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“I wish I could be more like you.”
Dean snorted over his plate of fries. “I don’t think you do, buddy.”
“In the context of dating,” Castiel clarified dryly. “I have no desire to spend my Friday nights barfing into the toilet of this club or the other.”
Dean grimaced at him from across the cafeteria table. “Cas, I know you better than I know the shape of my dog’s butthole. I’ve seen you with girls. You’re doing just fine.”
His last words made Castiel wince. “Just fine isn’t good. It isn’t you.”
“And what is me?” Dean threw his arms in the air. Castiel shrugged defensively.
“I’ve heard the way they talk about you,” he mumbled. Both boys’ eyes fell to the table, a silent awkwardness sinking in between them.
“Cas, I’m not a magic unicorn. I just make the right moves and say the right words.”
Castiel sighed tragically and sent a wide eyed look at the ceiling. “I guess you don’t have to help me. I’ll just ask Garth, he ought to have some good romance tips.”
“Alright! Alright. I’ll help you,” Dean groaned. “Just… Don’t ask Garth.” He put his hands on the table and leaned forward, his eyes leveling with Castiel’s. “A’ight, hit on me.”
Castiel straightened his back and combed his fingers through his hair. “Okay.” He tried to imagine Dean was a girl. It didn’t work. “Okay. You… You are a beautiful woman, Dean. I would like to take you out for dinner tonight. Do you reciprocate those feelings?”
Dean dropped his head into his hands. “You’re terrible.”
“I’ll take that as a polite decline.”
“Alright. Fine. I’ll pass my wisdom on to you. If I don’t owe that to you, I owe it to the poor girls you ask out.”
“How thoughtful,” said Castiel. “Thanks.” He didn’t sound thankful at all.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” said Dean, pointing at him. “Dress up nice. I’m taking you on a fake date.”
*
“Where are we going?” Castiel leaned back in the passenger seat of the Impala and watched the city as they flew past it.
“Dinner,” Dean replied. “The fancy kind. I’mma show you all my moves. But until then…” He hit a button on the dashboard and let Taylor Swift finish his sentence. In my dreams, you should see the things we do…
“Uh- I meant…” He stammered and mashed the buttons until a classic rock station came on. “There ya go.”
The restaurant was, indeed, fancy. Fancier than he’d thought Dean could manage. As they sat down in velvet chairs he offered to split the bill at the end of the night, but Dean shook his head. “No way. First date, you pay for them. Always. Rule number one.”
“Alright,” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “But we aren’t on a real date. So…”
“Cas, this isn’t going to work if you don’t take it seriously.”
So he did. Or, he tried. Because being on a fake real date with Dean proved to be more difficult than he’d imagined. For one, they were the only people in the place who wore t-shirts and drank beer. And he kept forgetting he was supposed to be learning – it was hard to pretend Dean was a girl he’d asked out when he kept telling Castiel silly jokes and touching Castiel’s elbow whenever he wanted his attention. It didn’t feel like any date Castiel had ever been on; it felt natural, and warm, and friendly. And this was exactly why he’d wanted Dean’s help so much in the first place. Dean was all those things. Dean made you feel all those things, without even trying. As the night progressed, he found himself enjoying Dean’s attention rather than working to adopt his ways. He watched Dean talk, and wondered whether this was really how it felt to be on a date with someone you actually cared about.
“So you put your hand on the table,” Dean said, “And if she touches your fingers, you touch hers back. If she moves away, you back down. You gotta make her feel that you want her, but also respect her personal space. Cas? Personal space, got it?”
“Um…” He shook his head. “Yeah.”
“Where are you, man?”
“I think we should do this more often.”
“Go on fake dates?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “I don’t actually think we’ve done this before.”
“No. I mean, just hang out.”
“Oh.” Dean watched the table between them. “Yeah.” And they fell silent.
Dean took him back home, and walked him to the door.
“Oh,” he said when they stood at the threshold. “Bring her flowers. Flowers are always a nice touch.”
Castiel nodded, his eyes following the light and shadow dance on Dean’s face as tree leaves moved around them. “Thank you, Dean.”
Dean shook his head. “‘I had a great time’, ‘I’d love to do this again’, ‘your eyes look beautiful in the moonlight. No ‘thank you’.”
Castiel looked up and caught the sight of Dean’s eyes in the moonlight. They did look beautiful, in the sort of platonic, heterosexual way.
Castiel smiled lightly. “You look very pretty this fine evening.”
He’d expected Dean to laugh, but his friend smiled and touched his neck self-consciously. “I hope I helped.”
“Well, there’s something more. What do you… Do next?”
“My end-of-the-night move?” Dean asked. “I kiss ‘er, then I say some variation of one of those things, and that’s it. You’re good to go.”
He was not good to go.
“The, kissing part,” Castiel said. “How do you, you know, do it right?”
Dean huffed awkwardly. “It ain’t rocket science, Cas. You put your lips on hers and pray to God you don’t have a bad breath.”
“I just don't know how to make it feel... Natural.”
Dean snorted. “What, you want me to teach you how to be human?”
“That would be great.”
Dean eyed him with one eyebrow arched up, but Castiel shrugged. “I guess I could ask Garth…”
Dean sighed, gritting his teeth. “If you tell anyone about this I will use cafeteria forks to impale you,” he warned, raising a finger threateningly. Castiel nodded keenly.
“This is much more embarrassing for me than it is for you.”
“I guess that’s true. Okay,” Dean fixed his hair and took a step closer to Castiel. “If I like her, I'll lean in.” He leaned in. “And when she tilts her head up – I can't do this with you because you're not really much shorter than me but – I’ll rest my hand lightly around her waist.” His fingers left fizzling prints on the small of Castiel’s back. “We are never talking about this again,” he whispered in Castiel’s ear.
“Never,” Castiel repeated, his throat dry. Dean licked his lips, and took a small breath. They were so close Castiel could taste it.
“I’ll press my lips onto hers. Short, soft, light,” Dean murmured, looking into Castiel’s eyes, and he seemed just a little lost in them. “So brief that when I pull away, she’ll lean into me. And then I’ll strike again, and that’s where it gets good, because it’ll make or break your kiss. It’s gotta be deep, sweeping enough that it’ll be the solution to everything you’d left unanswered in the first kiss. You gotta make that one count.”
He leaned in closer. Their lips touched, soft and perfect and lingering for just a second before Dean pulled away and their heavy breaths mixed together. And then Dean leaned in again and this time it was intense and passionate and Castiel felt himself frown and pull Dean closer and when he pulled away Dean breathed, “Got it?” And he couldn’t find the part in his brain that controlled his movements to shake his head so he breathed back a no, to which Dean replied, “Guess I’ll have to show you again,” and he pulled Castiel closer, his fingers tangling in Castiel’s hair, and Castiel was completely aware that Dean wasn’t just demonstrating anymore, not with this amount of tongue.
“What would you do then?” He asked, kissing down Dean’s neck.
“Probably tell her I’m gay.”
“That would make for a really bad ending to a date.”
Dean laughed softly. “Cas.” He took Castiel’s hand, and somehow that felt more intimate to him than any tongue-work that was just done. “I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
“Me neither.”
“Are you okay with… It happening?”
“I didn’t think I would be.” Castiel shook his head. He didn’t exactly feel okay. He felt like Dean’s eyes on his were taking hold of his lungs and making his breath short and his heart stutter. “But I am.”
Dean nodded, and it seemed that he was releasing a breath his own lungs had been holding in. “I gotta go,” he said, letting go of Castiel’s fingers. “I need to, uh, cancel some… plans.” He did an awkward finger guns at Castiel. “Call me, okay? Don’t do your thing where you disappear for two weeks because you’re too nervous to text them back.”
“No,” said Castiel. He felt his face go completely red, but he didn’t even care. “I’m thinking this time it’ll be more like six months.”
Dean smiled and started walking down the stairs, still facing Castiel. “Please. Please, call me.”
Honestly? He didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself. He watched Dean turn around and walk down the path leading back to the street. Then he went inside and swiped his phone open to write a new text message.
> Last question. When is it an appropriate time to text your date after they leave?
Dean’s reply came in alarmingly fast.
Thirteen seconds is acceptable.
And another one right after that.
I was wrong. You’re not just doing fine, Cas. You’re frickin’ magic.