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So there’s a blanket in the trunk, and a bottle of wine in the backseat, a picnic basket settled between them in the front, and dusty purples and brilliant oranges smudging across the horizon in front of them. It feels a little cliche, but then it’s a fucking relieving kind of cliche - sans monster guts, or creatures that want to shred them to bits - so Dean feels settled, happy actually.
“You won’t tell me where we’re going?” Castiel asks, averting his gaze from the passing scenery outside to glance at Dean as he guides the Impala down a long stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere.
“I told you,” Dean says, flashing Cas a smile, “we’re going on a date.”
The former angel frowns, and if Dean didn’t have the road to concentrate on, he’d kiss that spot just between Cas’ eyebrows that forms into a deep vee whenever Castiel is concentrating or acting like the world’s grumpiest bear. Later, he thinks.
“Listen,” Dean offers, “I feel like a crap boyfriend because we’ve been you know, whatever, for how long now and I’ve never actually taken you out on a real, honest to God, date. So I decided to change that. Can you just trust me?”
At this Castiel’s lips twitch, a prelude to a smile, and even though it’s been years, Dean’s chest still feels tight at the sight. “I trust you,” Castiel says.
Dean smiles back. “Good.”
After some time, with just the vestiges of daylight clinging to the clouds, Dean pulls into an open field and kills the car’s engine.
“We’re here.” He says.
“We’re nowhere,” Castiel counters, and Dean nods because that’s the whole point.
“We’ve been a lot of places, Cas, but never nowhere. Thought we’d check it out.” He offers Cas a toothless grin.
Castiel nods, eyes sharp on Dean’s face, curious. “Okay.”
Because it’s technically their first real date Dean’s decided to pull out all the stops. They have a picnic under a nearby tree - pasta and roasted vegetables - while the sun dips below the horizon, and stars, and lightning bugs come to life in the sky.
The moon is revealing itself, bright and fat, masked by the light drift of clouds floating aimlessly through the atmosphere, and Castiel cuts a beautiful silhouette against the bruised black colors of the receding sun.
“Save some room,” Dean says as Castiel spears his final vegetable with his plastic fork. “I brought pie.”
Castiel quirks a smile at him. “Of course you did,” he replies.
They split a piece of cherry pie between them, sharing sticky kisses, and fighting over the last syrup drenched cherry when the rest of the pie is gone. Dean eventually gives in and lets Castiel have it because watching the other man wrap his lips around his fork and pull the cherry into his mouth is a definite win in Dean’s book.
When all the food has been consumed they sit with their backs pressed against the tree, watching lightning bugs flit through the air, flirting with one another in bright, colorful displays.
“Did you know each species of firefly has it’s own light flashing pattern?” Castiel questions.
“Can’t say that I did.”
Cas nods, linking his fingers with Dean’s and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “The males use their pattern to summon females in hopes of mating. When the females find what they feel is a suitable mate, they reply with their own species-specific pattern.”
Dean watches random flickers of light burst through the darkness as Castiel speaks. “Huh.”
“Now you know,” Castiel says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.
Dean chuckles. “And I didn’t even have to watch the Discovery Channel.”
Castiel presses a kiss to Dean’s neck. “Not tonight anyway,” he agrees.
They fall silent for a beat, a soft breeze rustling the branches of the tree above them, and then Dean drops a kiss to Castiel’s head and stands.
“Be right back,” he says.
Castiel nods, a minute movement in the darkness, and Dean turns from him, heads for the Impala where he tunes the radio to a soft rock station, smiling at the song that floats out of the speakers.
“Hey,” he says when he’s standing in front of Cas once more. He extends a hand out to the other man. “Dance with me.”
Castiel hesitates. “I’ve never-”
“It’s okay, babe. I’ll show you how.“
Castiel nods and reaches up a hand.
Dean leads him towards the Impala and guides the former angel to face him, drawing Castiel close with an arm around the man’s waist. “I don’t know anything fancy,” Dean mutters, clasping their hands together, “but we’ll get by.”
With bodies pressed close and heads bowed towards one another Dean begins to sway to the music, first humming the tune then singing the words lowly in Castiel’s ear.
Baby
You’re my angel
Come and save me tonight
You’re my angel
Come and make it all right…
Castiel lets his forehead drop to rest against Dean’s, and Dean moves that small bit more to kiss Castiel softly, their lips gliding together in a gentle slide. They’ve kissed hundreds of times, thousands maybe, but Dean still feels giddy every time, like he’s the luckiest bastard alive to get to have this, to have Cas. And maybe he is.
You’re the reason I live
You’re the reason I die
You’re the reason I give
When I break down and cry
Don’t need no reason why
Baby , Baby…
“I love you.” Castiel whispers, his words twining through the music, and sending a smile spreading across Dean’s face.
“I love you, too.” He answers.
They stay close long after the song ends, holding each other in the moonlight, quiet and grateful for the other’s presence.
And though Castiel doesn’t really have anything to compare it to he informs Dean - as they kiss again - it’s the best first date he’s ever had.