Chapter Text
“So,” Dean leaned to his side, “Watcha doodling?”
Castiel moved his arm to cover his sketchbook, “None of your business.”
“Whatever, I know it’s cool either way.”
Cas rolled his eyes as he resumed his sketch. Dean turned to the front of the classroom, sighing. But when he glanced back at his elbow partner, he saw his lips upturned in a small smile.
Dean’s eyes drifted back to the sketchbook, to where a thin red thread was drawn. It was tied to someone’s pinky finger. The thread was knotted and frayed in some parts, but still intact. It twirled off the bottom of the page.
Dean’s heart fluttered. He stared down at his pants and coughed as Castiel looked up at him, his eyebrows raised.
...
Dean stared at the boy in front of him, more specifically at the rhythmic movement of his left hand. He had decorated the margins of his notebook paper with detailed drawings of jewelry and flowers.
At one point towards the bottom of the paper a wrinkled hand reached from the side towards a small tortoise. Dean's look drifted towards his face, his brow was creased. The blue-eyed boy stopped, blinked once, twice, and set his pencil down. He lifted his head to meet Dean's gaze and smiled.
Dean looked away as his face flushed pink. Suddenly deciding that the lesson may have been of some importance.
He squinted at the board, careful to avoid looking back at Castiel's paper. As his teacher droned on about the importance of young entrepreneurs in the modern working world, Dean tapped a symphony on the table top. Paying tribute to Tchaikovsky's symphony No.5 in E Minor – number 3. Sadly, even conducting an imaginary orchestra couldn't make the time pass quicker, and Dean had almost fallen asleep by the time he could head to his next class.
Dean gathered is things, bolting out the door the second the bell rang. He turned down the first hallway.
"Hey ginger." Dean grinned, skidding to a stop at Charlie's locker.
"Yo! Off to chamber strings, are we?" She grinned.
"You know it." Dean smiled back. Picking his pace back up as Charlie shut her locker. Her arms now additionally holding a black binder stuffed to the point of no return, stray papers peeking out of the sides. Sections crumpled or spilled on, "You know, the one thing I'd never get over is the fact that every score has at least 9 parts to it. You never get a solo. And you violas are still stuck with 16 measures of triplets, all open D."
"Tell me about it." She sighed as she struggled to catch page four of 'Lovers' by Carter Burwell as it floated through the air.
They bounced down 6 flights of stairs to the basement, passing and waving to Benny Lafitte and Jo Harvelle on their way. Dean nodded to Mr. Hamish.
Dean smiled and continued through the door of B-13, Charlie following close behind him. Dean made his way to the locker room, he unbuckled his cello case, leaning the plastic shell against the wall and grabbing a stand on the way out. Charlie skipped to Dean, sitting herself down beside him.
"Bela is playing with us today, right?"
Dean nodded. He arranged his sheet music, bars of the staff highlighted in different colors, on the stand, "It is a trio, Charlie."
She rolled her eyes and poked him with the tip of her bow, "Hey!" Dean said, "I'm not the one with score from 'The Hobbit' in my class binder."
She scoffed, "Explain the Star Trek then!"
Dean laughed, taking his bow out of his case and tightening it so that the beige horse hair was strung perfectly taught. He placed it on the string and drew the bow, his other hand hovering just above the tuning pegs. The body of his cello rested perfectly in between his legs and his back was curved in an easy position. He only pulled out the real posture at performances. He cast a glance at Charlie, who preferred to stand, as she beckoned Bela over. Charlie set her bow on the D string, her viola perched comfortably on her shoulder.
They began to play as Bela arrived. The piece was of Dean's own composition. It was mellow and nostalgic, yet laced with cheerful undertones that lay within Charlie and Bela's small duet; during which Charlie shifted high on the G string while Bela's sweet, airy vibrato on the E and A strings set a mood that you could only ever reach through music.
They ran through the 5 sheets, smiling widely at each other afterwards.
"I just love it!" Bela chirped, "You're going to win! and I assure you, Dean, I don't like people, or compliment them often."
Charlie nodded, "Seriously dude, I'm just worried about your art thing." She looked around at the class, "I mean your competition in terms of the piece is little but that's gonna be tricky."
"Mick is illustrating mine." Bela said.
Charlie sealed a block of rosin back in its box, "And Kevin and I are doing something animated."
Dean shrugged, "I'm not freaking out – yet. I love composing. But as we all know," He gestured around the classroom. "Even my stick figures look like shit. It's sort of worrying me. Especially because I know exactly 4 people in art classes. And you both took the only two I know really well." He fake glared at Charlie and Bela.
They laughed, "Best of luck. Hey, Charlie! Let's run through yours."
Chamber Strings had been mostly independent since Senior year started. Mr. Hamish seemed to just enjoy their presence. And aside from the few weeks they set aside occasionally for school concerts, they worked on composing, composers, and a few other projects.
Their current assignment was strangely exciting. Each student had to pair up with a peer from an art class. The music student would construct and perform the composition, while the artist would create some form of visual piece to accompany it.
Charlie and Bela were right, Dean's composition definitely sat at a high place, but his art feature was lacking – very lacking.
They played through Charlie and Bela's piece, each close to Dean's in terms of advancement. Charlie's was a cheerful concerto with a ¾ time signature in G Major. It involved a lot of complicated slides and shifting. She called it canary – fitting. Bela's was a combination of Dean's mellowness and Charlie's cheer. It began in A Minor, changing to E major halfway through, and increasing the difficulty with a style that resembled fiddling.
The three breezed through that class, saying their goodbyes to Mr. Hamish on the way out. Though there were many options in terms of places to eat lunch, Dean's favorite was the courtyard. Its simple style had always charmed Dean to eating there. Since the room was originally outdoors, a glass ceiling had been built in place in 1972, the floor was made of cracked brick; and places where moss and weeds formerly grew from the crevices were prominent.
Previously, Dean had been assigned to write an essay about the history of his 'most prized place' in the building. The project asked them to include their favorite aspects. Dean's had been the brightly colored banners that unfurled from the ceiling, giving the room a joyful aesthetic.
"What is it today?" Charlie asked, kicking back in her usual purple plastic chair.
"Cheeseburgers!" Dean cheered.
Bela offered her sourest face, "Fake charred flesh on a fake bun. Tasteless Americans, no class." She swung her embroidered lunch bag on the table, retrieving a thermos of hot tea and plastic sandwich container, "Ham, Turkey, Spinach, Tomato, Provolone, Pepperoni, and Colby – slathered in mayo and olive oil. Try me." She smirked.
"Yesterday you had peanut-butter and pear." Kevin stated as he sat down beside her, "We're not competing with much."
Bela rolled her eyes as Dean chuckled, "Burger, lettuce, onion, tomato. American cheese all melty. Beats your fancy bread Oreo any day." He sighed, "That is, if it was a real burger."
Charlie and Kevin laughed as Bela threw her hands up in mock exasperation, eyes twinkling with mirth.
Dean and Charlie got up from their seats and paraded to the lunch line, leaning against the wall as they waited. Eventually they got to their trays, and a gray-haired lunch lady spooned watery corn along with a thin, non-malleable burger onto their paper plates.
They sat back down at their table, now joined by Benny and Jo. Charlie took her seat next to Dorothy and planted a small kiss on her cheek. Dorothy smiled at her.
"So, halfway through Friday. How do you feel?" Benny pointed his camera at Dean's face.
Dean chuckled through a mouthful of burger, "Mm." He swallowed. "Great, thanks."
Benny shrugged, "I've gotta document it, senior year you know."
Dean reached for the camera, "Give it here," he flipped it around in his hands so that the lens pointed towards his face, "Captains log Stardate 7063.7, Lieutenant Lafitte still insists on documenting our riveting routines. I still lack the und-"
"Dean!" Benny gestured to Dorothy and Charlie. Charlie’s head was nestled into Dorothy’s shoulder.
Dean flipped the camera and zoomed closer to their friends, "Damn," he smirked, "this really is the final frontier."
Charlie groaned and playfully punched Dean's bicep. He grinned.
"That'll be great for the video."
"Woah-oh no way are we putting that on there." Jo said frankly, “Girl code. Can’t let a sister down.”
"Oh come on!"
"When you get a girlfriend we can guarantee there's no way you're ever gonna get that camera away from your face. Ever." Dorothy retorted, Jo high-fived her from across the table.
Benny shrugged. "Also," he turned to Dean, "do you even know what riveting means?"
"No idea."
The six finished their food, Bela still insisting she didn't know why she hung out with these 'filthy Americans'. Kevin and Charlie were fanning themselves over Game of Thrones and Jo and Benny continued their usual friendly bickering. After Dean's lunch period, he was left with English 7/8 and Metal Working. He split ways with everyone after lunch. Benny and Jo both took Metal-Shop as well, but neither during Dean's period.
Dean threw away his paper tray and said goodbye to his table. He trudged out of the glass doors, making his way up a floor to his locker. He twisted the combination lock, 18-09-37, and rummaged around his backpack for his English 7-8 Binder.
Dean made his way across the hall to room A-07 and leaned against the doorframe as he waited for the doors to open. He drew imaginary circles on the gray brick walls as he hummed, stopping when he noticed someone waiting next to him. A mop of messy dark hair sitting on his head.
"Hey, Cas." Dean said, having felt a sense of social deprivation after sitting all alone in an empty corridor.
"Hello Dean." The blue-eyed boy looked up at him, and suddenly gasped as if he'd just remembered something. He shuffled through his binder, either not noticing or caring about Dean's faint laughter. He finally retrieved a sheet of loose-leaf paper, neatly folded into two sections, and handed it to Dean.
The bell rang as Castiel stood up, and he made his way into the classroom. Dean clutched to the paper in his hands, heart beating quicker as he took his seat. Dean unfolded the paper. It was all done in bright purple pen that began to run out as his doodles reached outside of the margins. In the middle, however, a sketch had been done in black ink. It was a boy, freckles dotting his sharp noise and cheekbones. Dean squinted at the picture, and nearly screeched when he realized it was him. Dean could feel the blush climbing higher onto his face as he carefully refolded the paper and shoved it into his pocket.
He looked at the whiteboard, clearing his throat and tapping his pencil. The rest of his peers finally calming down as the teacher entered the room. He sighed, and glanced around the classroom. Hesitating as he realized that Castiel was watching him, a smile on his face.
…
Dean spun in his chair. stopping when Charlie was in his line of sight, "This," He spun again, "Is the reason I live."
Charlie laughed, spinning around once in her chair as well. Dean stretched his legs as their class began.
Computer Apps went on, kids typing their essays on clickity old keyboards. Dean was honest to god getting into the history of his school’s courtyard when he stopped. Distracted. Down the aisle of computers, three boys were huddled together snickering about something. Castiel stood over them, desperately reaching for the thing they were holding. Balthazar watched from the side, pleading with them to give it back. Dean stood up, Charlie quirked an eyebrow at him and Dean nodded to her. She sighed and rose behind him.
He sauntered across the room, dropping to his knees by the three boys. He smiled up at them, "Whatcha got there?" He growled.
One of the three, Dean believed his name was Zachariah, responded in a hostile tone, "None of your business." He turned away from Dean.
Dean looked back to Castiel, head buried in his hands, Charlie with a comforting hand on his back. She cleared her throat.
"Mmm..." Dean hummed, snatching the book from their hands and flipping it in his palms, "I don't think it's any of yours."
"Oh come on! Seriously? You're so-"
"Nothing, I'm so nothing. And you're a dick." Dean grinned, handing the sketchbook back to Castiel and patting him on the shoulder.
Zachariah huffed and looked back to his computer. His friends stifling their laughter beside him.
"Thanks. Dean," Castiel nodded to him, "Sharing my sketchbook is not a thing I do."
Dean nodded at him, "You keep doing what you're doing, it's actually really good." He blushed.
Castiel chuckled, "I try."
Dean and Charlie trekked back to their seats, and continued their essays.
…
"So," Charlie slumped against Dean's beige locker, dented due to his friend's frankly annoying habits of banging the beats of early 2000's songs on its already beaten cover. "Friday night, what are we doing?"
Dean shrugged. Taking his back-pack and swinging it around his shoulders, "Ted & Wally's?"
"Ooo." Charlie moaned.
Dean laughed, "Ah yes, nothing like cold ice cream on a beautiful March evening."
"I mean, it's true for Nebraska."
"Everything's true in Nebraska."
Charlie shrugged, her eyebrows lifting as she accepted his triumph.
"Just us?" She buzzed, "It gets boring every week with just me and you."
"Agreed, sorta. Bela?"
"No she's busy, so are Jo and Kevin. I think Benny's staying late today. And Mick is lactose intolerant."
"He could get the vegan ones." Dean suggested, ushering Charlie along the hallway out of school.
"Mick? And coconut milk? He thinks anything but tea is weird as a liquid, but coconut juice?"
Dean sighed, "It's just us two then."
Charlie and Dean continued, heading out the North wing doors. They made their way to Dean's car and hopped in. The two drove around the Joslyn, finding their way into the heart of the old market. The moved onto Dodge and eventually turned down 24th to Douglas.
Dean smiled at the familiar parking lot of Ted & Wally's. From the faded green trim staining the foundation of the building, to the various colorful advertisements taped to the clouded windows. Including the few Apollon Community theater posters Charlie's friend had asked them to hang up around downtown. Dean and Charlie had spent a lot of time downtown, and a lot more time eating ice cream.
They pushed through the doors, lining up behind a few other high school kids and one family of four.
"I want to branch out Charles," Dean said, "I get maple bacon or peanut-butter every time. It's senior year!"
Charlie giggled, "Try the Taro, it's good I swear."
"Okay I'm not talking 'yoga freak who wears lavender-honey-scrub and listens to obscure indie bands' kind of branching out."
"You think that's new age? I'm taking you to get boba."
"Nuh-uh," Dean shook his head, "No way. Sam loves that stuff. The balls hurt my stomach, and the chewiness makes me feel sick."
Charlie sigh-laughed, stepping closer to the counter and pointing to the menu. Asking the girl behind the counter for a chocolate covered waffle cone. One scoop bubblegum, one scoop Chocolate, one scoop birthday cake. The cashier turned away, her pierced eyebrows raised in exasperation, she flipped the purple fringe away from her eyes and stepped to the glass ice cream case.
Charlie took the cone and looked to Dean, her lips parted in an excited "O" shape. Dean stepped up next, requesting for a waffle cone with two scoops peanut-butter chocolate, one vanilla.
They took their usual seats by the window. They leaned back in the brightly colored booths and licked their cones.
"I've gotta admit," Dean said, "your ice cream combinations are really weird. I mean, I've kept quiet about it since first grade. But when the girl with a purple pixie cut working an actual ice cream store thinks so? You know something's up."
Charlie shrugged, "Anything interesting today? She asked, a drip of bright pink liquid rolling down her chin. Dean grabbed a napkin and handed it to her.
"No," He began, "Actually, yeah."
"Oo! Tell! Tell!" She ushered, wiping the ice cream from her face.
Dean patted his pocket, reaching inside and retrieving a piece of slightly crumpled notebook paper. "Cas gave this to me."
She raised an eyebrow, smirking as she opened the note.
"Aww!" She squealed, "This is adorable!"
Dean groaned.
"Did you see this?" She jabbed the paper in front of his eyes and pointed to a few words Dean hadn't seen before. They read almost illegibly, Cas's i's slashed instead of dotted and his t's messily crossed. Cas's g's and were so loopy that they made Dean dizzy. And he thought normal reading gave him a headache. But at least Charlie could read it, barely.
'how's your composition? gorgeous, i presume.'
Dean had forgotten that the project counted as double summative for both art and music students, he grinned, taking a lick of his ice cream, "I think I may have found my partner."
"Oh I hope you have. Cas is kind of dreamy. In a mysterious Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic kind of way."
"You're a lesbian."
Charlie raised her eyebrows and smirked, "Oh, that's not me talking."
Dean licked his ice cream, "I mean, You’re right."
They finished their ice cream as they made light conversation, coming to an agreement that the two should probably get their weekly hangout in then. Charlie texted her mom in Dean's car, giving him a thumbs up as they turned onto 47th.
They hopped out of the Impala. Dean patted her hood and smiled. Charlie rolled her eyes as Dean muttered something about her mileage. They trudged to the door, Sam just hopping off the bus on their way in.
"Dean! Charlie!" He skipped to them, hugging them both and yelling about something that happened on the bus.
Dean rustled his brother's hair and stepped inside, Charlie and Sam following close behind.
“Mom!” Dean shouted, tugging his shoes off and throwing his backpack to the floor.
“Hey!” she yelled back, a tray of slightly burnt cookies in her arms. Her eyes watered due to the thin layer of smoke clouding the air.
“Charlie’s sleeping over.” He said, pulling her in for a side hug and grabbing a cookie off the tray as he stepped to the fridge.
“I figured... Oh and those are hot.” She smirked as Dean took a bite, not registering what she’d said. He spat it back out, scrambling to open his orange colored sports drink.
“Geez! Mom!”
Mary giggled, patting him on the back, “You'd think after 18 years.” Dean shushed her.
Charlie and Sam stepped into the kitchen. Mary offered each of them a cookie. Sam grabbed 3 and rushed to pour a glass of milk. Charlie raised her hands in defense, kindly expressing to Ms. Winchester that she had already had 3 scoops of extremely sugary and artificially colored ice cream.
Dean gasped for air as he gulped the last of his Gatorade, "Dehydration and burnt cookies, great combo." He coughed.
Dean and Charlie escaped to the living room, Dean reached for the remote and turned the TV on, loading Netflix.
"Remember I have work tonight! I'm leaving in a few." Mary called from the kitchen. Turning off the faucet as she spoke, "No parties. And Sam, you can bring a friend over if you'd like."
"No parties!" Dean yelled back, "what kind of pizza do you want Sam?"
"Hamburger, and I'm good but thanks, mom."
"Be good."
Dean went back to browsing categories as Charlie ran up the stairs, returning with a few blankets.
"Rom-com?" She asked.
"Haven't we seen all of them?"
"Hulu?"
Dean sighed, switching off Netflix.
…
Dean leaned to the side, skimming through the paper his peer was currently writing. Their assignment was to write a 3,000-word essay analyzing subtext and foreshadowing in the modern media. However, his shoulder partner had instead elected to write a paper on the importance of Netflix in the modern student’s life. Dean had applauded him.
"You know Cas," Dean tapped the boy's rosy cheek with his pencil's eraser, "This could double as your science project if you faked some data."
"Ah, I acknowledge your proposal. But you see, I actually enjoy science."
Dean nodded at him, "I know you do. Bill Nye."
"By the way," He set his pencil down, "when did you start calling me Cas?"
Dean blushed.
Cas's eyes widened, he waved his hands in the air. "No, I like it! Castiel is boring. Castiel sounds like I'm some... prince? I'm far from a prince."
"Hmm," Dean hummed, "I would have to disagree."
The boy's blue eyes widened, farther, Jesus how big could his eyes get? "I don't think it's very wise to flirt with royalty."
"Screw wisdom."
Cas smiled, and turned back to his paper.