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"Here," Cas says, thrusting a daisy in Dean's face.

Dean's eyes cross as he takes the tiny flower from Cas, but by the time he looks up, Cas is gone. Dean turns to Sam, but Sam just shrugs and drops their duffels on the motel room beds.

"I'm hungry," Sam says. "Want anything?"

"Yeah, gimme a couple burgers from the place next door," Dean says as he sets the daisy down on the dresser.

"'K, be back in a few minutes," Sam says, leaving Dean alone in the motel room with his little daisy.


Dean frowns as he picks up the piece of paper that had been shoved into his boot. He hadn't noticed it until he'd already had his foot in there, and after his totally unreasonable freakout over the possibility of a gigantic spider being in his boot, he reads the note.

Thinking of you! XOXO

Dean opens his mouth, ready to ask what the fuck is going on, who the fuck put this in his boot, but he's alone in the motel room. It's not Sam's handwriting, as if Sam would ever write a note like that, but he can't rule out the possibility of the cleaning woman slipping it in.

He goes to the window and pulls the curtain aside, looking for said cleaning woman. She's heading for the office, her cart creaking as she pushes it.

"Nah," he says, shaking his head. It had been a silly thought.


"Oh, shit," Dean hisses as the pair of lacy panties tumble to the floor of the laundromat. "Shit, shit, shit."

He's a guy in his thirties, washing his slime-encrusted clothes in the middle of the night. If anyone sees the panties, they might just call the police. Yeah, he really does look that bad with the ripped jeans, blood-stained T-shirt, and smelly jacket. Not to mention his hair still has leaves and twigs in it even though he ran his hands over his head a couple times.

Dean grabs the panties and shoves them in his pocket so hard he hears the stitching of the pocket rip just a little. He didn't recognize the panties. Not from any of the girls he's been with lately and his own are well-hidden in a compartment deep within the trunk of the Impala.

He heads for the restroom, locks himself in the stall, and pulls out the panties. They're actually really cute, and they're so soft that he can't wait to try them on. He feels his face flush when he realizes they're his size.

Dean raises the panties to his face and sniffs, but other than that new clothing smell, there's nothing else. He runs his thumb over the little pink bow, which really finishes the satiny light pink material they're made of. He has no idea how they ended up in his duffel bag with his other dirty clothes, and he really hopes it wasn't Sam.

"Fuck," Dean says, closing his eyes and smacking his forehead on the stall door.

What if Sam found the compartment in his trunk? What if Sam had bought these and the moment he stepped back into the motel room, Sam was going to let loose with all the mocking he could muster?

Dean's sweating by the time he gets back to the motel, but Sam just grunts a 'hey' as greeting. Dean doesn't know if he's relieved or even more freaked out that it wasn't Sam.


"...and we need to-ah!" Dean yells as Cas appears in front of him. He nearly runs the angel over, but manages to stop in time.

Sam's snickering next to him, but at least no one else is shopping at Save-Mart this late at night, so probably no one noticed Cas appearing out of thin air.

"This is for you," Cas says, holding a pie in his hands, which he shoves toward Dean.

Dean's eyes widen. He has no idea how to react. Sure, he's happy about the pie, but what the fuck. "Um, thanks, Cas," Dean says, taking the pie from Cas. "But what... fuck," he swears, because Cas is already gone.

He turns to Sam, holding the pie out at him like Sam can give him an explanation or maybe tell him that he just hallucinated the whole thing.

But Sam, the idiot, is just grinning. That stupid grin he gets sometimes when Dean is being a dork. Dean lets out a frustrated sigh and takes off down the aisle, searching for the bags of salt.

Later, when they're standing at the cash register, Sam drops a bag of plastic forks onto the conveyor belt, smirking at Dean as he says, "For your pie."

Dean thinks he hates Sam a little bit.


"Ow," Dean says as he spreads out on the bed, face down.

"You want some pain meds?" Sam asks from the bathroom, having just started the water in the shower.

"No, I'll be okay if I just don't move for a while," Dean says.

He's glad he was able to drop his jacket before he belly flopped, but he wishes he would've done the same with his jeans and boots.

"I said I'm okay, Sam," Dean grumbles as a weight settles on the backs of his thighs, but then he's groaning as not-Sam's-hands start massaging him. "Okay, I changed my mind. Just keep doing that for about the next ten or twenty years."

"Try to relax," Cas says, hands strong and sure as they find every knot and work them out.

Dean falls asleep before Cas is done.


Sam walks into the back of him when Dean stops cold in the doorway of the latest shitty motel room they're staying in.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks, already gearing himself up for a fight.

"Who knows this was our room?" Dean asks, slowly approaching the bed near the door.

"Us," Sam says, and Dean can hear the frown in his tone of voice. "Oh, and I told Cas we'd be here."

Dean eyes the red box with a beautiful white bow resting in the middle of the bed. There's a tag attached to the bow, so Dean carefully turns it over.

"For Dean, from Cas," Dean reads, squinting at the little smiley face and tiny hearts that had been drawn on the tag. "What the fuck?" he says, turning to Sam.

But Sam, the asshole, is laughing. He's laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking and he's bending over at the middle.

"What's so funny?" Dean asks. "You think this is funny?"

"No," Sam says, standing up and holding his stomach. "It's the two of you. You're so fuckin' adorable that I can't stand it."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asks, getting a little defensive for reasons he can't quite pinpoint.

"Ask Cas," Sam says, shaking his head as he starts heading back out the door.

"Wait!" Dean says. "Where the Hell are you going now? Tell me what the fuck is so funny!"

"I'm getting my own room," Sam says, from the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. "Call Cas and ask him. Make him answer you, and I'll see the two of you tomorrow morning for breakfast."

"Hey!" Dean yells, but it's too late. The door is closed and Sam's gone. Dean sighs. "Okay, we're gonna play it this way. Cas? Castiel? Can you get your ass down here right now and-ah!" he says, flinching when suddenly Cas is standing in front of him.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas asks.

Dean tries to ignore the slightly hopeful expression on Cas' face. "What the fuck is this?" he asks, pointing at the box on his bed.

Cas' face falls, hurt expression taking over, and Dean feels like an asshole for doing that to him, but he has no idea why it upset Cas so much.

"You don't like it?" Cas asks, wounded eyes stabbing Dean in the chest.

"No, I mean yes," Dean says, then shakes his head. "Wait, no. I didn't open it yet. I'm asking why it's there in the first place. And because Sam seems to find this funny, I wanna know if this has anything to do with the other gifts you've given me lately."

Cas blushes. He fucking blushes. Dean didn't even know angels could blush, and it makes Dean wonder if the vessel had the physical reaction because Cas wasn't really paying attention or if Cas was getting better at faking the human thing.

Instead of answering, Cas opens the box, reaching around Dean. Dean peers inside, unable to stop himself, and he forgets to breathe for just a moment because there's a cassette tape, a teddy bear holding a heart, a box of chocolates, and a single rose in the box.

Suddenly the look on Sam's face, all the girly giggling, and getting a separate room for the night makes sense.

Cas takes Dean by the hand, an awkward little smile on his face. "May I take you to dinner?" he asks.

Dean's sure his mouth is hanging open and equally as sure that he looks really fucking stupid, but he can't believe this is happening. An angel just asked him out to dinner. After giving him gifts and courting him like he's a pimply and nervous teenager.

"So, ah, the gifts?" Dean says, unsure what he's really trying to ask.

"The magazine I read suggested each of those gifts before asking your intended out for dinner," Cas says.

"What magazine?" Dean asks, because really he can't make his brain accept all the other shit going on inside it, and the magazine is a good thing to focus on.

"Something called Cosmo," Cas says, then frowns. "Did I do it wrong? The woman at the convenience store assured me it would work."

And that's it. Dean has no response, no defenses for what has just happened. He's never been courted before. And Cas is standing there, earnest expression on his face, hope in his eyes, and his hand feels so warm in Dean's.

The trouble Cas went to, well, it's humbling and pretty much the sweetest thing he's ever seen.

"No, Cas," Dean says, shaking his head. "You did it right."

Cas' smile melts Dean's heart. At least what was left of it. He thinks it may never recover.

"The panties were from you?" Dean asks.

Cas nods. "Yes, Charlene said you'd want to know I find you sexy."

Dean can't laugh at Cas, he really can't. It's so fucking sweet, and knowing that Cas took advice from a gas station cashier makes something in his gut clench, because no one's ever done something like this for him before.

"Yes," Dean says. "I'd love to go to dinner with you."

Cas smiles again. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night at seven p.m."

"Okay," Dean says, his cheeks hurting because of the gigantic smile on his face.

"I'll see you then," Cas says, and then he's gone.

Dean stands there for a moment, still in shock, but then he turns to the box and pulls out the gifts. He's got a box full of chocolate and Sam's gone for the night, which means it's all his.

It also means Sam won't see him leaving the rose and teddy bear on the nightstand next to his bed that night.