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“If I could paint, I’d paint a portrait of you; the sunlight in your eyes a masterpiece of truth…”
Dean stared at his car stereo, confused. He ejected the cassette to check- yes, it did still say “Metallica” across the top. He pushed it back in, and the power ballad he didn’t recognise continued to play. He turned to glare at Sam.
“Sammy, we swore after last time- no more goddamn pranks!” Sam held up his hands in surrender.
“Don’t look at me! I’m not dumb enough to switch out your tapes!”
“Oh, come on, Sammy- who else could it have been? Cas?” he asked incredulously, scoffing for emphasis.
“I mean it, Dean! It wasn’t me!” Dean frowned, staring at Sam. Sam met his gaze earnestly. Dean narrowed his eyes- he believed that Sam was telling the truth; but that didn’t explain why his Metallica album was now very definitely not rock. He decided that Sam was probably just a better liar than he used to be. He grunted, fumbling around for a different album.
He and Sam had just checked into a motel room when Dean’s phone started ringing. Castiel was calling him.
“Yeah?”
“Hello Dean. Where are you?” Dean picked up the keys he’d tossed on the bed.
“Motel 6, Dale, Indiana. Room 216. But we just-” The phone line went dead, and Dean sighed. He turned around, about to berate him for cutting him off; when he caught sight of what he was carrying.
Castiel’s arms were full of bouquets of roses- most of them were red, a few were white; but all of them were huge. Dean didn’t know much about flowers, but even he could tell that these were the expensive kind. Sam walked out of the bathroom and stopped, staring at Castiel with his mouth open.
“These keep appearing everywhere I go,” he explained, picking his way to the table and dumping the flowers over it. “When I try and get rid of them, more simply appear.” He pulled out one of the most pristine red roses, inspecting it. “It’s rather perplexing.”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” Dean agreed, staring at the roses.
“So…this a demon florist, or something? Maybe they’re poisonous?” Sam wondered. Castiel shook his head.
“I gave them a thorough inspection before I brought them here. There doesn’t appear to be anything abnormal about them other than their propensity to turn up around me.” Dean narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Clearly something strange was going on, but it didn’t seem to be connected to anything. Given that it hadn’t been anything malicious thus far, he decided not to let it bother him.
Deciding that they’d drive back to a diner they’d seen a couple of miles back, Dean went into his bag to find a set of clean clothes.
“Sammy!” Sam looked up from his laptop and Castiel glanced across from the roses to witness Dean upending his duffle bag onto the bed. Sam started laughing.
Instead of finding his clothes, he found an enormous assortment of chocolates and candy; the vast majority of them packaged in lurid pink heart-shaped boxes. He picked up one of them, and checked the label. It read, ‘to Dean, from Castiel’. Dean whipped around to glare at the angel.
“Cas? What the hell, man?! Where are my clothes?!” Castiel stared at him, nonplussed.
“I had nothing to do with this, Dean.”
“It says your name on the box!” Castiel’s frown deepened, and he strode across the room- rose still in hand- to read the label. He handed the flower to Dean absent-mindedly to take hold of the box.
“I swear to you, Dean, I did not do this. And I don’t understand why anybody would.” He unwrapped the box, inspecting the card inside which listed the different chocolates. He lifted out the top tray, then moved his face close and inhaled.
“…Cas? What are you doing?” Castiel looked up at Dean.
“There does not appear to be anything wrong with the candy, either.” He picked one up, looked at it carefully, then ate it. Dean watched him, nervous. “They are definitely fine.” He reached into the box and ate another.
Dean took the box from him, threw it onto the bed- scattering chocolates as he did so- and dropped the rose on top. He grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and steered him towards the door.
“We’re going to go eat something, then we’re doing research. This has got to stop.” Dean grabbed his jacket. “Sam? You coming?”
Dean practically slammed the door shut as he got out of the impala, irritation rolling off him in waves. He inhaled deeply, hoping to dispel some of his annoyance by eating a large bacon cheeseburger. He was barely paying attention to where he was going as he pushed the door to the diner open, and he walked into the front desk. He blinked. Diners didn’t have front desks. Nor did they have maître d’s; but a particularly smarmy-looking one was giving him his best fake smile. He turned back around- the door was not the same one he’d walked through a few seconds before. Sam was nowhere to be seen, and Castiel was…
Dean tried really hard not to stare. The trench coat and cheap suit were nowhere to be seen; instead, he was wearing a well-cut black tuxedo complete with pristine bow tie. His hair was groomed and his overall appearance was immaculate. He was frowning in confusion, staring intently at Dean.
“Winchester, I presume?” Dean whirled around. The maître d’s expression had not faltered. Dean swallowed.
“Uh…yeah, that’s me. But-”
“Follow me, please, sir. Your table is waiting.” Unsure of what to do with himself, Dean took a few tentative steps forward, patting himself down as he went- all of his weapons were gone. More importantly, he also seemed to have gone through a change of clothes- his suit seemed very similar to Castiel’s, except that it was a midnight shade of blue. As he followed the maître d’ through the restaurant- which seemed like the kind he’d never be able to afford- he tried to look around, assessing threats. Other than the fact that he’d been brought there without his knowledge and had a wardrobe upgrade, there didn’t seem to be anything else strange going on.
They were led towards an intimate booth at the back of the restaurant. The table had been scattered with rose petals and was adorned with three candles, as well as a bottle of what was most likely champagne in a cooler. Dean patted his pockets- they were empty. He opened his mouth to tell the waiter that there had been a mistake, but he was interrupted.
“Your dinner has already been paid for, sir.” Dean frowned.
“By who?” The maître d’ smiled.
“Enjoy your dinner, sirs.” With that, he walked immediately back towards the front desk. Dean continued to stare after him until Castiel gave him a gentle nudge.
“I believe that it is customary to sit once you have been allocated a table.” Slightly dazed, Dean slid into the booth, staring at the decorations. The rest of the restaurant had been covered in pink hearts, and seemed to be populated only by couples.
“Cas, what’s the date?”
“February 14th, 2013. Why do you ask?” Dean hid his face in his hands and groaned.
“You telling me it’s Valentine’s Day?” Suddenly, everything started slotting into place. Flowers. Chocolates. Candle-lit dinner. He imagined they were about to be served expensive food with a dessert that they could feed to each other (he was betting strawberries and melted chocolate).
“I don’t understand. What does Valentine’s Day have to do with anything?” Dean’s face started burning up.
“Somebody-” He leant forward and whispered, “Somebody is trying to set us up.” Castiel still looked confused.
“Set us up? This is a trap?” Dean sighed heavily. Although cognizant of a wealth of information on the supernatural, Castiel was still ignorant of many expressions in the English language.
“No, set us up set us up. As in, on a date.” He stared meaningfully at Castiel, hoping that he would get the message without further explanation.
Castiel looked around the rest of the restaurant, and his eyes fell upon a couple kissing across the table.
“Oh! Someone has brought us to a romantic destination in the hopes that we will later copulate.”
“Keep your voice down!” Dean’s cheeks had turned a deep shade of scarlet. “But yeah, more or less. I still can’t work out why, though. Or who.” He paused for several seconds. “You…you’re sure Gabriel is dead?”
“His wings were burned into the ground, Dean. That’s finite.”
“Yeah, but you died a few times and were always brought back.” Castiel pondered this for several seconds.
“I think it more likely this is the work of cherubim.” Dean blinked.
“Come again?”
“The cupid, rather like the one we met on the Valentine’s Day before last.”
“That’s- no! It can’t be!” Dean spluttered. “They’re meant to bring people together who were, like, destined to be together; not fuck with hunters and angels for kicks.” Castiel looked away, his expression blank; but his eyes seemed sad. “Besides,” Dean added, hoping to make it better, “surely you’re way more powerful than they are? Would they even be able to move you against your will?” Castiel perked up a little at this.
“I think not. But that has expended all of our candidates.” They sat in silence for a minute or so, racking their brains. The thought had just crossed Dean’s mind that they didn’t actually have any menus, when a waitress arrived at their table carrying a plate of shellfish. She set it down between them, poured out the champagne, smiled briefly and then left. Dean narrowed his eyes. He’d never been in a fancy restaurant before, but he was pretty sure the staff didn’t generally behave like that.
Dean was eyeing the food suspiciously- trying desperately to ignore how amazing it smelled- when Castiel suddenly picked up a shell and ate the fish. Dean stared at him.
“That could have been poisoned!” Castiel swallowed.
“It wasn’t. It was also delicious. You should eat some.” He picked up another, watching Dean intently.
Figuring that a creature powerful enough to transport himself and a fricking angel of the Lord somewhere else, change their clothes and actually get reservations in a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s Day could have easily killed him already but hadn’t; Dean decided to throw caution to the wind. He picked up what he thought was probably an oyster (he’d never eaten one before so he couldn’t be sure), he mimicked Castiel’s movements from before.
Castiel watched him carefully as he ate, studying his face for his reaction. After several seconds of staring blankly off into space, Dean finally met his gaze.
“It’s like heaven in my mouth.”
“Oh, Dean-o, you’d better be more careful with what you say.” Dean and Castiel whipped around and saw Gabriel wearing the maître d’s uniform.
“You!”
“Me! Did you miss me? I sure as hell did.”
“Gabriel…” Castiel trailed off, his expression guarded as he gazed at his brother.
“What the hell is all this?” Dean gestured around at the restaurant. He’d worked out that Gabriel was trying to set them up; what he couldn’t work out was why.
“Ain’t you gonna ask me how I came back? Aw, I’m insulted.”
“Fine!” Dean threw up his hands, his temper rising. “How did you come back?” Gabriel shrugged.
“No idea. Lucifer stabbed me, my wings burned into the ground, then I woke up in a field in Michigan. Naked. Surrounded by cows.”
“If you don’t know then why did you get me to ask?” Dean’s voice was rising, and Castiel placed a steadying hand on his arm.
“Temper temper. Anyway- to business!” Gabriel slid himself into the booth next to Castiel, snickering when Dean placed his arms protectively around the angel. “So. I come back to life and find that this planet didn’t have an apocalypse; and yet you two didn’t celebrate by banging each other’s brains out. Instead, you’re still staring wistfully at each other and deliberately avoiding talking about how blatantly in love you are. Really, I’m doing you a favour.” Dean and Castiel stared at him, open mouthed.
Dean started to form a counter-argument in his head. There had been no wistful staring; there would be no banging of any kind; and he was most definitely not in love with Castiel. The very idea was ridiculous. He was about to say all of this, when he looked down at Castiel and the words just got stuck in his throat. Castiel met his eyes, his brow slightly furrowed as he studied Dean’s face. The silence between them started to get heavier as the seconds ticked by; both of them waiting for the other to speak, to confirm or deny what Gabriel had said.
“For the love of God will you just kiss him already?!” Dean froze. He could have sworn that was Sam’s voice. He was about to turn to find out, when Castiel’s lips rose up to meet his.
Gabriel was laid back on the hood of the impala, watching the stars, when Sam turned up holding two bottles of beer.
“Awesome! Let’s celebrate the fact that right now, our brothers are probably fu-”
“I have an angel blade, Gabriel. Don’t make me use it.” Gabriel shrugged and shuffled over so that Sam could join him.
“Why was it so important to you that they got together?” Sam rolled his bottle between his hands, silent for a few minutes. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure.
“Dean…Dean can never accept that something good might actually happen in his life. He’s been holding this torch for Cas for so long, but he would never do anything about it himself because he doesn’t think he’s good enough. He couldn’t see how Cas felt because he wouldn’t let himself see. Cas was the same- he was always looking to Dean and following him and doing whatever Dean wanted, and I don’t think he even realised…” Sam trailed off, taking a swig of his drink. He looked up at the stars for several seconds, before adding, “Cas looks at Dean like he’s…I dunno, like he’s…”
“Like he’s everything,” Gabriel finished, a half-smile forming on his face.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. They stayed there, Gabriel laying back over the hood while Sam sat up; drinking and talking and laughing about their clueless brothers while the quiet night carried on around them, barely paying attention to the passing of time. Dean and Castiel were exploring and learning each other; realising once they were wrapped up together that they’d been wrapped up like that for a long time, they’d just never taken the time to really see it.