#flustered!dean

[supernaturalfreewill]

You’d just returned from a run and were at the doorway to your room when you stopped dead. Dean was in there apparently digging through your dresser and he just happened to be in the exact drawer where you stored your intimate items. “Ahem,” you cleared your throat loudly and he looked up like a deer in headlights. Maybe it was because you startled him but he straightened up abruptly and there was a pair of your underwear dangling from his fingers. “Something I can help you with, Dean?” you asked, your eyebrows lifting. “Uhhhh—” He suddenly realized what was in hand and dropped it back into the drawer, his eyes widening. “I—uhh—This—this isn’t what it looks like, heh,” he said with a gruff laugh. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck anxiously. You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms, apparently still at your ease. A half-smile grew on your face at the elder Winchester’s obvious horror. “Really? Because it looks like you’re digging through my underwear drawer.” He let out another nervous laugh, “Uhh—yeah, okay, but not just to be a perv, I swear!” You cocked your head at him and waited for him to go on. “Sammy wants to make an inventory of all the guns and Cas said he was pretty sure you kept that little silver revolver in here. I didn’t—I didn’t know it was the drawer with—with—” You laughed. “With my underwear in it?” “Yeah.... s—sorry,” he said. You nodded and straightened up. “Nightstand,” you said, nudging your head in the direction of the bedside table. Dean tilted his head and smiled awkwardly. “You know, that makes a lot more sense than the—the—this drawer,” he said, shoving it closed and clearing his throat. You smiled at him, bemused, as he went to the nightstand and pulled it open, collecting the little silver gun. “Hey. If you wanted to see my underwear, Dean, all you have to do is ask,” you joked.  He froze and his eyes went round again, his cheeks actually coloring a little red, and Dean Winchester blushing was entirely too much. You burst out laughing again and he seemed to relax some after a moment. “Yeah, ha ha. Very funny,” he growled, heading for the hall. You bit your bottom lip and watched him leave, making a mental note about just how charming he was when he was flustered. Prompt: “This isn’t what it looks like!”

[queen-rowenas]

destiel december 2020 - doing this thing hosted by @jellydeans and @galaxycastiel

day 7 - peppermint (wc - 831)

“Alright. One peppermint hot chocolate for Dean, and one hot chocolate with extra whipped cream for Jack.”

Sam slid two mugs across the war room table, Eileen following close behind with another two mugs.

The newest member of the bunker family had been quick to add a newer, more festive feature to the kitchen: a hot chocolate bar.

There was a time when Dean would have written off any extra addition to the standard coffee or hot chocolate as a girl drink, but when Eileen first pressed a mug of her famous peppermint hot chocolate into his hands, he couldn’t refuse. And he hadn’t gone back.

He wrapped both hands around his mug, leaning over the breathe in the sweet smell. Eileen settled across from his, watching him with an expectant smile. Dean took a slow sip, making a show of closing his eyes and pursing his lips.

It was great. It always was. The warm chocolate, the sharp peppermint. And besides, even if it wasn’t, he didn’t think he would have the heart to tell Eileen.

He swallowed, opened his eyes to look at Eileen, considering her where she was leaned against his brother’s arm. Her smile grew into a full grin.

Dean gave her a thumbs up and took another long sip before setting his mug down. “The chocolate chips were a good choice,” he said, signing a couple words with careful hands.

She smiled and signed back, “Thank you.”

Eileen, Sam, and Cas had been teaching Dean sign language. He was a quick study, but he had yet to learn words like chocolate.

The front door creaked open, the clang of it cutting through the Christmas music playing over the speakers. Dean grinned when Cas peered over the landing. “Any luck at the gas station?”

Jack perked, whipped cream mustache curving up with his lip. “Did you get the marshmallows?”

“I wasn’t sure if you would refer the regular or the Christmas tree shaped ones, so I got both.”

The angel reached in one of the grocery bags and placed both bags of marshmallows on the table. Jack popped open the bag of the tree-shaped marshmallows and dumped them into his mug.

As Cas circled the table, Dean turned to him like a flower following the sun, the dumb grin still on his face. Leaning into the touch as Cas rested a warm hand on his shoulder, thumb idly tracing over the muscle.

“Hello, Dean.”

He swallowed. “Hey.”

This thing between them was still new, still something quiet and shy. They had finally told each other how they felt and traded a few chaste kisses, but Dean didn’t want this to be fast and furious like his other relationships. He wanted to be careful with Cas, with them. And Cas handled it with the careful uncertainty of someone who was doing it for the first time.

“How’s the hot chocolate?”

“It’s great,” Jack said, reaching for the can of whipped cream.

“Yeah, this may be just as good as her margaritas,” Dean said, realization donning on his face, and he turned to Eileen, “Do you think we could spike these?”

Eileen chuckled and shook her head, setting the mug down as she looked to Cas. “Everything is still in the kitchen if you want some.”

“I think I will.”

Cas paused to peer down at Dean’s mug, leaning over him. Dean took in his flushed cheeks, rosy from the cold, and fought the urge to press into his side, to seep the warmth from him.

Cas sniffed because well...he was Cas. “Is that peppermint?”

“Yeah, want a taste?”

Cas turned to consider him carefully, eyes tracking over his face. And then he bent down and kissed him. Dean hummed in surprised delight, but then Cas pressed in and Dean’s brain just. Shut down.

Because that was Cas’s tongue brushing over the seam of his lips, and Dean opened to him with a gasp. His grip on his mug tightened as Cas dipped in, conducting a soft exploration, slowly tearing Dean’s world apart, before drawing back.

Dean stared up at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open.

He should say something. He knew he should say something. Because Cas was watching him with nervous eyes, shoulders growing tense.

Sam’s laughter cut through the air, startling Cas, but Dean couldn’t stop gaping up at him. “I think you broke him, Cas.”

The spell broke and Dean closed his mouth.

He swallowed. He opened his mouth again.

“What, uh, what was that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Cas frowned. “Isn’t that what that line implies? It’s been used in some popular media.”

Want a taste?

Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to bang his head on the table or give himself a high five. Cas had thought he was using a dumb pick up line, and it worked.

“Uh, yep.” He nodded, his thoughts still stuttering to click together. “Yep, that’s what that means.”

Cas smiled, squeezing his shoulder, and Dean’s brain finally snapped back into action and zeroed in on Castiel. On pink lips and rough stubble and the tongue that was flicking out, and Dean knew that it was just a nervous tick, but now he knew and he needed—

And he became painfully aware of his brother and future sister-in-law and kid sitting at the table.

Jumping to his feet, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and starting towards the door, only stopping to grab his mug.

“Where are you two going?” Sam called, far too smug.

“To get Cas some hot chocolate!”

But as soon as they got to the kitchen, Dean crowded Cas up against the wall, and the hot chocolate was long forgotten.

[perlukafarinn]

Dean knows that ‘happily ever after’ isn’t really a thing. There’s no sudden point in life where all of your obstacles are overcome, no matter how hard you work at it or how much you feel like you’ve earned it. This is especially true if you’re a Winchester.

But, still. There was some part of Dean that felt like, if he ever worked up the courage to kiss Cas, and if Cas actually kissed him back, that would be it. His happily ever after.

Instead, nothing really changes. One crisis still follows another and it seems like Cas can’t stay at the bunker for more than a week straight before the next emergency sends him on his way. They still don’t seem capable of telling each other exactly how they feel, even if they’ve both gotten a lot better about it over the years.

Dean could maybe deal with all of that, except... well, except they haven’t even kissed again. 

Dean wants to. He’s pretty sure Cas does, too, but ‘pretty sure’ still isn’t ‘100%’ and he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. They kissed when they were both sure they were going to die. What if that’s all Cas wants?

It’s so stupid that Dean wants to cry just thinking about it. He never thought he’d be continuing this uncertain dance once he and Cas actually kissed, but nothing’s any clearer now than it was before. Cas never sticks in the same place long enough for them to have any kind of meaningful talk about it. 

Except that’s not really true. Cas is gone a lot, yeah, but it wouldn’t take Dean more than a few seconds to say: “Hey, I liked it when we kissed, do you wanna kiss again?”

He just can’t. But if he wants it to ever happen again then he kind of has to, because he’s the one with some actual experience in romantic relationships. 

So screw it. He’s saved the world, he can tell the guy he likes that he wants to kiss him. 

*

“Hey,” is as far as Dean gets before the rest of the sentence dies in his throat.

Cas shuts the book he was skimming through, placing it back on its shelf as he turns to Dean. They’re alone in the bunker’s library and going by their track record, Dean has about half a day to bring this up before he misses his chance for at least the next few weeks.

“What is it?” Cas asks. 

Dean clears his throat. “Hey,” he says again, because it seems as good a place to start as any other, “I- I liked... I mean, I wanna- if you wanna-”

Forget actual experience. Dean is apparently thirteen years old again, except somehow even less smooth this time around.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“We should kiss again,” Dean blurts. Weakly, and wishing the ground would just swallow him already, he adds, “If you want.”

Cas has gone from looking curious, to confused, to shocked. Once Dean finishes speaking, his expression softens, that familiar look in his eyes that Dean has seen countless times but is only now realizing might be longing.

“I do want,” he says. “I wasn’t sure you wanted. The first time we.... there were extenuating circumstances.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for years,” Dean admits. 

“So should we... now?”

“Oh.” Dean swallows. Cas has drifted incrementally closer during their conversation and there’s only a few inches between them now. “I guess?”

For a moment, neither one of them moves. Cas’ eyes keep darting down, looking at Dean’s lips as if waiting for something to happen. Then he inches even closer, and Dean does the same, and they’re breathing in the same air. 

It’s intense, overwhelming... awkward. If one of them doesn’t move soon, Dean’s not sure they’ll ever be able to, so he draws in a sharp breath, closes his eyes, and goes for it.

Cas’ hand darts out, grabbing Dean’s wrist just as their lips touch. For all the awkwardness and clumsy exchanges before, kissing Cas still feels like the most natural thing in the world. They just fit, like they’ve been kissing for years instead of for the second time, ever. 

Dean’s not sure which one of them moves away first but they don’t go far, Cas’ other hand cupping his waist and Dean’s hand somehow finding its way to grasp Cas’ shoulder. They stand still, neither one of them speaking, just basking in the moment.

“We should do that more often,” Cas says.

Dean huffs out a small laughter. “Yeah, uh. Definitely.”

It’s not a happily ever after but right here, right now, Dean is so happy he can barely breathe. 

[supernaturalfreewill]

You were laughing a little bashfully and shaking your head. “It’s not that big a deal...” Dean was staring at you with slightly widened green eyes. “Are you kidding me? I was almost mincemeat and I--shit!” His elbow had knocked over his beer which spilled out in a torrent of foam and formed a golden puddle that creeped across the table and narrowly missed spilling onto Dean’s jeans. “Goddammit...” You laughed and tossed a couple napkins his way. “I’ll go get you another,” you said, giving him a smile that Dean felt go straight to his head. He watched you walk away across the room toward the bar and he ran a hand over his face. How was he always a clumsy mess around you? Calm, cool, collected Dean seemed to bow out every time you were around...

[perlukafarinn]

prompt: Choose whatever characters you wish. "Since I spilled my coffee on you would you accept this as an apology?" What "this" is, you can decide

Every time he talks to Castiel Novak, Dean finds a new way to make a fool of himself.

The first time they met, Dean accidentally insulted his name (and he maintains that ‘interesting’ is not a passive-aggressively bitchy word, no matter what his friends say). The second time, Dean stubbed his toe and dropped a stack of papers he was holding. Every time after that it’s been some variation of him not being able to speak properly, or turning into a clumsy oaf, or just blushing and staring like an idiot.

Because Castiel Novak is hot. And Dean is not used to being around men he finds hot. Those corporate types don’t really do it for him. He’s not really sure why Castiel is the exception. It might be the sex-hair. Or the perpetual stubble, or those unearthly blue eyes. Dean could go on all day, honestly.

Point being, standing right outside his office with Castiel’s coffee staining his shirt and dripping down to his shoes - there’s kind of a precedence for that.

A sad, sad precedence.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel says, looking mortified, which he really shouldn’t. Dean was the dope who didn’t watch where he was going (those damn distracting blue eyes). 

Dean opens his mouth to tell him that, but what comes out is, “Uh,” because at that moment Castiel takes out his handkerchief and starts dabbing at Dean’s shirt.

Castiel is so close. He’s almost touching Dean, just the two thin layers of cotton between them, and he’s got his head ducked so Dean can smell whatever shampoo he used this morning. Dean leans in slightly, wanting to catch a proper whiff of it, before realizing what a monumental creep he’s being. He stumbles backwards.

“It’s okay,” he manages to croak. Castiel is still looking at him all concerned, holding his now dirty handkerchief up. “I- I gotta-”

He turns on his heel and runs back into his office, slamming the door in poor confused Castiel’s face.

He’s honestly lucky if Castiel ever deigns to speak to him again.

Dean spends the rest of the day trying to focus on work and not lamenting how he just permanently cemented Castiel’s opinion of him as an idiot. Luckily he keeps a spare shirt at work, so he doesn’t need to be covered in coffee stains while he does his wallowing.

He’s just about to head home, fully planning on drowning his sorrows in a bottle of Jack and half a dozen slices of cherry pie, when someone knocks on his office door.

“Come in,” he says, still focused on the papers on his desk.

Someone steps inside and Dean spares them a quick glance, freezing when he sees that it’s Castiel.

Holding a bouquet of daisies, Dean’s favorite flower.

(You know. If he had a favorite.)

“I hope this isn’t inappropriate,” Castiel says. He closes the door behind him and walks up to Dean’s desk. “I just wanted…  since I spilled my coffee on you would you accept these as an apology?“ 

He holds the flowers out to Dean who accepts them, still completely flabbergasted. Who gives flowers as an apology present to a coworker? 

“…Thanks,” he finally remembers. “These are nice. How did you-”

He stops himself just short of asking how did you know these are my favorite like some romantic comedy heroine. 

“I asked around,” Castiel answer. “Your, ah, redheaded friend. Bradbury? She told me you liked daisies.”

Of course he asked Charlie. She’s never gonna let him live this down.

“You really didn’t have to,” Dean tells him. “It was my fault.”

“You were the one who wound up drenched in coffee,” Castiel points out. 

Dean doesn’t know how to rebut that. He looks back down at the flowers in his hand, feeling warmth rising to his cheeks. It’s a kind of a romantic gift, isn’t it? Did Castiel mean it to be? He could have just apologized, or offered to pay for the dry-cleaning of Dean’s shirt or something.

Instead, he brought him daisies.

“Did you…” Dean hesitates, unsure of how to word this in a way that doesn’t make their working relationship forever awkward if Castiel doesn’t feel the same “Are you just here to apologize?”

Castiel looks suddenly nervous. “I… no, not as such. I also wanted to see if you would perhaps like to get a cup of coffee together?” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I promise I won’t spill it on you this time.”

“Yes,” Dean blurts, because screw being suave or in control of his mouth apparently. 

He can’t bring himself to regret his graceless answer too much when a smile spreads across Castiel’s face. Dean has never really seen him smile like this before; it’s like seeing the sun rise. He almost has to look away, heart pounding in his chest.

He is so gone for this man.

“We could- now?” Castiel says. “After work, I mean.”

Dean smiles back. At least he’s not the only flustered one here. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

It’s more than okay.

And if their date gets cuts short when coffee once again gets spilled, this time on Castiel’s shirt, that’s okay too.

It does end with a pretty fantastic kiss. 

[perlukafarinn]

Hello! If you still want any prompts, I love punk!Cas and would love to read something with him as an older punk in his 30s and Dean as the owner of the bookstore he frequents.

Dean glances up from his book as the bell at the door dings softly. It’s still fairly early and there’s only a few people milling around the store, all of them regulars that Dean knows will come to him if they need help. He’s been using the opportunity to catch up on some reading, or so he intended.

In reality, he’s had the same pages open for at least ten minutes, every tiny noise a constant distraction.

It’s just… it’s Thursday. And Cas always comes by on Thursdays, usually around this time.

He’s here now, giving Dean a soft smile before ducking between the shelves, just as Dean weakly lifts his hand in greeting. He drops it again, feeling like an idiot.

He doesn’t get this way around people he likes anymore. It’s embarrassing. He’s almost thirty-five years old, not a teenager with some stupid crush. Except, the crush part very much applies.  

It caught Dean off guard when it started. Cas isn’t exactly his type; he’s all tattoos and piercings and weird hairstyles that involve a lot of gel and temporary dye. The leather jacket might be kind of hot, except it’s covered in ironed-on patches and pins with various band logos, none of which Dean is enough of a music snob to recognize.

Dean’s always thought the punk aesthetic is better left to the twenty-somethings and teenagers, and Cas is at least a couple of years older than Dean is. Yet, somehow, he pulls it off. Maybe it’s the confidence he carries himself with, or his gentle manner that stands in such stark contrast with his fashion choices. Or maybe it’s just that he’s smoking hot.

Whatever it is, it’s got Dean’s heart skipping beats and a girly blush rising to his cheeks whenever Cas so much as looks at him with that half-smile on his lips, like he knows exactly what his presence does to Dean.

He’s approaching the counter now, and Dean licks his lips instinctively. The way Cas walks reminds him of some kind of big cat, all confidence and grace. It makes Dean feel even more awkward in comparison.

“Is it any good?” Cas asks, nodding at the book still in Dean’s hands.

Dean actually has to look down to remember what he’s ostensibly been reading. The Vegetarian. Fuck, what is it even about? “Uh, sure. If you like… vegetables.”

He wants to smack himself but Cas just smiles that enigmatic half-smile of his. “I do like vegetables.”

Dean puts the book down, heat rising to his face. “You found anything?”

“Not today,” Cas says. “I’m still working my way through last week’s purchase, I’m afraid. Žižek is an excellent philosopher but he does tend to go on.”

“Yeah, you did not pick an easy one,” Dean snorts. “But, um…if you’re not here to buy anything, why did you come? Not that you always need to buy something,” he adds hastily. “You’re always welcome to browse.”

Cas leans forward, putting his elbows on the counter, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He’s never been so close before – there’s still about a foot between them, as well as the counter separating them, but it’s still a lot.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Cas says, the low rumble of his voice somehow even more disarming so close. “I like coming here and seeing you.”

And Dean may be stupidly gone on Cas, but he can still recognize a come-on when he hears one. Emboldened, he leans closer, now needing to peer up through his eyelashes to look Cas in the eyes as he’s still sitting down. Yes, needing, because it’s not like he’s doing it to draw attention to his eyelashes, which many people have told him are one of his best features.

Shut up.

“In that case, you should come by more often,” he says.

Cas’ eyes have darkened, and Dean’s pulse speeds up when his tongue flicks out briefly to lick his lips. “I should,” he agrees. “Or maybe I could see you someplace else?”

There is no question about it, he’s asking Dean out on a date. Dean opens his mouth to answer, when someone to their side clears their throat.

They both turn. It’s one of Dean’s regulars, Kevin, carrying a small stack of second-hand books from the bargain bin, eyes darting nervously between Dean and Cas. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

Dean can feel himself blushing brighter. He got so distracted flirting with Cas, he actually forgot for a moment that he’s on the job. “No, of course not. Bring ‘em here.”

He rings up Kevin’s purchases, hyper-aware of Cas’ amused gaze following his every move. He stumbles a bit with Kevin’s debit card, and it doesn’t help matters when Kevin gives him a sympathetic smile like, ‘yes, it’s terrible to embarrass yourself in front of your crush isn’t it?’.

Kevin leaves, giving Dean a discreet thumbs-up over Cas’ shoulder, and Dean honestly wants to crawl into a hole and die. How many of his regulars have noticed his pathetic attempts at flirting with Cas before?

He steels himself, turning back to face Cas. “So, where were we?”

“Lloyd’s Bar,” is Cas’ nonsensical response. At least, until he follows it up with, “My friend’s band will be playing there at eight tomorrow night. I’d like it if you came with me.”

“Y-yeah,” Dean manages to stutter. “Totally, I’m there.”

What a terrible moment to say the word ‘totally’ for the first time in his life. But rather than rescind his offer like any sane person probably would, Cas just nods, looking pleased. “I’ll see you then.”

[thebest-medicine]

hey hey just wondering if you agree with me, but don't you just find the idea of blushy/flustered!dean suuuuuper cute? like i can totally picture cas and sammy ganging up on him and teasing him til he's bright red in the face and giggling like crazy squeeeeee 💖 ~phantastickle

I COMPLETELY AGREE THIS IS MY FAVORITE TYPE OF DEAN YES YES A+

[baroldspaghet]

prompt: librarian cas and dean is in helping his little brother find a book for his school project,,,,like a really cute first meeting thing or smthn idk???

A/N: Not exactly what you asked for but College AU Destiel with Librarian!Cas and Dean is a flustered mess and cannot flirt with cute boys. So I love.

Also on AO3

The first time Dean saw Castiel, it was like a whisper into the vast void of space. Which is appropriate seeing as it was a library, and Dean was utterly lost. Sam’s text had told him his little brother was in the library, but where was the question. This thing was huge, books scaling the walls far above his head (which is saying something) and giant windows letting sunlight pour in. Is this the kind of welcome a big brother deserves? No it is not. But Dean already planned on giving Sam hell for it.

He’d been wandering the place for half an hour before he finally made eye contact with one of the attendants at a desk. This blue eyes were scorching. Well, Dean was feeling hot all over anyway. He had taken one step to go over and talk to the beautiful man before a big hand thunked down onto his shoulder and a dopey smile and floppy hair was right in front of him.

“There you are! Sorry. I just got out of my group meeting,” Sam explained.

Dean looked over his little brother’s shoulder to get another look at that librarian, but he was gone like ghost through a wall. Huh. Oh. Right. Sammy was talking. Dean smiled at his little brother and gave him a hug in return, listening to Sam talk on and on about school and Jessica Moore and how he was liking Stanford. And just like that, the pretty librarian was out of his mind (for now), and Sam had his attention.

***

The next time Dean laid eyes on the beautiful blue eyed librarian, he realized this guy was a summer thunderstorm instead of the snowy winter’s day by the fireplace that Dean had first imagined. Those eyes sparked like lightning in the evening sky and his jaw set firmly. Through the thin fabric of his button up shirt, Dean could see his muscles twitching across his back and arms.

He’s gonna punch that douche, Dean swore up and down. One could only bottle as tornado for so long before it either died or released it’s destructive force down upon anything and everything in it’s path. And this didn’t seem to be the kind of funnel clouds that just merrily went on their way.

Said douche deserved it, though. It’s 2016 and California. Who calls people “fags”? One moment, Mr. Blue Eyes was just helping the douche get a book down about Alan Turing and the next the douche was ranting about how he shouldn’t have to do a report on a “god damned fag”.

“That ‘fag’ is the father of modern computing and a war hero,” the librarian said in a voice full of gravel… or maybe it was hail stones. “You should show him some respect.” The tight voice was enough to have Dean leaning forward in his seat and drowning Sam out because here it comes. The punch. The snap. The crack of thunder.

But nothing. In one quick shove of the book and a sharp turn, the librarian disappeared into the back room.

“Fucked up, right?” Sam said, pulling Dean out of his suspense. His eyes widened as he looked over at Sam, knowing he was caught eavesdropping. “Cas handled it well though.”

“Cas?” Dean asked carefully, hoping Sam wasn’t referring to the douche. There goes coming out to his little brother while he’s in town.

“Yeah. The librarian. He’s also a TA for one of my ethics classes. Looked ready to sock that asshole, huh?”

“Huh.” Cas…. Dean liked it.

***

The third time Dean saw Cas, he actually got to talk to him. It had been two days since the incident Dean witnessed, and for once, Sam was in class so Dean knew he wouldn’t be interrupted in his quest to meet this Cas that had caught his attention.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Perhaps the lights to dim and rose petals to fall from seemingly nowhere and for everything that came out of his mouth to sound smooth and then they’d fuck right there on the counter.  Which, ask him about it later and that is totally what happened down to a crossed ‘t’ and dotted ‘i’.

Instead what really happened was Dean walked over to the front desk way too aggressively, making Castiel look up from the papers he was grading to stare right into Dean’s soul impassively. There was a moment of silence that felt like the aftermath of a nuke. Devastation, ruin, and static.

“I like your eyes,” Dean finally blurted out.

After another agonizing moment, the corner of Cas’s mouth twitched up and there was nothing but sunshine in those stormy eyes. “Thank you. Your eyes are also visually pleasing.”

Dean stammered for a moment, stunned that he was actually talking to his pretty boy and not getting looks of confusion or disgust or all the other things he imagined would happen if he ever tried flirting with a guy outside a bar. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck and grinned from ear to ear.

“Your -- your face is visually pleasing.” Smooth as a chainsaw.  But hey, the faint blush on Cas’s cheeks told Dean that this wasn’t a lost cause.

Maybe the next two minutes was just breathless laughs and shy smiles, but before it was all said and done, Dean had a date with a cute boy that maybe wouldn’t just be quick blowies in a piss-on bathroom stall at a bar.

***

Actually, they ended up getting coffee. Dean learned Cas has changed his major five times. He’s currently pursuing aerospace engineering but was thinking of changing back to a religion's major. While Cas learned Dean travelled but was looking to settle down somewhere close to be with his brother. And they both learned that hot coffee was better for drinking than snorting out their noses. But hey. It still went pretty well.

As for Sam? He didn’t notice that Dean was seeing anyone until Dean had already been in town for two months, and he found Castiel lounging on Dean’s couch in his newly rented apartment while Dean was out getting groceries. Want to talk about one awkward conversation.