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“Dean, what’s wrong with dinner and a movie?” Sam jabs at me with his left as he finishes the sentence.
I duck in plenty of time—I saw his shoulder extending. “Nothing. It’s just—dude, Cas took me to see Billy Joel. For our friggin’ first date!”
“So?” He shuffles back, keeping his guard up.
I take a step toward him, careful with my guard too. Sam’s got a long reach—like a Muhammed Ali reach—and a bad habit of forgetting that we’re just shadow boxing. “It was at Madison Square Garden, Sam.”
“I remember.” He starts circling. “And again, so?”
I step back, dropping my guard. “So how am I supposed to top that?”
Sam slowly lowers his guard too. Real slow—as if a part of him wants to take advantage of the opening instead. “Dean, dating doesn’t have to be a contest. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. In theory.”
“So you don’t have to top the Billy Joel thing.” He loosens his fists and grabs a towel.
I guess we’re done practicing, so I let myself sink to the floor. “Yeah, but—I got to think of something better, man. But everything else I got involves an overnight, and I got to wait till date number three for that.”
Fortunately, I don’t have to explain that to Sam. He already knows that Cas is determined to be ‘traditional.’ First date, first base. Second date, second base and so on. So, yeah. My life sucks until date number three, at least.
This is what happens to me when I decide to go all heteroflexible for a certain nerd angel.
“Dean, Cas has probably never even been to a movie.” Sam takes a seat next to me. “So this is going to be special for him.”
Damn, Sammy’s right. “That’s true. I mean—if he has been, he’s never said anything.”
“What are you going to take him to?”
“I was thinking Creed—except that I don’t know how much it’ll mean to him. He should at least see the original Rocky first.”
Sam nods. “The original’s a classic.”
“Yeah. I mean, he probably knows the storyline—thanks to Metadouche—but that’s not the same as seeing it.”
“Right—hey, wait! You know they’re having a Star Wars fest, right? Here in Lebanon, I mean.”
“For what? The new one isn’t out yet." I thought about the kind of crowds and endless lines that would happen for that movie. "That’ll be insane, anyway. I’m waiting for a month, at least, before I go see that.”
“No, man.” Sammy looks all excited now. “It’s for the originals and the prequels, not The Force Awakens.”
Huh. That’s—that’s actually not a terrible idea. “So I could take him to see the originals on the big screen.”
“Yeah. I know he knows the plots of those too—”
“But it’ll be different to see it for real,” I finish. “Sammy, you’re a genius. But wait . . .” Okay, there’s this little knot of guilt in my gut. I mean, this is Star Wars we’re talking about. “Uh, maybe that shouldn’t be a date thing. Sure you don’t want in on this?”
But Sam just laughs. “I’ve seen them lots of times on the big screen. I’ll be your third wheel when we finally see the new one.”
I elbow him. “Cas and me—it’s not like that.”
‘It’s not like what?”
“It’s not—you know. We’re not a pair of lovesick teens. You’ll never be a third wheel.”
Hell, Sam will always come first. But it’s not like Cas doesn’t know, right? And he’s got to know that he’s the next most important person in the world to me.
Anyway, Sam gives me a weird look and then changes the subject. “You better explain all the cosplay stuff to Cas before you go. There’s bound to be people in costume. And make sure he knows that people don’t do that at every movie.”
I grunt. “Yeah. Good idea.” I don’t need him trying to cosplay Rocky or Apollo or something for when we finally go see Creed. Oh man, just the thought of that. Imagine him in stars and stripes boxing shorts . . . .
“So you doing all six films?”
“Huh?” Sammy’s question zaps me back to the present. “Oh. No, no way. Just the originals.”
“You’re skipping the prequels? Dude, the third one was almost decent—”
“We are not doing the prequels. I’m not going to taint him with those.”
“But—”
I give Sammy my ‘that’s-final’ look.
He rolls his eyes and tosses me the towel. I use it to mop off my forehead, but then I push myself back to my feet. Time to go look for my angel.
~*~
I find Cas at one of the research tables, hunched over some old tome. He glances up at me and there’s this moment of weirdness—like we don’t know how to greet each other anymore. Do I just sit down? Should I kiss him first?
Cas decides for both of us. He stands up as I reach the table and brushes his lips against mine. Then he sits down again, all casual-like.
Okay. So I guess that’s how we greet each other now. No complaints here.
“Hey.” I grab a chair. “You in the middle of something important? Can I interrupt?”
He closes the tome. “Of course.”
“I, uh, was thinking about our second date. Have you ever actually gone to the movies?”
“No.” He don’t look surprised, but he looks a little intrigued. “I would like very much to have a traditional dinner-and-movie date with you.”
I grin. “Well, it should be movie-and-dinner. You know, so you always have something to talk about during the meal.”
His face falls. “Do you think we’ll run out of things to talk about?”
“What? No, never. Cas, you and me—we won’t ever have to worry about that. I just meant that, you know, for dates in general you should go to the movie first.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Oh man. Here I am, screwing this all up again. “But that’s not the point. I mean, we should probably hit a diner before and after the movies in our case—cause I want to take you to three of them. In a row.”
Cas blinks. “Three?”
“Yeah. How about we go see the original Star Wars trilogy? It’s playing in a marathon close by here.”
“Oh. I would like that, Dean.”
“Good. You’ve never actually seen the films, right?”
“No. I do know the stories, however.”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. Trust me, it’ll be different seeing them for real.”
~*~
“Star Wars was released before you were born,” Cas says.
I glance over at him. We’re in Baby, heading for the theater. Cas is riding shotgun, which usually makes him happy. There’s this look on his face, though, like he’s concentrating real hard on something.
“Yeah. Why?”
He stares down at his hands. “You are a fan of this film series, but the first one is older than you are.”
“Yeah. I was born in `79. The first one came out in, uh—”
“May 25th, 1977.”
“Right.” Of course he has that factoid right in his head. “So, yeah, I missed the first run. I missed The Empire Strikes Back the first time it was out too—that was in `80. I was way too little for movies. Saw Jedi, though. I was only four, but I got to go. Damn, Sammy had only just been born when it came out.”
I pause, remembering.
“Dean? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I give myself a mental shake. “That was all before the fire. I don’t know how much I really remember of back then, but I’m pretty sure I did go see The Return of the Jedi. I think me and my Dad went, and Mom stayed home with Sammy.”
Cas sounds cautious when he speaks up again. “Is that why you like older things? Older music, older movies? They remind you of a time when you had a, ah, more traditional family life?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think about it much. And, hey, our family is just fine. You, me, Sammy . . .” I shrug and let my voice trail off. “We’re good, Cas. Not exactly traditional, but good.”
He smiles at that and puts a hand over mine.
~*~
The theater’s not that far from us. But we left with plenty of time. It’s a gorgeous day—not cold at all, even though this is December. So I take the scenic route, giving us more time to enjoy the road and the sunshine and the fact that we aren’t out hunting any monsters.
“It’s true of the music you listen to as well,” Cas says suddenly.
Neither of us has spoken for a while—we were just relaxed and mellow—so I’m not sure what he’s talking about. “What is?”
“The fact that you like older things. Movies, music. And the car you drive. I find that . . . interesting.”
“Oh, man. Don’t give me the Sammy lecture about fetishizing my Dad’s decades.”
“Is it only your Dad’s decades, then?”
I raise my eyebrows at him, in between keeping my eyes on the road. “Well, how far back do you want me to go?”
“I don’t know.” He looks up at me then and gives me what’s almost a sly smile. “I’m very old. I wouldn’t mind if you fetishized me.”
Fuck! I almost choke.
Okay, I’m all right now. But, damn. Every now and then I understand how, in that fucked-up alternate reality that Zachariah threw me into, Cas could turn into an orgy-loving hippie.
“Dean? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Fine Cas.”
He looks a little concerned. “Was my comment inappropriate?”
I bite back a laugh as I grab hold of his hand. “No, not at all. If you want us to start talking about our fetishes, I’m all for it.”
“I don’t know if I have any.” His face turns the most adorkable red I’ve ever seen. “My only foray into, ah, hedonism, was very . . . vanilla.”
“Listen to you with the kink lingo.” I wink at him. “Don’t worry, Cas. I’ve experimented a little here and there, but most of my sex life has been pretty vanilla too.” Sometimes bendy and athletic, but still basically vanilla. “Besides, we’re only going as far as second base tonight, remember?”
“I remember. But, um, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“In the Wikipedia article I read—Baseball Metaphors for Sex, I mean—there was some, ah, leeway in just what second base entails. I would assume that’s especially true for two males.”
“You would, huh? Why?”
“We don’t have breasts, Dean. So how would we, ah—what would feeling up or petting mean in our context?”
I swallow down a laugh. “That’s true. So, uh, what do you think, Cas?”
He gives me his ultra-earnest look. “You should tell me what you think. You’re the one with more experience.”
“No fair, man. You’re the one who’s millions of year old.”
“But I was not having sex for all those millions of years!”
“Well, you must have seen a whole lot of varieties of it!”
“I did, yes. It seemed like something tedious that mortals inexplicably found enticing.”
“Tedious?” Okay, I stare at him longer than I should when I’m driving. I have to drag my eyes back to the road this time and promise myself that I’ll just glance at him for the rest of the ride. “Seriously?”
“Yes! For most of my life, Dean, I was not as . . . at home in a human vessel the way I am now. So I didn’t understand. But I understand now, and I want to know just what we’ll be doing—ah, I assume when we get back from the movies?”
“Uh, yeah. Cas, we can’t do this stuff in the theater.”
He nods in this weird way, like I just answered some unspoken question for him.
“Cas?”
“Yes?”
“Uh, what did you think goes on in movie theaters?”
“I wasn’t sure. I take it people do not actually copulate there?”
“What?” I’m proud of myself, because I don’t slam on the breaks, burst out laughing, or start choking. “No! Cas, that is not what happens.”
He just nods again, looking satisfied to know this for sure.
“Look,” I say, “you might see a pair of teens making out, or something—but most people? No.”
“So we’ll return to the bunker to, ah, experience second base together.”
“Yeah.” Jesus, I’m smothering another grin. I can’t help it—that earnestness is priceless. “I figure we can, you know, hang out in my room?”
“I’d like that. But we should settle just what ‘second base’ entails.”
I want to roll my eyes at him. Seriously? He can’t just let things happen tonight? But this is Cas. He’ll start obsessing over this if I let him. I’d rather have him just know right now than spend the entire trilogy worrying about it. Because—well, yeah. This date is about us seeing Star Wars together.
Yeah, it’s about some kind of, uh, ‘hedonism’ too. But it’s mostly about Star Wars.
“Okay, buddy.” I keep my voice nice and gentle and toss him a smile. “So there are a couple of ways we can go here. But, for me, the ideal would be to go with hand jobs for second base.”
“Hand jobs?”
“Yeah. You know about those, right?”
Now he looks offended. “Of course, Dean.”
“Okay, then. Hand jobs for second, oral sex for third and—”
“Intercourse for a ‘home run.’” I can hear the air quotes in his voice.
“Yes.”
“But it’s not really a home run—that would imply that we hit every base on the first date.”
All right. I do roll my eyes this time. “Let’s call it scoring a run then, okay?”
He looks like he’s giving that due consideration. “Okay,” he decides.
“So is that all right?” I try to stop my voice from sounding too pathetically hopeful. “Like you said, there are other things—”
“It’s fine, Dean.”
We’re almost to a traffic light, so I roll the car to a stop and take a moment to really study Cas. He looks . . . I’m not sure what the word is. A little happy. A little satisfied. And pretty damned enthusiastic. That can’t all be for the films, right? No, he’s really looking forward to tonight.
Good. I’m not pressuring my angel into anything.
~*~
“But, in The Empire Strikes Back, Yoda seems to define the Force as a purely natural phenomenon,” Cas is saying as I walk back into the library. Or study room. Or whatever the hell we call the main part of the bunker.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Life creates it, makes it grow, and all that. So it seems like it’s a result of, uh, creation or whatever. Not a cause of it. But the problem is—”
I don’t listen to what the problem is. I just grab a chair next to Cas, stretch my legs out and take a gulp of the orange juice I brought with me from the kitchen. Sam’s totally engrossed in the conversation. So engrossed that he doesn’t even yell at me for drinking straight from the carton.
Cas liked the original trilogy. Hell, judging by this conversation with my brother, he’s already dorky about it. And that’s good. Sam hasn’t had anyone to really geek out with for a while now. Not since—well, what happened to Charlie.
Okay, I can’t think about that right now. But I can think of Cas in the movie theater. And the way he kept looking around at first, trying to take in everything: the big screen, the people dressed up as storm troopers two rows ahead of us, the little kid with the light saber . . . for a while, it was like he didn’t know what to stare at first.
Oh, and I forgot to warn him about trailers and advertisements and all that shit. He knew what they were, he just didn’t know there’d be so many of them.
And then the real movie started. “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” and all that . . . and suddenly Cas just grabbed hold of my hand. Not hard—he wasn’t clutching it. But it was like—I don’t know. A firm hold.
And, okay, I never told him that he couldn’t do that in public. But it was good. Feeling the warmth of his hand, I mean. And the little bit of roughness to his skin. And it was dark, so it’s not like anyone else was seeing us being all gay. And even if they did—well, so what? Anyone who didn’t like it could go fuck themselves.
But I let go of his hand before the lights came back up. I don’t think Cas noticed the timing. And anyway—whatever.
“Dean?” Sam kicks me from under the table. “What do you think?”
I give him a blank look. “Dude, I wasn’t even listening to you two. It’s past my bedtime. I’m turning in.”
Cas half stands up, giving me this uncertain look. Freakin’ adorable.
I smile at him as I stand up too. “You coming?”
He nods. He doesn’t look me in the eye or anything, but he nods.
Sam smirks. “Night, you two.”
I give my brother a wink. “Night, bitch.”
~*~
“You didn’t drink any beer tonight.”
“I didn’t think you noticed, dude.” I grin up at him. “You were too busy geeking it up with Sam.”
I’m lying on my bed, fingers laced behind my head, while he’s sitting stiffly on the edge. At least he’s in casual clothes, though. An old tee shirt of mine and pajama pants I got just for him.
He smiles a little. “I always notice what you’re doing. Why did you drink orange juice?”
“Figured I didn’t need the beer tonight—I’ve got you to get me nice and mellow, right?” I nudge him with my knee. “Besides, you and Sam are always ganging up on me about my liver.”
That wins me another one of those small smiles. “That’s true.”
“Come’ere, Cas.”
He hesitates, but just for a second. Then he lies down next to me.
“That’s better.” I stroke his cheek. “You okay?”
“I’m nervous.” He swallows. “I don’t—I don’t want to disappoint.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
He stares at me for a moment and then leans forward to kiss me. I shift so I can pull him close. We both end up lying on our sides, opening our mouths to each other, letting our tongues get all tangled.
It’s good. We’ve been doing this a lot lately. Making out like teenagers, I mean. This is all we did for whole trip to New York City and back—the one me and Cas took so we could go to the Billy Joel concert. Cas figured it was only date number one, so we couldn’t go further than first base. But that’s okay. Even first base is pretty damn good.
But I don’t want to finish up with my own hand tonight. I can’t. Shit, my dick’s already hard—and I want Cas’s hand on it. He’s all into gripping me tight, right? Well, now’s his chance to prove it.
And I’ll be good to him too. I want my hand on his dick. I want to feel him, I want hold him, I want to see him all out of breath, eyes blown, as he comes. Oh, fuck, just thinking of that . . . I pull him so close we’re practically in the same skin.
Cas pushes us apart a little, though. Wait—oh. He’s trying to pull down my sweats and boxers. Hell, I can give him a hand with that. Bottoms off, tops off . . . pretty soon, both of us are naked. I’d take a moment to appreciate him, but I can’t. God, I just need him close again.
I crush my lips against his and pull him tight to me. So tight I can feel his erection rubbing against mine. And then we’re both rubbing and—fuck! This feels good. Real good. We’re just finding our rhythm when Cas pushes us apart again.
“Wait!” He’s all out of breath, just like I wanted. “We’re—we’re supposed to be giving each other hand jobs. That’s what we said.”
I choke back a laugh. “Whatever, Angel. Any way you want it.”
He nods and takes hold of my dick. Gentle at first, like he’s afraid of breaking it, but then he grips me and starts pumping.
I return the favor. Feels awesome to hold him like this, one hand wrapped around his back, the other wrapped around his dick. We’re both pumping now, and we find that rhythm we lost a few seconds ago. Man, neither of us is going to last for long . . . .
“Open your eyes, Cas. I want to see those baby blues.”
He obeys me. He looks at me, wide-eyed, like I’m his whole world. “You’re beautiful, Dean.”
I—man, I don’t know what to say to that. So I just smile. Okay, it’s a real big and dopey smile.
Cas smiles too, just as he’s coming. Not all at once, though. It comes over him in waves instead. I help him ride each one out. His eyes are on me the whole time, just as gorgeous as I thought they’d be.
“Dean, you haven’t—”
“It’s okay. I’m close. Oh God, I’m close.” Real close. I come, like, a second later. It’s all at once for me. A fucking explosion.
We’re both breathing hard as we shift again—this time, I just pull Cas straight into my arms, letting him rest his head against my shoulder. “That was perfect. Just perfect.”
He nuzzles against me. “For me too, Dean. But perhaps I should go.”
“What? No way, man. Stay the night.”
“Dean, this is only our second date—”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry. We won’t go any further, okay? Hell, I’m an old man now, dude. Not like I can get it up right away again.”
“But we will both be, um, up, by morning.” I can’t see his face, but I can hear the concern in his voice. Genuine concern. This is a serious thing to him, waiting for our fourth date.
“Yeah, well, that’s all right.” I kiss the top of his head. “We’ll just do a repeat performance, okay? Nothing more.”
He doesn’t say anything. I guess he’s considering that. But he’s not leaving, so he must agree.
“Uh, meanwhile, Cas, can you just mojo us clean? Then we can get under the covers.”
He nods and a second later, we’re all set. No shower or anything. Don’t need it. Not that I wouldn’t like to shower with him . . . but we’ll have to wait on that. Don’t want to freak him out by suggesting it.
No, all I want to do right now is get some shut eye with my angel in my arms, breathing right against my chest. And maybe dream about date number three.