He hears from Castiel again the following Friday.
The phone call comes during his lunch break, and when he sees Stacks' phone number flash across his screen, he blinks, wondering for a second if it's a mistake.
"Hello?" The word comes out almost reluctantly.
"Dean, it's Castiel."
"Yeah, hey, Cas."
There's a beat and then, "Hello, Dean."
Dean smiles. "Hey."A brief silence fills the line before Dean clears his throat. "So..."
"Oh, yes. I called because I'm going to the farmer's market tomorrow, and I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."
Dean's mind flicks through the several hundred times Sam's tried to get him to go to the farmer's market with him. Every time, Dean's scoffed self-righteously and asked Sam what business a guy like Dean would have showing up at a place like a farmer's market. "Uh, sure. Yeah. Farmer's market. Sounds... cool."
As Castiel gives Dean a time and place to meet, Dean wonders if maybe he's in way over his head.
Agreeing to attend the farmer's market with Castiel has Dean up in arms even more than the tea-and-book-club thing.
The farmer's market isn't a place even Sam would take someone on a date, and so the morning he's supposed to meet Castiel on Lazarus Street, Dean stands staring at his closet for a good several minutes, wondering if he should wear a nicer shirt, something that will probably require ironing, or if something more relaxed will suffice.
He decides on a short sleeved Henley and one of two pairs of jeans without holes in them, and as he walks out his front door, he asks himself when the hell he turned into that guy.
Lazarus Street is a mess. Dean has to park about a block and half away, but when he sees Castiel waiting for him in the spot they agreed, a grey t-shirt and deep blue cardigan hugging his frame, the brisk walk Dean was forced to take just moments before becomes of minimal importance.
"So uh, how do we do this thing?" Dean wonders after they've greeted one another.
Castiel smiles at him with his head tilted to the side. His teeth aren't showing, but it's just as satisfying of a smile as if they were. "That's right, you've never been."
Dean rubs his hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, this is kinda Sammy's thing."
"Sam. Your brother, right? The one you got the book for."
"Yeah."
Castiel guides Dean in a small turn, his hand warm against the small of Dean's back, and they head towards a long stretch of vendors scattered along either side of an open street.
There are bursts of color everywhere, bright, seasonal foods mixing with the colors of autumn hanging in the trees and dusting the ground, and Dean thinks maybe the place isn't going to be so bad after all.
"I have a list of things I need, but if you see somewhere you'd like to stop, by all means let me know."
Dean nods, and they make their way affably down the street, shoulders brushing, and hands skirting around one another's awkwardly.
Their first stop is for honey where Castiel insists Dean picks the flavors. After a taste test that may or may not include Castiel spoon-feeding Dean little samples of honey, Dean decides on a lemon infused one and the same vanilla flavor Castiel put in their tea several nights before.
After that they head for apples. Midway there Castiel stops them in the middle of the street and blinks against the sun as he looks at Dean. "Dean, may I hold your hand?" he asks. His eyes are bright, like endless pools sparkling inquisitively in the early afternoon light.
Dean's stomach clenches, and he almost lets out a laugh because apparently Castiel is the type of guy who invites dudes up for tea and considers places like farmer's markets prime spots for hand holding; but, then that laugh is gone, and Dean is smiling and lacing his fingers with Castiel's because apparently Dean's the type of guy that's totally on board with all of that.
As they walk hand in hand, a lot of Dean's apprehensions melt away, and he loses himself in watching as Castiel thrives in his element. It's fascinating watching the other man barter with vendors and dig through barrels of produce to find the perfect squash, and though he's completely content just to watch, Castiel draws Dean into the experience as well.
When they finish a couple of hours later, they're both laden down with bags. They fill Dean's trunk with it all - Dean insisting on taking Castiel home rather than having him ride the bus - and stop for burgers on the way back to Stacks.
As Dean helps Castiel carry in his groceries, he catches sight of an Ikea magazine lying open on Castiel's kitchen table.
"On the market for new furniture?" Dean asks, pulling the magazine across the surface and eyeing its shiny pages. He takes personal offense to mass produced woodwork sold by the likes of Ikea.
"Bookshelves, actually," Castiel corrects as he empties his bags. "After you mentioned me not having any, I figured it was time to invest in some."
"Sure, but from Ikea?"
"I'm just looking, Dean."
Dean turns his attention from the magazine and focuses it on Castiel, wandering into the kitchen and leaning a hip against the counter. "You know, I happen to know a guy who might have some time to make you a few. If you're interested."
Castiel quirks a soft smile at Dean. "Perhaps I'll look him up," he says.
Dean's knees feel a little gooey as he smiles back. First the hand holding, now the flirting, and fuck if he can remember the last time someone made him feel this way.
"Did you have a good time today?" Castiel wonders as he empties another bag.
"Best trip to the farmer's market I've ever had," Dean replies.
Castiel huffs a laugh at him and shakes his head muttering, "Incorrigible," under his breath.
Dean sticks around until Castiel's unloaded all of his groceries, and then, Castiel walks Dean to the store door and unlocks it for him.
"I'd like to see you again," Castiel says when Dean is standing outside, fiddling with his keys.
Dean smiles, nodding. "Yeah. Me, too."
After another long pause Dean leaves, without kissing Castiel, and spends the drive home wondering what the hell is wrong with him.
When Dean gets home, Sam's car is in the driveway, and Dean lets out a groan. Sammy's going to want to know every intimate detail of his day with Cas, he just knows it.
"How was it?" Sam asks the second Dean steps through the door. Dean huffs a sigh, dropping his keys on the table in the entryway, and goes straight for the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open.
"Great," he grunts. As he takes a swig, he can feel Sam's eyes on him from across the room where Sam sits on the couch.
"And?" Sam asks when Dean doesn't say anything else.
"And what, Sam? We went to the farmer's market, got burgers, and I took him home. End of story." Dean conveniently leaves out the bit where he and Castiel held hands because for one thing, Sam doesn't need to know everything, and for another thing, Sam doesn't need to know everything.
"You went to a farmer's market?"
Dean heaves a shoulder in the air and lets it fall, leaning his weight against the wall. "He needed some stuff."
Sam shakes his head in disbelief. "I've been trying to get you to go for years, Dean, years, and this guy asks you, what once? And you go with him?"
"So," Dean grumbles.
"So, you have got it bad."
Dean scoffs at his brother and disappears back into the kitchen.
Sammy, the asshole who can't leave well enough alone, follows Dean in, clicking away on his phone with a devious half-smile on his face.
"Huh," Sam says after a moment, his brow furrowed as he stares at his phone.
Dean's pretty sure he wants nothing to do with whatever it is Sam's involved in, but he asks anyway. "What?"
"His relationship status still says ‘Single’." Sam flashes his phone at Dean, but Dean just shakes his head and turns his back to his brother, pulling open a cupboard in search of something he can make a quick dinner out of.
"Why would it say something otherwise, Sam? We've seen each other twice. It's not like we're confessing our devotion over candlelight and planning our wedding. How do you even know he uses the damn account anyway?"
"How do you know he doesn't?"
Dean wonders if punching his brother square in the mouth would get him to shut up. "What are you even doing here, Sammy? You think you live here too now or what?"
"You owe me dinner," Sam reminds him, "for flaking last time."
"I didn't flake, I ordered pizza."
"Because you forgot," Sam counters.
Dean huffs. "Details."