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Dean's buried in a puddle of books when he first sees him.
From across the parking lot, the guy is hard to make out; it's the shock of dark hair and ugly-ass trenchcoat that makes him noticeable. There's a blonde kid walking beside him, arms flying all over the place while he talks, clearly disregarding the concept of personal space.
Probably boyfriends, Dean muses to himself, rather bitterly.
It's not that he's homophobic or anything – far from it, in fact! He just wishes that he had the guts to be so open about that sort of thing, like those two clearly are.
He glances at the pair once more. The blonde is pressing a hand to the small of the other boy's back, nodding his head in the other direction with a smile. Dean watches the other kid nod in understanding before turning off towards the front entrance.
They make a cute couple.
The first bell rings, coaxing the late stragglers to their lessons with stormy expressions. Dean groans down at the loose papers scattered about his space; he's way behind on his homework, like usual. Mr. Singer is gonna kill him.
He shoves the books into his bag with a sigh. No point in prolonging the inevitable, after all.
The second time he sees him, it's kind of a disaster.
He's moseying down the corridor, nose stuck deep in yet another book, when a body crashes into him. His copy of Dr. Faustus goes flying across the room, sure to be trampled over by the swarm of tenth graders coming their way.
"What the hell, man?" He cries, swiping the book out of harm's way just in time "You not looking where you were going or something?"
He stands up, brushing himself down with unnecessary force. The douchebag who ran into him has yet to speak up.
"Hey, I'm talking to you –"
He snaps his mouth shut, wincing at the clunk of his teeth colliding. The douchebag looks familiar, dark hair and baggy trenchcoat sparking memories in his mind.
"You're the kid from the parking lot."
His cheeks heat up as soon as he says it. What weirdo would randomly remember some guy from the parking lot?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Luckily, the boy doesn't seem to mind. He just stands there, staring at Dean with pinched brows and squinty eyes and – damn. Those eyes are frickin' blue. He almost gets lost in the deep, hypnotic shade, completely unaware that they've been staring for a good thirty seconds.
"Ahem."
Dean turns his head reluctantly. It's the other guy from the parking lot, the blonde dude. He's probably pissed off, thinking that Dean's trying to get into his boyfriend's pants or something. He takes a step back for good measure.
"Woah. Sorry, man –"
"Is there a problem, Cassy?" The boy ignores him, instead opting to place a hand on Cassy's shoulder with a frown.
Dean glances back at the dark haired stranger. The guy's still staring – scrutinizing his face by the looks of it.
After a beat of silence, Cassy tears his eyes away to fix the blonde with a pointed glare. Dean can sense the tension bubbling between them, suddenly feeling like the third wheel of a very awkward situation.
He shakes his head.
"Really?" The blonde's grip tightens ever so slightly "Because –"
Cassy cuts him off with some weird-ass gesture, bringing his right hand down like a knife against his left palm. There's fury glinting in his eyes and Dean feels himself tense at the threatening expression darkening the guy's face.
With that, he's gone, marching down the corridor at some speed.
"Sorry about that," The blonde mutters, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously in his throat "I'm just rather –"
"Protective?" Dean slips the book back into his bag and shrugs "Ah, don't sweat it. I've got a kid brother; I know the drill."
The boy considers him with a frown, mimicking Cassy from just moments ago. It feels like hours before he finally offers him a wary smile and sticks out his hand.
"Balthazar Roché."
"Dean Winchester," He smiles back "Nice to meetcha."
Balthazar breaks the handshake with a grumpy shake of his head "And that lovely individual was my cousin, Castiel Novak."
Dean lets the new information sink into his head.
Cousin. Not boyfriend.
But not that it makes any difference either way. It's not like he's about to embrace his closet sexuality in front of the whole school, sweep the guy off his feet and ask him out on a date.
He shakes the thoughts away, turning towards his next class with a shrug "Well, I better…"
"Yeah, me too. Lovely to meet you, Dean."
He watches the boy jog down the corridor (probably trying to catch up with his pissed off cousin) and chuckles. For some reason, he gets the feeling that he'll be seeing Castiel again very soon.
He wasn't wrong. The third time is almost as bad as the second. No, scrap that. It's worse. Much, much worse.
Now that he's seen the elusive Castiel Novak up close, he can't seem to forget about those ocean blue eyes, raven sex hair, plush lips… Staying firmly in the closet has never been so frickin' difficult. But then again, he's never been so interested in a guy before, let alone a guy who point blank refuses to acknowledge his existence.
Whenever he tries to approach him in the corridors, Castiel purposely ignores him. It would be infuriating if it weren't so fucking sad instead.
"Hey!" He calls out, spotting that familiar trenchcoat huddled around the lockers "Castiel!"
Some read head sauntering past gives him a dirty look.
What the hell?
"Problem?" He snaps.
The girl's owlish eyes widen even further, a light blush tinting her porcelain white skin "Asshole."
"Yeah. You too, sweetheart!"
When he turns back to the lockers, Castiel has disappeared. He spots the fluttering of tan material half way down the corridor and starts to sprint.
"Castiel! H-Hey!"
He's definitely in the guy's line of hearing, so what gives? He didn't say anything that bad the other day, did he? Balthazar seemed cool with him, anyhow.
"Casti – Woah!" Castiel suddenly stops, shoulders tensing as he turns to face Dean.
The puzzled look on the dude's face makes no sense whatsoever. I mean, he's clearly been calling his name for the past five frickin' minutes!
"Hey."
Castiel frowns a little, then nods his head in hello.
"So… about the other day? I'm sorry about the whole, uh… being a dick thing. I-I'm not usually like that, ya know? I was just in a hurry and that was my second copy of the damn book already and I –"
Castiel's hands are suddenly on his face and – wait, what?! Why is Castiel touching him? He freezes when the guy tilts his chin up, adorable frown pouting his lips. Then the hands are gone, leaving Dean's skin weirdly cold and tingly.
"Uh."
Castiel shakes his head in frustration, motioning to Dean's lips. He rolls his hands together quickly, imitating the wheels of a car or something. It's all pretty strange.
"What?"
With a crackly sigh, Castiel points at his ear's, eyebrows raised in expectation. It takes a solid ten seconds for the whole thing to finally sink in.
"Oh! You're…? Oh, holy mother of – Damn, I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean to –"
He stops. Castiel is smiling – chuckling, actually – and Dean is all too aware of the crinkles around his eyes.
"You're gorgeous."
The words have slipped out before it's too late and all at once, the situation starts to crumble around him.
Castiel looks like he's about to throttle him, beautiful angry blush staining his cheeks and everything. He's never wanted to kiss someone at such an inappropriate time so badly. He wonders what those lips would feel like, warm and chaste against his own, fingers twisting in his hair, strong arms bracing him against the lockers and –
He's vaguely aware of a hand slamming into his chest, distancing them by several more inches.
"Look, I –"
Castiel does that weird gesture from the other day again, which probably means something like no or stop judging by the murderous expression on his face.
When the guy turns to leave, Dean has to refrain from calling after him. He just looks so annoyingly perfect, even walking away! His hips are swaying in this pissed off kind of way, his satchel smacking against his waist with every step, shoulders bunched up – clearly saying 'don't touch me, or I'll punch your friggin' lights out'.
Dean sighs. How the hell could he mess things up so badly?
Oh, yeah. He's Dean frickin' Winchester, how could he forget? Now the sexiest, most adorable human being on the planet hates his guts!
"Fuck."
Before he even gets a chance to explain his idiotic behaviour the other day, Balthazar has him up against the lockers with a scary amount of strength. Dean can tell by the flames flickering in his eyes that he's out for vengeance.
"What did you say to him?!" He demands, voice dropped to a menacing growl.
"Hang on a sec –!"
"What the bloody hell did you say to him?!"
Dean shrugs him off with a scowl. He's not about to be pushed around by some pompous Englishman for no goddamn reason. He may have messed up things with Castiel, but he sure as heck doesn't deserve to be humiliated even further.
"Nothing important."
"Oh, really?" Balthazar laughs coldly "Because Cassy certainly seemed down in the dumps yesterday, signing about some handsome fellow teasing him because of his –"
"Handsome?" A strange kind of warmth flutters in his chest "He said that?"
"More or less…"
Oh, thank holy mother of God!
He fist pumps the air triumphantly, ear-splitting grin making his cheeks ache; if Castiel thinks he's handsome, or whatever equivalent of the word he used, then surely he stands a chance! I mean, guys don't just go around calling other guys handsome and crap if they're completely straight, right?
"Am I missing something here?"
Balthazar is looking at him sceptically, nose scrunched up in a very Castiel-like manner (not that Dean has the other boy's mannerisms engraved into his skull, or anything).
"Nothing," He shrugs, smile still lighting his face "I'm just bi, is all."
The shocked expression he gets in return makes his little outing well worth it. Balthazar's eyes widen comically, mouth agape and eyebrows lost in the tuft of his hairline. Shock soon turns to smugness, however, a knowing smirk tugging at the other boy's lips.
"Oh… I see. You two are –?"
"No!" Dean squeaks; it'd be best not to start spreading false rumours around "I just…"
"Fancy the pants of my cousin, yeah?"
Dean blushes profusely.
Fancy? Crush? They all sound so dorkish! Why can't he just admit that Castiel makes him feel light and carefree and happy and – Okay, so maybe he does have a bit of a crush, but it's more than just some half-assed attraction! He's only known the guy for a week and already spotting him in the corridors manages to make his day just that little bit better.
"What do I do?" He asks, jaw set and shoulders high "I screwed up. How do I make it up to him?"
Balthazar considers the question for a moment, eyes squinted dubiously, before taking a step back with a shrug "Well, it depends. How did you screw things up so royally?"
"Ah, well… That part's, uh… kind of embarrassing."
Balthazar raises one eyebrow, disinterested in Dean's flustered state, and nods for him to continue.
"It's stupid! But I… I kinda told him that he was… uh, I dunno... uh, gorgeous?"
He forces the words out between haggard breathes, glancing over his shoulders fretfully for fear of someone overhearing their conversation. The last thing he needs right now is the whole frickin' school knowing he's bi. They won't understand the concept of liking both genders; all they'll see is a dirty fag who can't make up his mind.
A small, complacent smile settles over Balthazar's face "Good."
"Sorry, good?"
"Yes," He places his hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently in a reassuring kind of way (though it kind of unnerves him, if he's being honest) "The last thing our Cassy needs is some cock-sure bastard leading him on."
Dean bristles "And how the hell do you know that I'm not 'leading him on'?"
Above them, the bell rings, the shrill sound pinching at his eardrums spitefully. The sea of students begins to disperse until it's just them – alone – leaning on the lockers.
Balthazar shifts his bag onto one shoulder, tutting softly at the desperate look in Dean's eyes "Because I know that look, Winchester."
"What look?"
"The look a puppy gets when their owner comes back from vacation," Balthazar smooths down the crinkles in Dean's sleeves, the light imprint of where his fingers had clenched around the plaid material "The lovesick look."
Oh, shit.
"I –"
"Save it, Dean! I'm not judging you."
"But –"
"If you really want to get back on Cassy's good side," Balthazar says, halfway down the corridor "Just be yourself."
Dean snorts incredulously "Seriously, Balthazar? 'Be yourself'? They still spewing that company line?"
"Well, in your situation, I think the advice may come in handy."
"That so?"
"Mhm," Balthazar spins on his heels to face him once more. He looks surprisingly patient considering that Dean's pathetic excuse of a love life has made him late for class by at least five minutes "You want to know where I've seen that sad, pining look before?"
He shrugs, willing down the blush threatening to spread to his cheeks at the word 'pining' "Go on."
"Same look written all over poor Cassy's face this morning," Balthazar smirks "When he saw you parking up that old muscle car of yours in the parking lot."
He opens his mouth to protest, to explain how ridiculous the idea of Castiel – gorgeous, wonderful, way out of his league Castiel – pining for someone like Dean really is. But Balthazar has already disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone and confused.
"Could've just had the hots for my baby." He mumbles to the empty corridor.
But somewhere, deep in the back of his mind where all the selfish, non-self-depreciating thoughts are pushed aside, a little voice whispers:
Go get him, bitch.
The fourth time, I'd guess you'd count as a success.
He makes sure to get to Castiel's locker before first period (because by now, he's a creepy stalker who knows the other boy's routine off by heart). The school is near empty, save for the usual early birds dragging themselves off to the library, and he's thankful for the quiet solitude. It gives him time to think things through, clear his head a little.
By the time he spots a familiar nest of dark hair trudging down the hallway, Dean is almost hyperventilating with nerves. He runs his sweat-slick palms down his legs and steels himself for a hearty explanation.
"Hey, Cas."
It doesn't matter that Castiel can't hear his words; he can see them tumbling from Dean's lips, like strings of vocabulary falling to the ground.
He nods, urging Dean to continue. Though he can see the pent up frustration brimming behind those deep blue orbs.
"I just… I-I wanted to, uh… explain myself. 'Bout the other day."
Castiel blushes lightly (which is all too frickin' adorable) and glances aside.
With an unexpected surge of confidence, Dean tilts the boy's head gently upwards, smiling softly when Castiel complies without a fight.
"You don't understand, man," He swallows, hesitantly dropping his hand from the lightly-stubbled jaw "I meant what I said."
Castiel furrows his brow, finger pointed towards Dean in disbelief. His hands suddenly snap back as he lifts his shoulders, barely a shrug, and practically growls. It's all kinds of hot.
"Dude, I don't –"
"You, what?!" The voice that answers him back is a shock, rough and crackly from misuse "You like me?"
Dean blinks back his surprise. He's equal parts shocked and mildly turned on by how unexpectedly sexy Castiel's voice is.
"You… you can –?"
"I don't like to talk," Castiel cuts him off impatiently "But I'm frustrated."
He doesn't blame the guy. Their brief encounters over the past few days have been like a frickin' rollercoaster. He's pretty sure he'd be frustrated, too.
"Cas, man… I'm sorry."
Castiel taps his head, hand shaped like a telephone as he pulls it away. Dean has no idea what that means, but judging by the searching expression flitting across Castiel's face, he should probably just continue.
"I… Yeah. Yeah, I like you, Cas." He admits with a shrug "Have since I first saw you across the parking lot with Balthazar."
Castiel's frown intensifies, which only spurs on the frantic words rushing from his mouth.
"We haven't really… spoke, ya know. At all. B-But I've been watching you – Shit, I mean… I've noticed you a lot around school, recently and I, uh… You always look so, I dunno, smart? And sexy. But that's – I don't wanna make you feel weird or anything, man. I just wanna maybe… talk, a little? Uh, get to know each other? I don't give a fuck about you knocking my book in the corridor, alright? Promise! I… I just can't stop thinking about you! A-And… Wow, okay. You're eyes are gorgeous, m'sorry. But they are and –"
"Dean!" Castiel laughs a little "Slow down."
He brushes his fingers across the back of his hand, smiling crookedly as he takes Dean's forearm to repeat the gesture. Dean can feel his skin sparking to life at the small, feather light touch. It's like he's on fire – in a good way.
"Cas…"
"Cas." He echoes "I like that. I like the way it looks."
Dean watches, mesmerised, as Castiel pinches his finger and thumb together, drawing the gesture away from his chest.
"L-Like… Uh, yeah. Me too."
Castiel ducks his head briefly, peering up at Dean through thick, dark lashes. Suddenly, he starts to chuckle.
"W-What? What's so funny?"
The other boy stands on his tiptoes slightly, running a finger smoothly across Dean's cheek bones. He's fairly sure his face must be as red as Castiel's looks.
"Freckles," He clarifies "You have freckles."
"O-Oh! Right…"
"Like this." Castiel says with a smile. He taps his face lightly, fingers twinkling like raindrops against his skin. He grins a gummy kind of grin and Dean can barely breathe.
Oh, fuck. That's adorable. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm so totally screwed.
"Your name," Castiel continues, clearly unfazed by Dean's inner melt down "Freckles."
"My… my name?"
He's utterly gone on those frickin' eyes, goddamit.
Castiel nods fervently "Your sign name. From me, to you."
He punctuates the gesture with a finger to his chest, and then Dean (who by now, is nothing but a puddle on the floor).
"Thanks, Cas."
He's almost certain that Castiel is blowing him a kiss when he touches his fingers to his lips, but then the other boy smiles shyly and says "Thank you. L-Like this."
"Right!" He coughs, trying to imitate the gesture the best he can. Castiel's approving nod makes his chest flutter with pride. And maybe something else…
When the bell rings, they leap apart like electrical wires, both blushing like a couple of pre-schoolers. The watch around Castiel's wrist is glowing bright, indicating the next lesson. They must have missed homeroom.
"I gotta get to class," Dean says, reluctance lacing his tone "Mr. Singer will string me up if I don't –"
Castiel cuts him off with a smile, gently pressing his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth. It's nothing like the hot, frenzied fondling that leaves him half hard in his jeans, panting breathlessly with legs wrapped around his waist.
It's so, so much more than that.
"What –? You –"
"I kissed you, Dean." Castiel chuckles, touching his two hands together in a kissing motion "Kiss."
This can't be happening! This… this doesn't make any sense, surely?!
"So… so you…?"
Castiel points to himself. I. Finger and thumb, drawn from his chest. Like. Hand pressed lightly to Dean's ribcage, heart beat throbbing through his open palm. You.
"Oh, shit."
Castiel smiles again, this time planting his mouth directly onto Dean's – warm, pliant tongue ghosting across the seam of his lips.
When he's finally released (and able to breathe once again), he manages to croak out a feeble "Wanna hang out after school?", to which Castiel draws him in for round three.
So, yeah. Definitely a success.
The parking lot is practically empty. He's buried in a puddle of books, scanning the handful of students dispersing from the main doors.
A blonde kid waves to him from afar, cute redhead pressed against his side. He lifts his hand in response and smiles at them both. They turn off towards a sleek, blue car, laughing privately amongst themselves, hands finding one another between their hips.
They make a cute couple, he muses, huffing a laugh and turning back to his papers.
He's thumbing through his notes when a hand taps him on the shoulder. He grins, already sure of who's standing behind him on the grass.
Arms snake around his shoulders, fingers twinkling like raindrops against his skin.
"Hello, Dean." A voice whispers in his ear.
"Hey, Cas."