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Mr. Castiel Winchester Mr. Castiel Winchester Mr. Castiel Winchester, Cas doodles on his notebook in large loopy letters. He sighs, filling in little hearts with red ink. If he closes his eyes, he can practically see Dean Winchester’s bright green eyes staring back at him. In reality, Dean's exactly three rows and two columns away from him, still working, as most of the class is, on his history exam.
Cas makes another sweep of his pen and draws a few more hearts. Charlie – the only other student besides him who's finished the exam – elbows him in the side and sends out a lavish wink. She's known about Cas's crush on Dean since it began back in sixth grade. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel her bony fingers grabbing onto his arm in excitement when she forced him to spill the beans all those years ago.
Of course, having a crush on Dean Winchester for six years hasn't exactly been easy. He's considered telling Dean on multiple occasions, but he's always chickened out. He doesn't want to ruin their friendship. The closest he ever gotten to confessing was during sophomore year after Dean hit the winning homerun and ran to Cas as soon as the game was over. With the crowd cheering all around them and adrenaline pumping through both of their veins, Cas almost said the three words he’s been dying to say since he was twelve. But just as fate would have it, as soon as the “I” came out, Dean’s little brother Sam dived between them and effectively ruined the moment.
"Teacher at one o'clock," Charlie whispers, pulling Cas to the present. He quickly covers his abused notebook with his Spanish homework and pretends to conjugate irregular verbs into the conditional tense. Once Mr. Singer walks by, giving Cas a grunt of approval, Castiel pushes the homework away to the corner of his desk and continues doodling.
Mr. Castiel Winchester Mr. Castiel Winchester Mr. Castiel Winchester. Some of the hearts even have angel wings, which Cas has been perfecting for the majority of his senior year.
The rest of the period goes by in a flurry of doodling and daydreaming. One daydream might include a bastardized episode of Dr. Sexy, but that’s only for Castiel to know. By the time the bell rings, the whole front inside cover of Cas's notebook is flooded in Mr. Castiel Winchesters and filled in hearts. Cas gathers his things quickly and heads for the door. His next class is all the way on the other side of the building, meaning Cas has to power walk in order to make it in time before the bell rings again.
Unfortunately, when he looks down at a text from Charlie in the hallways, he bumps into another body.
"Oomph," unknown body says. Cas grabs his scattered books haphazardly and apologizes before quickly going back on his way, never looking to see who he bumped into.
Later, with fifteen minutes left of AP English, Cas gets another text from Charlie.
Charlie: Do you have everything????
Cas squints, unsure what his best friend is talking about. Nonetheless, he checks his backpack. He doesn't seem to be missing anything at all. Is this meant to be a secret code and he forgot? After all, they did come up with dozens of codes back in middle school.
Cas: Yes. Why?
Charlie: Check again, Cassie
Suspicions growing uncomfortably high, Cas checks his bag again. History binder, check. English notebook, check. Spanish binder, check. Art notebook, missing. Math notebook, check. There's nothing... shit.
Oh no, oh no no no no no.
Castiel's fingers shake as he burrows through his backpack, searching desperately for his art notebook. He can't lose it, he can't. That’s the notebook he was doodling in last period, and if anyone finds out he likes Dean, his life’s ruined.
Cas: CHARLIE HELP
"Mr. Novak, what are you doing back there?" Mrs. Tran asks. Cas didn’t even realize the class had stopped to watch him. Coloring rapidly, Cas clutches his bag and swallows nervously.
"Umm... I need to leave."
He doesn't wait for his teacher to question him, just gets up and leaves. He heads to the boys' room and upturns his backpack, spilling supplies all over the grimy floor. Ugh, public school. Searching frantically, Cas comes to one conclusion: it's not there. This is it; this is the end. Whoever finds it is going to show Dean and then he'll never talk to Cas again. Dean will be freaked out and then they won’t sit together at lunch anymore and they won’t ask each other homework questions and they won’t go for rides in Dean’s Impala on the weekends and they won’t go on random midnight trips into the woods and they won’t go to each other’s graduation parties over the summer and they won’t watch movies together with Charlie and Sam every Friday night and they won’t…they won’t be friends.
Castiel needs to move, get out of Kansas and travel to Russia. His grandfather will let him live with him, he's sure.
Charlie: I don't have it
Cas starts sweating.
Charlie: But I know who does
Cas: WHO!?!?!??!
Charlie: You'll find out
Cas: CHARLIE FIONA BRADBURY TELL ME
Charlie: ;)
Cas grips his hair and pulls harshly, narrowly avoiding releasing a long drawn out groan. If he leaves now, he can get to Russia by midnight.
He puts everything back into his backpack, his hands shaky and his mind set on an escape plan. He'll take language hall and sneak out the back door, that way his chances of running into anyone are decreased to almost zero. There is, of course, the chance that as soon as he makes it outside, security will drag him back to class. That’s a risk he’s willing to take.
Castiel’s thirty feet away from the door, from safety, when someone calls his name. He considers ignoring them and leaving anyway, which is what he really should do, but then he recognizes the voice. Dean.
Cas stops, but doesn't turn around. Dean catches up, placing a gentle hand onto Cas's forearm. Breathing is proving to be a pretty big problem at the moment, which is most likely evident judging by the concern in Dean’s eyes. And god, Dean’s eyes. Cas will probably never see a pair of eyes so beautiful in Russia.
"Where are you going?" Dean asks.
"Russia."
"What?" Dean's eyes make a valiant attempt to escape from their sockets, but then he must think that Cas is joking because he laughs. God, Cas loves that laugh; the way Dean's bright green eyes sparkle and his lips stretch over his teeth perfectly. It’s a full bodied laugh, his arms and back thrown into the expression; Dean’s an open book.
Cas doesn't laugh along. Dean seems to notice and his laughter tapers off. He swallows heavily and locks eyes with Cas, his brows scrunching downwards.
"How long will you be in Russia?"
"Forever."
Dean's jaw drops. "You're moving?" he yells.
Cas flinches and Dean immediately looks guilty. "Sorry, sorry. It's just...you're moving to Russia? Why didn't you tell me before?"
"It was a very recent decision," Cas mumbles, worrying his bottom lip.
"Oh." Dean rubs the back of his neck and looks down to the floor. "That's too bad."
Cas cocks his head to the side and squints at the Adonis, at his best friend in the world besides Charlie, who’s like a sister to him. "Why?"
"Because I finally know you like me back."
What? Cas blinks up at Dean, internally questioning every event that has led him to this moment. "Y-you like me?"
Dean blushes and looks at the ground. He’s beautiful. "Have for a long time."
Cas absolutely melts in the middle of the hallway, leaning against the lockers and looking up at Dean. Some of his anxiety leaves him, but not all.
"How'd you find out I like you?" Cas asks, even though he already has an idea.
Dean smirks and pulls a dark purple notebook out of his backpack. Cas's heart drops, mortification bleeding into his very being. He thought that it might be because of that stupid notebook, but he still had hope that it was by some other means.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, simultaneously hoping that he will spontaneously be blessed with the ability to disappear and that he'll gravitate closer to Dean.
"I think it's cute," Dean says. He then reaches into his bag and pulls out a bright yellow notebook. He opens up to the inside cover and spread all across the page is Mr. Dean Novak over and over.
If Cas was having trouble breathing earlier, it’s nothing compared to his current predicament. Dean’s been pining over Cas too? This isn’t unrequited affection?
“How long?”
There are a million and one questions that Cas has, but that’s the only one that comes out. Dean opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again and cocks his head to the side in thought. The notebooks are clutched against his chest and Cas can’t help but think that they’re in a loving embrace.
“Forever?”
Cas’s jaw drops slightly in surprise. There’s no way in Hell Dean’s liked him for longer than Cas has liked Dean. It’s not physically possible.
“Well, maybe not forever,” Dean muses. “But I know that as soon as you gave me your blue crayon in third grade, I was a goner.” Cas bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s having a hard time taking in what Dean’s telling him, but Dean has no reason to lie to him. “But I think I really first knew I loved you in sixth grade when we were sitting in those cold metal chairs with Charlie at the school dance.”
Dean gets a faraway look in his eyes and Cas’s fingers twitch to reach out and frame Dean’s features. “There was all that trashy pop music blasting our ears off, but you just looked so goddamn happy to be sitting there talking to Charlie and me, and… I don’t know. I just fell in love.”
“Dean,” Castiel whispers, giving in to the temptation and gently placing his hands on either side of Dean’s face. “That’s when I fell in love with you, too.”
There’s a moment of blessed silence, but then the bell rings and the hallways are being flooded with students. Still, Dean keeps his eyes solely on Castiel. A soft pink tongue peeks out from Dean’s mouth and wets his lips before hiding away again. Cas copies the motion, his eyes glued to Dean’s lips.
“Cas,” Dean whispers just loud enough for only Castiel to hear. “Can I kiss you?”
Yes, Cas wants to scream. He wants to declare his love for Dean Winchester to the entire school, scratch that, the entire world. He wants to tell Dean in every single language known to man how much he loves him and how much he wants Dean to kiss him.
Instead, all he can do is nod.
Dean’s lips part slightly and then he’s leaning forward, closer to Cas than he’s ever been – except for that one Saturday morning in the eighth when they woke up snuggled together on Dean’s couch, but they agreed never to speak of it – and Cas is leaning forward too. Time seems to go on forever right before their lips meet, both of them afraid of what will happen once they finally take that last step and kiss.
The world may never know who would have moved forward the final molecule of space, because at that moment, a pair of rough hands grabs their shoulders and eliminates the space between them.
Cas has dreamed of what this moment, his first kiss, would feel like; fireworks, lightning storms, the taste of cool water after a long run. But that isn’t it. No, kissing Dean feels like coming home.
It’s brief and chaste, but it’s perfect. When Cas opens his eyes again, he sees Charlie standing next to them with a giddy smile plastered across her lips.
“Hey Dean,” Cas says, waiting for the other boy to open his eyes. Such beautiful eyes. When Dean does, they’re shining.
“Yeah, Cas?”
“I’m not moving to Russia.”