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No part of Castiel’s being had had any desire whatsoever to attend this stupid party. He’d been perfectly content to stay home alone while his brothers and sister made merry, had even been looking forward to curling up in a quiet house with a cup of tea and a worn paperback. It’s not that he’s shy or nervous like many of his peers seem to believe, but it is that he’s awkward and just plain bad at people, and the idea of spending an entire evening with noisy, inebriated strangers sounds like the worst kind of tedium imaginable.
Yet somehow here he is in Andy Gallagher’s basement, surrounded by laughing teenagers and obnoxiously loud rap music, clutching a cup of some sort of disgustingly sweet mixed drink Anna had pressed into his hand before disappearing with her girlfriend, Ruby. He thinks he should be angry that he’d been forced to accompany her only to be left by himself standing awkwardly by the drink table, but he can only muster up bored and somewhat irritated. Castiel glances at his watch and makes a concerted effort to make himself invisible, willing the hands of the clock to tick by faster so he can find Anna and head for the safety of his quiet, empty house.
Some of the kids across the room appear to be playing some inane game called “Seven Minutes in Heaven”, a game orchestrated by one of the girls and protested by many, especially Dean Winchester, Castiel’s sometimes lab partner and sometimes friend, although he’d shut up about it when he’d been taken by the hand and pulled into the closet by Lisa Braeden. Castiel smiles into his cup when his friend emerges pink-faced under his freckles and holding hands with Lisa.
“Hey Castiel!”
He looks down sharply, startled, into the determined brown eyes of Joanna Harvelle. “Hello, Jo,” he intones, brow furrowing as he stares confusedly down at her.
“We’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, wanna play?”
He blinks. “With you?”
Jo rolls her eyes. “No, not with me, stupid. I already went in with Charlie.” Her cheeks flush prettily as she glares up at Castiel as if daring him to comment. He doesn’t.
“C’mon, man, you should play,” Dean pipes up, ignoring the scowl Castiel levels in his direction in favor of a knowing smirk. And then to Castiel’s dismay, because God hates him and Dean Winchester is an ass who also happens to be the only person in the entire school who knows about Castiel’s ridiculous crush, Dean looks up at the stairs across the room and yells “Hey Meg! Wanna have seven minutes in heaven with Cas?”
Castiel squints hard at his friend, trying to convey without words that Dean should shut up or risk losing his help on their upcoming biology assignment but Dean just winks and it’s too late anyway, because the petite brunette who’d paused on the stairs is making her way over to Castiel, interest and curiosity in her eyes and the twist of her lips.
“Hiya, Clarence,” she purrs, stalking right up to him with her eyes intent on his face and a little smirk on her pretty mouth, stained red from whatever she’d been drinking. Her small hand closes around his wrist and she tugs him forward to whistles and cheers from the teenagers around them. Castiel is too shocked to protest, his feet moving obediently after her as she leads him straight into the open closet and tugs the door shut behind them.
The closet is small and dusty, close quarters for two people, and dimly lit by a single light bulb screwed into the socket on the ceiling. Meg releases him as soon as they’re inside, looking speculatively up at him for a moment, searching his face for something. She must find whatever it is she’s looking for because she nods to herself and takes a step back, leaning against the shelves behind her and putting space between them. Castiel’s hands hang limply at his sides as he waits anxiously for Meg to do whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing in here.
When no action is forthcoming, Castiel squints across the closet at her, staring at her face as though it might hold some answer. “I understood the purpose of this exercise was for us to kiss for seven minutes,” Castiel says finally, the words awkward on his tongue. “Is that wrong?”
Meg meets his eyes and laughs, arching one sharply-angled brow. “You wanna kiss me, Clarence?”
Castiel’s stomach does a funny little jump and he swallows nervously. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly, though in theory at any other time the answer might have been ‘yes’. He’s liked Meg ever since they partnered on a group project last year, in spite of his better judgement and in spite of what Michael and his other brothers have said about her and her friends.
“There you go,” she says now in that slow, sultry drawl of hers. “I’m not gonna make you kiss me if you don’t want to, Castiel.” It’s the first time she’s ever used his name, always preferring to call him ‘Clarence’ for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. She grins salaciously as she settles back against the shelf, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Not that I would say no if you did want to. You’re kinda hot.”
Castiel’s reactions seem to once again be reduced to blinking and squinting as he stares back at her, some confused mixture of heat and nerves filling his belly. He doesn’t think he’s ever been described as ‘hot’ before and has no idea what to do with that assertion. “Why did you drag me in here, then, if not to kiss me?”
Meg raises her eyebrows, amused. “You think they would’ve let you get away without going in here with someone? Bunch of vultures.”
Castiel’s brow furrows and he’s sure he’s misunderstood her. “You were… protecting me?”
“Yeah, but you can just shut up about it,” she says easily, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “What are you doing at this party, anyway? I didn’t think this would be your kind of scene.”
“It’s not,” he replies. “My sister made me come with her.”
Meg shakes her head, long dark hair flicking against her shoulders with the motion, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Poor Clarence, having to go out in public on a Friday night. What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”
“Reading a book, most likely. Tonight I was going to start Ender’s Game.”
“Like the movie?”
Castiel shrugs. “I don’t know; I haven’t seen it. But I enjoy science fiction books. It’s actually one of my favorites.” He’s read it four times, his copy beat up and battered from travelling to and fro with him in his schoolbag, but he chooses not to tell her that.
Meg cocks her head appraisingly, studying him. “Huh. And here I would’ve pegged you for some stuffy English Lit nerd, not the classic sci-fi kind.” She smiles, a closed mouth press of lips, her eyes dancing from under heavy lids. “You’re surprising. I like.”
Warmth unfurls in Castiel’s chest at her words and he tries a smile. Her own grin broadens in reply, and he finds he’s as surprised by her as she claims to be by him. “What do you like to do?” Castiel asks her, and immediately feels stupid when she laughs, though not unkindly.
“We’re gonna do the first date run-through?” There’s the eyebrow again, a teasing smirk on her lips that he thinks he likes. “All right, I’ll play ball. I read too, sometimes, but I like watching movies better. I’m on the Track team ‘cause I’m a kick-ass sprinter.” She grins. “And I like getting drunk at parties and getting in the closet with tall, pretty, book-nerds.”
It sounds like an innuendo like everything else she says, but she’s not drunk now, and she makes no move to touch him other than to reach out and turn his wrist so she can see the time ticking away on his watch. “Well, looks like our seven minutes are up, Clarence. You’re free to go back to your wall-flowering. Hope it was good for you.” She reaches for the door knob but stops when Castiel places his hand on her shoulder. She looks at it, surprised, before raising her eyebrows and looking up at him expectantly.
Castiel drops his hand hastily and swallows nervously. “Sorry. I was just going to say - you could kiss me now, if you wanted.”
Meg’s eyebrows climb even higher towards her hairline. “You’re off the hook, Castiel, we don’t have to do that. I’ll tell them all we did if that’s what you want. You were amazing, blah, blah, blah.”
“No, I.” He draws in a sharp breath. “I like you, Meg. I would like to kiss you, please.”
“Well, well,” she says, turning around to face him as a slow smile spreads across her face. “I like you too, Clarence.” Meg steps towards him, not too close, but close enough, and stretches up on her toes. Her small hand circles the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her waiting mouth. Her lips are soft against his and they taste like cranberry juice when he kisses back tentatively. He lets her lead, parting his lips at the questioning touch of her tongue, letting his hands fall on the curve of her hips when she presses closer to him. At the gentle scrape of her teeth against his bottom lip he gasps, fingers tightening convulsively on her hips. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but she seems to like it as much as he does when he kisses back harder, the slide of his tongue pulling hungry sounds from her throat and sending heat lancing to Castiel’s groin.
It’s over too soon, but Castiel reluctantly lets her go when Meg slows them and slides back to the balls of her feet. “Mmm,” she hums happily as she pulls away, her hand lingering on the back of his neck and sending a pleasant shiver down his spine as she toys with his hair where it curls against his skin. “Excellent first date, Clarence. You should think about asking me on a second.” She stretches up to peck him one last time on the cheek before dropping the hand and reaching out to turn the knob.
“All right,” he says belatedly when he can find his voice again, lips ticking up into an unconscious smile as he follows her back out into the party.