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He would google it. He surely would even though he knew he wouldn’t like the results he’d find. Dean Winchester had that word firmly written on the palm of his hand on that day, hoping time would fly faster. It’s amazing how slow classes can go when you are fourteen and don’t feel like you belong to such a boring institute. All the dull faces there reminded him of how miserable the place was and the fact that Math classes lasted for longer than the others only worsened his already impatient temper. There was not a single thing in that school the green-eyed boy would miss once he was transferred to high school the year after – nothing except for one person.
A few days before, Dean heard from his brother that someone would be transferring to his class. Sam Winchester was thirteen by then and a sneaky kid, yes. He somehow found a way to eavesdrop a staff conversation and spilled the beans to Dean. Not much time later came the so-called ‘new student’. This skinny, square-jawed boy had a blank gaze when he walked into the room full of young devils throwing their assignments at each other, his dense eyes landing on a very particular spot close to Dean, a vacant one.
“Class, welcome your new friend and be kind to him, yes?” The teacher waved at him as if gesturing he could take a sit, but he remained still, eyes not straying from the vacant seat he had spotted. “Dear, you may take a seat…” The woman noted a bit nervously, as if embarrassed because of something she did. At least the boy seemed to register it then, meticulously laying his backpack next to his desk and sitting. Dean paid no attention to his name for he was way too entertained at the boy’s very particular way of setting things geometrically aligned on his desk. Resting his chin at his fist, the older Winchester watched the newcomer for a while, his green eyes somehow intrigued. There was something about him…
“…He’s an Aspie, Dean. Do you know what that is?” The student’s counselor was a tall, black woman in her 30’s, her white set of teeth always prone to be shown in a beaming, soothing smile. She sat at her desk across from the 14-year-old boy who sought advice after class. Dean combed his short hazel hair with his fingers nervously, eyes downcast at the files the woman was holding with her. Not that those pieces of paper were of any relevance to him, but the last thing he wanted to do at that moment was to look right into her eyes. He hated to admit how ignorant he was sometimes. “No, Miss Russell, I don’t…” He mumbled and could feel her smile widening in that warm way it had always been.
Miss Russell then rested her soft hand on his shoulder, tilting her head to force some eye contact in the calmest way she could think at the moment. “I like you, Dean Winchester, so don’t worry… I’m not scolding you for trying to cheat on your test this time.” Her voice was reassuring and tranquilizing in a way, giving the boy courage enough to face the woman with a more confident look on his face. “…Really?” He blinked, awaiting a reply. “Yes, dear, yes. But you have to keep everything I tell you to yourself. Can you do that?”
Of course he could. The Winchesters grew in a family that had a lot of issues and it was common to have their sons involved. Being the older one, Dean was constantly exposed to information he did not want to know, but had to keep from Sam. He was very good at it and Miss Russell had always had a liking for him, ever since he started elementary school. “Yes, Miss…” He sounded better now, eyebrows furrowing a bit as to show how serious he was. She petted his hair gently, wetting her lips before speaking. “Imagine you suddenly woke up being a dog. You think you would be able to adapt? Would you be able to communicate to the others instantly?” She asked him, not expecting him to answer her for his frown expressed his thoughts on it. “Yeah. Aspies feel like that every day, but in a human’s body. So they can speak English, but they have a hard time speaking… Human!”
Dean averted his gaze, frowning a bit further and crossing his arms against his chest. “Well, he could have been shut then, instead of giving my attempt away. I wasn’t threatening him to give me the answers to begin with…” The hazel-haired boy seemed clearly hurt by his classmate’s attitude. The guy was new, but he had to behave accordingly: if he didn’t feel like giving Dean the answers of the test he could’ve simply ignored him. Why would he describe the event thoroughly to the teacher and the whole class? Miss Russell insisted on her argument that Aspies had no idea of what social protocols were in a lot of situations, especially at their age. It could eventually fade or turn into something significantly better than it was, but he would have to be patient.
“You are the only one that still talks to him, Dean…” She said at last, standing next to her office’s door and holding its knob. “All I’m asking you is a little bit of tolerance.” And with that, she let him go. Asperger, she said, huh. Aspies suffered from Asperger syndrome. He had that word written down on his hand and as soon as his classes were over he would google it, even after telling Miss Russell that was a silly excuse to do what he did.
“Dean Winchester! Will you please stop doing whatever you are doing and tell us how to solve this equation?” The Math teacher spoke rather annoyed at the green-eyed teenager, staring at him and his despair. He had no idea which equation they were trying to solve for he was busier reading over and over again the letters A S P E R G E R. Anxiously wetting his thin lips, he was about to reply the teacher when a hand was lifted. Ah, great, the newcomer striking again. What now, Dean rolled his eyes. “Teacher, I don’t understand why he should be the one to solve the equation when he was obviously absorbed in something else and much more relevant to his interests. I believe I was more enticed by your explanation, thus qualifying to solve it instead.” His wording and tone of voice were devoid of any clear trait that showed he was being ironic or trying to show off, which puzzled the teacher for a second. Not long after, though, he was given permission to go to the board and demonstrate his method to solve the equation, leaving Dean totally clueless.
“Dude… Hey, dude!” The Winchester’s voice echoed in the hallways as the boys rushed out of the classroom. One boy stopped, though, slowly turning around to face the yell and its performer. It was probably the first time Dean noticed the boy’s eyes were blue and he wondered how bad it would be to report that after some time studying together. “Hello, Dean Winchester.” The boy replied with his blue sky eyes and for a moment the Winchester teenager felt as if the guy could see right through him. Creepy – and yet intriguing. “I, uhm, thanks, I guess? I have no idea what that crazy teacher was talking about…” Dean shrugged as he spoke, holding one strap of his backpack so it wouldn’t slip down his shoulder and pursing lips together uncomfortably. Then, there was silence. An awkward enough silence that could have been broken by any statement of the boy Dean kept on forgetting the name, but the blue-eyed boy said nothing. It was like waiting for a wall to comment on his looks, Dean thought. He opened his mouth to finally say something, but was interrupted – a very welcomed interruption to be honest, for he had no clue of what to say to break the ice.
“I need to go to the library. I have been engaged in a very profound and meaningful book about divine entities and religious images and how they relate to scientific discoveries. They have been slowly pushing humanity towards progress by hinting on random events that could be theorized and explained, instigating masters of various philosophies to pursue a trustful reason as to why they occur. I am now reading about the Angels…” The teenager said as if giving a very important speech to a group of scholars, blinking at Dean as if unsure whether he should expect a response from him or just keep talking. Behind that usual blank gaze of his, there was a surprising naivety that caught Dean off-guard.
The Winchester chuckled as he shook his head, fixing his hair with a hand. “Angels… Really, dude?” He smiled at the other as he stepped closer, not that much concerned if the newcomer-but-not-so-new-anymore would mind it. He didn’t. “Well, then, do you at least have a favorite?” The hazel-haired boy was trying hard to connect with the other, even though a part of him insisted on the idea of inquiring him about his behavior. But he knew nothing logic –to him– would come out of the Angels’ dude mouth and he wasn’t in the mood to try figuring out his lingo. “Yes, I do.” The boy replied, reminding Dean that all his illocutionary forces were not enough to snatch answers from the guy. “And what is his name?”
“It’s… Castiel.” Castiel… Cassie? …Ok, Castiel. That’s it, that’s how Dean would call him from that moment onwards. Castiel, yeah. That sounded quite rad. “I like it…”
“Hey, Cas, Cas!” The older Winchester called out to his friend at the end of their classes, reaching out for the other’s shoulder and gripping at it tightly. Castiel didn’t seem to bother, though he did not particularly turn around to look at Dean. It was almost Christmas time and by then they were already quite close – that is, if one can be actually close to an Asperger’s teenager. The day Dean had googled the syndrome, he found out a lot of stuff he had no idea people did researches on and amid that mess of different opinions about how much autistic Aspies were, there were some specialists that agreed Asperger could indeed fade over the years and the Aspie in hand could develop a sense of empathy and come to understand basic human signs. It was a matter of genetics, some said, while other believed constant exposure to specific situations could trigger such change in the person. The green-eyed boy was not sure, but he somehow found a way to cope with Cas’s lack of social skills. “Come home with me. We can watch Discovery Channel since my mom’s not home…”
Castiel seemed rather uninterested at first for he was going to ask the other why he would want to go to Dean’s house if he had a house and Dean knew he would react like that, therefore he mentioned Discovery Channel as his last hope to captivate the blue-eyed boy. And it worked, he could tell by the way Cas’s eyes glowed – well, sort of. He wasn’t one to flash emotions so easily, but Dean was used to decoding his signs. “Today’s…”
“Supernatural shows marathon, yeah, dude. ‘Thought you’d like to watch it.” The hazel-haired boy grinned at his cleverness because he was a genius, really. So they walked to his house while Cas called his parents and reported thoroughly what happened during school and what was going to happen next and also described every little part of Dean Winchester’s behavior while inviting him – even his exact words – and that he knew they found Dean a quite trustworthy person. Castiel was one of those guys that ruin your phone bill at the end of the month because, damn, dude can talk for hours nonstop. “My mother said she is going to send you cookies next time. I forgot to ask her their flavor, though…” He added at the end of the call, when they had already reached the street Dean’s house was on. “That’s ok, man, you can ask her when you get back home.” As if he cared, his fingers nervously picking at the hem of his uniform jacket as his other hand reached for his keys. “Just enter and head upstairs. My room’s the first one you’ll walk by, so you can wait for me there…”
Castiel needed clear instructions. He wouldn’t think badly of Dean for being straightforward, but rather comfortable. He couldn’t quite understand what a lot of their classmates demanded from him as a response for they were not clear enough, but Dean had learned to express himself literally. He was used to it by then. Puffing hot air in his cold hands, the Winchester mentally cursed winter for a few seconds before grabbing some crackers and heading upstairs to meet with Cas. “Sorry it took me so lo--” The boy trailed back as he watched Castiel apparently organizing a stack of magazines he had left all messy on the floor the night before. “Oh no, no, no, dude, you don’t have to do that. Seriously, it’s just a bunch of old things, seriously…” God damn it, how could he have forgotten of those fucking magazines? He instantly dropped the pack of crackers onto his bed and rushed to stop Cas, but it was too late.
“…Playboy?” The autistic boy tilted his head to the picture of a semi-naked woman on the cover of the one magazine he was holding, slowly tilting it to match his head’s inclination as he seemed deeply immerged in what he was seeing. Talking about embarrassing, huh. Dean’s cheeks blushed in a way he could barely hide as he held his breath, frowning and clenching his fists. His friend started looking through the pages and that made Dean’s heart skip a beat. Fuck. He could hardly pay attention to the other’s reactions to the pictures as he wondered if he should snatch the magazine from his hands or not. Better do something, Dean Winchester, better do something quick. “I don’t understand, Dean, why…”
“These are Sam’s, ok!! That bastard…” The older Winchester gritted his teeth as he took the Playboy issue from Cas’s hands, tossing it out of his room and on Sam’s door. Where was that little jerk when he needed him to account for his purchases, seriously! “I have no idea why he would leave these in my room, honestly… Brothers!!” The hazel-haired teenager waved his arms in the air quite angrily, mimicking a retarded bird trying to fly desperately but failing to do so. Castiel widened his eyes, completely unaware of what was happening or why the other boy was behaving in such an uncomfortable manner, but he couldn’t avoid peeking at the direction the magazine flew towards. “…I don’t understand why she is dressed as a high school girl. Pornographic magazines are supposed to be filled with naked, low self-esteemed girls men like to use as a means to release their daily frustrations, so why is she wearing a uniform like us?” The blue-eyed teenagers sounded genuinely curious about it, as if trying to put into practice something once taught to him. His mother probably told him that about those magazines but went no further on the definition and Dean wasn’t planning on being the one to enlighten him, so he simply shrugged. “I have no idea… Those are really Sam’s so there’s no way I could answer you that.”
Needless to say Dean did steal that from Sam the night before to take a peek and… Ok, not the time to think about that. The two boys were alone in the house so the volume of the TV could be at its maximum and the Winchester made sure that happened once they turned it on Discovery Channel – the Supernatural series were beginning to be aired and so the two boys lay on Dean’s bed next to each other, arms touching slightly. There wasn’t time to even notice that, though, as a special episode talking about fairies in ancient times began airing and Castiel seemed pretty much absorbed by it. Dean remembered the guy telling him something about fairies being one of the first creatures the boy studied in the school’s library books and he was glad the guy seemed entertained, unconsciously folding his arms behind his head.
The distance between them kept on receding for each time a new episode began, Castiel would shift in his spot and scoot closer to Dean. At least two hours went by and by the time the Angels’ show began to be aired, the angel-nicknamed boy had his head resting on Dean’s arm, his own arm clumsily set onto the other’s torso. He was completely focused on what he was watching, his lips half parted and eyes glued to the TV screen. It was a very interesting show, indeed, and the other teenager would have loved to pay more attention to it if he weren’t trying to sort his feelings towards Castiel’s proximity. The fact that he felt quite comfortable the way they were was even worse and so he gulped, fighting hard the red pigment staining his cheeks as he averted his gaze. His parents would spend a good deal of the afternoon and evening out and Sam had to go to a friend’s house to finish a school project so… They were alone there, oh Lord. Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord…!
His eyes automatically dropped to stare at those swollen lips his friend had, rather contrasting if compared to his own set, but still very tempting. And then his jaw, perfectly drawn in his face for a boy his age; Dean could tell he would grow up to be a manly guy and he liked the picture. He was going to keep casting his eyes lower and lower but refrained instead, cleaning his throat and wincing his eyes shut for a moment. What the hell was he thinking? And more importantly, why the hell was he feeling so hot even though it was freaking freezing in there? The Winchester opened his eyes slowly and attempted to focus on the screen, but his green orbs betrayed him the moment he did so, peeking at the blue set of eyes next to him, the purity of their color disturbingly urging him to do more than just lie there with Castiel. To make a move.
He waited anxiously for the end of that show, uncomfortably shifting each second and trying hard to focus on something else – to no avail. Sitting up on his bed, the older Winchester reached for the remote and turned the TV off once the show was over, not actually tending to any protest from his companion there. Instead, he rubbed his eyes with his index and thumb, struggling with his urges. Those magazines were not as effective as Castiel’s presence there was to make him feel embarrassed – but in a good, acceptable way. “Cas, look…” He started off, wondering why the hell he decided to even say something in the first place. His friend sat up as well, legs hanging on the edge of the bed as he stared into Dean’s eyes…
That stare. Heaven and land clashed the instant their eyes met; Dean’s green set was uneasy, but intense; Cas’s blue ones were unreadable, mysterious as ever, but the other could tell he was not exactly discontent or displeased. Their eye contact lasted for longer than what Castiel was used to, but shorter than what Dean expected. Their noses slowly touched their tips, breaths mingling and intoxicating the Winchester, but their eyes… Their eyes wouldn’t go astray no matter what. Castiel’s were a little confused then, the other could tell, but that didn’t matter. Dean was where he wanted to be. After that semester struggling with his instinct to punch Cas in the face and teach him how to behave for good, after all those times he wanted to shut the guy’s mouth up, after all that… He found out he was a very vulnerable guy. He was way more interesting than most students of his school. There was something about the way he could be extremely blunt, naïve, authentic… It was something Dean Winchester was proud of thinking he was the only one able to see. He was so damn lucky and that thought made him realize he had his eyes half-lidded. One hand was brought up to caress the autistic boy’s cheek, secretly hoping that if he were to be stopped, that Castiel stopped him right there, when he was still able to recover his senses, otherwise he would go crazy. No response.
Ok, he endured enough. The hazel-haired teenager parted his lips, hands shaking. He was really going to kiss his friend, was that so? His male friend, yes. His lips longed for that, tenderly pressed against Cas’s and moving, making way for his tongue to glide on the other’s set of lips. Although he did not back off from his teenage man crush, Castiel did not exactly respond to that, merely opening his mouth and remaining frozen in the stance he was. “…What’s wrong?” Dean’s rather deep voice muttered into the other’s breath, eyes barely focusing on the image of his friend. “I don’t understand what you are—“ The angel boy started off but was cut off by one of Dean’s fingers in his lips.
“Is it bad?” The Winchester asked softly, slipping his fingers from the other’s cheekbones to his nape and tangling his fingers in Castiel’s dark strands of hair. “…No…” Cas replied with a weak voice, taking a deep breath. It was a new situation to him and he wasn’t sure on how to handle it, how to register it, but he knew for sure that it made his blood rush through his veins in a way few things did. Actually, it was the first time he felt that much… Alive – and human. “So just follow my lead. And do as I do…” Dean couldn’t even wait till his own words were done and was already attacking the other’s swollen lips once more, this time sucking at the bottom one before sliding his tongue into Cas’s mouth. Their mouths seemed to be finally responding to one another, devouring each other in a way that their hands felt like complementing. It was pretty much mandatory to have some human touch and so Dean gripped at the other’s hair, shivers running through his spine as he felt Castiel’s attempt to caress his back with a trembling hand. The dark-haired boy had always been clumsy so Dean wasn’t expecting more than one hand at a time, which caused him to be quite shocked when he felt Cas’s other hand on his, intertwining fingers carefully as they deepened their kiss. They were getting the hang of it, Dean’s free hand trailing down from the other’s scalp to his shoulder and then chest.
Their lips were locked and tightly tasting one another as both felt their body temperature rising, their instincts of stripping all their closes striking them and bringing them back to reality. They were too young; it was too early to do those things; they barely started making out, yes. All these things hit Dean as he parted from the kiss, resting his forehead on Castiel’s. No words, just their hearts pacing fast, their chests heaving as they let a different silence get in between them, a more soothing, warm silence. For the first time, Dean felt like it was best to not say anything. Not long after that Cas’s phone rang: it was his mother telling him she was going to pick him up.
That should have been the perfect afternoon, however… There was just one small detail the Winchester adolescent neglected; a detail that he wished he had remembered when they were together and though it was deep down in his mind, it would only strike him when it was already too late: Castiel was devoid of the usual malice it would take one to realize what they did was not what most people found acceptable. Especially due to their ages and, hey, who wants to know their son is gay at the age of fourteen? It was no surprise when the supernatural boy arrived at school the day after in his kaki trench coat and blue scarf and didn’t talk to Dean. He told his mother what happened and the woman, alarmed, instructed him to not say a word to his friend anymore.
“Cas… Cas, talk to me! Cas, look…” If one asked Sam about Dean’s demeanor, the younger son of the Winchesters’ would describe it as “obnoxiously persistent”. He could be extremely headstrong and insist until he got somewhere; maybe not exactly where he wanted to get at, but at least he got some results. Sam would also say he secretly pouts when the results are not as planned. “Caaaas!!” He finally succeeded in making the dark-haired boy stop and turn around, but the boy’s face seemed clearly uncomfortable with what he was doing, as if violating his mother’s order would get him a severe punishment later. They were at a square in front of their school by then, the snow from the night before freezing their feet as they stared at each other. The awkward silence fell once more as Dean summoned up the courage to ask him the only question he had in mind all day. “Cas… Are you mad at me? Because of what I did yesterday?”
Castiel’s angelic eyes watched the other’s set attentively, screening Dean through his green-eyes and straight to his core. Such was the powerful gaze of the teenager and for once he seemed to be having a hard time gathering words, the words he usually vomited on his friend, to answer the question. “No, I am not. I didn’t understand exactly what that represented to me, Dean, so I told my mother about it and –“
“You told your mother?” Dean could not believe his ears, widening his eyes and moving his hands in an alarmed manner in front of him. He knew, he knew he should have said that nothing was to be said about what they did, that he couldn’t talk to people about it for they wouldn’t understand, that… Argh, how dumb were you, Dean Winchester. “…Yes, that’s what I said. And then she said you were not so reliable anymore and that I shouldn’t talk to you. Ah, I also asked her about the cookies and they were also canceled. She was happy, though.”
“…Why?”
“Because dad needs to spend some time in the coast. Work, he said. So we were going to move right after the holidays and now that I have no reasons to be attached to you anymore, she said it will be easy for me to let go this time...” The boy’s voice faded as he spoke, eyes as blank as they used to be when he was first introduced to the class – devoid of any relevant emotion. There was something wrong with that. There was something wrong with his blue skies, with his pursed lips, with his trembling fingers… “Dean, I don’t… I don’t understand.” He managed to say after clearly stumbling upon his words, clenching his fists and frowning as he stepped further into Dean’s personal bubble, approaching him rather disturbed. “I was always told there would be things in life I would have to do more than just read about to fully understand. My mother said I had to be careful with these things for they were really hard to define and yet, they could easily puzzle me.” He went on, keeping his gaze steady, though his voice wasn’t as certain as it would normally be. “I am not afraid of these things. I never was. But I can’t seem to get them into my head. They don’t make sense, Dean, they don’t. I… You…” His eyes were fixated at the other’s green set, not straying for a second as he wetted his lips nervously, raising a fist and slowly opening it to lay his open hand on the other’s chest. “You made me… Feel. You made me feel like the things I can’t just read about. Dean, I don’t know…” He tilted his head, finally breaking the eye contact he was so tensely trying to keep and resting his forehead onto Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I am supposed to do now…”
Neither did Dean. They were going to stop seeing each other in a week and Lord knows when they would see each other again, especially since the Winchesters had no plans whatsoever of moving from the countryside. It was where they belonged and cursed was the son who decided to move to pursue his lover – his male lover. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to know what to say either. He just wished he could shove some emotional knowledge into the other’s rational mindset. He wished he could do more than what he was doing, arms embracing the cold trench coat of the other’s and bringing him closer on a tight hug, his chin digging into Castiel’s messy strands of dark brown hair. “So don’t do anything. Don’t…” He whispered more to himself than to Cas, fingertips tightening the grip around the other’s frame from underneath the gloves he was wearing. The wind hit their cheekbones like a leash but it didn’t stop them from remaining that way for some more time. Then Cas’s cell phone rang telling him his mother was there.
He was already heading towards the school’s gate when Dean spoke to him once more. “Tell your mother I am not going to bother you anymore.” Yes, bravery wasn’t just about slaying medieval creatures or conquering other folks like they would learn in Literature or History; it wasn’t just about proving people from your time wrong, or even ridding a whole community of a supernatural threat. Sometimes it was about taming your heart; it was about knowing when to step back and do the right thing. Sometimes it was about displaying a very miserable face to your brother on the way home and not daring to say a word about it.
And sometimes it was about looking into the mirror to see the things you have always insisted on ignoring and actually look at them for once. “Sam, there is something you should know…”
It was his last year in high school; his last chance to take things more seriously and try to study a little for the SAT’s and all that crap he hated thinking about. The first week was quite the same thing all the other years were, the same rooms with the same lame ventilation system and the same lame people studying there. All his plans of going to college with Castiel, of sharing school projects and abusing his math skills were to waste for the guy could barely finish middle school before he had to move to the coast side. To think they discussed where they could attend high school together was a distant memory he tried hard to suffocate as he stared at the board. There was absolutely nothing there he would look forward to, he knew that. It would be his worst year for he’d be anticipating college so yeah, screw high school. He knew it was going to be like that, as there was barely any book to be shoved into his backpack once the bell rang. Time to go home, Dean Winchester. Sam wasn’t going home that time for he suspected his older brother had a lover, so he decided on leaving the house all to the guy.
“Shithead…” The hazel-haired boy mumbled to himself as he shook his head. It was a good thing his brother supported his sexual orientation, but why the hell did he have to think Dean was banging every single one of his friends? Gosh… The Winchester guy was much too absent-minded to even pay attention to the few people he occasionally bumped into on his way to the main gates of his school, his heavy steps clearly showing his lack of motivation. What a miserable Friday that was…
“…I don’t understand why I can’t enroll in whichever class I want.” A familiar voice sounded from afar and the green eyes that were grayish the whole week lit up, widening as he froze where he was to try identifying where it came from. No way, it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. That voice was somewhat impossible to forget, and yet he had to see with his own eyes. God, where was it coming from? And why had it stopped talking? Ah, wait, they started talking again. Dean wasn’t sure if he was following in the right direction, but he felt he had to turn right and head towards the principal’s office. It would make sense, actually, considering the bits of the conversation he could hear. “…That is not a valid explanation so I expect you to prepare a better one by Monday…”
“…Cas?” Dean’s voice failed him as it trembled pronouncing those three letters, but it didn’t matter. If his ears could’ve tricked him, his eyes were telling the truth as he saw in full colors the image of that boy he met three years ago, his jaw still squared and his eyes just as blue and seemingly dense. Castiel. Fuck, Castiel. The Winchester boy could hardly find the air to fill his lungs when he cast his eyes on that familiar figure, lips parting. No words, just silence. Silence and stepping, each time closer, one to the other. The autistic guy had a more built body then, shoulders broader than before, but his face was still as clueless as it was when they were fourteen. “Castiel, it’s—“
There was no time for chitchat, those angelic swollen lips suddenly kissing Dean in the middle of the school’s hallway. The green-eyed teenager could barely close his eyes when his lips welcomed the warmth of the other’s. There was a tenderness in that kiss that was weirdly comfortable; something both of them had no idea they needed but felt good when the time came. Their kiss lasted a little longer and then they were already parting their faces, still close from one another. “…What the fuck?” The Winchester managed to say after a few seconds of shock, his hands reaching for the other’s cheeks as to make sure it was his Castiel he had just kissed and not some lame clone or substitute. “I spent a lot of time studying. There wasn’t much to do where I was living, so I watched a lot of those films called ‘rom-coms’ and also, romantic movies. They can teach you so much. Like pornographic movies, they also—“
“Ok, ok!” Dean interrupted him, using the back of his hand to muffle his laughter. The guy could be so adorably stupid sometimes, couldn’t he. It wasn’t even a flaw, but something he deeply missed in his daily basis: to have someone as straightforward and transparent to rely on. He couldn’t help the beaming smile forming on his face, his thumbs caressing Cas’s cheeks kindly. “How did you manage to come back, Cas?” The blue-eyed teenager blinked a few times before shrugging. “My mother regretted her words once I started talking to her more frequently about the things that I couldn’t understand. Most of the movies I watched were her suggestions, you know, and they were very good, indeed.” The dark-haired boy nodded in agreement to his own words, slowly raising his hands to grab the other’s waist lightly. “There’s something they always say in these moments… What was it? I studied so hard…” The angelic boy seemed to struggle with his memory to recall the words, but even if he couldn’t Dean already found him the most amazing creature on Earth. Those lonely years in high school, barely talking to anyone but his brother and a handful of people felt so irrelevant at the moment in hand. Everything he needed was there, right in front of him – right there with him. “Ah! I… I missed you…”
Dean’s green eyes lit even more, yellowish sparks staining their color as he widened them to make sure it was not just some emotional shitty dream. It wasn’t. His eyes could perfectly see through Castiel’s blue set that there was something different this time. There was some genuine feeling to what he said, no matter if he had to memorize the moment or analyze it. He did it for Dean and that should matter more than anything else. Maybe he would still need to learn a few things here and then, but they could be together for one more year, no interruptions this time.
“I missed you, too, Castiel. I missed you, too…”