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The first day brought static in the pit of his chest. Static and confusion. A lone, sandy-haired boy and himself were the only two students to fill the rumbling bus. The static soon manifested itself in a series of questions—Where are the other students? Are we the only ones that ride this bus? Is he going to try and talk to me?… The static fell to his stomach when the boy’s shoulder brushed his on the way out.
On the third day, when they both came to the realization it would just be the two of them, the boy moved to sit in the seat across the aisle from him—said his name was Dean. Castiel gave his with a fast-beating heart. He hadn’t noticed the boys eyes before; he’d never forget the color since. The static in his belly turned to moths.
By the seventh day they shared the same seat. Light conversation and warmth between their touching shoulders. Dean’s eyes shined when he talked and the small smile that came so naturally made the wings in Castiel’s stomach beat harder. He held his breath as he counted the freckles on the boy’s speckled cheeks.
On the ninth day he called him Cas. Castiel stuttered a bit on his reply, cheeks tinged pink and a fluttery warmth in his heart.
But looking back, the twelfth day is when it really changed. It was dawn and the boys sat side by side as usual. By fault of the dim early light and Dean’s poor decision to go to bed at an ungodly hour the night before, Castiel found the boy’s head resting on his shoulder and his eyelashes fluttering closed. And with Dean breathing steadily against him and the familiar smell of the boy’s shampoo, Cas couldn’t help leaning into him and dosing off as well…
When they roused, the moths in Castiel’s stomach made an appearance as he realized the closeness they had shared. But Dean just looked up at him with sleepy eyes and a not quite apologetic smile—gave a soft “Sorry for falling asleep on ya, Cas” before he moved to stand up. Even with a heated blush, Castiel experienced an odd sense of peace as he followed Dean from the bus.
The fourteenth day, they listened to Castiel’s music and talked concurrently—one headphone each and shoulders brushing. They were in the midst of Earth Angel when Dean interrupted their conversation. Gestured at Cas’s cheek, “You’ve got an eyelash—here, I’ll get it.” He moved his hand to rest on the side of Castiel’s face, gently brushing the pad of his thumb against Cas’s cheekbone.
Castiel held his breath when Dean held his gaze for a second too long before lowering his eyes to Cas’s lips. And when he leaned in, hand still lain on Castiel’s cheek, the moths native to Castiel’s stomach grew to strong-winged birds. Dean’s lips were soft, tentative; he leaned back, eyes still closed for a brief moment. The birds inside Cas had turned nearly quiet. They both looked into each other’s eyes as the song that played softly in their ears came to a close:
"I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you."
Cas left the bus at Dean’s stop that day. (Dean’s father wasn’t home and Castiel’s parents would hardly mind if he turned up late.) His hand was pulled along by Dean’s and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Can I tell you a secret, Dean?"
"Sure, Cas."
"I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time we talked."
"Can I tell you a secret.”
"Of course."
"There was no eyelash."
Neither of the boys could help the wide grins that overtook them.