Friday rolled around and Castiel had spent the entirety of his shift thinking about the date (not-date) that was planned for later that evening. The last remaining hour of his shift, he'd been tending to patients who had been rolling around restlessly in their beds, assisting them with their needs and tending to them. He always felt guilty when he had to refuse them medication, but it was heavily stressed in the hospital that they were delivered on schedule, and never prior to their set times.

When he finished up with the last of his rounds, he seated himself to get a start on the paperwork for his weekly report with twenty minutes left of his shift. It was eerily silent in the halls with no new patients coming through, the only sound was the scuffle of work shoes against tile.

"Hey, Angelface, go home early." He knew exactly who it was on the first syllable, her southern drawl hard to miss.

"Meg," he said quietly, finishing writing a line before looking up. "I don't recall you being able to call the shots around here, as a nurse and all."

That didn't stop the brunette from shrugging with a smirk on her lips. "Don't get sassy with me, Castiel," she laughed sweetly, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I'm doing you a favor, alright? I know you have a date with that patient of yours."

The man's eyes widened at the accusation, or more accurately, at the facts presented at him. "I don't-"

"Listen here, don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, Cassy." Meg crossed her arms, shooting a forged look of disappointment at him. "You spent practically your entire shift 'hanging out' with him. And I definitely heard the word Friday mentioned more than once."

"Were you spying on me?" Castiel questioned, setting the pen back on his desk. All attempts to start up on the paperwork were lost with Meg riding him about miniscule details.

"Don't flatter yourself, cupcake. I was simply.. curious. That's all." Meg bit her lip, knowing that her co-worker had no intention of believing her. "Now, take my offer and get your ass home. You need to sleep sometime."

He pushed away from the desk, running a hand through his hair. He was partially irritated as well as grateful. Castiel attempted protesting a few more times until the nurse had pretty much pushed him out of the hospital with her own two hands. He should have corrected Meg on the whole dating aspect, he thought to himself, but he hadn't. It was apparent that even Dean hadn't exactly known what their plan had entailed when it came to a title.

That was no matter to ponder at such an hour, Castiel finally decided, hopping into his beat up 1980 Mustang. The important fact of that day was rest and enjoying himself. So that's what he planned on doing.

Dean blasted his stereo, knowing he would get a call from his landlord about it sometime soon. But he enjoyed it while he could, letting the best of '80s rock lessen his nerves. It was definitely needed; this was the first time he was going out with someone other than Sam or Jo, and those were two people he's known practically his entire life. Castiel, on the other hand, was different. Dean screwed his eyes shut as he stepped out of the shower and peeled the trash bag off of his stupid cast covered arm. Cas wasn't a random hookup, nor was he one of Dean's loved ones. He was new, a friend, and that was strange territory for him. Dean could flirt his way through life, but when presented with a new person who came close to penetrating the walls he's built up around his being, he was at a loss. Fumbling, nervous, all mixed in with beautiful Dean Winchester charm made for a mess of unpredictable behavior. He wasn't sure at all how the night was going to pan out, but he hoped he didn't royally fuck it up.

He stared at the small mirror above the sink in his bathroom and scowled, running a hand through his wet hair. This wasn't a date, Dean reminded himself, and didn't even bother with his hair as he brushed his teeth and then went to his room to put some clothes on.

By the time Dean finally left his apartment in his '67 Chevy Impala, the roar of his girl making him smile, he was clad in a pair of casual boot cut jeans and a dark red button up that he knew made him look good, but wasn't super flashy. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the amulet Sam gave him hung beneath the red over an army navy colored tee shirt.

Castiel stared at the items in his closet with a concerned look. He had not the slightest idea what to wear. The mass of his collection of clothes consisted of hospital scrubs and nice white button up shirts and dress pants. He hardly had a casual outfit to his name.

He almost considered calling one of his siblings, or even Meg, but decided not to. The last thing he wanted to do was build up this gathering to be something more than it actually was. After a few moments of rummaging through his choices, he found a navy blue button up and a pair of tan slacks that complimented each other nicely. Pulling on his selection, he observed himself in the mirror, chewing his lip in thought.

It was casual enough he decided, patting down a few wrinkles. "Just hanging out," he reassured himself, although Meg's words hadn't exactly helped with keeping that image intact in his mind.

Castiel ran his hands through his hair, hoping he looked presentable in his current attire. With a few minutes to spare, he sat at the desk by his bedside, turning his attention to his report. It's not a date, he repeated.

Dean showed up at the Roadhouse fifteen minutes earlier than they planned, but he didn't mind. It gave him the opportunity to choose the seat, his seat, a booth in the corner that allowed him open view access to the bar at his front and the door at his side. Jo came by, jutting out one hip and raising an eyebrow. "I heard about your accident, Winchester. I'm glad you didn't get killed, but seriously?" She gestured to his plastered arm and he scowled, good natured.

"Yeah, laugh it up, but when you slip and break your ass on the job, don't expect any sympathy from me," Dean retorted, but his eyes glinted and Jo decided to slide in beside him.

"So where's Sam?" She asked, tilting her head so the blond hair fell over one shoulder.

Dean frowned. "Why do you assume he's meeting me?"

"Because you never come here unless you're with Sam, on a date, or visiting me and Ellen, which obviously you're not because you barely glanced over at... no way!"

"What?" Dean averted his eyes, but she grinned anyway.

"So it is a date, isn't it? Big bad player Dean Winchester on a date with someone. What's her name?" Jo tilted her head a bit, and he suppressed a smile when he recognized the motion.

"His name is Castiel, and it's not a date, Jo."

Jo smirked at Dean with an all-knowing look. "Dean, you come round here so often, I know you only pull out the red shirt when you're serious about something. You sure it's not a date?"

Dean snarled at the blonde. "Jo, I just told you it's not a date."

"Whatever, Winchester." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, in a joking manner. "I'm not gonna argue about this, although we both know I'm right." Jo fixed the collar of Dean's shirt so it laid symmetrical.

"And you can tell this all by my shirt choice," he scoffed, batting her arm away after allowing her to adjust it. "Typical female."

They were caught up in laughter and banter when Castiel entered the Roadhouse in a cautious manner, scanning the booths. Jo caught sight of him before Dean, his gaze averted from the door, and whistled. It was barely audible, intended only for Dean's ears. "Is that him? Your date?" She asked, Dean about to throw out a snarky comment back at her, when he met Castiel's stare from across the room. The brunette gave a small wave, striding over to the booth, and Dean's words died in his throat.

Castiel watched the two people in the back booth for a second before he was noticed by the blond. She turned and spoke to Dean, and Cas frowned. He didn't think anyone else was joining them... Had Dean intended this to be a group thing? Just before he could think too much on it, she pat Dean's shoulder and straightened up, giving him a wink and walking off as Castiel reached the booth. "Who was that?" He asked curiously, staring after her.

Dean's head swiveled to glance at the blond before he grinned. "That's Jo. I might have mentioned her before in the hospital? Her mom owns the place." Castiel nodded in understanding, relieved. He didn't want to dwell on the fact he had almost panicked when he thought that maybe she was a girlfriend.

"Yes, I remember you mentioning her once," he nodded, taking a seat across from Dean. Face to face with the Winchester, he was frozen. He looked, incredible. Not that he didn't look attractive in the hospital, but proper rest and a nice selection of clothes did Dean wonders. Castiel couldn't help but notice the way his eyes brightened, an intense shade of emerald, against the color of his shirt. He wanted to compliment him, but that would seem like too much a 'dating' thing. "How is your arm feeling, by the way?"

"Fine; I've been taking my meds and all that." Dean chuckled at the man's concerned look. "But if we're going to just sit here and talk about my arm, I think it would get rather boring."

Castiel played with his hair, tousling his brunette locks. "Ah, you're correct. I'm still stuck in my working mode, I guess. How are you, Dean?"

"I'm great, actually. How about you, hmm? How's the, uh, hospital thing going?" Dean asked, awkward, but grinned anyway. Being by Castiel, having those blue eyes staring at him again, it was like standing in a bathtub with a toaster. It electrified his entire being and nearly made him breathless. It didn't come as a shock that when he wasn't wearing those unflattering hospital scrubs, Cas was gorgeous. The navy color of his shirt seemed to make his eyes pop even more and Dean wasn't sure where to look so he just met the man's eyes the entire time.

Castiel just stared back, as if it weren't really intimate the way they were looking into each other. Sammy would describe it as "staring longingly into each other's eyes," but that was because he was a ball of sappy emotions that Dean felt like slapping out of him.

Castiel's voice answered him, only having taken a moment or so before speaking, "I am.. Good. A coworker of mine forced me to leave early today, nearly shoving me out the door when I still had my report to work on." He rolled his eyes and Dean grinned.

"Forced you, huh? Like you wanted to stay and work on some lame report?" He grinned, and just knowing the short amount of time he had, Dean could have already guessed that Castiel took his work very seriously. "Good. You seem like you need to get out more."

"That's what she is always saying," Castiel replied, idling playing with the cuff of his shirt. It was a whole new setting, one that had no boundaries and it frightened him, even if only slightly. In the white walls of Sioux Falls General, he was in a strict mindset of Doctor (in training) and patient. Interaction and friendliness were essential, but you never crossed the boundary. In the Roadhouse, the pounding of his heart rang in his ears and his palms were sweaty, and he had nothing to bar him from addressing it.

Dean opened up a menu, although he already knew what he wanted. It was something he could do with his hands, a distraction from Castiel's startling gaze. "Sounds like a smart one. Someone has to make sure you take a break everyone once in a while, y'know."

"Yes, but a lot of the time she wants me to leave early with her, but I'd rather not. After a night where I had consumed too much alcohol, kissed her, and claimed I was the 'pizzaman,' I would rather not have to spend extra time with her outside of work. I still sometimes feel uncomfortable when she brings it up." He smiled, cautiously, but it spread when Dean's laugh boomed out of him.

"The 'pizzaman'? Aw man, that's- that's classic." His head was tilted back, eyes bright with giddiness, when Jo showed up. The restaurant seemed louder, as if Dean and Castiel had been in their own little bubble since Jo originally left, and he coughed.

"You ready to order?" She asked Castiel, giving her friend a knowing look and leaning on one hip. "I already know what princess here is ordering."

Castiel pointed to what he wanted on the menu, a traditional burger and fries on the side. "Thank you, Jo. I hear the food here is great." His voice was sticky sweet and gravely all in one as he said the words, a smile finding his lips.

"Did you hear that Dean? This guy's got manners. Maybe he could teach you something," she teased, arching her eyebrows at her own comment. Dean urged her away, lips pressed together in frustration. "I'll have that right up for you guys."

The echo of her laughter filled the Roadhouse as she trailed off and into the back of the diner. "Man, does she get on my nerves." While partially true, Dean couldn't help but love the girl like family. She had the best intentions, even if she was sassy when it came to delivery.

"I think she's funny." Castiel closed his menu and stashed it away it its own holder before returning his attention back to Dean.

"You think anyone's funny," Dean replied, before realizing he wouldn't know. They've only met twice before, yet he felt like he knew Cas more than he should. "I'm glad you're not a rabbit," he mumbled beneath his breath, and leaned back. "So, Castiel Novak, tell me about yourself. I know about your siblings and your job, but what are you like?" Dean slid his hands down his thighs, reminding himself that they weren't nearly as sweaty as his mind made them out to be, and flashed another charming Winchester smile to follow up his words. He could see Ellen at the bar beyond Cas's shoulder, and if he turned he bet he could find Ash playing pool while Jo bussed tables. Either that or she was on break, milking extra cash by beating guys who thought they could take her on at a video game. Dean loved to watch her in action, smirking, because he knew the outcome. He was tempted to turn around and show Cas what she could do, too, but the man was beginning to talk and it was due to Dean's anxiety that his thoughts were drifting and he was zoning out. It was so conflicting, this date that's not a date, because he felt so relaxed around Castiel, so comfortable, except when he noticed his ease and his walls shot up again, his skin prickling with the realization that he could grow so used to someone so quickly if he just gave them the chance. It was strangely terrifying.

"Well, I'm twenty six," he started off in an awkward manner. Castiel was not used to talking about himself. "But I guess that's not what you were referring to. I've always known I've wanted to be a doctor though. You could say I was raised into that thinking." Dean twisted his mouth, attempting to understand how so. "To clarify, my older brother Michael is a doctor, and he pretty much influenced my decision to go to medical school. Though, I must admit, I have always been drawn to the act of being able to heal someone back to health. I like helping people." He smiled into his lap, his fingers lacing together as he spoke.

"I can see that," Dean remarked with a look of pure fascination at the human being before him. It wasn't due entirely to Castiel's words. More by his attitude and the personality that was starting to emerge. It was almost addicting. Every word that came from Cas's mouth brought with it new information about the man, which helped to fill in the spots in the paint by number picture that made up the intern. It intrigued Dean; more than that, it made him want more, and he didn't know why. "Man, the only thing I'm getting from you is that you're a good-doer type and you're like a freakin' angel or something."

Castiel brought a hand to his face, rubbing his temple gently. A laugh bubbled from his throat, rough and dreamy- though Dean couldn't understand why that was the first word that came to his mind at the sound. "I'm anything but."

"Keep telling me that, and I'll let ya know when I actually start believing it." The man sat back, never shifting his focus off Castiel. "Unless you wanna fess up to the fact you're some serial killer or something. Probably best you do that now." Dean flashed his signature white tooth grin, finding himself to be funny.

"Nothing like that, Dean. I'm horrid at explaining who I am, for I don't do it too often." When faced with the Winchester, Castiel's ability to form coherent sentences about himself had faltered. He always defaulted to stories about his family, or his co-workers. Part of him was terrified to expose who he was to a stranger, but Dean... Dean had seemed to be different. Any barriers he had to hide his emotions from the world crumbled in his presence.