Work Text:
Wanna go to prom with me?
Excuse me??
;)
*
Cas dumps the grocery bags down on the counter top and shrugs off his trench coat, a light dusting of snow showering off it and sparkling under the fancy LED lights. It's November and bitterly cold for this time of year, and ever since Cas’ car broke down he's been relegated to using public transport on the days Dean isn't around to drive him. He unwraps his scarf and wanders through to the living room, shouting for his roommate.
Ever since the bizarre text message earlier that morning, he's been unable to fathom what Dean is asking him. Prom was ten years ago, and Dean had a date (naturally): Lisa Braeden, cheer squad co-captain. That relationship had been heated and short-lived, and had fizzled out when Dean followed Cas to study at KU instead of moving away to LA with her like she dreamed of. Headstrong and full of the enthusiasm of youth, Dean had gatecrashed Cas’ dorm and they had been roommates ever since. Even now, years after college, neither of them had expressed any desire to live alone or with anyone else. They had moved to the big city together, fresh-faced and excitable, had signed a lease on a fancy apartment together, and that was that. Sometimes, living with Dean is exactly how Cas imagines living with a boyfriend is like: movie nights in, bickering over who cooks, and constantly picking up clothes from next to the washing hamper while grumbling under his breath. But really, Cas wouldn't know. He's never had a boyfriend, his career takes priority over his life. He figures he will find someone eventually and settle down, but it isn't very high on his to-do list right now. He's watched from the sidelines as girls and boys flirted in and out of Dean’s life, none of them working out for more than a few months, and it all seems like too much hassle for him to bother embarking on. He wouldn't know where to go to find someone he likes, nor how to work up the courage to do anything about it even if he did. He's secretly glad; he would miss Dean a lot if they no longer shared a living space.
As he suspects, Dean is in the shower. He can hear the water running, and hear the familiar out-of-tune voice singing Highway to Hell. Cas smirks, pulls off his mittens, and heads back to the kitchen to unpack the groceries and prepare dinner. He will get to the bottom of the mystery message when Dean eventually surfaces. He turns on the little TV in the kitchen and sets about chopping meat and sautéing vegetables for dinner, and soon the apartment is filled with the delicious smell of Thai green chicken. As predicted, that draws Dean from the bathroom reasonably quickly.
“Hey, Cas.” The rich, low voice behind him sends the familiar smile spreading across Cas’ lips, and he turns to greet his roommate.
“Hello, Dean. Dinner is almost…”
Cas’ words die in his throat. Dean is standing in the doorway in a pair of ratty old jeans with holes in the knees, stained with grease from his work at the garage, and is drying his hair with a towel. Aside from that, he's wearing nothing else at all. Water droplets crawl down his chest and draw Cas’ attention to firm, sculpted pecs and defined abs. Dean is tanned and lean from sunbathing out on the terrace and hitting the gym three times a week, and Cas hasn't seen the results of his newfound health kick until right now. And damn. Dean looks fucking amazing. He eventually drags his eyes away from the deep V of perfect hip flexor, to find his roommate staring at him with barely-concealed amusement.
“Dinner is almost ready.” Cas finishes weakly, and turns back to the chopping board with flaming cheeks. Shit. That looked like he was checking Dean out which - ew, gross, that would be like checking out his brother - he certainly wasn't. He was just… admiring Dean’s hard work. He wonders how many frogs he will have to kiss before landing a guy who looks like Dean. A few hundred, most likely, and even then it's a very slim chance. Behind him, he swears Dean sniggers.
“Awesome. Smells great. I'll go get dressed, shall I?” Dean pauses, waiting for an answer, and Cas’ brain can't quite process the question. Yes, of course he should go get dressed, unless he wants to eat topless? Not that it would be a bad view or anything…
“Uh, yes, you do that. Then you can shine some light on that obscure message you sent me.” From halfway down the corridor leading to their bedrooms, Cas hears Dean laugh. “Prom was ten years ago, have you lost your mind?”
Moments later, Dean reappears tugging a t-shirt over his head and flashing Cas one final glimpse of his admittedly impressive physique. Cas frowns at him, discomfited by the sudden display of tanned skin, and shoves a plate at Dean, pushing past him to sit down at the table.
“No, I haven't lost my marbles, Cas.” Dean fetches them both a cold beer and takes a seat in the chair opposite. “Surely you haven't forgotten that our high school reunion is this week?”
“Oh, that.” Cas makes a face. “I'm not going. I think I threw out the invitation the day it arrived. I'm far too busy to go.”
“Aw, come on spoilsport, let’s go.” Dean puts on his familiar puppy-dog eyes and wheedling tone of voice. “It will be fun to see everyone again!”
“Maybe for you, Mr Popularity. High school wasn't my favourite time.”
“I know.”
The light in Dean’s eyes dulls for a moment. Cas had struggled with bullies in high school, and Dean had been his protector. It had drawn him his own fair share of asshole comments and people talking behind his back, calling him every name under the sun for defending the school nerd, but Dean had brushed it off. Even when Cas had tried to push him away, tried to distance himself so that Dean wouldn't have to deal with the bullying, it hadn't worked. Dean had just dug his heels in, and told Cas he would never leave his best friend to fight his corner alone. Even now, the memory of those words makes Cas’ cheeks go warm and his eyes tingle.
“Hey,” Dean reaches over to him and squeezes his wrist, drawing Cas back to the present. “You should go. We should go. Show those high school assholes who's boss now. I bet you earn triple what they do.”
“Money isn't everything, Dean.” Cas spears a piece of chicken with his fork, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation. He doesn't like to discuss his salary and how well he's done for himself, and Dean knows it.
“No, Cas, it ain't. But you've got the whole package now. You're rich, successful, smart, good-looking…”
“Single.” Cas reminds him, before his brain clicks on to what Dean had just said. “You… think I'm good-looking?”
“Totally good-looking.” Dean grins, and his freckles seem to stand out even more. “You're a class-A hottie now, Cas. You need to give yourself more credit.”
“Huh.” Pink-cheeked, Cas takes a deep swallow from his drink to play for time. Dean thinks I'm hot…? “I'm still not going.”
“Please? I can't go alone.” More puppy dog eyes, and Cas’ heart melts just a little. “You wouldn't make me go alone would you?”
“I went to our prom alone, if you recall.” He doesn't mean it to come out so acidly, and knows he shouldn't have said it when Dean winches. For a moment, the green eyes dull with something unreadable, and Dean looks down at his plate, pushing the last few grains of rice around with his fork. Then he glances back up at Cas with renewed enthusiasm.
“Well, come with me to this one!”
Cas can't help but roll his eyes. “If I go-”
“That's not a no!”
“If! Then of course it will be with you, Dean. I'm not going to fly out there by myself am I?”
“No, I mean go with me. Like… you know. We could pretend to be each other's dates or whatever.” Dean is grinning now, all white sparkling teeth and crinkled eyes. “It would be hilarious to trick everyone. Can you picture their faces?”
Yes, Cas thinks savagely. I can. And there are a thousand reasons why this is a terrible idea and I can't believe you came up with it.
“No.”
“Cas!”
“No, Dean. I don't want to go to the silly reunion, I don't have any desire to see any old classmates nor can I afford the time off work. No.”
Glaring, Dean scoops up first his plate and then Cas’, taking them took the kitchen and dumping them in the sink with too much aggression. Cas winces at the crash.
“Killjoy.”
“Hardly! I'm not preventing you from going!”
“Just say you'll think about it.” Dean leans against the counter and folds his arms. “It could be fun. I could be your boyfriend for the night.”
“Why would you even want…”
“Please, Cas. Say you'll think about it. It will be fun, I promise. Show those high school jerks who you are now. They will be sick with envy.” Cas’ heart warms a little, then Dean smirks wickedly. “Anyone would be envious of you if you were on my arm.”
“No, Dean.”
“Castiel-”
“No!”
*
“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”
Castiel is pink-cheeked and bright-eyed with nervous anger. They're standing by the town car that has just dropped them off at a hotel in the middle of their old hometown, the hotel which is hosting tonight’s reunion. It's cold, windy, and Cas is so anxious he's sure he would pass out if it weren't for Dean’s hands on his biceps holding him up.
“Relax.” The hands come to his chest then up, adjusting his bow tie. “You'll be fine. We’re going to have a blast, I promise.”
As soon as Dean is done fiddling with his bow tie, Cas adjusts it back to the same off-centre position it was only moments ago, ignoring his roommate’s sigh of annoyance. No, sorry, his fake boyfriend’s sigh of annoyance. He doesn't want to be standing in the street in the middle of winter in a tux, he doesn't want to be on Dean’s arm like a trophy, and he doesn't want to be here at all.
Well, two out of those three things are true… He's kind of got on board with the whole ‘fake couple’ thing, and has started to see why Dean thought it would be fun. Especially when Dean sent a text to his old quarterback Gordon, telling him who he was bringing as a date, and Gordon had replied with a string of emojis conveying shock and awe, and a screenshot of Castiel’s Wikipedia page. Cas hates that damn page. Castiel James Novak, self-made millionaire, the youngest ever partner at international finance giants The Amara Group, and founder and board president of two non-profit organisations. It reads like a bad Tinder headline. But the feeling of satisfaction mixed with glee at Gordon’s reaction - and, in turn, at Dean’s - had tipped him over the edge into agreeing to attend the reunion.
In hindsight, he thinks he's made a giant error. He would rather be at home, with Dean, watching some bad television in their apartment and eating take-out. Safely away from prying eyes and snide remarks, both of which he's sure they will receive in plenty.
“Ready?” The wind is messing with Dean’s hair and, with a sigh of irritation, Cas reaches up and brushes it back off his face. He's sure Dean’s eyes spark with something at the touch of his hand, but a moment later his friend is all grins and winks and taking Cas’ arm in a mockery of walking him inside. “Lets go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Tiger? In no way do I resemble-”
“It's an endearment, Cas.”
Years of friendship and living together in close quarters still hasn't completely rid Castiel of his inability to sense sarcasm and turns of phrase. A fact that Dean enjoys heartily. A doorman smiles at them as they enter, and the bubble and buzz of chatter from the event room down the hall draws them slowly like moths to a flame - Dean walking with much more enthusiasm and purpose than Cas, who is trying very hard not to bolt.
“Deep breath and big smile, Cas.” Dean smirks at him and takes his hand as they push open the doors to the event room. “Let's knock ‘em dead.”
*
Later, Cas stands outside on the terrace, alone. He's got a glass of champagne in his hand, and has spent the last ten minutes walking through the gardens of the hotel to clear his head. Sometimes he struggles in social situations, all the noise and chatter and pressure to converse and be alert and interested causing him to feel overloaded and depleted. Spending time alone helps recharge his batteries, but by this point he's ready to go home. Well, go back to the hotel he and Dean are staying at a few blocks away. They have a twin room with two huge, comfy beds and the thought of snuggling down and reading a book or watching Nat Geo for an hour or two is more appealing to him than another hour rubbing shoulders with old classmates who he still doesn't like much. A decade hasn't changed his opinion very much. He still doesn't fit in. But now, he doesn't care.
The party has been enjoyable enough. Sure, lots of people were shocked to see Dean and Cas holding hands, or Dean’s arm protectively around Cas’ shoulders, but most people barely seemed to notice. Even Fergus Crowley and his old friends, the group who had mercilessly bullied Castiel through every year of high school, declined to pass comment. It had almost been a let-down, but Dean had crowed so much over Lisa Braeden’s stunned face that Cas had ended up grinning along with him. The best part however had been when Dean was talking to one of their old teacher, who had asked how they'd got together. Cas had paled, suddenly nervous and unable to think of a single thing to say, but Dean had entwined their hands, smiled warmly at him, and told a long, romantic, fabricated story about being unable to get Cas out of his mind at college and how eventually he showed up at his dorm dressed for dinner and swept him off his feet at a fancy restaurant with champagne and flowers. It was cliche and feminised and ridiculous, but it had Cas blushing and smiling all the same, charmed by Dean’s enthusiasm and the way his eyes sparkled as he talked about Cas. When the story was eventually over and their teacher had congratulated them on being such a happy couple, Cas found he had been equally captivated, and disappointed that the evening Dean had created had never come to pass. Confused by his own reactions, he had excused himself to the gardens to collect his thoughts.
He leans down and dips a finger into the water of an ornamental fountain, watching the ripples dance under the stars. Behind him, someone approaches and he catches the scent of expensive cologne on the air. Tom Ford. A gift from Cas to Dean last Christmas. Dean never spoils himself - his mechanic salary doesn't really allow for it -so Cas does. He smiles, calmed by the presence of his roommate.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey, Cas.”
Dean is pleasantly buzzed; not drunk, but tipsy enough to become warm and cuddly and affectionate. He wanders up close to Cas and wraps an arm around his waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.
“What are you doing out here all alone?”
“Thinking.” Cas raises his class. “Finishing my drink. Getting away from it all for a moment.”
Dean nods; he understands, always has.
“Are you having a good time?” His hand is rubbing gentle circles onto Cas’ abdomen through his shirt, his fingers inside the tuxedo jacket just above Cas’ belt. It shouldn't feel nice, not this nice, but it does. All of Dean’s touches feel nice.
“I'm enjoying this evening more than I thought I would.” Cas nudges Dean back and turns to look at him, left a little breathless by Dean’s close proximity. Their chests are almost touching, and Dean is studying his face with a strange look in his green eyes. Behind him, the noise of the fountain is strangely soothing, even though a strange sense of tension seems to have settled between them. “What?”
“It's weird, don't you think?” Dean looks down, toying with a glass in his own hands. “How many people don't seem surprised to see us together?” There's a low, wistful tone to his voice, one Cas has never heard before. There's almost a note of… longing.
“Well, that must mean we’re good actors.” Cas laughs, trying to lift the mood but for some reason it comes out as stilted and hollow. “Because that was the entire point of this exercise, right? To convince everyone that we're a couple?”
“Well, yeah.” Dean’s eyes flick up to meet Cas’ and they seem greener than ever in the moonlight and the low glow from the hotel function room not too far away. “But a lot of people have said they always thought we would end up together. Or that they kinda knew already. Don't you think that's weird?”
“I guess…” Cas isn't sure where this is going, and is torn between wanting to curtail the conversation and head back inside and intrigue at what Dean is getting at. There's a tight feeling in his stomach and he's certain he's blushing.
“Why don't you have a boyfriend, Cas?” Dean suddenly seems closer than ever, and he's looking at him like they're just meeting for the first time. Like he's trying to memorise every little detail of Cas’ face. He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair off Cas’ forehead, and the air between them thickens. “I don't get it. You could have anyone.”
“Hardly,” Cas’ voice seems to tremble a little. “I think you overestimate me, Dean.”
“I don't think I do.” Dean’s voice has dropped in tone and volume, and Cas realises he has unconsciously copied him. “You're a catch, Cas. Why don't you have someone?”
“I guess, um,” He struggles to form words properly. The smell of Dean’s cologne combined with their proximity and the alcohol in his bloodstream is creating a heady mix of excitement and nerves and… is that lust? Oh God. Cas’ heart pounds in his chest and his mouth runs dry. “I don't… really have the time…”
“Bullshit.” Dean is so close he can smell the champagne on his breath. “You have time to hang out with me. So you can find time for someone.”
But I don't want to find time for someone. I don't want to sacrifice time with you for some other guy, someone who won't ever hold a candle to you. Nobody on earth is as sweet, funny, caring, smart… nobody smiles at me the way you do… nobody gives drunk cuddles the way you do… nobody…
“Uhm…” Cas can't speak. He can barely breathe. Dean’s eyes are glittering under the stars and suddenly his attention is drawn to the scattering of freckles across his nose and to his lush, full lips. How has he never noticed Dean’s lips before? An image of Dean topless and freshly-showered, watching him cook with a smirk on his face, springs unbidden to his mind and he swallows, heart racing.
“You should have someone, Cas.” Dean murmurs, and he takes the champagne glass from his roommates hand and deposits it with his own on the edge of the foundation. Cas’ throat works as he swallows repeatedly. “Someone to take care of you. Someone to adore you. Someone to… make you happy.” The hitch in his voice makes Cas think that Dean had changed his mind mid-sentence, but before he can think on it too much he feels gentle fingertips touch just under his chin, and his eyes fall closed in nervous anticipation.
“Tell me to stop…” Dean’s breath is warm and sweet on his lips, and then Cas can't think any more. Dean kisses him. It's slow and sensual and perfect, and their mouths fit together as though made for each other. It goes on, and on, and on, their hands coming to grasp at each other's clothing, Cas’ arms coming around Dean’s waist while strong hands cup his jaw and hold him close. Their kiss is soft, gentle, but soon it becomes fervent as they grasp each other and can't get enough of each other's mouths.
When they finally break apart, they're both wide-eyed and breathless, and Dean is smiling so sweetly that Cas’ heart aches. A finger comes up and traces Cas’ lower lip, now swollen and slick from Dean’s kisses.
“Why aren't we doing this, Cas?” Dean whispers, tracing the movement of his fingers with darkened eyes. “Why aren't we boyfriends?”
“Dean…” Cas claws some words together. His mind is hazy with pleasure, and the feeling of Dean’s arm around his waist and fingers caressing his lips is divine. “You don't… you've never liked me this way.”
“Tonight made me realise,” Dean leans in; it’s as though he can't help but gravitate towards Cas and he kisses him again, sweetly and chastely this time. He cups Cas’ face with his hands as he pulls away, thumbs grazing over warm cheekbones. “What we could be. What I'd like to have with you. Why aren't we together, Cas? You're,” Dean pauses and blushes. “Kinda awesome. And this…” Dean kisses him again and this time his tongue gently presses for entry… they break apart almost an entire minute later. “…is amazing.”
Cas sighs into Dean’s parted lips, his arms tightly around the other man’s waist. Something feels right about this, like something has finally clicked into place. He inhales the scent of Tom Ford and champagne and Dean’s natural, musky scent and he's dizzy with excitement and lust. He grips onto Dean like a lifeline, closing his eyes and opening them again to make sure he isn't dreaming. That this is actually real. Because he gets it. When Dean asks why they haven't been doing this before, he doesn't have an answer. Because all he can think is, why haven't we?
Dean presses another hot, sweet kiss to his lips and draws Cas close with a finger under his jaw. The look in his eyes is warm and caring and seems to hold something deep and meaningful that Cas is almost afraid to hope for.
“Let’s go, Cas.” Dean’s voice has dropped to a sultry whisper. “We've waited too long for this. And we've spent too long here.” He lifts Cas’ hand and links their fingers together, palm to palm. “I want you all to myself.”
*
Only one bed in the hotel room gets used that night, and Cas wakes up wrapped in strong arms, feeling like he's finally found his happiness.
That evening, a handsome, green-eyed mechanic with freckles and a deep tan arrives at their door to take him out for dinner, bottle of champagne in one hand and a bunch of Cas’ favourite flowers in the other, and that's the night Castiel falls in love with Dean Winchester.