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As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,
Cas sighed, dropping the book and shooting it a disgusted look. Why had Mr Singer assigned him this sonnet? Any of the others would have been fine, but to stand up in front of the class and recite a poem about not being able to say he was in love? He might as well tell Dean how he felt. Speaking of Dean...Cas snuck a look over to where his sandy-haired friend was still intently murmuring the words of his own sonnet, trying to lock them into his memory before the recitation lesson the next morning.
He felt a small stutter in his heart as he watched the boy mouth the words, testing the sounds in his mouth before cautiously releasing them into the air. He looked so beautiful like this--well, he always did, but especially when he thought he wasn’t being watched--all relaxed and breathing easy, not a care in the world except getting an A on his English assignment. Cas liked Dean like this, it made him happy to see his usually stressed friend so calm.
As though he could feel Cas’ eyes on him, Dean glanced up through his long lashes and grinned. “Dude, this sonnet is shit.”
Cas blinked, shaking his head to catch up to the sudden start of conversation. “Um...what?” He rolled his eyes when Dean chuckled at him.
“Just...listen: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red--like, who says that about their girlfriend?” When Cas didn’t respond right away, Dean sighed again. “He’s full on insulting her. You just...dude, you just don’t do that to someone you love.” He fell silent again, glaring at the sonnet book. Cas just stared silently at his friend until Dean looked up again. “But anyway, how’s yours coming?”
Dean’s green eyes were staring innocently into Cas’ blue ones, making Cas sigh awkwardly and rub the back of his neck. “It’s good. Fine. I think I’ve basically got it down.”
And oh shit, that had been the wrong thing to say. Dean sat up instantly. “Let’s hear it, then. Go on.”
Cas stared at him, mentally cursing himself off for admitting that he had basically memorized his already. When Dean waved his hands expectantly, he sighed, taking a deep breath and steadying himself before he began to speak.
“As an unperfect actor-” He broke off, stumbling over the words and coughing. A concerned look crossed over Dean’s face but Cas waved him off. “I’m fine. Sorry.” He took a breath. “As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put besides his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart; So I, for fear of trust, forget to say The perfect ceremony of love’s rite, And in mine own love’s strength seems to decay, O’ercharg’d with burden of mine own love’s might.” Cas broke off, pulling in a deep breath and stealing a glance at Dean. The boy seemed to be almost absently staring at Cas, a contentedly confused look on his face. Cas sighed. “I’m sorry. This is all jumbled, and I’m probably not getting the point across at all but-”
“No, man, it’s great.” Dean’s words cut him off abruptly. “I mean, Will’s talking about not being able to tell his girl he loves her. I get that. It sucks.” Dean’s eyes veered away from Cas towards the bed as he shrugged.
Cas’ head tilted as he stared at his friend. “You’ve...you’re...in...love?”
When Dean jerked his head up to glare at Cas, he could see that Dean’s cheeks were flamed a bright red. “Yeah, Cas, I’m in love. Is that so freakin’ surprising?” Cas shook his head quickly, in an attempt to diffuse the sudden flash of anger. “I’m in love, and I don’t know how to tell them. I mean...I’m pretty sure they don’t feel the same way, nearly a hundred percent positive, but I’ve gotta tell ‘em, ya know?”
No, Cas didn’t know. Because he’d never actually felt a strongly overwhelming urge to tell Dean that he was in love with him. He’d merely acknowledged that Dean didn’t feel that way about him and attempted to move on.
Cautiously, he spoke. “How often do you feel like telling them?”
“Every time I see them. Every second we’re together is a wasted second.” Dean’s answer was immediate if a little embarrassed.
Cas nodded. “Ok...what’s your plan for telling them?” The withering look Dean gave him could have killed plants in the Amazon Rainforest, making Cas roll his eyes in annoyance. “Don’t get snippy with me, I’m trying to help. Do you think they’d respond best to simply being told, or would they need some kind of grand gesture.”
There was a calculating look on Dean’s face as he pondered the answer to the question, eyes never leaving Cas’. Finally, he spoke: “I think he--it’s a he, by the way--” This was no surprise; both of them had dated boys before, though to the best of Cas’ knowledge, this was the first time that love had been spoken of. “Well, I think he would like a gesture. Not a grand one, maybe, but a gesture.”
Cas nodded. Ok, a gesture. He could help Dean think of an appropriate gesture. Gestures were easy enough, right? “Do you need...help with your ‘gesture’?” He made sure to mime the air quotes, knowing it amused Dean to no end.
“No man, I think I’ve got it this time, actually.”
Oh. Ok. Nodding stiffly, Cas went to pick up his sonnet book again. “Great. In that case, I’m just going to go back to reading, ok?”
“Actually, can I--” Dean cut off abruptly, barely managing to hide his blush before Cas turned back to look at him. He coughed twice to clear his throat. “Can I try reciting my sonnet to you?”
Oh merciful lords, could he not? But what could Cas do but indulge the boy he loved? He nodded. Dean smiled, a perfect, shining smile, and it made Cas smile too. “Ok, great. Here goes.
“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun-” He paused, looking up at Cas, tilting his head from side to side as he stared at his friend. “They’re not. His eyes aren’t the right color, for one, and they don’t burn, they…simmer. It’s nice.” Cas blinked at the editorial comment, but decided to let it slide. “Coral is far more red than her lips’ red--his lips are more of a dusty rose color. I just...I just always want to kiss them, whenever I see him.” The comments were made in an offhand manner, as though Dean were just saying whatever popped into his head (which he very well might have been doing). “If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun--yeah, he’s tan, my man is. I mean Jesus, he’s like a sun god or something. If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head--just...no. His hair is blackish, yeah, but it’s really soft, and it’s not straight or anything, it’s kinda all over the place.” Cas’ mind was racing trying to put together a mental image of Dean’s mystery man. The guy was tan, with messy dark hair, pale pink lips, and not-yellow eyes. Great.
“I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks--again, the tan thing. And in some perfumes is there more delight, Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.” Dean paused, looking up at Cas bemusedly. “Yeah man, we’re really gonna have to work on that.” And, wait--what? What?? That couldn’t possibly have meant what Cas thought it might--hoped it might mean. “I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound--well that’s just not true. I love your voice, you know that.”
Cas squished his eyes together in confusion, because there was really no way he could be hearing this. “Dean…” But Dean pushed through his friend’s words, apparently determined to get to the end of this crapshoot.
“I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress when she walks treads on the ground--Cas, I’m glad you’re not a goddess. Otherwise you’d leave my ass.” Cas was just staring at Dean, mouth pressed shut in disbelief when Dean moved closer to him, pressing their lips slightly together. “And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belled with false compare.” The last words were mumbled directly up against Cas’ mouth, and Dean held the position before pulling back and looking nervously at Cas, who was simply just not moving.
It had been a lot to process. One second they’d been talking about Dean being in love, and the next they were kissing while Dean recited the most famous love sonnet of ever to him. It was...surreal, to say the least. And suddenly Dean was talking again. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ll just...I’ll just go, ok?”
And Dean was standing, books gathered in his arms and heading for the door, practically through the door by the time Cas realized what was going on. “No! Wait!” Dean paused, giving Cas just enough time to grab his sleeve and push him against the doorframe, head spinning as he tried to figure out what to do. Pulling at strings, all he could come up with was his sonnet. “O let my books then be the eloquence And dumb presagers of the savage beast, Who plead for love and look for recompense More than that tongue that more hath more express’d. O, learn to read what silent love hath writ: To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.” As soon as he stopped talking, Cas leaned up to claim Dean’s mouth in another kiss. “I love you, Dean.”
“I...I love you too, Cas.”