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“I don’t understand how to do it, Cas.” Dean lets out, furrowing his hand into his hair, his face contorted in frustration. “It doesn’t make sense .” His wand is loose in his palm down by his side, but his arms are taut and strained. Castiel sighs.
“It’s not that difficult of a spell,” he reprimands. In demonstration, he lifts his own wand, arm bent only slightly. Having a firm, steady grip, he takes a deep breath and with a slight flick of the wrist, he cants, “ Olapireta! ”
As the spell takes, a small ball of light no larger than the size of a dime starts to glow from the end of his wand.
Castiel tosses a look in his student’s direction. “See?” he says, putting the light out, “Not that hard.”
Dean glares back at him through the spaces between his fingers. “Yeah not for you, asshole. Some of us aren’t fucking born with magic okay? Some of us can’t understand enochian for fucksake. This ain’t no levi O sa bullshit.”
Castiel pinches his face. “Dean, all of us possess the same abilities whether we’re human-born or not. And i know your marks in understanding the language of the spells is excellent so don’t give me that.” He sighs and puts his wand down on the desk. “What is it you don’t understand?”
Dragging his hands away from his face Dean frowns. “Everything.” He tosses general gestures in Castiel’s direction. “I read all of the instructions in the book but I can’t seem to get it right no matter what the fuck I do!”
“Show me.” Castiel asks, moving away and motioning for Dean to get up out of the desk.
“What?” Dean blanches.
“You’re having difficulty with every aspect of the spell, so show me how you were trying to do it before.” Castiel clarifies.
He can see Dean visibly swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing strictly. “Okay.” He’s shaky as he gets up, and takes a few breaths before he postures himself.
“ Olapireta! ” He shouts, and nothing happens. Castiel can see Dean’s body twitch with impatience. He takes another breath before he repeats, louder and sterner this time, “ Olapireta! ” Still no reaction from the wand. Castiel takes notice of how Dean’s fingers clench and unclench around his wand.
“See?” Dean tosses over his shoulder heatedly, “Can’t fucking do it.”
In class, Dean is always quick to opt out of participation and often takes naps in the back where he is out of sight of Professor Metatron’s prying, beady eyes. But he always does well on the exams that they take. It’s always the manifestation magic skills he has difficulty with, which is why Castiel offered to tutor him, as the final exam is in a few weeks.
They hadn’t known each other long. It was just the first few weeks of classes and they had been partnered a couple of times. It was enough for Castiel to understand that working with Dean Winchester is infuriating because he was probably the most attractive person Castiel had ever laid his eyes on. But for the sake of propriety, Castiel refuses to acknowledge his crush when tutoring Dean.
Castiel has a feeling that Dean has trouble manifesting spells because of his tendency to self-deprecate. Performing spells requires a certain level of confidence and calmness. Things that Dean needs to get the hang of. The only way for him to do that is for him to calm down and relax into the spell instead of trying to force it out. He needs a different point of focus.
Castiel swallows and takes . “Dean?”
“What?” Dean bites.
“Can you stand like you’re going to do the spell again?”
Dean looks at him skeptically. “I dunno what you expect to happen. I’m a hapless son of a bitch with spells.”
“Just do it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” concedes Dean as he lines himself up again.
Castiel takes note of his stance. Dean’s legs are bowed out, planted firmly. “Raise your wand as if you were going to cast.” At his instruction, Dean lifts his wand into place. His fingers fidget and his arm becomes iron locked, no room for movement. Walking around him, Castiel notices that he’s stiff in all of the wrong places. There is no room for the fluidity of magic needed for the spell.
“Could you relax a little bit?” he asks softly.
“Kind of hard when your entire grade relies on being able to do the one fucking spell you can’t do.” Dean grits out between his teeth, his body going even more rigid.
Without thinking, Castiel puts a hand over Dean’s as he grips his wand. “Dean. Relax.” Green eyes whip up to meet his, wide and curious as they glance between Castiel’s hand and his face. He swallows shallowly.
Pretending to ignore Dean’s staring and his own pounding heart, Castiel wraps his fingers over Dean’s and moves into place behind him. His chin catches Dean’s shoulder and he presses their arms so they’re parallel. He can feel Dean’s breathing catch as he calmly reminds, “The spell won’t work because you’re too tense. Relax.”
For a moment, Dean gets even more strained. But as Castiel places his free hand on Dean’s hip, his breathing begins again. “Just let it flow, Dean.” He can feel goosebumps erupt over his student’s skin as Dean shivers ever so slightly. Castiel smirks to himself.
He tightens his grip on Dean’s waist and presses forward so they are flush together. “Don’t think about me. Just take a deep breath.” Dean does, and he relaxes into Castiel solidly. “Good. Now think about the spell, the magic.” He whispers into Dean’s ear now, softly, privately. “Think about it. Feel the potential energy in your body.” He feels an almost nonexistent nod brush against his cheek. “Are you ready?”
Dean’s throat clicks. “I think so.” His fingers loose on his wand, guided slightly by Castiel’s hand, Dean takes a breath and lets out a soft “ Olapireta.” with a turn of his wrist.
A small, dime-sized ball of light glows from the end of Dean’s wand. Castiel glances over at Dean to see the biggest grin splitting his face at his own ability. “I did it?” He meets Castiel’s eyes, “I did it!” He starts laughing incredulously and Castiel can’t help but smile softly at Dean’s happiness.
Dean’s laughter dies down and then they both seem to realize that they’re still pressed together. Their bodies flush from chest to pelvis. Castiel can feel every curve of Dean’s back against his chest and the warm breathes on his lips as he breathes. At this distance, Castiel can count every freckle that stands out against his fair skin and every speck of gold in his green eyes. He can feel the sharp intake of air from Dean as he realizes that Castiel’s gaze has dipped down to his lips.
Oh those lips . If Castiel had to pick a favorite part of Dean’s face it would be his lips. Their cupid’s bow curve and pink plush danced into his fantasies and distracted him from class at times. His dreams were laced with the wonders of those lips against his own, against his chest, against his throat, wrapped around his -
His thoughts stutter when Dean softly, barely audible says, “Cas?”
His own voice is scarcely better. “Yes, Dean?”
Dean’s throat slides, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Castiel finds his gaze locked on the movement. “C- can I kiss you?” It’s barely heard, just a soft pant against Castiel’s lips. He sees Dean’s gaze dip down to them, and that’s it.
Castiel doesn’t answer. Instead, he tilts his chin up slightly and presses their lips together. It chaste and sweet. Dean relaxes into it, his exhale warm against Castiel’s cheek as his mouth becomes pliant and welcoming.
Their wands clatter to the floor as Castiel laces their fingers together with one hand and wraps the other around Dean’s waist, turning him around so they’re chest-to-chest. Dean gasps at the movement and it shoots heat right into Castiel’s belly. Fingers curling into the hem of Dean’s shirt, Castiel presses harder, kisses firmer. Dean brings his free hand up and cups Castiel’s cheek, his fingernails slightly scratching at the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, making him shiver.
There’s a pressure at the bottom of his chin, and when he opens his mouth wider in response, Castiel lets out a whine as he feels Dean deepen the kiss. There is a tongue on the dip of his bottom lip that swipes into his mouth like it’s making a claim, and like hell was Castiel going to stop it from happening. He slips his own tongue in response, garnering a pleasing groan out of Dean at makes the fire in Castiel burn into his skin.
The hand at the end of dean’s shirt weaves underneath it. Dean’s skin is hot under his palm and when Castiel tests dragging his nails lightly down his spine, Dean moans into his mouth, his hips canting forwards and a shiver rumbling over his body.
Their lips move harder and faster and more desperate against each other, their legs somehow slot together and their friction against each other becomes maddeningly addictive. Castiel pulls his hand from Dean’s and snakes it around to cup his ass and lock their hips together more firmly. At the contact, they both gasp and break apart. Pleasure races up and down his nerves as he can feel certain parts of his anatomy fill. And from what Castiel can tell, he’s not the only one interested.
“Dean,” Castiel whines against Dean’s clavicle, as his partner drags his thigh in between Castiel’s legs, over his crotch.
“Yeah, Cas?” Oh dear lord, Dean sounds just as wrecked as he is.
Castiel gulps through the sensations decorating his insides, “We have to stop. Teachers. Class. Almo-- fuck --” Dean’s hand has drifted down and boldly cups his through his jeans, pressing the heel of his palm against Castiel’s erection.
“You were saying?” But Castiel can barely think about anything other than the feel of Dean rubbing him over his jeans.
He takes a shuddering breath. “St-stop. We- teachers- the bell-” Dean cuts him off with a searing kiss.
“I understand, Cas,” Dean whispers against his lips. “Guess that just means we’ll have to finish this up in my dorm room.”
Oh god, yes.