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Dean didn’t like parties, and he didn’t like Halloween.
Granted, he liked bars, and this party was at one. But that didn’t make the socializing part any better. Especially since there wasn’t even going to be any alcohol.
Not that he had a problem with people. But teenagers were boring. Things they liked: reality TV, talking about their private relationships, Taco Bell. Parties. Things they didn’t like: classic rock. Old movies. Crime mysteries.
Scratch that. That wasn’t just teenagers. It was people. Either way, he had no intention of going to this particular party.
His friends weren’t exactly in the same headspace.
“This party is stupid, and I have more important things to do,” said Kevin during break, leaning his elbows on the backrest of a chair he'd moved to face the group.
Alright. So one friend was in the same headspace. But the rest...
“It’s going to be awesome,” said Garth.
“You have to come,” Jo added. “It’s at my mom’s bar. My mom is awesome. And there isn’t even any alcohol, so anyone can come.”
“I wouldn’t count that as an advantage,” said Charlie. “A bar party with no alcohol.” She looked at Dean for approval, as he often did to her, but he avoided her eyes. He looked around the class and prayed for the next lesson to start before someone asked him whether he was going.
“It’s an advantage in Kevin’s case,” said Jo. “Come on. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“I could lose four hours of my life that could have been dedicated to studying,” Kevin retorted.
See, he didn’t want all that. The last thing he needed was his friends judging him and giving him shit, and he wasn’t in the mood for arguing.
“Charlie, you’re coming, right?” Asked Jo.
“Sure.” She looked at Dean. “If Dean is. I don’t want to be a sad lesbian at a party on my own.”
Oh, no. No way.
“That might be a problem,” said Dean. He tapped a nervous rhythm on his desk and looked in the direction of the door. Why wasn’t the bell ringing? “Because I’m not a sad lesbian.”
“You’re the next best thing,” Charlie teased. “So, are you going?”
“Uhhm.” The group was looking at him now.
He couldn’t say no. But he didn’t want to say yes. There was no way they’d leave him be without a good reason for not wanting to go – especially Jo. The Roadhouse meant a lot to her.
No, they wouldn’t just leave him be.
…Unless he had a good reason.
“Yeah, no, I can’t,” he said. His plan was brewing in his head just as the words were coming out. “I have a…”
They watched him expectantly.
“Crush,” he said finally.
Cold. Idiot. Why didn’t he go with cold?
“So?” Asked Garth.
“So, I… I don’t wanna go without them. It’s too sad.” He looked at them blankly and, with as much emotion as he could manage, said, “I’m gonna be alone forever.”
They stared back for a moment. Then Charlie said,
“Aww, see. Sad lesbian.”
"I'm not a sad lesbian."
“You should ask them,” said Jo. “They might say yes.”
“Yeah, I don't think so." It came off just a little too confident.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why? You don’t have any problem asking people out. I’ve seen you ask someone out during an exam.”
“I’ve seen you ask out a girl who was giving you her cold medicine,” said Garth.
“You asked someone out last month in your gym clothes while you were covered in sweat,” Kevin added. “And she said yes.”
“That’s different, you guys,” said Dean.
“Why?”
“They’re…” They’re… They’re… “Way out of my league,” he stammered out finally. Ha! Good one. Got it. He was safe. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest.
“Who is it?” Asked Charlie.
Crap.
“I don’t want to say,” he said unwillingly.
“We’re not going to laugh, Dean.”
“Yeah, we’re just going to go up to them and talk you up and make you all embarrassed,” said Jo.
Dean’s eyes skipped around the room frantically. Who was so out of his league that his friends would believe he didn't stand a chance with? Not Anna, not Meg, not Balthazar, definitely not April…
And then it hit him, in the form of a dark haired, blue eyed student sitting at the back of the classroom.
Not special to Dean by any account, but certainly kick-you-in-the-nuts popular. Even better: not the kind of popular who was friends with everyone. The kind of popular who was friends with no one, because everyone was intimidated by him.
“It’s Cas,” Dean nodded with confidence, and everyone followed his stare to the back of the room.
As far as Dean could see, the guy didn’t even care about making friends. In the four years of them being in the same class, Dean has only had one conversation with him that lasted more than thirty seconds, and it was:
Cas: Dean.
Him: hey, man.
Cas: did you get a good score on the history exam?
Him: not really. Hey, can you pass me that- aw, shit. I spilled coffee on you.
Cas: it’s alright. It’s just my jacket.
Him: I’m so sorry, man,
Cas: don’t worry about it. I have a spare one in my locker.
Dean has felt bad about the coffee incident ever since.
Nice guy. Super intimidating. And there was no way, no existing possibility, no shred of a chance, that he would ever say yes to going to a party with someone he didn’t even hang out with.
This was it. This was his golden ticket to staying home.
“Cas?” Jo scrunched her nose. “Ouch. He is out of your league.”
“You’re right,” said Dean, shaking his head. “So, so out of my league. So painfully, devastatingly out of my league.”
“You should still ask him.”
Dean gaped at her. “Huh?”
Jo pushed her chair forward and put her elbows on his table. “This is your chance. It’s the perfect opportunity: it’s much less embarrassing than just randomly telling him you like him, because there’s a party involved. It’s totally normal to ask someone to a party. And if he’s not interested, he can let you down easy by saying he’s not into parties or something. I mean, he does look more like the guy who would just shut you down with no regard to your feelings, but still.”
He looked at Cas – sitting across the room, reading a biology textbook.
“Right,” he said slowly. He looked back at the group with newfound determination. Jo was right: Cas will brutally turn him down, and he’ll have embarrassed himself, but it’ll still be better than telling the truth. Lying is always better than telling the truth, and it never gets you into trouble.
“Alright, I’ll ask him. But on one condition," he said. "If he says no, I’ll be too heartbroken. Crushed. I’ll be completely crushed. And the last thing I’ll want to do is go to a party.”
“You don’t have to do this,” said Charlie hesitantly.
“Yeah, we don’t want you to get hurt,” Jo added. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“No, you were right,” he said knowingly. “Telling your crush you like them is never a bad idea.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Charlie said, but he was already getting up. He walked towards Cas until he got to his table, and knocked on it like a door.
“Whaddup,” he said, and did the finger guns at Cas.
Awkward move. Great start.
“Dean.”
From the corner of his eye he could see Jo putting her head in her hands. Kevin shook his head disapprovingly.
This was already going horribly. Incredible. All he had to do now was get shot down.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He glanced at the textbook in Cas’ hands. “Reading, but there’s kind of something I wanted to ask you.”
“Go ahead.” Cas closed the book and leaned back in his chair.
His jacket and his mussed hair and his actual piercing gaze – who else in real life had a piercing gaze, for real? – Something about him was just so attractively intimidating. It was like asking out Barack Obama.
Not that that was something he wanted to do. He shook his head to clear it.
“You know the Halloween party at the Roadhouse tomorrow night?” He asked. In a backwards way, time was on his side: no one liked making last minute plans.
“I’ve heard about it. I’m not particularly fond of parties,” said Cas.
“Aw, what? That sucks.”
That doesn’t suck. It un-sucks. It minus sucks.
Dean pursed his lips, playing it cool. Keeping his expression smooth. “I kind of came here to ask if you wanted to go,” he said.
Cas considered his offer for a moment.
“Sure.”
“Excellent- wait, what?”
“I guess I can go,” said Cas.
“But- you just said you don’t like parties.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to go,” Cas explained. “I don’t want to shoot you down.”
No. Shoot me down. Shoot me the fuck down.
Dean took a determined breath. It was time to take out the big guns.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been clearer. When I said I wanted to go together, I meant as a date.”
He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was making a complete fool of himself, and Cas would never want to speak to him again after this.
“Alright,” said Cas.
Dean exhaled just a little too forcefully. “Are you serious, man?”
The guy looked a little helpless. “Sure. One thing, though- could you pick me up? I don’t have a car.”
When he made his way back to his friends, Dean looked utterly dejected. They looked at him sympathetically.
“What did he say?” Asked Charlie, her tone gentle.
Dean slumped into his chair. “He said yes,” he muttered. Jo looked him up and down.
“That’s not exactly the message you’re sending out, man.”
“What do you mean?” He said through his teeth. “I’m over the moon.”
The party was kind of amazing.
“This party is amazing,” Dean said to Jo when they arrived. He had to speak louder than normal to be heard over the spooky music and the people. The room was dimly lit; it seemed like the only sources of light were the pumpkin heads resting on every surface, and the strings of pumpkin-shaped twinkle lights along the walls. The bar was packed with Halloween cookies – some with extra frosting – and behind it, off limits, were shelves of alcohol. All the drinks served were either bright orange or pitch black.
And Cas cleaned up good.
Not that it mattered. Dean had gotten the complete opposite of his desired result, and despite the awesomeness of everything around him, the people were still gross. It was too loud to hear anything, and the floor was already sticky with spilled drinks and God knows what else.
“So, do you regret coming?” Jo yelled into his ear.
“Not yet!” He grinned at her. Cas grabbed his arm and led him to a quiet corner.
“What did she mean when she asked if you regret coming?” He asked over the music.
“Oh. Well, I didn’t really want to go,” Dean answered.
“Then why did you invite me?”
Dean stared at him. “Ehhhh…”
Cas squinted at him.
“Okay,” said Dean. “Do you want the truth?”
“Of course I do. Who doesn’t want the truth?”
Dean sighed. “I didn’t want to go to the party. But I didn’t want my friends to give me shit for it, so I told them I’d ask you. I planned on you saying no, of course, because why wouldn’t you? But then you said yes, and I had to go.”
Cas nodded. “I see.”
Dean watched his face warily. If he was feeling anything, his expression did not indicate it. “Are you upset?”
“No, not at all.” He paused for a moment. “Why would I be upset? You only used me and lied to me, but it’s all good. We’re good. I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I’m going to… go somewhere else now.”
“Cas…” Dean tried, but he was already gone.
So, turned out lying wasn’t better than the truth. And it did get him in trouble.
He found Cas sitting in a distant corner of the bar a few minutes later.
“Cas, I’m sorry,” he started, but Cas wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at someone behind him, and a moment later, Charlie showed up beside them.
“How are you guys doing?” She asked.
“We’re having a great time,” Cas answered, glaring at him.
“Yeah,” said Dean slowly. “Real great.”
Cas nodded. “He's so considerate, he got me a whole plate of extra frosting cookies.”
“I did?”
Cas sent another glare his way.
“Right,” he said, and made his way to the bar while Charlie rested a hand on Cas’ arm and said something to him with a smile.
When he was back with the cookies, Charlie was gone. Cas grabbed one, and shoved the plate in Dean’s direction. But he didn’t feel like a passive aggressive cookie.
“You wanna dance?” He asked. In every possible sense, he did not want to dance. But he brought this on Cas and, for the very least, he owed him a decent evening.
Cas’ eyes, set on the crowd in front of them, narrowed. “Does the mouse dance with the snake?” He asked flatly.
“I think you might be exaggerating a teensy bit.”
He gave it a few moments. And then:
“Can I get you a drink?”
“I don’t know,” Cas answered and looked directly at him. He swore, the guy was terrifying when he wanted to be. “Will it stab me in the back?”
“Come on, man. That wasn’t even a good burn.”
And so, the rest of the evening was spent sitting silently in the middle of a very loud crowd. Dean tried desperately to find something to talk about, but he didn’t know anything about Cas. They never really talked. And he was hardcore regretting this party now.
“Alright,” he sighed. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home. And I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow to make up for this whole thing.”
“What are you talking about? I’m having the time of my life,” said Cas.
“You’re such a prick,” Dean muttered. “You know what? I thought you were a decent guy, but I was wrong.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Cas muttered back. This was a mutter war, and honestly, Cas was winning. He had the most annoyingly perfect deep voice.
“Oh, but I do,” Dean exclaimed heatedly. Only he didn’t. Four years of spending every day in the same room with a guy and Dean didn’t even know what he had for breakfast.
…But he did know what he had for lunch.
“I know you eat your stupid burgers every time they serve them at the cafeteria,” he said. “Maybe next time consider taking the stick out of your ass and trying something different for a change.”
“Maybe you should consider eating a carrot once in a while,” Cas retorted. “Since all I ever see you eat is fries, and seems like it’s already made a pretty severe damage to your face.”
“Joke’s on you," Dean blurted out. "My face was always like this.”
Wait.
He leaned his head on his fist to cover it and looked away. Great. Now he was feeling self-conscious about his looks.
But as it turned out, Cas wasn’t finished. “And what's the deal with you walking your dog every night at two a.m.?” He asked. He lived just down Dean’s street, and so did three other people in his class. He supposed he never realized that was something they had in common.
“What's the deal with you taking the trash out every night at two a.m.?” He asked in response.
“Speaking of your annoying dog-“
“Don’t call her annoying,” Dean interrupted.
"Remember the year there was a snow storm-”
“Of course I remember the year,” he interrupted again. Cas’ nostrils flared; Dean was getting on his nerves.
Good.
“And everyone in class had to hear for weeks about how you dropped your phone in the snow and your dog accidentally peed on it?" He finished. “So maybe I’m not a decent guy. But neither are you. There’s no such thing as decent people.”
“I’m decent, you butthole,” Dean spat out.
“Wow, that really hurt."
“Stop being sarcastic,” Dean said. “It’s unsettling.”
“Stop handing me opportunities,” said Cas in return. “It’s stupid.”
Dean glared at him, gritting his teeth. He was so angry, he thought he had to look somewhat intimidating, but Cas didn’t seem very affected.
“You know, you might have asked me here because you didn't want to go,” he said, “But I said yes because I actually liked you.”
At that, all of Dean’s defenses dropped. “You did?”
Cas crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Don't worry. It's not a problem anymore.” He looked away.
Dean eyed him. “What is it?” He asked. He could see in Cas’ eyes there was more.
“When I worked in the cinema and saw you get tickets to All Saints' Day 4: Hatchet Man Lives twelve times,” Cas said.
“I have different friend groups," Dean said defensively.
“Eleven times out of the twelve you were alone.”
“It's a really good movie!”
“Twelve times, Dean!”
So, he supposed there were some things they knew about each other, after all. Cas’ last words were said without venom. In fact, he was looking away now, pressing his lips together like he was making an effort to stay angry.
They had some things in common. Like college. They were enrolling into the same community college half an hour from their neighborhood next year, and Dean really didn’t want to make this guy his first enemy there.
“Hey," he said. Cas looked at him. "You’re still going to Wayward Sisters, right?” He asked, just to know whether there was still a chance he could be a dick and get away with it. But Cas nodded.
“Were you at registration day?” Dean asked. “There was a…”
“Rescue dog called Charles you weren't allowed to pet.” They said that last part at the same time. Dean looked away to hide his smile. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cas look straight at him.
So maybe he was a decent guy after all. Maybe Dean just never bothered to get to know better someone he hadn’t realized he already knew pretty well, and who knew him too. Maybe sometimes in high school you can know people well even if you don't talk to them. You get to know what they do on their free time and what they like. You see them around town. And twelve times at the cinema, apparently.
“Remember kindergarten?” Cas asked.
“Oh my god, that’s right. We went to the same one, by the bagel place.”
Cas’ forehead creased. “What bagel place?”
“It was shut down ten years ago,” said Dean. “But I used to go there all the time with my family before they closed it.”
“Right,” said Cas. His eyebrows furrowed, trying to remember. “Azazel’s Bagels.”
“Yeah. Anyway, no, I don’t remember anything from kindergarten.”
“You gave yourself a wedgie on a branch in the yard,” said Cas.
He laughed. “Read the tone when people say ‘I don’t remember anything’, Cas.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“S’fine.” Dean shook his head, smiling at the table. “Hey, let me steal us another plate of those double frosted cookies and then we can go home.” He pushed his chair back, but Cas stood up.
“It’s my turn.” He started walking away, but turned right back. “If Ellen catches me in the act, don’t let me go to jail.”
Dean snorted. “You really suck at making jokes, man.”
He waited till after Cas left to let himself smile.
The car ride was quiet. Cas looked out the window, munching on a cookie.
Maybe he should be sad this night was coming to an end. Honestly? What little time he spent with Cas, he ended up enjoying. But he couldn’t wait for it to end. It had been loud, and angry for the most part, and guilty pretty much throughout the whole thing.
And still – despite the sticky floor, and the crowd, and all the mess between them – he felt that there was something really, really good there. And he wished he could feel it again.
Maybe in an environment that wouldn’t cause him hearing damage.
They were almost at Cas’ house, now.
“Listen,” he said, clearing his throat. He liked this setup: him behind the wheel, being able to avoid eye contact if he wanted to get real. “I know what I did was wrong…”
They were at the house now, and Cas stopped him.
“Could we do this on the porch? I have an eleven p.m. curfew and it’s…” He glanced at the dashboard clock. “One and a half. Never mind.”
“It’s alright.” Dean took off his seatbelt. “We can do it on the porch.”
That sounded bad. Cas didn’t seem to notice.
He took a breath and stepped out of the car. This was it.
Eye contact.
Cas’ porch had no chair, but it did have a cross by the door. Like they were guarding the house from vampires. Dean stared at it.
“What were you saying?” Cas asked.
He shook his head. “Sorry.” It was hard to focus on telling your classmate how much you liked him while there was a literal cross between you.
“I know what I did was wrong,” he said. “And in my defense, when I asked you to this party, I didn't imagine you'd say yes. But the whole reason I didn't ask anyone else was because...” He paused. It was dark, and under Cas’ stare, everything around them faded into the background. “There’s no one in class I look up to more than you. And I thought we didn’t know each other at all, but turns out we do.”
Cas nodded. “From the cinema.”
“For example.”
“Because you watched…”
“Yeah, yeah, twelve times,” Dean cut him off. “What I’m trying to say is...” His throat dried all at once.
“We should do this again,” Cas finished.
“Yeah.” He smiled faintly.
Cas took a step back, and hesitated. “What is it?” He asked. He could see it in Dean’s eyes.
He shook his head. “Nothin’.”
Cas nodded. “Goodnight, Dean.”
“Night,” he said. Cas went in and closed the door.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Idiot.
He should have said more. More of what – he had no idea, but more.
There was an uncomfortable bump between his back and the wall. He stepped away from the wall and turned around to look.
It was the cross. He had leaned against the cross.
He turned to step off the porch when he heard a voice from inside the house:
“Are you still out there?”
He froze. “…No.”
The door swung open. Cas took his hand, and pulled him into a kiss.
He pulled back, a little breathless. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing that… here.” He nodded towards the cross. Cas glanced at it.
“Jesus doesn’t care if you’re gay, Dean,” he said.
He took Cas’ word for it.
“You know what he does care about, though?” Cas said softly against his lips.
“Hm?”
“Watching an average-at-best horror movie in the cinema twelve times.”
Dean pursed his lips. “Does Jesus care if I smack you?”
“Yes. Yes, he does.”
“Then you better shut up about this,” he smiled.
“Make me,” Cas said. And kissed him again.