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It’s a month before prom, and Dean Winchester doesn’t have a date. He tries not to let it get to him; after all, he’s Dean Winchester. Womanizer extraordinaire. Sure, everyone else is going with their boyfriend or girlfriend, but not Dean. Of course, that means he has to find a chick who’s single, desperate, and definitely not someone he’s fooled around with in the past. The obvious choice is Lisa Braeden. She’s smart, gorgeous, and exactly what Dean is looking for (minus the desperate part). Dean’s been after her since freshman year, with no luck. But this time is going to be different, he knows it. He has a plan.
On a warm spring morning, he decides to put his plan into action. He dresses in his nicest clothes, meaning no plaid and jeans that don’t have grease stains or holes in them. Picking some flowers from his mother’s garden (with her permission, of course), he heads to school and positions himself by the front doors. A few people look at him strangely, a few girls smile flirtatiously, but most people just glance at him curiously. Dean Winchester dressed up and clutching flowers in his hand? That was definitely gossip worthy.
Finally, he sees Lisa strutting up to the school, surrounded by her posse as per usual. He pushes off the wall he had been leaning against and sidles up to her.
“Hey Lisa.” He greets. Lisa stops walking and appraises Dean, eyes tracking over his cleaned-up appearance.
“Good morning, Dean.” She says at last.
“I’ve got a question for you.” Dean states as he takes a few steps closer to her. Lisa raises her eyebrows, eyeing the flowers still clutched in his hand.
He lowers himself onto one knee (cliché, yes, but girls like romantic crap, don’t they?) and smiles up at Lisa. She’s trying to school her face into a neutral expression, but the corners of her mouth are slowly inching up. Emboldened, Dean takes hold of Lisa’s hand.
“Lisa Braeden,” he says, grinning, “Will you go to prom with me?” He holds the flowers out, and she takes them immediately. Her friends crowd closer, eager to hear her answer. She brings the flowers up to her nose, shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply, then exhales, sighing.
“Oh, alright.” She finally answers, allowing a small smile to touch her face. Dean grins, triumphant. “Great!” he starts to say, but Lisa raises a hand to stop him.
“I will go to prom with you IF… you know how to slow dance. And I’m not talking a simple side to side swaying. I mean dancing.” Her eyes are challenging, and let it never be said that Dean Winchester backed away from a challenge.
He smirks. “‘Course I know how! Want me to give you a demonstration?” He holds a hand out to her, hoping and praying she says no. Because, in truth, Dean has absolutely no idea how to slow dance. As Lisa starts to take his hand, he realizes the full meaning of the phrase “saved by the bell.” The signal for the start of class chimes, and Lisa withdraws her hand, smiling apologetically and giving him a quick, “I gotta go!” before turning around and heading into the building. Relieved, Dean follows all of the other students shuffling through the doors. He shoots off a quick, panicked text before trekking down the hallway to his first class.
{----}
Castiel trudges up to the school and sees a small crowd gathered around the front. Unconcerned, he continues on until he spots the person everyone’s attention is focused on. There’s Dean, his best friend, down on one knee holding flowers out to Lisa Braeden. The sight hits Castiel like a punch in the gut, and he stumbles to a halt. He can’t make himself look away, even though he knows he should. A voice calling his name pulls his attention away from Dean and Lisa, and he turns, spotting the flaming red hair of Charlie Bradbury.
“Hey Castiel!” She calls cheerily. When she catches sight of his stricken expression, her smile drops and she hurries over to him. “What’s the matter?” Castiel doesn’t respond, but turns his head to watch Dean again.
Charlie follows his gaze and sees Dean, still down on one knee and holding Lisa’s hand. “Oh Castiel.” She sighs, slinging an arm around his shoulder. He turns his head to look at her. Worried, pitying eyes meet his. In his pocket, his phone vibrates, and he pulls it out to see a new message from Dean:
(Friday, 8:46 a.m.)
Dude! Need ur hlp big tme. Lisa wnts me 2 slw dnce. Can u teach me?
“Are you going to be okay?” Charlie asks as Castiel reads the text. He nods, but it’s a lie.
He’s in love with his best friend.
Of course he’s not okay.
{----}
“Dean. It really isn’t that difficult. Just do what I do.” Castiel begins again, far beyond frustrated at Dean’s inability to follow directions. No wonder he’s always getting in trouble with teachers.
“It’s no use man, this is too hard!” Dean grunts in frustration, trying to watch Castiel’s and his own feet at the same time. Once again, he takes a step out of rhythm. Cursing, he looks across the living room to where Castiel is, stepping and twirling expertly, arms out holding an invisible partner. He moves his feet in a perfect rhythm. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3.
Dean folds his arms and flops onto the couch. “Can’t we do an easier one? This shit is too hard.”
Castiel stops and regards Dean impassively. “This is the waltz. You can’t get much simpler than this.” When Dean continues to glare, Castiel shrugs. “Fine, I’m not the one losing out on a night with Lisa Braeden.”
Dean sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Damn it. Why couldn’t she just be happy that I got her some freaking flowers?”
Castiel shrugs again, trying to appear as though he doesn’t care either way, even though he most certainly does. “Perhaps this would be easier if you had a partner.”
Dean snorts. “I am not about to go get Sammy and have him play prom date with me. The whole reason we came to your house to practice was to avoid me getting humiliated.”
Castiel would give anything to be able to smash his head into a brick wall right now. “No genius, I meant me.”
Dean shifts uncomfortably. “Is that such a good idea? I mean you’re…” he waves a hand at Castiel. “And I’m…” He gestures towards himself. Whatever message he’s trying to convey is lost on Castiel.
“It’s just dancing, Dean. You don’t have to. We can keep trying to muddle through the other way, though I can say with confidence that you are not going to improve that way.” Dean pouts, and stands.
“Fine, we’ll do it your way.” He stands stiffly as Castiel pushes off the couch, flinching when a hand touches his waist. Cas pulls away and doesn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“Dean, you said you wanted to do this.”
“I know, I know, it’s just….” Dean huffs out a breath. “I’m not really used to people touching me. You know.”
Castiel nods, forcing himself to be patient with Dean. “Just relax. It’s only me, Dean. It’s only dancing.”
Dean nods, inhaling and closing his eyes. “It’s only dancing.” He nods again, as if to reassure himself. Satisfied that he’s not going to bolt, Castiel returns his hand to Dean’s waist.
“I think it would be best if I lead for now.” He explains.
Dean smiles wryly. “Does that mean I’m the chick?”
“If you prefer to think of it that way.” Castiel concedes. Dean bats his eyelashes.
“Cut that out.” Cas chides. Dean smirks and drops his gaze to watch their feet. He seems to finally be getting it, only falling out of rhythm once and correcting it immediately. He is focused completely on their movements, whereas Castiel is entirely at ease. His only source of tension lies in his shoulder, on top of which rests Dean’s palm. Their hands are clasped lightly, a gentle pressure serving to connect them.
“So are you going to ask Charlie to prom?” Dean asks eventually, looking down to ensure he doesn’t step on Castiel’s toes.
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Uh, cause you like her? Duh.”
Castiel stops dancing. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asks, studying Dean’s face.
Dean swallows heavily, darkened pupils obvious in their close proximity. “I dunno, cause you two always hang out, and you put your arms around each other, and you laugh a lot. Looks kinda coupley to me.” They’ve both stopped dancing, but neither one drops their hands.
“Dean, you and I do those things.” Castiel reminds him. When Dean says nothing, Castiel sighs. “I feel nothing for Charlie aside from friendship.”
Dean seems sceptical. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“But how can you be certain?” Dean presses. “Maybe you do like her, but you’re trying to cover it up because…”
“Dean, I am completely sure I do not like Charlie because I am gay!” Castiel shouts in exasperation. Moments later he realizes what he’s said. Quickly taking his hands away from Dean, he takes a step back.
Dean blinks at him. “You…you’re gay?”
Castiel swallows thickly, hands shaking. “Yes, I am. Is that going to be a problem?” He summons up all the bravado he can, but he still feels like he’s going to be sick.
Dean shakes his head vehemently. “No! God no, not at all.” He reassures. “You’re my best friend, no matter what.”
A heavy sigh of relief escapes Castiel. “Good.” He nods.
They stare at each other for a moment, and then Dean offers out his hand. “Keep dancing?” he asks. Castiel smiles faintly.
“Keep dancing.”
They continue spinning around the living room, Dean leading this time.
“Cas?”
“Yes, Dean?”
Dean chews on his lip nervously. “Since we’re sharing…I, um…I’m bi.”
Castiel’s eyes widen, and he searches Dean’s face for some sign that the man is joking. He finds none.
“Wow, that’s…how long have you known?”
Courage fills Dean, and he holds Castiel’s gaze. “Since I met you.”
Castiel has no idea what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he listens to the sound of his heart trying to escape out of his ribcage.
They keep dancing, each revolution around the room bringing them closer and closer until they’re pressed up against each other. Breathing heavily from something other than exertion, Dean halts Castiel mid turn.
“Cas?”
“Yes, Dean?”
Dean tips his head forwards and captures Castiel’s lips with his own. The kiss is very brief, but both men can feel electricity coursing through their veins. Pulling away, Dean glances shyly at Castiel’s face, which is radiating with pure joy.
Tugging at their joined hands, Dean leads Castiel in another circuit around the room, only half paying attention to their surroundings because Cas is laying his head against Dean’s chest, and if that isn’t the best feeling in the world, Dean doesn’t know what is.
Burying his nose in the man’s hair, he breathes in his best friend.
“Hey Cas?” he whispers. Castiel’s mumbled reply is a vibration against Dean’s chest. “Will you go to prom with me?” Sharp blue eyes snap up to meet his.
“But…what about Lisa?” Castiel asks, voice small. Dean shrugs.
“Eh, she didn’t seem too excited anyway. I’ll just have to tell her my best friend is more important.” He grins, tightening his arms around Castiel. “Besides,” he adds as an afterthought, “Why should I go with someone who needs me to meet certain requirements?”
Castiel’s mouth stretches into a mischievous smile. “I have one requirement, actually.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” Dean asks playfully.
“You have to wear a tux.”
“Damn it.”