14: [Action] Night Moves
[ooc; Double-date is for Dean, Castiel, Santana, and...the mystery date.]
"She was a black-haired beauty with big, dark eyes," Dean mumbles somewhat in-key, flicking his BIC lighter open and touching the flame to the candles settled on the table. He's done his best, really - someone as unromantic as Dean Winchester trying to plan anything remotely sexy (And not in the raw, natural way) is almost destined to fail in a spectacular fashion, but at least he tried. He's commandeered one of the unused studies on the first floor, yanking a table into the middle and arranging four chairs around it. There's plenty of food - the kitchen provided well: some fancy salad for whoever his date would be, something Italian (with breadsticks) for Santana, a burger for Cas, a steak for himself.
God, he's starving.
"...out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy," Dean chuckles, tucking his lighter away, "Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy...workin' on our night moves." He hums through the chorus, poking a plate on the table to one side to make it just right. He adjusts his tie with a little grimace. Dean doesn't look bad; in fact, he looks really good*, but it's only because the closet wouldn't give him anything else. Dean had asked it for something 'nicer', and after four times asking the same question he decided to take the goddamn striped shirt and tie and wear it.
Cas is supposed to show up soon. Before the dates arrive. Dean checks his watch and makes a face. "...c'mon, Cas. It's show time." Shuffling over to the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace, he throws himself on fine, silk fabric with a little sigh.
With any luck, he might get some action tonight.
Finally.
*Exhibit A:
"She was a black-haired beauty with big, dark eyes," Dean mumbles somewhat in-key, flicking his BIC lighter open and touching the flame to the candles settled on the table. He's done his best, really - someone as unromantic as Dean Winchester trying to plan anything remotely sexy (And not in the raw, natural way) is almost destined to fail in a spectacular fashion, but at least he tried. He's commandeered one of the unused studies on the first floor, yanking a table into the middle and arranging four chairs around it. There's plenty of food - the kitchen provided well: some fancy salad for whoever his date would be, something Italian (with breadsticks) for Santana, a burger for Cas, a steak for himself.
God, he's starving.
"...out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy," Dean chuckles, tucking his lighter away, "Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy...workin' on our night moves." He hums through the chorus, poking a plate on the table to one side to make it just right. He adjusts his tie with a little grimace. Dean doesn't look bad; in fact, he looks really good*, but it's only because the closet wouldn't give him anything else. Dean had asked it for something 'nicer', and after four times asking the same question he decided to take the goddamn striped shirt and tie and wear it.
Cas is supposed to show up soon. Before the dates arrive. Dean checks his watch and makes a face. "...c'mon, Cas. It's show time." Shuffling over to the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace, he throws himself on fine, silk fabric with a little sigh.
With any luck, he might get some action tonight.
Finally.
*Exhibit A: