“C'mon, Cas, you gotta help out here!” Dean pleaded. "I mean, I’m gonna go for the basic black tux, but it seems boring if –“
“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas mumbled, staring at his hands. His stomach twisted sourly every time he pictured Dean strolling into the dance with a beautiful girl on his arm – probably Lisa Braeden, with her perfect skin and perfect face, and who Cas still couldn’t manage to hate despite his best efforts.
“Dude, don’t you have a suit yet? Prom’s in, like, three weeks.”
“No.” Cas knew he was being sullen, but he couldn’t quite help it.
A beat went by before Dean spoke again. "Do you… not wanna go? I don’t wanna make you if you’re uncomfortable.“
Cas sighed, finally forcing a smile. "I’ll be fine, Dean. I mean, senior prom, it seems like the thing to do, I guess.”
Hurt flashed in Dean’s eyes, and he sat back against the wall. "Wow, Cas, don’t hurt yourself with enthusiasm. Could’ve just told me you didn’t wanna go.“
Cas sighed again. "Maybe it’s better if I don’t,” he said gently. "After all, you’ll be busy with Lisa or whatever, and I don’t –“
“Wait, what?” Dean interrupted, confused. "What about Lis?“
Cas finally looked at him. "Aren’t you – going with her? I heard her tell Jo she was going to ask you, and I know you think she’s pretty…”
“Hey, you got eyes, she is pretty,” Dean pointed out reasonably. "An’ when I said no she asked Kevin – which, dude, kid looks like he won the fuckin’ lottery…”
Despite himself, Cas snorted. "So why did you say no?“
Dean was silent for a few moments. "I thought,” he began, staring at the floor, then trailed off. "I just – man, I fucked this up.“
Cas just tilted his head, waiting.
“I thought we were going together,” Dean finally blurted, face turning crimson. "I dunno why I never – y'know – asked – probably because I’m a huge pussy – but we’ve been talking about prom for so long, I guess I just… thought we were on the same page. I shouldn’t’ve assumed you’d wanna go with me.“
“What?” Cas was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “You want to go with me? Like as… as a date?”
“No, I mean – well, yeah, Cas, as a date. But we don’t have to,” Dean hastened to add. “I mean we could just go and hang out, spike the punch, annoy Charlie, yadda yadda.”
Cas smiled slightly, eyes never leaving Dean’s face.
“But, uh,” Dean continued, rubbing the back his neck. “Better late than never, I guess. So, um… hey, Cas, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to this stupid fuckin’ dance?”
Cas burst out laughing, the last lines of tension finally falling from his face. “Ever the romantic,” he teased, reaching out to link their index fingers together. “Yes, Dean. I’d love to.”
“Okay then,” Dean breathed in relief. “Well. Good.”
“Good,” Cas echoed softly, then groaned. “I suppose I’m obligated to offer my opinion on your tux colors now, aren’t I?”
Dean grinned, bright and happy. He reached out and traced a thumb to the corner of Cas’ eye. “I think blue suits me pretty well.”
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