Tonight’s The Night

Title: Tonight’s the Night
Author: misslucyjane
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Warning/Spoilers: High school AU
Word Count: 2700
Rating: R
Summary: “Are you saying you want to? Or are you looking for reasons not to?”
Notes: Written for 50 Reasons to Have Sex #16: Prom night.

“Your dad is all cool and mellow about us,” says Dean. They’re in his room, on the bed but above the covers because Dean’s mom has a habit of popping in unannounced even when they close the door. They’re not doing anything, anyway, though Castiel has a hand wrapped around Dean’s ankle and is brushing his thumb over the bone just for the sake of touching him. “But I haven’t told my mom and dad yet, and if I tell them I need to rent a tux they’ll want to know who I’m going with and if I say you …”

Castiel closes his eyes, still caressing Dean’s ankle. “We can skip it entirely.” He’s made this offer before. Dean has changed his mind about prom every other week since Christmas, when Castiel first brought it up, and whenever Dean comes up with another reason not to go Castiel tells him they don’t have to.

And yet Dean never says they shouldn’t go. So Castiel has chosen a tuxedo — he wants a band collar, though he thinks Dean would look best in one of those classic numbers though maybe he might try a jacket in an usual color, like burgundy or deep forest green — and he thinks he might get them matching boutonnieres, but he hasn’t bought anything yet or made restaurant reservations because he’s still not really sure they’re going.

Dean is shaking his head. “You want to go. We’re going.”

“I don’t want to go if it’s going to make things difficult for you.”

Dean is silent. Castiel sighs, still holding Dean’s ankle until Dean takes it out of his grip and shifts on the bed so he’s lying next to Castiel. He puts an arm over Castiel’s chest and kisses his cheek, and buries his face in Castiel’s neck. “I’ll tell them. Before prom. We’re going to prom.”

“Okay.” Castiel’s still not sure he believes it, but he winds an arm around Dean anyway and kisses his hair, and when Dean’s mom pops in with a cheerful, “You boys want some cookies?” Dean doesn’t move out of his arms.


In the end it’s uncomfortable, but not as bad as Dean was afraid it would be. Dean’s dad doesn’t say much but keeps looking at Castiel’s hand, wrapped around Dean’s.

“And we’re going to prom,” Dean finishes, and he’s standing up straight and looks brave and strong and handsome, and Castiel wants to kiss him for being so wonderful.

“Will they even let you?” says Dean’s mom, which is the most sensible question Castiel has heard all week.

“Three gay couples went last year,” Castiel offers and Dean’s mom looks at him as if she’d forgotten he was there.

“Then there’s precedent,” says Dean’s dad, and that seems to decide it: Dean’s mom hugs them both and Dean’s dad tells Dean he can take the Impala as long as he returns it with the tank full and there’s no alcohol, “I don’t care if you’re eighteen now, Dean, no drinking,” and Dean holds Castiel’s hand and looks at him, happy.


The day the tickets go on sale, Castiel closes his locker door to see Dean leaning against the lockers, tickets in hand. “You and me,” Dean says, waving the tickets and looking pleased with himself. “We’re going to prom.”

Castiel kisses him, quicksilver-fast, hoping no one will see. Probably no one does–no one wolf-whistles or says “Get a room,” but that may be because it’s Dean and he can kiss anyone he wants. (Some people are sort-of afraid of Dean. These same people don’t get what Castiel sees in Dean. Castiel sees exactly what they don’t, that Dean is gentle and selfless and fiercely protective of those he loves, and Castiel is grateful every day that he is numbered among those Dean loves.) “I have to get to English,” is all he says, but Dean gets what he means, because Dean always gets what he means, and when Castiel glances back at him on his way to his next class, Dean still looks pleased with himself.


Dean is surprisingly goofy for such a handsome boy and has terrible taste in music and talks with his mouth full, but he cleans up well. He shaved –Castiel loves the golden-brown bristles, really, but they tend to leave burns on his face after they make out–and got a haircut; but most importantly, Dean looks like he belongs in formalwear, like he’s wearing the tuxedo and not like the tuxedo is wearing him.

Dean must approve of his choice, too–he whistles when Castiel comes down the stairs. “Lookin’ good,” is all he says, but there’s heat in his eyes that makes Castiel blush.

Castiel’s brother Gabriel takes pictures. He came home from college specifically to see Cas all dolled up, his words, and he promises Dean to email him copies. “I promised Sammy,” Dean mutters as he pins a boutonniere to Castiel’s lapel. “Y’know, so he can be all proud of me and shit.”

“Proud of you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Accepting my orientation. Sam’s falling over himself to be supportive.”

Castiel’s lips quirk. Dean looks pleased with himself again.

They’re meeting friends at the dance, but first is dinner. Neither of them are fans of fancy restaurants, so when Castiel suggested they just get burgers at the little roadhouse they like, Dean laughed but agreed. So that’s what they do, and when they arrive Ellen herself (smirking a lot) leads them to their booth. The table has an actual tablecloth and candles on it, and she brings them their burgers and fries–no onion rings tonight–on china plates. “Don’t get ketchup on those monkey suits, boys,” she tells them, and they both say solemnly, “Yes, ma’am.”

The roadhouse is dark and noisy, like usual, and nobody pays attention to two boys in tuxes. Castiel looks at Dean, his sweetly happy features caressed by candlelight, and reaches across the table to hold his hand. “Cas,” Dean says like he’s embarrassed, but he leaves his hand in Castiel’s anyway.

“Tonight is perfect,” Castiel says.

Dean blinks, slowly, his lashes so thick and his eyes so green it’s almost obscene. “You know what would make it more perfect?”

Castiel smiles in answer. He knows. Dean’s been patient, but Castiel saw the condoms and a little bottle of lubricant in the Impala glove compartment. Tradition. A lot of prom-goers will be losing their cherries tonight, he supposes. Their own plans for after the dance have it practically built in.

Of course, if Castiel still isn’t ready, Dean will go on being patient. He’s an awesome boyfriend that way.


In the parking lot of the hotel where prom is being held, Castiel pulls Dean to him and kisses him for a while, slow and sweet kisses the way he knows Dean likes. When Castiel pulls back Dean gives him that same look he gave in the roadhouse, patient but … not. “I love you,” says Castiel and takes Dean by the hand to bring him into the hotel.

It’s fancy inside. Lots of gold and brown, marble floors, gold balloons in the ballroom. The theme is a pop song older than all of them, “Tonight’s the Night”, which makes Dean smirk at Castiel and squeeze his hand.

Dean lets go of Castiel’s hand while they’re in line to turn over their tickets, so Castiel puts his hand on Dean’s rigid back. He realizes they’re both braced for something, anything, that even though they both have friends at this school there are people who have been waiting for a time like this to let their true colors show.

“Dean!” says a perky voice and there’s dark-haired Tessa bouncing at both of them in her red velvet dress. She hugs Dean and hugs Castiel while her boyfriend, a college freshman who played varsity basketball while he was a student here, looms behind her. The Brigade has arrived, Castiel realizes; he knew they were planning to have dinner together, Anna had tried to persuade him to join them, and now here they are. He can feel Dean relax as he realizes it, too. They’re not on their own.

“Hey, no cuts!” says someone behind them and Tessa just gives a dirty look as she takes both Castiel and Dean’s hands. Castiel glances at the line behind them. He can see Anna and Rachel with their dates, and his cousins Raphael with his girlfriend and Balthazar, wearing a V-necked T-shirt under his rumpled dinner jacket. Balthazar bragged that he was going stag so he could pick up all the girls who broke up with their boyfriends tonight.

Balthazar catches him look and blows him a kiss. Castiel smiles back and puts his arm around Dean’s waist.

The student council member who’s collecting tickets flicks a sour look over them, but checks off their tickets and doesn’t say anything. Castiel expects someone to block their way to the ballroom, but Tessa pulls them through the doors and if anyone tries to stand in her way, they’ll get plowed over.

She releases their arms once they’re inside but neither she nor her boyfriend move far away, and once the rest of their group on inside they all move onto the floor. The girls start dancing, reminding Castiel of butterflies in their bright dresses. The boys are slower to start moving–Raphael believes he’s too cool for dances, and Castiel suspects he only came because Anna and Rachel and Tessa convinced him he’d be needed to protect Dean and Castiel.

Dean and Castiel stand at the edge of their group, holding hands. They’ve gone to dances before, of course, but never together like this, not like a couple. They usually ended up sitting on the bleachers in the gym, Dean talking, Castiel listening and watching him.

“Well,” says Castiel. “We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Dean echoes and looks at him. There’s a pause, and then Dean holds out his hand and Castiel takes it. He lets Dean pull him close and puts an arm around Dean’s neck. He exhales as Dean begins to rock from foot to foot. It’s not really dancing, but they’re here and they’re holding each other and they’re surrounded by their friends, and the music is actually not horrible, and Dean is the most handsome boy there, and other kids get a prom night, so why not Dean and Castiel?

Two or three songs in, Castiel feels Dean stiffen. He looks over his shoulder to see Alastair with Lilith wrapped smugly around his waist. If anyone is Dean’s nemesis, it’s Alastair–smart, smarmy, inexplicably popular, with eyes that rake over Dean as if he can’t decide whether to peel off Dean’s skin or his clothes.

Castiel turns Dean away. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.” Only now he is facing Alastair, who makes a kissy-mouth at him over Lilith’s head. Castiel narrows his eyes at him and looks at Tessa instead. She raises her eyebrows at him, and he jerks his head in Alastair’s direction. That gets a scowl, and she directs her boyfriend in Alastair and Lilith’s general direction.

Dean is still tense, though. “He’s going to say something. I know he is. Asshole.”

Castiel holds Dean’s face in his hands. “Look at me.” Dean drags his gaze to Castiel’s eyes. “They don’t matter. Alastair doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but you and me.”

Dean looks at him, then closes his eyes, exhales slowly, and nods. He mutters, “Love you,” and leans his face against Castiel’s.

“Love you.” Castiel looks at Alastair again, but there are several couples between them and he no longer has a clear view. Good. He doesn’t want to see them, and he especially doesn’t want Dean to see them, not when the mere sight of Alastair causes Dean such distress.

Anna dances closer and reaches over to take Castiel’s hand. He holds it loosely, pressed to Dean’s shoulder.


They decide to leave the dance early. They’ve got better plans, anyway, than watching Lilith and Alastair get crowned prom king and queen. Raphael has some broken-down crates in the back of his truck, and once they reach the lake they pile up the slats of wood and light a bonfire. They spread out blankets, Balthazar hooks up his iPod to someone’s car stereo, and Rachel produces a cooler with drinks and snacks so they can talk and eat and look at the stars.

Castiel leans against Dean. They toss their jackets aside and take off their shoes, and Castiel rubs his toes against Dean’s foot. Half of the couples are making out already. Balthazar and the girl he picked up at the dance are talking–well, she’s telling him what an asshole her boyfriend is and he’s nodding sympathetically while he rubs her feet. It’s like a lot of other nights they’ve spent together. The only difference is no one has a curfew tonight and everyone is in formalwear.

“Dean?” murmurs Castiel.

“Yeah, Cas?” His voice is soft, too.

Castiel pitches his voice low so that no one else will hear him. “Suppose we had sex tonight.”

“Oh,” breathes Dean.

“Where would we go? I don’t want to, you know. In front of other people.”

“I know.” He rubs Castiel’s back. “We could go to the car. Maybe drive to another part of the lake.”

“They’d all know, wouldn’t they? If we left?”

“Cas,” says Dean, “I think everybody’s got something else on their minds.” He holds Castiel’s cheek and runs his thumb under Castiel’s eye. “Are you saying you want to? Or are you looking for reasons not to?”

“I don’t know.” He kisses Dean and leans against his chest, sighing happily as Dean wraps his arms around him. “I want you. I do, Dean.”

“Good,” says Dean and kisses his hair. “You say the word and we’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re perfect,” says Castiel. “You know that?”

“Yeah,” says Dean. They both laugh and Castiel grabs Dean’s shirt front and kisses him, just as hard and passionately as any of the other couples around them. Their friends don’t care. None of them really notice, or so it seems to Castiel, when he and Dean rise from their blanket and go back to the Impala for a while.


It’s five a.m. by the time Dean drives him home. They say goodbye to their friends with many hugs, and Tessa whispers to Castiel, “Don’t rush it, sweetie. Only you know when it’s right.”

“I know,” says Castiel and kisses her cheek. She has good intentions, though her advice is a few hours too late. And he doesn’t feel he rushed it, not really, not after almost a year of being a couple. He was ready, has probably been ready for much longer than he thought. Prom was just a reason not to wait any more.

Dean parks in front of Castiel’s house and they sit there for a while as the radio softly plays. “We have great friends,” Castiel says.

“Yeah,” says Dean.

They look at each other. Castiel leans over and kisses him. It doesn’t seem possible to Castiel that he could love Dean more than he does, but now he knows he does, he can. He whispers as they kiss, “I love you, Dean, I love you,” and Dean laughs roughly.

“I love you too, sweetheart, but you’ve gotta go in. Your dad’ll kill me if I don’t have you home before dawn.”

“You only technically have me home before dawn,” says Castiel. Dean smiles, rubbing his knee.

“Do you feel okay? Do you feel different?”

Castiel shakes his head, and then nods, unable to stop himself from smiling. “I feel wonderful. I feel different. I feel …” He pauses, searching for the right words. “I feel like every song is about me.”

Dean laughs quietly, tenderly. “Love you, weirdo. Go home.”

“Love you,” says Castiel. He kisses Dean one more time and gets out of the car, his jacket slung over his shoulder and his shoes hanging from his fingers. He dances slowly up the drive, and turns at the door to wave to Dean one more time. Dean flicks his headlights. He waits until Castiel is safely inside to drive away.


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