Sam doesn't help at all.

"I can't believe you're laughing, you asshole!" Dean snaps into his cell phone. Over the line, he can hear Sam wheezing as he tries to catch his breath. Sam attempts once more to say something, but it bubbles into another laugh. Dean glares at his phone as if he could somehow make Sam burst into flame on the other end.

When he woke up that morning, Castiel had already made him breakfast and coffee. They didn't mention the night before, just ate breakfast and watched Adventure Time. It wasn't awkward, per se, but rather there was this strange electric buzz in the air between them. A kind of tension that wasn't necessarily bad. Or maybe it was just Dean realizing something that was already there. Cas left as soon as he looked at the clock, apparently realizing he had work in a half hour. Dean had called his brother shortly afterward to confess his big revelation.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but c'mon! I called this two years ago! And you kicked me for it!" Sam says finally, composing his chuckling long enough to speak. Dean is downright scowling now, but Sam continues. "I mean, you are the clingiest friends I have ever seen, you drag him around everywhere, and you have sleepovers. I'm surprised it took you this long to figure out it wasn't platonic."

"Okay, fine, I'm dense. That doesn't help me, Sammy. How about some advice on what the hell I'm supposed to do about this?" Dean grits out. He's regretting his decision to call his brat brother.

"Why can't you just tell him? There isn't any way there isn't something there," Sam answers patiently.

"'Cause…," Dean starts, but he can't think of a good enough reason. In his heart, he feels every reason why it can't happen. Dean isn't good enough for Cas. He's not as smart or talented. He's going off to live in a state known for deserts and gambling when Cas could go to so many other states and countries and be famous with his work and his knowledge. Dean is an anchor; he's just here to make Cas as happy as he can while he's stuck in this town he's too big for. Cas is meant to fly away and go places. Dean will always be rooted into the ground because that's just who he was meant to be. He can't give Cas what he deserves. It wouldn't be fair to burden him with his feelings, because Cas is the kind of person who would pity Dean and love him out of some sort of feeling of obligation. He's too nice to say no. The thought of that makes Dean sick to his stomach.

"… if there was something there, he would have done something by now," Dean lies. "He practically jumped on this blind date idea and he's trying hard to make sure he impresses this kid. He's interested in other people."

Sam makes a clucking sound on the end of the line.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk. Stop being a pansy and just tell him before you lose him to Blind Date Dude."

"You're a great help, Sammy. A real love guru."

Sam laughs again and Dean smiles. Bad advice and laughing aside, Dean misses Sam. He takes a little solace that when Sam heads off to Stanford, he will be less than a day's drive away. Dean already made peace with leaving his Mom and Dad behind (if anything he and Sam were finally giving them time alone), but he wasn't quite ready to give up his job of watching out for his little brother.

Dean hangs up with his brother a little while later and flops onto his back on the couch. He muses on what he's supposed to do with this… thing he's finally acknowledged. He had spent most of the night silently freaking out in his room. Not even having a big gay freak out, no, Dean gave up the idea of limiting himself to one gender a few years back; he was far too slutty to restrict the amount of sex he could have. No, this big freak out was on the whole idea of being in love with your best friend. He gives Sam some credit for calling it early. He remembers the conversation when Dean came home for the first time without Cas in tow and Sam had asked where his boyfriend was. Dean had got him pretty good in the shins for the remark. He's completely embarrassed that his nerdy brother had picked up on it before him, but then again, Dean admits he's always been a little emotionally oblivious. See Exhibit A: his laundry list of flings and half-girlfriends. He honestly doesn't understand how he could have missed this, because it's practically waving a rainbow flag in his face.

And Sam is a little right; after so long and given the little intimacy they shared the night before, Cas might at least be interested in Dean. But the voice in the back of Dean's head curbstomps that little glimmer of hope. There's no way; Cas would have revealed it by now. He has been all determined to practice for this date. He can't take that away from Cas. Dean may be clingy, but he will not be selfish with Cas. The kid deserves a normal relationship with someone who's up to his standards. Not to mention he doesn't need to fuck up the one good friendship he has going with his stupid feelings.

Dean's had no problem bottling his emotions before. Hell, he's buried so many feelings in the past that they could be diamonds by now from the pressure. So, he sits up and goes to finish some homework, resolving to keep his mouth shut.

Bottling turns out to be pretty easy, considering he doesn't see Castiel for four days. It's Thursday, two days before Cas' big date. Dean has forcibly kept the thought out of his mind. Thankfully, he'd been busy non-stop, so he at least had other things to focus his attention on. The only hard part had been at night, and he typically solved that by jerking off and hating himself, in that order. Lather, rinse, repeat for four days.

However, tonight is his night off, so he has sprawled himself out on his couch with a season of Bones (do NOT judge- he watches it 80% for the forensics and 20% for Booth/Brennan UST), a couple of beers, and a cup of Ramen. He's halfway through season six when there's a knock on his door. He grumbles as he heaves himself out of his seat and shuffles to the door, hoping it's not the assholes upstairs looking for pong balls again.

He unlocks the door and throws it open to see Cas standing there. He's soaked, head to toe, making a tiny puddle on the cheap hallway carpet. His hair is plastered to his face, making him look like a wet dog, and his oversized sweatshirt is so saturated with rainwater that it's hanging to Cas' knees. He blinks at Dean through the veil of wet hair, all big and blue and absolutely pathetic-looking.

"It's raining," he states, as if this is the answer to the questions in Dean's expression.

Dean just drags the kid inside and throws his backpack to the floor. He wordlessly starts stripping Cas of his soaked clothes while Cas miserably explains. Apparently, his alarm had gone off late today and he had to run out the door to make sure he wasn't late for work. Of course, he still ended up being late, was chewed out about it, and was docked an hour's pay for it. On his walk home later, it started to downpour. When he got back to his dorm he realized he left his keys and phone on his desk, so he was screwed out of getting into his building and room. So he walked the fifteen minutes to Dean's and waited at the front door until someone came out so he could get in. By the end, Dean's managed to get Cas down to his boxers, onto the couch with a blanket and a dry pair of sweats, and he's got a towel over his head.

"Just a shit day, Cas. Only some water and eight twenty-five out of your paycheck." Dean reassures, rubbing Cas' head furiously with the towel. Cas is silent beneath his hands for a few minutes until he grabs Dean's wrist and looks up at him.

"Dean, I don't think I should go on this date," he says.

Dean kicks the part of his brain that cheers at that.

"Cas, you're having a bad day, there's no need to punish yourself for oversleeping," Dean answers, attempting to laugh it off and resume drying Cas' hair.

"No, I've been thinking about this since the last time I saw you," Cas says. Dean suddenly can't swallow.

"What you said… that we only have so much time left together. You're moving and I have no idea what I'm doing just yet. If… if this boy and I decided to see each other, I would see you even less than I already do, as you said. I don't want to… put any stress on our friendship. So it seems like it would be wise to just not attempt to start any sort of relationship with someone right now," Cas explains, turning his eyes down to the thread he's been picking on in his borrowed sweats.

Dean is an idiot. He can't let Cas do this. He can't ruin his best friend's chance at happiness because he is petty and jealous and possessive. No, that's not fair of him.

"Cas, I was drunk, you can't take what I said seriously," he says lowly, hands slowing to a stop on Cas' head. "I mean, you need to do this. What are you gonna do when I'm one and I'm not here to tutor you?" Cas laughs a little and shakes his head.

"Dean… I don't think he would be interested in me anyway. I'm… I'm not in his league. I don't think he'd see me that way; I'm just the weird art kid with the paint on all of his clothes," he replies. There's no joking in his tone, despite the laugh that accompanies it. Dean's hands fist in towel and he's yanking the towel, and Cas' head consequently, roughly towards him. He pushes his forehead against Cas', forcing the other boy to meet his eyes. Cas' eyes are wide and glassy when they connect. Dean hears Cas' breath hitch, sees his eyes darken slightly. He swallows hard and it takes Dean every ounce of his willpower to not follow the movement. He has to make a point.

"Cas, don't you ever say that about yourself again, ever. Anyone would be an idiot to not like you. You're smart as hell, ask anyone. Not to mention you're so stupidly good at what you do. You're not a weird art kid with paint on your clothes. You're Cas. You're the kid who put in the art gallery after his first drawing class. You're the kid who's never had under a 3.8 average since he started. You're the kid who drags my drunk ass home and stays the night to make sure I don't die in my sleep. You're the kid who used to make dinner for our floor every Friday. You're the kid who has the most bad-ass movie collection ever because you don't cheap out and buy the DVD, you go for the awesome special edition with the bonus footage. You're are not just some "weird art kid". You are amazing, Cas, and you deserve to find someone who will see that and treat you the way you deserve to be," Dean says. He struggles to keep his voice from breaking, but he keeps it fierce and he never leaves Cas' eyes. They're barely an inch apart. Dean can feel Cas breathing, fast and hot, on his face. All he can see is Cas' eyes, round and bright, like a deer in headlights.

"So…," Dean struggles to finish, "you have to go. Promise me, okay?" He punctuates the 'okay' with a light shake of Cas' head. Cas nods obediently.

"I promise, Dean," Cas says so softly that Dean could have missed it over the blood rushing in his ears. Cas looks so scared; Dean's suddenly scared he's crossed a line. So, he nods and slowly releases his hold, moving away. All he can manage is a gruff 'good', but it comes out more like a shaky exhale. He looks at Cas, who still looks shell-shocked, and darts his eyes away.

"Grab a beer; you're hanging out here for the night," he instructs, grabbing his beer and clicking the play button on the remote. He sees Cas shuffle towards the kitchen, watching him rummage through the fridge for beer and food.

As he watches his best friend, Dean reminds himself he's doing the right thing. He's moving states away in a few months, and he can't leave Cas alone. Somebody has to be there for him on days like this, when he's stuck in the rain and everything is going wrong.

Besides, Cas doesn't want him. He couldn't possibly. And Cas breaking his heart is the one thing Dean's pretty sure he couldn't handle.

Saturday morning, Dean wakes up feeling like he's gonna puke. He spends the day at the garage, focusing on oil changes and replacing brake pads. Work he can distract himself with. He doesn't have to think about tonight at work. He even keeps the streak going when he goes home, showers, and cleans his apartment.

That is, until he leaves at six o'clock to pick up Cas.

Cas looks… dammit, he looks perfect. He's found a pair of jeans with the fewest paint splotches and he's wearing a button down/vest combo that makes him look like an adorable librarian. He's fussing with his shirt, playing with the vest buttons, glaring at his reflection in the mirror.

"I look stupid," he announces after his five-minute long staring contest.

"No, you don't. You look… great," Dean assures lamely. He sounds like a bad chick flick. Cas looks at him, eyes big and wary, but nods and grabs his coat. He doesn't stop tugging at his sleeves, though.

"It's gonna be fine, Cas. Just a date," Dean tries again as they walk out of the dorm and start walking. Cas nods again, but he doesn't stop fidgeting. And he starts chewing his lower lip. Dean forces himself to not look.

The walk to the Roadhouse is about fifteen minutes and it's completely silent. But the entire time, Dean is mentally freaking out. He knows this is right; he keeps assuring himself of this. It's only a date, so it doesn't mean anything. Cas might not even like the guy, so it's no big deal. But then the idea that the two hit it off explodes in his brain. He imagines the guy flirting with Cas like he did, and then he sees Cas smiling and flirting back. He even sees the guy slipping a hand around Cas' waist as they walk home. Anything past that he swats out of his mind frantically. He can't even think about Cas kissing the guy without his stomach clenching angrily. He wonders if he has any hard liquor left at home. Maybe it would be easier to weather this storm piss drunk. At least he'd have a legitimate reason to puke, then.

He cautions a looks at Cas. Cas looks like he's about to take off. His lip is just about swollen now and he's managed to pop off one of the buttons on his cuff. He's staring so intently at the ground that Dean's afraid he's gonna walk into a pole or something. He doesn't see why Cas should be nervous. The kid is going to be blown away. Hell, Dean sure as hell is. He completely hates himself for not realizing how he felt earlier. It's not as if Cas has changed in any way. No, Cas is the same Cas. But suddenly, Dean is hyper-aware of everything that is attractive about Cas. It's not that he didn't think Cas was attractive before, but he guesses that he's been falling in love with Cas' personality the entire time. Now, he can't even look at his friend without wanting to jump him. Again, he feels like a chick having some serious hormone spikes.

When they reach the Roadhouse, Dean halts to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. He turns to look at Cas, who is looking at Dean with a look of sheer terror that Dean's heart clenches. He reaches out and grabs Cas' shoulder.

"It'll be okay. Just a date. No pressure, Cas," he says resolutely, trying to calm the boy down. Cas' expression doesn't change, but it softens slightly and Dean feels the tension slowly bleed out of his body.

"Thank you, Dean, for your assistance," Cas says, staring at Dean's throat now. Dean shakes him, forcing Cas' eyes back to his own. He attempts a smile, and Cas returns it with a tiny one of his own.

"No problem, man. Knock 'em dead, tiger," he replies with a pat to the shoulder before letting go. It takes him a moment to disengage himself from Cas' eyes. He turns and heads back towards his apartment. Maybe he should just go to the liquor store anyway….

"Dean."

Dean turns back to see Cas still standing there, pulling on his sleeves.

"What, Cas? I'm telling you, he's gonna-"

"There isn't anyone coming, Dean."

Dean stops walking back towards Cas. He's not quite sure he heard him correctly. He's thinking that asshole part of his brain is messing with him.

"Uh… repeat that?" he manages to let out, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at Cas. Cas now looks like he's the one who might puke.

"There isn't a date. I made it up. Well, Balthazar did. It- it was his idea," Cas stammers, looking helpless and lost and Dean cannot understand why.

"Then why- Why would you…?" Dean attempts to ask, but his brain is short-circuiting because he doesn't get it. Why would Cas lie about a date of all-

"Dean, the date is for you. I want to go on a date with you."

What.

No seriously, what? The little hamster in Dean's brain that's keeping the gears going has flown off in his mad dash to figure out what is happening.

"I- I like you, Dean. I didn't know how else to tell you and Balthazar showed me some show where they do this and he told me it'd be a good idea and I went along with it because I don't want you to leave and me never tell you how I feel about you because I've felt like this for months and I don't know what to do about it and I don't want to ruin our friendship so if you don't-" Cas babbles, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to explain himself, but he doesn't get to finish.

Dean's eliminated the space between the two of them and has a very firm grip on Cas' face as he kisses the life out of him.

Cas makes a surprised squeak that Dean swallows, but it's less than a second before he's grabbing the front of Dean's shirt and licking into his mouth. His entire body melts into Dean as he pushes himself as close as possible into the taller boy.

Dean can't think of anything except that Cas isn't going out with some potential douchebag English major. That Cas isn't going to leave him alone in the next few months. That Cas actually planned this entire thing to admit to Dean his feelings. That Cas has feelings for him. That he's not doomed to a life of being a terrible chick flick storyline.

He manages to pull away from Cas, but it's about a centimeter apart, just enough that he can look him in the eye. Cas' face is flushed and his lips are red and swollen and he looks absolutely breathless and awed.

"I've been freaking out for days, you son of a bitch," Dean says with a wide smile. Cas is smiling too now, looking so beautifully relieved and happy that Dean has to start kissing him all over again. His grip has loosened, hands sliding into Cas' hair and down to his hip, and Cas has his arms wrapped around Dean's neck.

"We can figure it all out, right?" Cas breathes against his mouth, "We can do this?"

Dean nods, pulling back only a little. "Yeah, yeah we can. It's you, Cas. I told you, I would rather have you," he says softly, butting his forehead against Cas'.

And Dean for the first time in a long time forgets about what's coming and enjoys what he has right at this moment.