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Room 520, room 520, Cas thinks to himself, glancing between his schedule and the numbered plaques plastered on the doors throughout the hallway. He finds room 520 a few doors down. He takes a step through the door frame and stops in his tracks.
Sitting at a lab station across the room, looking uninterested and hazy, is Dean Winchester. What is Dean Winchester doing in Home Ec? Someone pushes past Cas, then a few more. He loses his footing and falls forward onto his hands and knees. He hears a few giggles, but resists the urge to run out of the classroom as fast as he can. Cas stands up straight, with no help from anyone else thankyouverymuch, and quickly moves to an unoccupied lab station as far away from everyone else as he can find.
Cas is not as much of an antisocial outcast as he seems to be. Okay, he's not anywhere near the top of the social ladder--he questions whether he even has a place on that ladder at all--but he does have friends. He has Jo and Anna and Gabriel and Balthazar, and they're good to him.
See, he doesn't really have anything against Dean Winchester, either. It's just that they're not anywhere near each other on that figurative ladder. Dean is a jock, he's on the football team, he's got abs so hot that you could cook a burger on them--grill marks and all--and everyone adores him. Girls want to date him, guys want to be him, and other guys want to date him, too, if they play for that team. Dean has never really specified which team he plays for, but his ambiguous flirting with anything that moves might be a hint that he goes both ways.
Cas can definitely see the appeal. From across the room, he can't see the freckles on Dean's nose, or the flecks of gold in his green eyes, but he may have noticed them before. Hey, he can't help the things he notices. Especially not the way he habitually rolls his shoulders back and forth before a big test or the fact that even his hair smells fresh, like not a definitive fragrance but just a nice crisp scent. Uh, ahem, Cas sits behind Dean in a couple classes. What is he supposed to do? It's hard to not pay attention to Dean.
But Cas doesn't like him. You know, like-like him. That would be completely foolish and a waste of time and...and...and it's not like he has a shot anyway. As stated before, Cas is a nobody.
So, anyway, back on track. Home Ec. It's the first day of second semester and Cas is starting Home Ec. Apparently, Dean is as well. Cas took Drivers' Ed for half the year, but that only required one semester. There's no harm in learning how to bake a cake or sew some buttons, Cas thinks. That's what Home Ec is, isn't it?
"Welcome to Home Economics!" The teacher says, clapping her hands with each syllable, as if to get everyone's attention. "This class will teach you some basic skills that will surely help you out later in life!" Her tone is way too cheery and her big smile is quivering a little bit.
This lady's off her rocker, Dean thinks. He wonders why the hell he signed up for this class anyway. Turns out Weight-lifting and Fitness is only one semester, and every other class was already full. He hasn't told any of his teammates and very few of his friends that he's taking this class. He can practically hear their snickers of "Gonna make us some cookies, Winchester? My favorite is chocolate chip, just so you know." That would probably be Gordon, he's kind of a dick. But, seriously, what's so wrong with baking? Dean can make a mean peach cobbler, just like his mom used to. The whole team would shut up the moment that dessert touched their tongue. When it comes to sewing and nutrition and stuff, well, uh, Dean better just stick with the pie. He's good with taking care of kids, he's always taken care of his little brother, Sam. Sammy's not really a little kid anymore, though, is he? He's a freshman now, so Dean warned his friends not to trashcan him. Only Dean gets to do that.
He glances over to the other side of the room and sees that one kid that tripped staring at him. Dean has seen him around before. He might even have some classes with him...the stare-y guy looks away and hides his face quickly. Dean keeps looking. He doesn't know why. There's just something about him. He has dark, messy hair and really bright blue eyes, wow, like literal pools of blue water, not even exaggerating. And, oh my fucking God, he's wearing an animal print sweater. It has hoof marks all over it like a deer walked across his chest and it's just swallowing this guy it's so huge, but it works? It's weird. This guy is weird. Dean keeps looking.
The teacher's voice babbles on in the back of Dean's mind.
"...Now, we're just going to jump right in! This semester we are going to be focusing on childhood development. Our first project will be a test of parental responsibility and how well you can work together with another person for the sake of your child. Oh, they're not real kids, of course! For one week, you will be expected to take care of this sack of flour." The teacher, Dean doesn't even know her name, holds up a white bag of flour with a diaper on it. She can't be serious. "It's not as simple a task as you might expect! Only twenty percent of students return this flour baby to class unharmed--by that I mean, no rips, tears, patches, loss of flour, and definitely no substitutions. If you rip this bag, you can't simply buy another one at the grocery store. Not only are these bags made custom for this class, they also have a sensor inside that goes off if removed. If the sensor goes off, your grade on this project automatically decreases by half." She claps her hands again and takes a clipboard from her desk. "Alright! Let's start pairing you up."
She starts calling off names from the list. Some kids cheer, some kids groan. She calls, finally, "Dean Winchester." Pause. "Lisa Braeden."
Dean cheers internally. He didn't even see her when he first walked in, but this is awesome. He knows Lisa, she's a cheerleader. She's great with kids, and she's not bad to look at, either.
"Oh, wait." Dean raises an eyebrow at the teacher. "It seems that Lisa has switched out. What a pity." Shit.
Dean tries not to be too broken up about it, but he's disappointed. He'd just rather work with someone he already knows.
"Ah. Okay. Pamela Barnes has also switched out of this class, so, Dean, you'll be working with Castiel Milton."
That name sounds familiar. He looks around the room until he finds the stare-y kid looking at him again. That's you? Dean mouths, pointing at him.
Cas nods, but it's more of a jerking head movement that anything else. Seriously? He doesn't even know who I am, I knew it. Cas wonders if this is a blessing or a curse, but his mind goes blank when Dean starts walking towards him. He's wearing a red letterman jacket and distressed jeans, which is typical, but it looks really good on him. Cas glances down at his own attire. He's never cared about what other people thought of how he looked, except for right now. Only a little. Stupid little thoughts race through his mind like what if he thinks this sweater is offensive? No animals were harmed in the making. Does my hair look okay? My shoes are kind of scuffed up. I should start working out. Dean looks really good today. He has nice arms oh he's holding his hand out to me should I shake it I shook it what do I do. He's telling me his name out of courtesy, that's nice, even though everyone knows who he his. My name? Yeah, that's my name. Castiel. No, I go by Cas. I should say that okay I said that. Good job, brain, for sending that thought to my mouth. I'm doing pretty well here. The project? What project oh that project yeah I can do that mmhm here's my number mmhm of course. I just gave Dean Winchester my number DEAN WINCHESTER HAS MY PHONE NUMBER.
Ms. Caltran starts supplying the flour bags to each of the couples. Yes, Dean looked at the board and learned her name, to be polite. This Cas guy seems alright. He doesn't say a lot and he's kind of twitchy but maybe he has vitamin-D deficiency or something. Dean doesn't ask about it. His hair looks soft. He wonders if Cas woke up and his hair was just like that or what, but somehow he managed to perfect the just-woke-up hairstyle. It's kind of cute. But in like, a little brother way. Sam doesn't have hair like that, though. His is just a mop. Dean thinks about testing how much Sam's hair could absorb compared to a mop. The kitchen floors have been looking kind of spotty lately...
“What should we name it?” Cas asks, almost laughably.
“Well,” Dean picks up the pink-diapered flour baby and stares it down. “Is it a girl or a boy?”
“It’s a bag of flour.” Cas says blankly.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Dean replies. He thinks for a moment. “How about Mary?”
“Mary.” Cas repeats. “Alright. It seems kind of formal for a bag of flour, but it’s a nice name.”
Dean sighs. “C’mon, Cas, if we’re gonna do this, you have to be a little more enthusiastic. You gotta believe that this is a real baby, use your imagination.”
Cas is pleasantly surprised. He thought Dean would just try to skate through this class, but it seems like he actually cares.
“Why ‘Mary’?’ Cas asks.
Dean shrugs, looking away. “I dunno. It’s a nice name.”
“I agree.” Cas says.
Ms. Caltran passes out papers to each group, basically saying that they will take this project seriously and be responsible flour-baby-daddies. Dean signs it--his signature is small and scribbled quickly--then Cas signs it--his pen strokes out long letters, compacted together on the line.
There’s an odd warm feeling rushing down into the pit of Cas’ stomach.
Dean tries to shake off the same feeling.
This should be interesting.
---
Cas practically skips to his table at lunch. He sees Jo already sitting at their table under the shade of a Oaky--which is what they nicknamed that really big tree last year. It’s not even an oak, but it looks pretty oaky, okay.
Gabe meets him there. Today he happens to be wearing purple hammer pants and a...poncho thing? Gabriel always says his style is at least thirty years in the past and two years in the future. His hands are overflowing with food, as per usual. Let’s see, there’s three things wrapped in tin foil, so it’s like a burger and some burritos, probably. In addition, there’s a carton of chocolate milk, one of those long Nerds candy rope things, a bag of chips, and liter of Diet Coke for good measure. Gabe pulls a gob of chewed gum out of his mouth and sticks it on the side of a trash can next to their table.
“Classy.” Jo says, stealing one of his burritos.
“Hey, hey! I’m trying to bulk up!” Gabe says, but Jo holds the burrito out of his reach.
Balthazar slides smoothly into a seat next to Cas. “Bulking up usually involves the intent to exercise, Gabey.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll join the wrestling team.” Gabe shrugs.
They all let out a laugh in unison.
Balthazar leans across the table and says, “Honey, the day you involve yourself in school-ordained activity will be the day Twinkies expire.”
Gabe pokes Balthazar on the nose with a burrito. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Balthazar turns up his nose and swats the burrito away.
Anna shows up next and sits across from Cas. She drops three textbooks on the table--which are all AP books obviously--and lets out a heaving breath. She buries her face in her arms, and Cas suspects that she’s fallen asleep already.
“Anna...?” Cas says cautiously. She doesn’t move. Cas reaches out and pokes her arm. She groans and lifts her head up slowly, but her face is covered by her bright red hair.
“How’s senior year treating you, Anna?” Balthazar asks.
Anna blows the hair out of her face so Balthazar can see her scowl. “It’s great, thank you for asking.”
“Um, don’t you think that maybe your schedule is a little heavy this year?” Cas asks.
“No, no, it’s all going to be perfectly fine. It’s going to all pay off when I get that acceptance letter from Harvard.” Anna’s voice is laced with worry and sleep deprivation.
Cas tilts his head a little and repeats the mantra he’s reminded her many times before, “Anna, you’ve taken strictly weighted classes for four years, and passed them all with A’s. You have over two-hundred hours of community service, you’ve already been accepted into two ivy leagues, and you technically could have graduated last year. Harvard would be lucky to have you.”
Anna reaches out and strokes Cas’ face, no matter how out of character that is, and smiles softly. “You have a beautiful soul, Castiel.” And with those words of wisdom, she lays her head back down and passes out.
“Oh-kay.” Jo says, holding back a laugh.
“I agree, Cas, you have the loveliest soul.” Gabe says in a whispy, high tone.
Cas rolls his eyes and continues eating his sandwich. He listens to the conversation buzz around him for a few minutes.
That stupid warm feeling starts prickling his insides again. When the conversation starts to lull, the feeling takes over.
“So I talked to Dean Winchester today.”
Gabe spits out his milk dramatically. They all groan (except unconscious Anna) and scold him with “Was that really necessary?” and “Gaaaaabe!” and then turn back to Cas.
“Why do people always call that guy by his full name...” Gabe says, but they’re already ignoring him.
“When?” Jo says, a smile creeping across her face.
“Well, uh, we’re actually doing a project together in Home Ec...and I got his number.” Cas fails to hide his smirk.
“Oh my God, share share share!” Jo holds out grabby hands.
“No way!” Cas says. “He gave it to me privately for the purpose of this project.”
Jo frowns and sinks back down into her seat.
“So, what’s the project?” Balthazar asks. He leans forward like it’s the biggest scandal he’s heard all day.
Cas scrunches up his nose. “Uh, that flour baby thing.”
“Well, that’s not gay.” Gabe says under his breath.
“Shut up, Gabe.” They all say.
Gabe holds out his arms. “Why do I feel like I’m in an episode of Sister Sister?”
“So, for seven days, you’re going to be Dean Winchester’s baby daddy?” Balthazar says.
Cas lets out a heavy breath. “Why am I friends with you guys?”
“Who else would you have to confess your secret love for Dean Winchester to?” Jo says.
(“Seriously, you could just call him Dean...” Gabe mumbles.)
Cas waves a hand away. “You’re ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen.”
“Oh, please, Cassy.” Balthazar says, a low laugh rising in his throat.
“What?” Cas snaps.
“You’ll be begging for it by the end of the week.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Do you want to bet on it?”
Jo and Gabe each put a hand over their mouths and say “ooooh.”
“Really?” Cas says, unamused.
“Really.” So Balthazar is serious. “I bet twenty bucks that by next Monday, you will have already hit that.”
Cas stares intently at Balthazar. The corner of Balthazar’s mouth turns up.
“Fine.” Cas decides.
“Deal.” Balthazar smiles and holds out a hand.
Cas shakes it and pretends to look unfazed.
This is a bet he’s hoping to lose.
---
The next day, Dean and Cas come up with a schedule to decide who gets custody of Mary on what days.
Dean has it Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Cas has it Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. On Saturdays, they decide to meet up together to...take care of the flour baby?
After school on Wednesday, Cas gets an unexpected text from Dean.
question 1: are u busy? question 2: are u good at precalc??
1) No not really 2) Uh I guess. Follow up question: why?
welllllll i kind of suck at precalc and was wondering if u wanted to come over and help me??
Suure. I guess we should interact and be proper parental role models for Mary anyway.
thanks cas :)
Dean sends Cas his address and thanks him again. Cas thinks it’s kind of suspicious, but he doesn’t go to other people’s houses a lot anyway. Usually, his friends just show up at his house at weird times and kidnap him, but that’s probably not normal. Whatever. He’s excited to see Dean.
And Mary?
He borrows his mom’s car and uses the GPS on his phone to find Dean’s apartment. The apartment complex looks more like a collection of little cottages instead of a sketchy building.
Cas finds Dean’s apartment in the third row of cottages. He knocks on the door and hears someone call from inside “It’s open!” That makes Cas frown a little as he opens the door and peers inside. It’s a simple layout of a living room--a couch, a recliner, a TV, a coffee table. He sees Dean lounging on the couch with a Pre-Calc book about to fall off his lap.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. Cas likes the way Dean says his name, it’s kind of twangy, but Cas keeps frowning. “What?” Dean asks.
“You just leave your door open? I could’ve been some murderous criminal or something and you just let me in.” Cas says.
Dean smirks and pulls out a shotgun from behind the couch. “Thanks for the concern, but I think I can protect myself.”
Cas’ eyes widen. “Well, uh, that’s settled.”
Dean laughs a little and puts the gun back. He moves his legs to give Cas some room on the couch and motions for him to sit. Cas puts his backpack down by his feet and sits tentatively on the couch. It looks a little rough, but wow, this is literally the most comfortable couch that Cas has ever placed his ass on.
“So...” Dean says staring down at his book. “Pre-Calc.”
“Pre-Calc.” Cas repeats.
Dean groans. “Are we ever going to actually use this shit?”
“Probably not.” Cas answers seriously. “Unless you plan to become a mathematician, I suppose.”
Dean nods. “Yes, that is definitely the career path I am planning to take.”
“Then having difficulty in Pre-Calc is probably not a good sign of success.” Cas adds.
“Thank you, Cas, for those words of encouragement.” Dean shuts his book closed. “Wanna see Mary?”
“Has she grown?” Cas jokes.
Dean pulls the bag of flour from his backpack and sets it between them. “She might be losing some weight actually. All my notebooks are covered with white powder, and I stopped doing crack a couple weeks ago so that can’t be it.” Cas tilts his head at Dean. “I’m kidding, Cas.”
“Ah.” Cas says simply.
They stare at Mary. It appears Dean has drawn a smiley face on it.
Today Cas is wearing a blue sweater with a polka-dotted bow tie sewn near the collar. It’s pretty adorable. It makes his eyes stand out even more. Cas has a really nice jaw. It’s kind of stubbley, and he pulls it off. Dean’s eyes drag across Cas’ lips. They’re a lighter color than the rest of Cas’ features, but Dean sees no fault in that. He wants to keep staring at Cas.
Cas keeps staring at him, so. Staring sounds creepy. Let’s say he’s analyzing. Up close, the gold in Dean’s eyes is even more visible. Dean has so many freckles. Cas wishes he could lay next to Dean and count them all.
They turn away from each other at the same time.
“This is kind of a stupid assignment, huh?” Dean tries to cut through the tension.
“Kind of. It seems simple enough, but I guess that’s the challenge. Don’t underestimate how responsible you have to be to keep a bag of flour ‘alive’.” Cas puts air quotes around “alive.”
“I guess so.” Dean flips through the pages in his textbook.
Cas thinks for a moment. “This is a nice place.”
“You’re just being polite.” Dean scoffs.
“No, really, it’s simplistic. I like it. My house is much too clean. My mother insists on keeping everything in order like the president is going to stop by our house one day and ask to use the restroom. Well, if that did happen, at least we’d be ready.” Cas thinks he’s rambling. “Do you live here with your...?”
“Dad.” Dean finishes. “It’s me, my dad, and my brother.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” Cas says. He doesn’t know if it would be appropriate to ask about his mother.
“Yeah. Sam’s at school until four and my dad works late.” Dean pauses and finally looks up at Cas. “Okay, honestly? I don’t care about Pre-Calc. I mean, I need to pass to keep playing football, but I could totally half-ass this homework and still pass. I was just bored and you seem chill and now I feel pretty lame.”
Cas cocks his head. “Why would you choose me? You’re the most popular guy in the school. Anyone would want to hang out with you any time you asked.”
“That’s it.” Dean says. “That’s exactly it. I have all these people at my convenience, but I don’t care. I think that makes me a pretty selfish sonofabitch but I don’t think they really care either?”
“I don’t think those are real friendships, then. I think those are friendships based on convenience.”
“So you get it?”
“I understand.”
They share a silent moment, but it’s not awkward.
“So. Pre-Calc.” Dean says, holding up his book.
Cas nods with a smile. “Pre-Calc.”
---
“And then you fucked.”
“Shut up, Gabe!” Cas says, hitting him lightly with a book. “No, we just did homework.”
Gabe snickers and rubs his arm. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Cas creases his eyebrows. “One more comment from you and I’ll find something heavier to hit you with.”
“I’m so scared.” Gabe lowers his head and goes back to eating a fruit roll-up.
“Anyway,” Cas continues, “Then I met his brother--he’s a freshman--and I went home.”
“Come on, Cassy, if you want to lose this bet you’re going to have to try harder than that,” Balthazar growls, though that’s kind of what his voice always sounds like.
At that moment, Dean Winchester strolls past their table. He does that sometimes, but he never notices them. Usually everyone at the table gets really quiet and just stares, then goes back about their lunch when he leaves. But today, Dean does a double take and waves at Cas with a warm smile. It takes Cas a moment to realize that gesture is meant for him and hastily waves back before Dean looks away and continues walking.
“Woah.” Jo says. “Did I just enter an alternate universe?”
“That’s quite possible.” Balthazar says.
Anna snores.
Gabe burps.
Cas stays silent and looks dreamily into the direction where Dean just disappeared.
Oh, this is definitely going to be interesting.
--
Cas finds that this bag of flour is becoming quite a bother. Just like Dean said, it does get white powder all over everything. And he has to lug it around to all his classes all day and bring it with him everywhere he goes. It’s only like five pounds, but carrying around a five pound weight all day for a week will start to put a strain on your muscles. It’s probably not the same for Dean, but Cas doesn’t have the same ridiculous muscles popping out of his arms.
“So, class, how are you doing with your babies?” Ms. Caltran asks on Thursday. “Are they all alive and well?”
Everyone nods. It seems like all the flour babies are still unharmed after four days, as Cas expected. He thinks this assignment is way too easy, until Friday. Cas agreed to “take care” of Mary on Friday because Dean had to leave during third period to go to his doctor’s appointment for a scheduled physical. Cas’ sixth period class is in the gym on the other side of the school, and he’s been consistently late all semester. He holds Mary, the flour baby, under his arm and jogs to his next class. It’s early January and the cold air is pricking at his face. He can feel himself getting flushed, like he always does when he runs. That’s one reason why he hates gym class.
He passes the tennis courts and forgets about the upcoming crack of uneven concrete below his feet. In that moment, it’s like he’s just stepped out of his body and is watching himself trip in slow motion, and there’s nothing he can do about it. As he watches Mary fly out of his reach, he can feel his grade dropping by the millisecond.
But, like a godsend, someone dives forward and catches Mary, simultaneously giving Cas a softer landing than the concrete.
The person underneath him groans. Cas jumps up and starts spewing out apologies, but suddenly recognizes that red letterman.
“Dean?”
Dean turns his whole body over and holds up Mary triumphantly. Cas can’t help but giggle. He catches himself and wonders if he’s actually ever giggled before.
He holds out a hand for Dean and, with a lot of effort, pulls him up. Dean may look slender, but surely all of his weight is pure muscle.
Cas thanks Dean for saving Mary (and for the soft-ish landing).
“No problem. I basically just saved both our asses, so let’s call it even.” Dean says. “What’s the rush, anyway?”
“Um, I’m coming from the one-hundred building on the north wing and cannot be late today.” Cas says in a string of quick words.
The late bell rings.
“Great.” Cas mutters. He looks up at Dean curiously. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the doctor?”
“Oh, yeah, I was. That ended like an hour ago.” He pauses. “So, you’re already late.”
Cas raises his eyebrow.
“And I don’t plan on going to sixth period, so why not paint the town red?” Dean offers.
Cas cocks his head.
Dean takes that as means for clarification. “I mean, just go hang out or something.”
“Oh. I’ve never skipped before.” Cas admits.
“Then what an opportunity this is.”
Cas thinks about it. What harm would come of missing one day of gym class? And, truthfully, his opportunities to spend time with Dean are becoming more limited.
“Why not.” Cas says.
Dean smiles. “Great. C’mon, my car is parked in the second lot.”
Dean’s car, as he explains to Cas, is a black 1967 Chevy Impala. His dad gave it to him last year for his sixteenth birthday and it’s basically his most prized possession. Dean actually seems to have an unhealthy obsession with this vehicle, Cas thinks.
The interior is real leather and the cassette player is the same one that has been in the car for thirty years. Dean looks practically aroused when he revs up the engine and puts on a tape of some classic rock band Cas has never heard of. Dean seems to enjoy it.
Seeing as Cas really has no preference, Dean takes them to a movie theater that Cas has always thought was vacant. It’s pretty run down, that’s for sure. There’s only two small theater rooms. The drapes hanging around the screen are torn and the seats that are probably over fifty years old have springs sticking out of them. Cas maneuvers his ass around the springs and tries to settle into a position that isn’t unbearable.
Cas wonders why Dean would be interested in such a place. Soon enough, a grainy film starts with a countdown--4, 3, 2, 1--and equally grainy trumpet music starts playing to show the title.
Cas understands.
The title of the film is Winchester ‘73.
Dean is staring straight at the screen, but his lips turn up into a coy smirk.
For ninety minutes, they sit in that empty theater and watch what Dean says is one of the greatest western films ever made. Cas agrees that it is a fine western, though he doesn’t have a lot of other westerns to compare it to. Though, Cas mostly watched the expression on Dean’s face change throughout the film.
Cas is glad he skipped gym for this.
When did Dean slip his arm around Cas’ shoulders?
Dean’s car is parked a couple blocks away, but they find a diner that Dean claims has “the best burgers in Kansas” and insists that Cas try at least one.
Cas finishes his burger before Dean is a third of the way through with his.
Dean covers his mouth but Cas can tell he’s smiling. “You like it?”
Cas nods and eats some more fries.
Dean points at Cas’ face. “You’ve got some--I’ll just get it.” He leans across the booth and wipes a finger past the edge of Cas’ mouth. “Ketchup,” Dean says, holding up a red finger. He licks it off.
That’s probably the hottest thing that has ever happened to Cas. He’s surprised that he hasn’t melted into a pool right in front of Dean. That would be pretty gross, so he’s glad he doesn’t.
Dean is persistent on paying for the meal himself; it was his idea after all. Gratefully, too, because Cas doesn’t have more than five dollars on his person.
It’s dark by the time they leave.
“There’s just one more thing I have to show you,” Dean says, urging Cas into the car.
Cas checks his phone and has three new text messages--two from Mom, one from Jo. Apparently he was supposed to study with Jo tonight. Oops.
He texts his mom and tells her that he’s out with friends just so she won’t worry, like she does. She’ll assume he’s with the Usuals--Jo, Gabe, Balthazar, Anna.
Cas notices that they’re driving further and further away from the town. The city lights become dimmer and the sky darker.
“Where are we going?” Cas asks, though he likes the unpredictability.
Dean cranes his neck forward and glances at the sky. “Just a couple more minutes.”
A mile down the road, they come to a halt.
“Here.”
“Here” seems to be nowhere, actually. Sure, they live in Kansas, but this stretch of land looks even more deserted than their small town.
“C’mon.” Dean motions for Cas to get out of the car.
“Uhh...” Cas mumbles.
Dean lowers his head and catches Cas’ gaze. “Trust me.”
Cas follows Dean out of the car. Dean raises his knee and gets his footing on one of the tires, then heaves himself up on the hood. From there, he slides onto the roof and lays back. Cas does the same, on the other side of the car. There’s not much spacing between them as they lay on the cold metal.
“Lay your head back, and look up.” Dean says.
Cas definitely understands.
The sky is darker and the stars are brighter than Cas has ever seen. He swears he sees a few stars flicker above him. Cas starts to subconsciously notice patterns in the shiny dots, like constellations but not any that he’s ever studied.
“Wow” escapes from his lips.
“I like to come here every so often. It helps me clear my mind.” Dean says.
Speaking of clear, there’s not a cloud in sight. Not a hint of imperfection within eyesight.
Cas doesn’t know how long they lay there before his eyelids start to droop.
He feels something warm press on his lips and he opens his eyes again slowly.
It takes him a moment to realize that those are Dean’s lips against his. Cas lets out a small, involuntary squeak.
Dean stops kissing Cas and just stares down at him, evaluating his expression.
Cas decides he likes the kissing part better and surges forward into Dean’s mouth.
Dean shifts his knee over Cas so Cas is pretty much pinned to the top of the Impala. He doesn’t mind one bit. Cas takes this opportunity to run his fingers across Dean’s neck and through his hair. It’s less product-y than he would have expected. To be fair, never in a million years did he expect that he’d be tugging on Dean Winchester’s hair and making out with him on top of a car.
Cas seems to forget that they are, in fact, on the roof of a car as he tries to roll over on top of Dean. Dean’s legs give in and he slips off the side of the roof. Cas makes an attempt to grab Dean, but he ends up falling off the car as well.
Once again, Dean provides a soft landing. However, his letterman is now all dusty and he’ll probably have a few bruises tomorrow morning.
Cas rolls off of Dean and onto the ground next to him. They stare at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting out laughing.
When Cas finally catches his breath, minutes later, he looks up at Dean and asks, “Was this a date?”
“Was it good?” Dean counters.
“Yes. This was amazing.” Cas says.
Dean turns on his side and kisses Cas softly. “Then, yes, this counts as our first date.”
Cas tries to hold back a blush. “Will there be more dates?”
“That’s very likely.” Dean sits up and pushes himself into a standing position. He holds out a hand for Cas and pulls him up. He doesn’t let go of Cas’ hand. “Do you think we’ve successfully painted the town?”
Cas looks back at the congregation of buildings and houses illuminated behind them. He’ll never look at it the same now that he knows how the sky is polluted by all of that light, leaving the majority of the stars absent. He nods back at Dean. “I’m seeing it in a whole new light.”
Dean takes Cas back home and walks him to his door like a gentleman. Dean asks if it’s okay to kiss him goodnight. Cas answers him with a kiss. He could get used to this.
“See you tomorrow.” Dean says.
Cas suddenly remembers the flour baby project. Right, that’s why they’re even speaking to each other. Cas waves as Dean drives out of sight.
Cas’ mom is smiling when he walks in. He groans and tries to run up the stairs before she can start asking him questions.
She stops him. “Who was that boy?”
“He’s, uh, my partner for this project in Home Ec.” That’s not a lie.
“Hm.” She shrugs her shoulders and looks away like it’s not a big deal, but she’s still smirking. Cas hates it when she does that. “What’s his name?”
“Dean Winchester.” Maybe Gabe is right--he should stop addressing Dean by his full name.
“Oh.” Her eyes brighten.
Cas’ mouth falls open. “Have you been reading my texts!”
“No, angel, I would never disrespect your privacy like that...”
“Mom.”
“...You left your Facebook messages open, I just happened to see-”
Cas runs up to his room and closes the door.
“I’m happy for you, Castiel!” his mom calls from downstairs.
Cas collapses onto his bed and he’s smiling. No, it’s way more than smiling. Is this what smiling is really like? Has he been doing it wrong his whole life?
His cheeks start to hurt.
Today was a great day.
--
Cas’ phone buzzes and flickers and sings and it’s way too early for this. Wait, actually it’s eleven in the morning. Cas blinks a few times before he can read the text coherently.
come outside, he reads.
He gets another text.
please?
Cas gets out of bed and peers through his blinds. Like the hunky love interest from some eighties romcom, there’s Dean, leaning against the impala outside Cas’ house. Instead of his iconic letterman, Dean is wearing a leather jacket that must be tailored to his body. Cas looks down at his clothes--an oversized, tye-dyed shirt that he’s had forever and bumblebee boxer-briefs--and runs back to his phone.
One moment please, Cas texts back.
Cas does that little unbalanced, hoppy dance to squeeze into some skinny jeans that he finds folded at the foot of his bed. Also at the foot of his bed is a chunky red cardigan and a grey beanie. Mom, he thinks. He puts it on anyway. It doesn’t look half-bad.
He pulls on some boots that he finds outside his door, splashes some water on his face and through his hair--it looks especially just-woke-up this morning--and paces out the door.
“See you later, Mom,” he calls as he shuts the door.
“Four minutes, twelve seconds,” Dean says when Cas reaches the Impala. He taps at his watch. “You’ve gotta get better than that, Cas, if you want to make the Olympic team.”
“What Olympic team?” Cas asks.
Dean shrugs. “I dunno, the one for quick-change. That should be a sport. France would have already beaten you by now.”
Cas rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the words of encouragement. I wasn’t aware that I was being timed, or given any notice that you’d be here.”
Dean shines a cheesy smile. “Early bird catches the worm.”
Cas raises an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism?”
Dean playfully shoves Cas. “Just get in the car.”
“Not with that attitude.” Cas protests. He peers through the window and sees their flour baby AKA Mary propped up in the backseat and strapped down with a seatbelt. Dean gets in the driver’s side anyway and starts the car. When he reaches for the gear shift, Cas quickly gets into the car. Dean kind of loves calling Cas’ bluff.
Once again, Dean doesn’t tell Cas where they’re going, but Cas doesn’t ask. He trusts Dean--which is odd, seeing as he doesn’t even trust some of his best friends, cough, Gabe. Put hair dye in my shampoo, shame on you, Cas reminisces. Put hair dye in my body wash, suffer through listening to me curse at you in sixteen different languages for three hours while helping me strip out all the purple color from my leg hair.
Cas shouldn’t trust Dean so quickly. He should build that trust like a house, and right now it should just be a floor plan. But it seems that Cas’ trust has decided to rent a beach house and call it Dean.
It’s not that Cas necessarily mistrusts Dean, but he’s never seen what Dean is like in a relationship. Either Dean’s dating mishaps are too short to start rumors, or he’s been hiding them. Maybe he dates college girls. Boys? Girls? Cas doesn’t know. Saying that “it’s complicated” would be too cliche.
It’s perplexing; muddled; confounding; profound.
Cas is surprised when they end up at an ice skating rink, because a) he didn’t even know that their town had an ice skating rink and b) what interest does Dean Winchester have in ice skating?
“I used to play hockey up until high school,” Dean explains as they rent their skates inside. “But my dad thinks I’m better at football, so that’s what I play. I love hockey, though.”
Cas nods thoughtfully. “So, why don’t you play hockey?”
Dean shrugs as he ties up his laces tight. “My dad usually knows what’s best.”
“Didn’t football season end a few months ago? Why couldn’t you do both sports...” Cas suggests.
Dean thinks about that, but only shrugs.
A moment of silence passes between them as Cas finishes lacing up his skates.
“What about your dad?” Dean asks.
“Hm? Oh, I don’t know my dad.” Cas says casually. When he looks up at Dean, he looks almost hurt, like he can’t even fathom growing up without a father. “But I have my mom, and she does her best.”
“Huh. That kind of sounds like my dad. He’s just trying to do his best.” Dean says. They stay on a bench outside of the rink. It wouldn’t feel right to stand up yet. “Him and Sammy don’t get along most of the time, but that’s only because they’re both so pigheaded that they can’t admit when they’re wrong.” Dean smiles at nothing. “They’d kill each other if I wasn’t there to tell ‘em when they’re both being stupid.”
“What about your mom?” Cas asks, because he’s been wondering about her. He has a creeping suspicion she may also be absent from their family.
Dean clenches his jaw. “She died when I was young in a house fire. Sam was only a baby. Her name was Mary.”
“Oh.” Cas’ eyes widen. “So that’s why you named the flour...?”
“Yeah, it sounds really stupid now, though.” It takes Cas a second to realize that Dean is being shy.
“No, no it isn’t. That’s sweet.” Cas takes Dean’s hand, not worrying about what anyone else thinks.
“Okay, okay, enough chick-flick moments,” Dean says.
Cas takes a look at their surroundings. “We’re on a date in a skating rink, how much more ‘chick-flick’ could this get, Dean?”
“I could’ve bought you flowers.” Dean jokes. (He thought about buying flowers.) “Come on, just let me take you on a fucking date.”
Cas smirks through the crudeness, because he knows Dean is really being sincere.
Cas almost slips the moment they touch the ice. Dean catches him--which is, what, the third time?--and helps him skate out to the middle.
“Do you just enjoy watching me make a fool of myself?” Cas huffs once they reach the middle, where five year-olds are skating circles around them.
Dean wraps his arm around Cas’ waist and whispers into his ear, “I think it’s cute.”
That asshole. He knows Cas weak spot. Okay, Dean is actually Cas’ entire weak spot, so it’s really not fair.
“It’s like roller blading, but on ice, okay?” Dean says, urging Cas forward.
“I can’t roller blade.” Cas frowns.
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Dean says, but he’s chuckling as he says it. “Okay, bend your knees--yeah, like that. Push your right foot forward, like you’re shoveling snow behind you. Now, the left one. And the right one again. See, Cas! You’re practically a figure skater.”
Dean lets go for a moment and Cas falls on his ass.
“Sorry!” Dean says, kneeling down by Cas.
Cas sighs. “How about I just watch you do some skating tricks, okay?”
“Okay,” Dean laughs. He helps Cas up and sets him by the wall to practice his balance before skating off quickly.
Dean propels himself faster and faster with each lap. He turns backwards as he passes Cas and smiles devilishly. A young girl wipes out in front of him, but he spins around her, then skids to a halt to help her up. Cas can’t help but smile as he watches Dean skate a lap around the track with her.
“See, you’re a lot better than my friend, Cas, here.” Dean tells the girl as they stop in front of Cas.
Dean presses against the wall and leans his shoulder into Cas, just to push him off balance. Cas glares at him as he grabs the wall to keep himself from falling again. The girl laughs.
“Are you two boyfriends?”
Dean opens and closes his mouth. He turns to Cas hesitantly, looking for an answer. Cas is filled with a mix of worry and hope.
The girl doesn’t seem to need an answer. “Well, you two are really cute.” She twists her body around and points at two men watching them from behind the glass. “Those are my dads. They’re not married yet but one day I hope they will be. They said I could help plan the wedding and wear a fancy dress and everything.” She waves at her dads, and they wave back. “Thanks for not tripping over me,” she says to Dean, then waves and starts skating again.
“She’s cute.” Dean says.
“Mhm.” Cas agrees.
Dean nudges Cas. “Y’know, what she said...about being boyfriends...”
Cas’ heart grows three sizes. Figuratively.
Dean arches his brow. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”
Yesyesyesyesyesohmygodyes. But then Cas thinks, pace yourself. “Ask me at the end of the night.” The words don’t want to allow themselves to exit Cas’ throat, but they do, because Cas knows it will be worth it. Or maybe he’s just a tease.
“I can do that.” Dean says. Though Cas isn’t expecting it, Dean leans forward and kisses him, pressing him against the cold glass. His lips taste like peppermint.
A few dumbass kids groan and laugh behind them.
Dean rolls away from Cas, slightly enough to part lips but still be in his personal space.
“I’m not ashamed.” Dean tells Cas in hushed tones.
Cas lowers his head and looks down at the ice.
A warm hand sinks between Cas’ fingers. Dean continues, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I got over that years ago after my Dad found out--actually, I told Sammy, and my dad happened to be listening, but whatever. I’m not ashamed of who I am or who I want to be with.”
“Fags,” one of the dumbasses says through a cough.
Dean clenches his jaw and presses his forehead to the glass. “Can I punch him? Can you please let me punch him right in the fucking throat?”
“Come on.” Cas tugs at Dean’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dean lets out a frustrated breath and follows closely behind Cas as they hobble around the edge of the rink and find a seat to take off their skates.
They’re both quiet as they return the ice skates and walk out, still holding hands.
“M’sorry this kind of sucked,” Dean says as they walk through the parking lot.
“No, it didn’t.” Cas tells him. “People like that just ruin it for everyone else.”
“It’s so fucking stupid,” Dean says, not about any topic in particular.
“I appreciate the gesture.” Cas assures him. “No one’s ever been this nice to me before.”
“No way,” Dean says, nudging Cas.
“Yes way.” Soft sorrow rims Cas’ eyes.
Dean pauses as they reach the Impala. “Well, you gotta know that I’m not being nice to you just so I can get in your pants, which is what I suspect you think.”
Cas doesn’t deny it.
Dean opens the door on Cas’ side, like a gentleman, and says, “You’re different, Cas. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Cas fails to hide his smile. He stops himself from jumping into Dean’s embrace and instead gets in the car. He wants to remember this moment purely as it is. Also, he’s not sure he’d be able to let go of Dean once he’s latched on.
“Where to?” Dean asks, for the first time ever.
From the top of his head, Cas suggests his house. “Home” is always the first place one thinks of, isn’t it?
Cas’ mom’s car isn’t in the driveway when they get home.
“Mom?” He calls once him and Dean are inside. He finds a note taped in the kitchen.
Got called into work. Be home late. Pizza in the freezer. Love, Mom.
Cas is relieved. He saw how his mom reacted to just hearing about Dean, she’d probably scare Dean away with all the questions she has planned.
Dean sets Mary on the counter. Cas had forgotten all about that bag of flour.
Cas leans against the counter. “What do you want to do?”
Dean shrugs, looking around.
Cas starts rummaging through his cabinets. A box of chocolate chip muffin mix catches his eye. He sets it down next to Mary and smirks at Dean.
“I’m game.” Dean says.
The difficult part is finding bowls. Cas doesn’t cook a lot. All of his efforts are useless, because usually his mom shoves him out of the kitchen when he tries to help.
Once he finds a bowl big enough and, miraculously, a muffin pan, they preheat the oven--No, Dean, three-fifty not four-fifty--and start to mix everything together. There’s no hope for finding measuring spoons so they have to ask each other, “Does this look like a cup of water? Does this look like a teaspoon of oil? What’s the difference between vegetable and canola oil?” Neither of them know the answers to any of those questions. What a pair they make.
The kitchen is a veritable disaster area by the end of the process. Half of the dry mix is on the ground, or on the counter, or on their faces from when Dean thought Cas’ nose was in need of a little powdering.
“You’re looking a little pale.” Cas says, referring to Dean’s white-powdered face.
“You should really lay off the coke, Cas, this is getting ridiculous,” Dean retorts. They both burst out laughing.
Cas wets a cloth and wipes it across Dean’s face, then turns it over and uses it on his. There’s no use in trying to clean off his clothes, so he only makes half an attempt to pat off some of the flour.
“You missed a spot.” Dean says, pointing at Cas’ lips.
Cas frowns and wipes his face again, but Dean pulls his hand away.
He catches Cas in a quick kiss, then smiles cheerfully.
Cas rolls his eyes to try to make Dean feel like a dork, but Cas loves the quirkiness. He’s never had anything like this, not anything that mattered.
They flip through the channels on Cas’ TV while the muffins bake. Plot twist, it’s Harry Potter weekend on ABC Family, so they end up watching The Prisoner of Azkaban. They’ve each seen it like sixteen times already, but who gets tired of Harry Potter? Okay, they’re not really watching the movie anyway. Their lips are pretty occupied.
The timer beeps and Cas drags himself away to take the muffins out of the oven. So, they’re a little burnt. And underfilled. And there’s only seven of them. But they should taste fine, right? Cas runs back over to the couch with a hot muffin in his hand and sprawls his legs across Dean’s lap. Muffins are supposed to cool, apparently, but Cas throws caution to the wind. Actually, he sets the muffin down on a coaster between him and Dean. They both break off small pieces and try it for themselves. They wrinkle their noses but continue to swallow it down.
“How did we fuck up muffins that bad?” Dean laughs.
“I didn’t know something that contained chocolate could taste that bad.” Cas sticks out his tongue in distaste.
“Is that what those little burnt melty things are? Are you sure it’s not charcoal?” Dean asks.
They eat one more piece before setting it down on the table and continuing to not-watch the movie.
Kissing Dean is nice. It’s not too rough or too chaste and he doesn’t try to stick his tongue down Cas’ throat immediately. He waits. He knows when it’s right. Dean drags his tongue across Cas’ lips, then against his teeth when Cas allows it. But he doesn’t lose his focus while he does that. He keeps running his fingers through Cas’ hair like it’s the natural thing to do. Their bodies work together; their hips shift into place, Cas’ arm adjusts itself for Dean’s elbow when it needs to, when Cas turns to the side, Dean does as well.
Dean’s hips grind against Cas’ in a way that should be outlawed. Cas impulsively runs his hands down Dean’s back and cups his ass, because, well, fuck, he can.
“Y’so hot, Cas,” Dean mutters into Cas’ lips.
He must be lying. Cas isn’t hot. He’s never thought of himself that way, and he definitely can’t imagine anyone else thinking of him that way.
But he’s not lying.
“You don’t know how bad I want you.”
The words make Cas shiver.
The movie becomes the last thing on their minds. They find themselves stumbling up the stairs, Cas leading the way to his room. Cas’ hand is shaking and he struggles to get the door open. Dean becomes impatient and starts kissing the back of Cas’ neck and the exposed skin on his shoulders.
The doorknob finally allows Cas to twist it open so they can stagger into Cas’ dark room. The blinds are always shut and the only light is coming from the hall and streaking through a crack in the door.
Dean nips at Cas’ strong jaw with his teeth--he just can’t help himself--and trails his mouth lower down Cas’ neck. Cas lets out a gritty moan, which only urges Dean on. Dean sucks at the spot above Cas’ collarbone--that earns him another stifled moan. He’s feeling confident, so Dean tugs the hem of Cas’ sweater up. He looks up at Cas for some sign of rejection. He expects Cas to stop him and say, “This is going too fast.” But Cas only nods.
Dean lifts Cas’ sweater over his head and tosses it on the floor next to them. Cas’ waist is smaller than Dean expected, but he’s only seen Cas in baggy, unflattering sweaters. His skin is milky white and looks so smooth. Dean finds himself trailing his fingers across Cas’ waist. That leaves goosebumps on his skin. Cas pulls Dean’s shirt off and throws it next to Dean’s jacket on the ground. His abs are even better up close--not that Cas has watched him run shirtless during football practice or anything. He’s not, like, crazy washboard fit with zero body fat. He looks real. Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls him closer into a kiss. Cas twists around and releases their embrace momentarily. A teasing smile adorns his lips. He pushes Dean back onto his bed and watches Dean’s expression change from surprised to equally as devious. Cas climbs on top of him on the bed, but Cas learns that apparently Dean prefers topping as he rolls them over into opposite positions. Their bare chests rub together and create a friction between them that Cas has never felt. He could only describe it as pure sexual tension.
Cas’ breath hitches as Dean reaches Cas’ zipper. Dean pauses and slides back up to Cas’ level.
Cas begins to stammer out, “I’ve never, uh, done-”
“Me neither.” Dean says. Cas looks at him oddly and he corrects himself, “With a guy, I mean.”
“Oh.” Cas says. His face is flushed and there’s a peculiar mix of emotions on his face.
“Do you want to stop?” Dean asks thoughtfully.
“No!” Cas replies immediately. “No, this feels...right.” He pushes himself up to meet Dean’s lips. Dean presses his forehead to Cas’ and looks at him like, Are you sure?
Cas smiles gently, then lightly runs his fingers across Dean’s jaw before pressing his lips to Dean’s again. It’s a modest kiss, especially for what they plan to do next.
Dean drags his mouth back down Cas’ body. Cas shivers when he feels Dean’s teeth against his torso, then his hips. Dean unzips Cas’ jeans and pulls them off, watching Cas carefully as he does. Cas has himself propped up by his elbows on the bed, watching Dean just as carefully. Thrill and arousal pumps through his veins.
Cas kind of regrets wearing bumblebee boxer-briefs today. Dean smiles, though, and attaches his mouth to the groove of Cas’ hip bone. He sucks hard and leaves a couple hickies in his wake. Cas likes the possessiveness of the marks.
Cas eyelids flutter closed when he feels his briefs begin to slide down. When Dean takes Cas in his mouth, it’s the best thing Cas has ever felt. It’s certainly better than anything he could have done himself.
“Dean,” he moans. He doesn’t know how many times he says it. He reaches out and latches onto something, which he figures is Dean’s hair. It reminds him that Dean is actually there. Well, of course Dean is there--for God’s sake he feels that--but he needs to make sure this isn’t just an extremely vivid wet dream.
It hits him all at once, he can’t stop it. “Dean, I’m gonna-”
Cas’ back arches and his toes curl up tight as he feels himself come into Dean’s mouth.
Dean licks his lips and crawls up to give Cas a sloppy kiss. Cas can feel Dean throbbing against his leg. Dean’s pants are already down, like he’s already started. Cas uses the rest of his strength to lick his hand before reaching out and stroking Dean a few times, but that’s all it takes.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says, his voice low and gritty. He comes over Cas’ hand and onto his own stomach. He collapses onto the bed and rests his head on Cas’ shoulder. They lay there blissfully panting for a couple minutes. Cas looks curiously down at his hand and resists the urge to wipe it off on his duvet. He tentatively licks one finger, then another, until his hand is dry.
It tastes bitter, kind of salty. Cas doesn’t mind.
He looks down and realizes that Dean has been staring at him the whole time. Dean smiles deliciously and turns his head to kiss the soft skin he finds on Cas’ chest.
Cas takes a moment to soak it all in. The past week, the past day, the past hour. He runs his fingers through Dean’s hair--kind of sweaty--and begins silently counting is freckles. It’s better than he could have dreamed of.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean says into the silence.
“Mm.” Cas replies.
“Wanna be my boyfriend?”
Cas yawns. “Something like that.”
Dean starts kissing Cas’ neck again, but this time it’s sweeter, less carnal.
Cas smiles and stretches out his arms above him.
That’s the last thing he remembers before he wakes up, hours later.
Cas feels on the other side of the bed for Dean, but there’s nothing there. Cas opens his eyes and finds a letter on the pillow next to him. It’s in a familiar handwriting.
I swear this isn’t a one night stand. I didn’t want your mom to be suspicious or anything, so I left after you fell asleep. Text me tomorrow. Get some rest, babe. -Dean
Cas holds the note close to his chest. It’s the simplest things in life that matter, right? Well, that “babe” means the world to Cas.
He puts the note under his pillow and says a silent “thanks” to all the forces--spiritual, coincidental, whatever--that allowed this to happen. Cas notices that he has bottoms on again and also sends thanks to Dean, who was hopefully the one to put them on him.
Cas falls back asleep thinking about all the things he’s thankful for. All the people, all the plants, all the thoughts, all the spirits, all things looking out for him. He just wants everything to know, he is thankful.
---
Monday comes back around and Dean and Cas have managed not to destroy their flour baby like a lot of their class did. It’s kind of sad to see Mary go, for that’s the thing that brought them together in the first place.
They accept the loss and trade it in for a shiny new A+.
Dean and Cas don’t exactly know what to make of their newfound relationship. They’re from opposite ends of the popularity spectrum, are they supposed to somehow meet in the middle?
“Guess what I’m doing at lunch today.” Dean says after they turn in their bag of flour.
“Keeping a respectable distance from me and my friends as you have for the past three years?” Cas deadpans.
“What? No, shut up. I’m signing up for hockey tryouts.”
“That’s great!” Cas smiles.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s all thanks to you.” Dean squeezes Cas’ hand under the table.
“So I’m your muse?” Cas raises his eyebrow.
“Something like that.”
It’s only when lunchtime comes that Cas remembers his bet with Balthazar.
Everyone is already sitting at the table when Cas gets there. He doesn’t notice that they’re all staring at him--even Anna, who is conscious today--until he looks up a moment later.
“Well?” Balthazar says. A devious smile creeps across his face.
“Well what?” Cas says, playing dumb.
“Did your boy toy put out?” Balthazar leans closer to Cas across the table.
Cas sighs. “That’s my personal business and I don’t think you have any claim to it.”
“The hell I don’t!” Balthazar snorts.
“A bet’s a bet, Cassy.” Gabe says. He’s sucking on a lollipop the size of Cas’ fist.
“That’s true.” Jo points out.
(“I’m not really sure what’s going on, but it sounds thrilling,” Anna mutters.)
“Seriously?” Cas says, mouth hanging open. “I have the worst friends.”
Cas feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist and someone says behind his head, “They don’t seem that bad.”
Cas turns his head and sees Dean crouching next to him on the ground. “Is this a respectable distance?” Dean whispers so only Cas can hear.
And for the cherry on top, because of course Dean needs to stake his claim, he kisses Cas for a good four, five seconds before winking and saying, “See you later.” He walks off and suddenly Cas wants him back, because at least his friends wouldn’t be as embarrassing with company around.
Fuck, no, they’d be even worse.
Cas reluctantly turns his head to face the group. Each and every one of their jaws are dropped. Cas even sees a few people just standing around staring at him in disbelief.
And he can’t even hide his smug smile.
“I hate you guys so much.” Before burying is furiously blushing face in his arms, Cas reaches into his back pocket and slides something across the table .
A crisp twenty dollar bill.