Dean and Castiel have promised to go together to the dance as friends, but follow as many traditions as possible.

Bit of a long story inspired by a good friend and a matchmaking English teacher.

Every day in the "Pavilion," aka an open concrete square located centrally in the school, someone would be standing with a question to ask. The Winter Dance was fast approaching, and every girl wanted her man to stand in the Pavilion with a sign and some flowers.

The signs ranged from uncreative- "Will you go to the Winter Dance with me, Amy?"

To stupid- "Are u a calendar? Becuz I would 3 it if u were my DATE 2 the dance!"

To actually interesting- a ring of red solo cups with the words "Don't let me go SOLO to the Winter Dance!" in the center.

Someone had lined up enough of their friends to spell "Winter Dance?" with one character per person, written on a tee shirt. The asker was standing at the end of the line holding flowers.

"Now, that takes commitment," said Dean.

"And friends," Castiel pointed out. "I think I'd be embarrassed if anyone asked me like that. It's too much."

"You plannin' on bein' asked?"

"Oh, I don't know, Dean Winchester. Are we going together?"

"What kind of a question is that? As long as we are both single as fuck, we go together. Unquestionably. Undeniably. We are THE platonic power couple."

Castiel smiled.

"But I could ask you, if you want," Dean said suddenly. "How about a big sign? I can bring a bouquet, too."

"Oh, God no. Maybe just a single flower. For tradition's sake."

"For tradition's sake?"

"For tradition's sake."

The unspoken words that passed between Dean and Cas meant that they were going to keep up this motif of tradition. It was going to be fun.

"Ah, well. I can't ask you now, then. Will you pretend to be surprised when I ask you?" Dean asked.

"Oh, of course! For tradition's sake!"

Dean grinned as a messy kiss sounded from behind them. Apparently a girl named Cassidy had accepted the request of the boy with lots of friends.

"C'mon. Let's get to math class."

"What are we doing?" Castiel asked.

"Walking."

"You pedantic little shit. I meant, what are we doing in class?"

"Logarithms?"

"Oh. Right."

The math class was empty when they walked in, which was typical. Castiel sat down in his seat, and Dean sat across from him after putting his backpack next to where he was supposed to sit.

"Are we going to match at the Dance?" Castiel asked.

"Shhhh. We can't talk about that yet. You don't know we're going together."

"Tradition?"

"Yeah."

"Fine."

Other students had been filing in. The bell rang.

"Until the end of the period, Dean Winchester," Castiel said ask Dean stood to take his proper seat.

"Until then, Castiel Novak," Dean agreed, playing it up and smiling along.

The next day at school found yet another boy standing in the pavilion, but he was all by his lonesome and holding a flower.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, walking toward him quickly. So this is why Dean hadn't joined him after their different classes to walk to lunch together.

"Cas, will you go to the Winter Dance with me?" Dean asked, handing Castiel the flower. He didn't know what kind of flower it was, but it was pretty and it had purple petals.

"Of course," Castiel accepted with a smile, taking the flower. "Thank you."

"No problem. I dunno what flower that is. Picked it up at the grocery store. Hope that's all right."

"It's perfect," Castiel said agreeably.

Castiel didn't put the flower down for the rest of the day; he was constantly rolling the stem between his fingers.

And when Castiel got home that night, he carefully pulled a vase out of the cabinet: a long slim one made of clear glass, and put his solitary purple flower in it.

"Now can I ask what you are going to wear?" Castiel asked.

"Sure. I was gonna wear a button down and pants or something. Black, probably."

"How about a vest?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Cas!" Dean scoffed. Dean Winchester in a vest…?

"For tradition's sake," Castiel argued, pulling out the card he knew would get Dean in a vest. "It is, as one would say, classier."

Dean laughed. "A vest, then. How do I wear a vest?"

"Black pants, black button down, dark grey and silver vest," Castiel answered promptly. "The dark grey and silver vest I am aware you own, but have never worn."

Castiel was correct about the vest hanging in the back of Dean's closet.

"Oh, and a tie," Castiel added. "Or a bow tie."

"Tie or bow tie?"

Castiel deliberated. "We could each wear one."

"You mean, I get a bow tie and you get a tie?"

"Yes?"

"For tradition," Dean agreed resolutely. "Do we have to pick a color?"

"You and I can go shopping for a suitable tie and bow tie," Castiel suggested.

"This for 'tradition?'" Dean asked.

"Probably. I am not actually aware of how the tradition of shopping goes."

"Girl usually buys her dress first and then the dude matches the color," Dean replied. That one, he did know.

"Neither of us is female."

"Funnily enough, I knew that," Dean said.

"Very amusing, Dean," Castiel stated sarcastically. "We will have to bend the tradition on this one."

"Well…" Dean paused for a moment. "We could let you pick the color. Because I asked you and not the other way around."

"Okay, Dean. For tradition."

"For tradition," Dean echoed.

Two nights later found Dean wearing black pants, a black button down, and a previously unworn vest as he turned back and forth in front of the mirror.

"So, do I get to be best man at the wedding?" Sam asked.

"Oh, shut up. I needed to make sure it fit."

"You didn't denyyyyy it…" Sam sang.

"NO! SHUT UP! I'M NOT MARRYING CAS!"

"NOT YET!" Sam yelled in reply, and darted away. "YOUR VEST LOOKS GREAT!"

That was possibly the best compliment Dean had ever received yelled from behind a door and halfway down a flight of stairs.

"I like the blue," Dean said, his eyes trailing a row of bow ties identical except for their color.

"I rather like the green," Castiel argued.

"Your call," Dean said, not forgetting his promise of tradition.

Castiel eyed the bowties critically. He picked one up and held it to Dean's neck. "How about a compromise of gold?"

Dean did the same with a tie, and agreed, "You know what? I think gold is the perfect color."

"Really?"

"Very traditional." And it goes well with the blue in your eyes. But Dean didn't say that last bit.

"Then, let us purchase these."

"Did you get your ticket?" Dean asked.

"Yes. You?"

"Yeah. So, what are we doing before the dance?"

"Traditionally, couples go out to dinner and take pictures together."

Couples. Right. Which he and Cas were, but only for the dance.

"Well, where do you wanna eat?"

"I don't know. It is traditional to make reservations at a nicer restaurant…"

"Eh, fuck tradition. How does pizza sound?"

Castiel knew that he and Dean had all but promised to follow every tradition, but he had a feeling he wouldn't mind being at a pizza place rather than a stuffy and expensive restaurant. "Only if it's Tony's."

"Of course. That's our own personal tradition," Dean agreed.

And it was. Half mushrooms and olives, half pepperoni, and both Dean and Castiel agreeing to try just one slice of the other's favorite toppings and pretending it couldn't compare to their own.

"We should take pictures at the park."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Tradition?" Castiel suggested. "The park is pretty."

"It is," Dean agreed. "We'll do that before dinner, because your mom and my mom are gonna want to come and take pictures and be sappy. Then I'll drive us to dinner, and to the dance."

"You're driving?"

"Of course. Tradition."

The night of the dance found Dean stressing.

"You look fine!" Sam screeched, exasperated, as Dean ran a comb through his hair and straightened his gold bow tie for the seventh time in half an hour. Dean patted his pocket for his phone and ticket and wallet and car keys. Everything was there.

"It has to be perfect!" Dean screeched right back, inspecting a curl of hair.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, Dean Winchester, stop acting like a teenage girl!"

The reprimand from his little brother sent Dean scrambling to the car. Sam was going in Mary and John's car, and Dean was taking the Impala on special permission from his father. One night only, and if he put so much as a scratch on her, there would be hell to pay.

They showed up at the practically empty park, and Dean fidgeted in his just-tight-enough vest.

Another car, a sea-green Prius, rolled up, and Dean recognized it immediately as Castiel's mother's car. Castiel stepped out, and Dean felt something stop in his chest for half a second.

Castiel tried vainly to flatten a single errant curl of hair before walking over to Dean. He looked Dean up and down.

"You look nice."

"Thanks, you too," Dean returned, grinning.

Pictures took a while, and Dean was honestly surprised no one bursted out crying- all the adults were being painfully sappy, and Sam was running around and making weird comments. Helpful.

"Come on," Dean finally said, when he'd had enough and it was getting late. "We'll be late. We're gonna take off now."

"Okay!" someone said, and Dean grabbed Castiel's hand in exasperation and towed him to the car. He opened the door for Castiel, who looked at him amusedly.

"Tradition," he explained, closing his own door.

They looked a little out of place at the pizza place, dressed as they were, but the waiter was really nice and told them they made a cute couple. Dean would have normally put down that notion, but hell, it was the Winter Dance and they were going for tradition.

"Thanks," Dean said, and grinned at Castiel.

Castiel smiled as well, taking a fake-grudging bite of pepperoni pizza.

The dance, to say the least, was great fun. For the sake of tradition, Castiel forced Dean to actually waltz with him, which was awkward because Castiel was leading until Dean got over himself and learned how to follow, and then it was mostly fun. Dean rested his hand gently on Castiel's shoulder, and Castiel pressed his hand firmly against Dean's back and clasped their other hands together, stepping away across the dance floor while Dean followed.

"Slow dance?" Dean asked when a slow song came on and the DJ announced that it was for the couples.

"If you insist, Dean Winchester."

Dean hadn't been asking, really, but whatever. "I do insist, Cas. For tradition."

"For tradition," Castiel giggled, high on the excitement filling the room. Everyone was. It's easy to be excited and giggly under white, glimmering lights that did not really light up the packed room, bursting full with music.

Dean looped his arms loosely around Castiel, and Castiel reciprocated by leaning his head against Dean's chest. Dean surprised himself by suddenly having to resist the urge to run his hand through Castiel's fluffy black hair.

They sort of swayed throughout the entire song, cheesily imitating the couples they saw all around them. Some of them were grinding on one another. Some of them were making out. Castiel felt as if he would be lulled to sleep by the music and the warmth of Dean's chest.

When the song finished, Castiel made no move to lift his head. Dean ignored that. Castiel tended to be cuddly, especially after he crashed from a sugar high. Maybe the cinnamon glaze pie at Tony's was finally coming back to bite them in the ass.

Dean lifted Castiel's head for him and guided him over to one of the seats at the tables on the outer ring of the dance floor. For a long while, they shouted together over the music, talking about anything and nothing. The colors on the dance floor glimmered brightly.

When another fast song came on, a popular song Dean and Castiel both knew all the words to, Dean pulled Castiel back to the dance floor. They danced and sang, and continued dancing until the DJ announced the last song.

Before the harsh glare of the lights came on and spoiled the mood, Dean and Castiel flooded outside with the rest of the attendees. It was dark outside, and the night air was cool and refreshing. Castiel looked up at Dean.

"How about a kiss? For tradition's sake?" Castiel asked before his brain could catch up and tell his mouth to shut up.

"Wh-what?"

"On the cheek," Castiel amended, and before Dean could say anything more, he stood on his tiptoes to kiss Dean's cheek lightly. "Thank you for taking me to the dance. I had fun."

"Me, too," Dean agreed, scanning Castiel's face to see what he was thinking. "Let's go."

Dean led Castiel back to the Impala, holding his elbow out like a proper gentleman. Castiel took it, laughing. "Tradition!" they both said in unison as Dean opened the car door, bowed Castiel in, and settled himself in the driver's seat.

"You know," Castiel said, "I really liked that. Better than the other dances we went to."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Oh… because we went together."

"We always go together," Dean pointed out.

"This year, we dressed together, and you asked me to the dance with a little flower and picked me up in the Impala… it was fun."

"It was fun," Dean pointed out. "Very traditional."

"Oh, I don't know," Castiel said offhandedly. "It's not very traditional to go with another guy."

"We followed all the other traditions, so it's okay," Dean argued. "Sure, we're not very traditional, but it was fun to pretend anyway." Dean was, of course, referring to Castiel's homosexuality and his own bisexuality.

"I don't know if we were pretending, either," Castiel said. "We were traditional, but not traditional. New age tradition. Breaking some traditions and keeping others."

"Hey- no philosophizing in the Impala!"

"That's a ridiculous rule."

"How about… no philosophizing this late at night?" Dean asked.

"Fine," Castiel said, but he smiled.

They finally parked in front of Castiel's house, and Dean got out to walk Castiel to the door.

"Tradition?" Castiel asked.

"Night's not over yet," Dean said. "One more tradition?"

"What?"

"This is usually where I'd kiss you goodnight," Dean explained, and he leaned down to do just that.

The kiss was short and sweet, and Dean straightened up, put his hands in his pockets, and walked away, smiling and looking back at Castiel.

Castiel just stood, stunned.

The next morning found Castiel running the petals of his purple flower through his fingers and wondering which part of that had been a dream and which part had been real.

The bit where he was skiing with a T-Rex was probably a dream, but the kiss was probably also a dream, because Dean Winchester did not return Castiel's feelings. They went to the dance together, as friends. Maybe Castiel was so tired that he walked himself to the door, climbed into bed, fell asleep, and dreamed of what he wished Dean had done.

But then again, he also remembered immaculately folding the clothes he'd been wearing in stunned silence, draping them over the chair to deal with later, and laying the tie on top carefully.

He remembered the squeak and the crunch of gravel as Dean's car pulled out while Castiel watched, frozen.

He remembered the exact feeling of Dean's lips against his, and he remembered the words Dean had said: This is usually where I'd kiss you goodnight…

Finally, Castiel raised himself from his reverie. It was Sunday, so there was nothing to get ready for. Dean was also free on Sundays. He could call Dean.

Wait a minute; he didn't want to do that.

Wait a minute; of course he did.

Finally, he texted Dean with plans to be at the same park they'd taken pictures at, and Dean showed up soon after.

"Last night seemed like a dream," Castiel commented quietly. "Some of it, I wonder if it really was only my brain filling in some gaps."

"Same," Dean agreed, pulling out soft blades of grass. "Hey- this is your flower."

He'd plucked a little daisy, one that shared the shape but not the size or color of Castiel's purple flower.

"They aren't the same species," Castiel explained.

"Oh, shush. Let me live the moment." Dean handed the flower to Castiel.

"Thanks?"

"Hey- giving flowers is a very time-honored tradition."

"Why are you giving flowers to me?" Castiel asked.

"I dunno… maybe the same reason I kissed ya last night?" Dean said.

That was the topic- the one the conversation had been holding its breath for.

"Thank you," Castiel said.

"No problem," Dean said embarrassedly. "Look, sorry about the kiss. We can chalk it up to, like, sugar rush or tiredness. It's cool. I won't be weird."

"Was it sugar rush or tiredness?" Castiel asked, scanning Dean's face. "Or would you have wanted to kiss me regardless?"

Dean seemed to see that Castiel was going to be okay about this. "I woulda wanted to kiss you regardless. Still do, actually." He smiled.

"Then why don't you?" Castiel asked.

Dean gaped at him. "Are you…"

"Saying I return your feelings?" Castiel finished for him. "Yes."

"Don't mind if I do," Dean said, and leaned over to kiss Castiel.

So... lots and lots of things are happening all at the same time. I will not say anything more than that I am happy and sad and confused and a little bit hyper. Therefore, you get story.

My own personal "fairytale story" hasn't finished yet, but it does involve the classic "you two argue so much you must like each other" thing, courtesy two of my English teachers. Tell me your own fairytale story along with your review!

Advice from your author: Take a chance. Or you will regret it. I promise.