had found them already - but it was just a tourist snapping a picture of the hotel a few paces away. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Are you all right?" Cas asked, coming to stand beside him.

Dean nodded and gave a half-smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just… A camera went off and I -" He forced a laugh. "It's stupid. Don't worry."

Castiel looked a little guilty. "I can't promise that the media won't see us tonight," he admitted. Dean was surprised that he had known straight away what the problem was. "This place isn't somewhere they normally stalk, and my bodyguard, Uriel, is going to be hovering around all evening-" he gestured to an intimidating-looking, dark-skinned man standing nonchalantly a little way away "-so if anyone does spot us it shouldn't be too bad. Nothing like what you had to deal with at your work, but…" He sighed. "I do wish I could stop them completely."

"It's okay," Dean said quickly.

"Are you sure?" Castiel didn't look convinced, and Dean was starting to feel bad for bringing the subject up.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he replied, putting on a wide smile. "Let's go eat."

Cas finally smiled, and they headed up the steps and into the hotel. If Dean had thought the place looked fancy from the outside, it was nothing compared to the inside. It looked like something from an expensive interior design magazine. There was a bright chandelier dominating the ceiling of the entrance hall, smartly dressed staff behind the check-in desk, plush leather couches, decorative water features on the walls…

The restaurant was signposted through a pair of dark wood doors on one side of the lobby, and they walked into a large room filled with a whole range of delicious smells. The place looked pretty full, each of the red-draped tables occupied by elegantly dressed people. Dean unconsciously pulled at his shirt collar, wondering if anyone could tell that his suit didn't have a designer label.

"We have a reservation, under 'Novak'," Cas was saying to the host, who scanned the ledger in front of him and smiled.

"Ah, yes. A table for two. Right this way, if you please, sirs."

Dean felt Cas lightly tap his arm, and paid attention just in time to follow the host through the restaurant. They were led to a cosy-looking table in a semi-private alcove, and the host handed them each a dinner menu and Cas a wine menu before leaving again.

Cas looked across the table and smiled. "What do you think?" he asked.

Dean blinked. "Oh - er - I'm normally a red wine guy, but I'm not that fussy."

Cas smiled and set the wine menu on the table. "I meant the restaurant in general," he clarified.

"Oh," Dean said stupidly. He glanced around the room again. "It's pretty special, isn't it."

"It is," Cas agreed. "I sometimes get nervous when Gabriel recommends something, but in this case, I think he did all right."

Dean laughed. "Well, it's much nicer than the places I usually eat at," he said. "Better than the local Biggerson's."

"Biggerson's can be pretty good, though," Cas said with a grin. "I hear their turducken slammer is delicious."

"It is," Dean agreed fervently. He looked at Cas, amused. "I can't imagine you going to a Biggerson's."

Cas shrugged. "I've been known to go occasionally. A friend once dared me to see how many different ones I could visit before the press caught up with me. I think I got to about ten or so. But back to your original comment - I agree. Red wine is my favourite too." He flipped open the menu and offered it to Dean. "Do you want to choose? You're undoubtedly more of an expert than me, since you work with alcohol."

Dean shrugged self-consciously. He didn't work with wines very often, especially not expensive ones, but he opened the menu anyway and had a look down the list of reds. His eyes almost popped out of his head at the prices - there was only one option that was even remotely close to what he would normally spend, and it wasn't one that he particularly liked. He picked out one of the middle-priced ones that sounded similar to the sort he usually drank on the rare occasions when beer wasn't an acceptable option.

"How about this one?" he asked, passing the menu back to Cas and tapping the relevant line.

Cas smiled and nodded. "Sounds good to me."

They ordered the wine, and then there was a brief, comfortable silence while they both perused the dinner menu, broken prematurely when Dean's stomach complained about the assault of food-related thoughts when there was nothing to actually eat yet. He glanced up and blushed when he saw Cas's amused grin, but the other man just winked and said, "My thoughts exactly."

Their waiter soon arrived to take their orders, and before long Dean was tucking into an elaborately plated lamb dish while Cas had an equally fancy-looking filet mignon. The food was, as Dean expected, delicious and he was both pleased and secretly relieved that Cas seemed to like the wine he'd picked.

"Remind me to consult with you every time I need to pick a wine," Cas remarked, taking another mouthful from his glass.

Dean laughed. "I bet you've tried more than I have."

"Probably not, actually," Cas admitted. "Gabe and I usually stick with the same ones, unless the place we're at doesn't have them."

"So do I, really," Dean confessed. "I know a bit about wine, but I mostly work with spirits. There aren't that many cocktails that involve wine, and the ones that do would never use something like this."

Cas smiled. "I'm guessing it took quite a while for you to learn so many different recipes," he said. "Where did you learn how to do all those tricks while you make them?"

"Benny taught me," Dean replied, shrugging. "And Jo. And Charlie and Sam and the others later on. It was just the three of us at first, though, before the bar started getting known for it. It's probably thanks to Benny that it's doing so well now."

"From what I've heard, it's always been doing well," Cas remarked.

Dean shrugged. "It's never done badly, but when Bobby and Ellen first opened it, it took a while to get a decent amount of people in. It's not like we were the only cocktail place around."

"You've worked there since it first opened?" Cas asked, sounding impressed.

"Yup," Dean replied. "I actually worked for Ellen before too, at the bar she had in Lawrence. So did Jo - Ellen's daughter - and we both kinda moved with them, I guess. Bobby and Ellen paid for us to go to the KC Bartending School for a bit, so we'd actually know what we were doing, and when the place opened they hired us and a few others from the school, and then Benny when he moved up here from Louisiana. He asked if he could put in a few simple tricks he knew, Bobby and Ellen said he could, and people liked it so much he ended up teaching everyone else."

"Well, from what I've seen, he's taught you well," Cas said, making Dean blush self-consciously. "I really do need to visit at some point soon."

Dean smiled, though he had no idea how he would get through a shift without dropping something if he knew Cas was there. "So, er - how'd you start with the whole modelling thing?" he asked.

Cas gave a wry grin. "By accident," he replied. "I did a bit for fun while I was in college and got spotted, then kept it up as a side thing while I worked in one of my father's companies. Then Gabe contacted me and asked if I wanted to do it full-time, and - well, I'd always found corporate work boring, so I took the chance and ran with it."

"I didn't know you'd gone to college," Dean admitted. He'd guessed that Cas was intelligent, but it had never cropped up in any of the interviews he'd seen or read.

"It's one of my many secrets," Cas said with mock-seriousness. "But yes, I went to Harvard Business School. Same as Michael, same as my father… Same as pretty much everyone in my family, really."

"So did they mind that you quit working for your dad?" Dean asked.

Cas made a face. "My father wasn't too bothered, as long as I didn't get into drugs or anything like that. It was Michael and our uncle, Zachariah, who cared most, but neither of them are easy to please anyway. Michael came around once he saw that I was enjoying myself. Zachariah was more of an ass about it. He's not particularly impressed with other aspects of my life either, and he wasn't afraid to show it at first, but now Michael's his boss so he can't say anything against me. He still barely speaks to me, unless we run into each other at some family do and he's trying to impress Michael for some brown-nosed corporate thing."

Dean blinked. "Your brother employs his own uncle?"

"Yes," Cas said wryly. "He already worked for our father, and when Michael took over, he just kept him on. Zachariah hates it, but he's been treading on thin ice since Michael overheard him bad-mouthing me to one of his co-workers, and he'd rather keep his paycheck than push it any further."

Dean laughed. "Well, I'd fire anyone who insulted Sam, and I'm not even allowed to fire people."

"You're close to your brother then?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Real close. I practically raised the kid, 'til he went off to college. He's crazy-smart - got himself a full ride to Stanford and graduated with a law degree. He had a pretty decent job in a law firm too, 'til the company went bust, then he moved in with me for a bit and Bobby took him on at the bar. It was only meant to be a temporary thing 'til he found himself another law job, but he ended up asking to take the same course me and Jo did, and now he's there permanently, bought a house, married a super-hot doctor… He's doing good."

"You're obviously proud of him." Cas was smiling, but Dean suddenly realised that he'd been rambling, so he just nodded and had some more wine to cover his embarrassment.

It was weird - he'd been expecting Cas to be as openly flirty during this date as he had been when they'd first met, making it very clear that he wanted to get in Dean's pants as quickly as possible, but instead they were actually talking, getting to know each other, as if… Well, as if this wasn't just about having a fancy dinner and wild sex. As if this might actually be something… dare he say 'serious'? Was that even possible, given the sort of history Cas had? Dean's wasn't much better either - just minus the near-constant media coverage and crazy orgies.

He inwardly berated himself for even thinking that far ahead. The date wasn't over yet - even though things were going well so far, there was still plenty of time for Dean to fuck things up somehow - and he had no idea if Cas's feelings were anything close to his own.

"Dean?" Cas asked, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Hmm?" Dean asked, blinking to break himself out of his thoughts. "Oh - yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He finished off his meal and grinned. "That was awesome."

Cas grinned back. "It was," he agreed. "And I think we might be needing another bottle of wine soon. This one won't last us through dessert, at the rate we're going."

Dean gulped at the thought of those prices on the wine menu again, but Cas had already caught their waiter's attention and was ordering another bottle as well as asking for the dessert menu. That was another thing that scared Dean - if they did end up trying out a serious relationship, how the hell was he supposed to take Cas out for dinner like this? Cas didn't seem at all fazed by the cost of everything they were eating and drinking tonight - what if spending this much on dinner was normal for him?

"What do you fancy?" Cas asked, offering Dean the dessert menu that had managed to materialise on the table without Dean noticing.

"Er…" Not wanting to let on about his internal panic, Dean took the menu and had a look, his eye immediately drawn to the 'maple pecan pie' listed as the daily special. He glanced up at Cas suspiciously, wondering if it was just a coincidence that his favourite dessert happened to be there on the night of their date, but Cas looked completely innocent, refilling their wine glasses with the last of their first bottle and starting on the second.

"It's gotta be the pie," Dean said decisively.

"They have pie?" Cas asked, looking both surprised and pleased, though Dean wasn't fooled.

Dean handed the menu back and pointed. "Yup. Sounds awesome, too. I haven't had maple pecan before."

"Huh." Cas blinked at the menu, then looked up and smiled. Dean couldn't help grinning back. The thought that Cas may have actually asked the restaurant manager to put pie on the menu, just for him, was making him feel giddy - or maybe that was the wine. Or Cas's eyes. Or a combination of all of those things.

When the waiter arrived with their desserts, Dean's mouth started watering before the plate of pie had even reached the table. Cas had a fancy-looking panna cotta with some bright red fruit thing, but Dean noticed that he completely ignored the dish while Dean dug into his pie.

The first mouthful was practically orgasmic.

"That good?" Cas asked, his eyes lighting up with amusement, and Dean blushed when he realised that the moan he'd let out hadn't just been in his head.

"Hell yes," he replied. "Man, I could live off this."

Cas laughed and finally took a spoonful of his dessert too. "I don't think that would be very healthy," he said with mock-seriousness.

"Screw healthy," Dean said dismissively. He paused, then blushed again. "Er - you want to try some?"

"I'm allowed to?" Cas asked, raising one eyebrow.

Dean shrugged and smiled shyly. Cas reached over to take the tiniest spoonful of the pie, and Dean may have paid far too much attention to Cas's lips as he ate it.

"You're right, it is delicious," Cas remarked. He gestured to his own plate. "Would you like some of mine?"

Dean nodded, but before he could reach over with his spoon, Cas had scooped up a generous amount with his own and was offering to him across the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His face growing steadily redder by the second, Dean leaned forwards and carefully ate the spoonful of panna cotta, the happy, silly haze in his head prompting him to meet Cas's eyes as he did so. Much to his satisfaction, he heard Cas quietly suck in a breath, and he grinned; it was about time the sexy bastard got a taste of his own medicine.

Cas ate the rest of his dessert rather quickly after that, and Dean took the opportunity to savour his pie and the rest of his wine. Cas had stopped drinking now, since he was driving back - both of them had apparently forgotten this when they'd ordered the second bottle - but he still managed to pay Dean back by licking his lips enticingly whenever he had a drink of water.

By the time Dean finished his pie, it had turned into an all-out competition, and as nice as the meal had been, both of them were now extremely eager to get back to Cas's car and out of anywhere public. Cas paid - without letting Dean see the price - and left a hefty tip, and then they were walking back through the hotel lobby in what was meant to be a sedate manner, Dean hoping like mad that the tightness in his pants wasn't visible.

Cas picked up his car from the valet attendant, and for a moment Dean was worried that the mood would be lost as Cas concentrated on driving - but after only a couple minutes, they were pulling over at the side of a dark, quiet road. Cas put one hand on the back of Dean's head and pulled him closer, their lips practically smashing together in their combined fervour. Hands quickly started pushing at jackets, and the confined space of the car was becoming increasingly annoying as their desperate, hungry kisses got more and more enthusiastic.

"Cas," Dean somehow managed to breathe out. His head was resting against the window while Cas tended to the sensitive skin on his neck. "When we… get back to mine, do you… do you want to… come in for some… some, er… coffee?"

Cas chuckled softly. "I can't believe you used that line on me," he murmured, his lips still touching Dean's neck, the words creating small vibrations that very nearly drove Dean crazy. "But hell yes. Coffee sounds like an excellent idea."

He pulled away and gave Dean an exaggerated wink and a ridiculously amazing smile, then somehow - Dean wasn't sure how anything upstairs was functioning anymore - started the car again.

Dean had never been so grateful that he didn't live that far from the centre of Kansas City, and before he knew it, Cas was pulling up on the road outside the apartment building. They stole more quick, eager kisses as Dean fumbled with his keys, and Cas's shirt was almost completely unbuttoned before the elevator brought them to the right floor.

When they made it to the privacy of Dean's embarrassingly messy apartment, more clothes came off, being thrown carelessly on the floor or on bits of furniture, and Dean was barely able to gasp out directions to his bedroom as Cas sucked a hickey onto his collarbone.


Dean would never admit to being the little spoon in any relationship, but when he woke up the next morning to find Cas snuggled against his back, their legs still tangled together and a warm, toned arm draped across his waist, he could honestly say that nothing had ever felt more perfect.