"You know," Dean said, leaning back on your bed as he watched you rifle through your closet, "you don't seem awful excited about this date."
You hummed softly. He wasn't wrong. It's not like you were dreading the coffee date, but it did give you approximately the same amount of adrenaline as a trip to the grocery store did. You had hoped no one would notice that, but it would be asking a lot to expect the guy you spent most of your time with to overlook your blank expressions and unwavering voice.
"It's just not a big of a deal," you muttered.
He gave the back of your head a confused look. "First date in what, five years, not a big deal?"
That sounded awfully embarrassing when he said it. Thing was, hunting didn't exactly leave time or circumstance for dating. Hell, half of the people any of you showed interest in ended up evil or dead, and God knows you couldn't date a civilian. Add to that the tall, model-attractive men who were always by your side, and your own intimidating prettiness, both of which made you entirely unapproachable. Dating just happened not to happen.
You chewed on your bottom lip but didn't reply. Instead, you took out a hanger with the sleeveless black blouse with the lacy shoulders and shook it at Dean.
"No," he said.
You finally turned around to blink at him. "What do you mean 'no?' You love this shirt on me."
His lips pursed for a split second. "Too nice. You want understated."
"Wow. You really sounded like a girlfriend there. Maybe when I get back, we can put on facemasks and overanalyze every word he said to me."
Dean scowled. "I'm being a real good friend here. I don't even think you should be going on this date and I'm still here helping you out."
A soft smile pulled at your lips and you walked over to place a kiss on his cheek, causing him to beam up at you when you pulled away. "I kinda don't have a choice. Garth set us up. It'd be awkward to refuse."
Dean got up and took your place at the closet, apparently taking matters into his own hands. You plopped down onto the edge of the bed.
"Why're you against it, anyway?"
He threw a grey V-neck at you and moved over to your dresser. "I got my reasons." A pair of black jeans landed in your lap. "And the biker jacket."
"It's September."
"It's late September. It's cold out. You could get sick."
"Uh huh. Thanks, dad." You looked up at him, tucking your feet under yourself. It was cute, watching him pick out your clothes for you like a teenage best friend would, albeit grumpily. "Now reasons, pal."
He heaved a sigh. "For one thing, being set up? By Garth, no less. That's just..." He shook his head. "Plus, he's a hunter. Hunters are all assholes."
"Thank you."
"Not you. I mean... a little bit you." He wasn't wrong. "And if you were meant to go on a date with someone, you'd be a bit happier about it. And above all that, I just... got a bad feeling about it. Don't like it. Half tempted to force you to stay home."
"Thirty-six, Dean. And not your sister."
"I'm very aware that you're not my sister, sweetheart." You didn't miss his way his eyes trailed down your body for a second.
"Cute."
The man smirked. Throwing a glance at your clock, he sighed heavily. "Well if you insist on going on this thing, you should hurry up and get dressed. I'll meet you at the Impala in ten."
