#deancaswc

~

Dean arrives at the studio’s main office only a few hours after Charlie’s call, dressed in his best with his stomach twisted into knots. A receptionist leads him to a conference room that has been set up like an informal get-together space, with the table pushed off to the side of the room and an array of basic snacks and drinks spread across it.

There are only two other people in the room, one of whom Dean recognizes immediately.

Cain appears to be deep in conversation with the room’s one other occupant, but he looks up when Dean enters, and his face splits into a grin. “Ah, Mr. Winchester! I’m so glad you could join us.”

Cain crosses the room and grabs Dean’s hand for a firm, overexcited handshake. Dean tries his best not to gape like a damn fish the whole time, but he only barely manages to return the handshake by the time Cain moves on.

“I trust your agent explained to you what we’re looking for today,” the director says, a heavy hand now laying on Dean’s shoulder. “Our team is in a dead split between casting you or Michael Godson as our lead, and that means we’ve brought it down to our tiebreaker.”

Multiple alarms immediately begin to ring in Dean’s mind. A dead split? Him and Michael Godson? Charlie hadn’t made it sound quite so dire, and she definitely hadn’t told Dean who his competition was—though it’s probably fair that she didn’t, because if she had, there’s no way Dean would have shown up at all.

Michael is a pro with a resume that’s a hell of a lot better than Dean’s. Dean might have some decent acting chops, but if it comes down to it, in what setting could he ever possibly hope to beat Michael?

He croaks out, feeling slightly faint, “Tiebreaker, huh?”

Cain nods, then uses the hand he has on Dean’s shoulder to lead him over to the man he had previously been talking to. The guy has been hovering since Dean arrived, looking awkward in the background, and Dean tries not to look as wary as he feels when they are introduced.

Who is he? A producer? Some random pick from the crew? He definitely doesn’t seem confident in this environment, and he’s gorgeous enough that Dean knows he would remember if he’d seen him before. He looks like he’s straight out of every chick flick Dean has ever seen, with his dark, tousled hair and perfect, pink lips.

“Dean, this is Castiel Novak. You might know him as his pen name, CJ Novak—he is the author of the novel Beyond the Midnight Hour is based upon.”

Dean’s mouth goes dry. “Oh,” he says without quite meaning to. He’s heard of CJ Novak. Then, with as much enthusiasm as he can muster and a hand stuck out in Castiel’s direction, “It’s great to meet you, man. I didn’t realize this was based on a book, but based on how awesome the cut-down screenplay version is looking, you must be an amazing author.”

Castiel’s cheeks dust pink, and he belatedly accepts Dean’s offered hand. His palm is smooth and warm against Dean’s own. “Thank you, Mr. Winchester. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Once the handshake has ended, Dean gives Castiel the most charming smile he can muster. It’s not as easily managed as he might have liked, with his nerves ratcheting up as quickly as they are, but—he’s pursuing a career in acting for a reason. He can do this.

And Dean isn’t an idiot. Cain said they needed a tiebreaker, so who better to make the final decision than the man who created the story that’s being put to screen? Dean isn’t going to resort to flirting or anything so cheap to try to win the author over, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be as charismatic as possible.

“I really do want to read it,” he says, now that a beat has passed after Castiel’s thanks. “How different is—”

At that moment, there’s a knock against the conference room door. It swings inward to reveal a pair of unfamiliar faces. “Cain?” one of them calls. “Can we steal you for a second?”

“Of course.” Cain smiles at the pair in the doorway, then turns back to Dean and Castiel to clap a hand to each of their shoulders. “I’ll be back shortly. I’ll see about rounding up the rest of the producers, too, before Michael arrives. Play nice, you two.”

Cain strides out of the room without a backwards glance. When the door closes behind him, the conference room is thrown into an awkward silence. Dean and Castiel both stare at the door instead of each other. Castiel shifts his weight from one foot to the other; Dean clears his throat. They end up turning to each other at the exact same time.

“Well, I guess—”

“I feel like I should apologize—”

Each of them cuts off. Dean’s smile turns sheepish, and Castiel presses his lips together in embarrassment.

“Uh—sorry.” Dean forces himself to chuckle and rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. Smooth, Winchester. “What do you want to apologize for?”

“I was going to apologize in advance for being as socially awkward as I am,” Castiel confesses with a chuckle that’s far more authentic than Dean’s had been. “But I think I proved myself quickly enough on that matter. Cain promised me he wouldn’t leave me alone, and yet…”

Oh. Well. Now Dean feels even more awkward. He tries to push through it. “Well, I can’t exactly say anything for Cain ditching you with me, but I’ll try not to make this any harder on you than it has to be. I’m a chill guy, I promise.”

Castiel squints at him like he doesn’t know how to interpret that statement. Dean’s confidence begins to fizzle.

He swallows hard. “Anyways, uh. I know actors tend to be flashy assholes, but that’s not my style. My little brother’s a quiet type, too, so believe me when I say that’s something I can handle. He’s going through law school right now. Pretty different path than the one I’m on.”

Castiel tilts his head at that, intrigued. “Those are definitely very different paths,” he agrees. “Your brother wants to serve people, and you want to entertain them. Why?”

Dean shrugs. “Just our lots in life, I guess. Sam’s always been a brainiac. Reading, writing, following along with political activist groups. I modelled a bit when I was a teenager, and I followed that line of work to make sure I stayed employed. Money’s important when you’re raising a kid sibling as your own.”

“Raising him as your own?” Castiel echoes, but Dean is sure that they’ve already discussed this more than they should. They’re not here to talk about him.

Or, well. Maybe they are, in a way. But not like this. His personal drama doesn’t mean a damn thing, as far as his career is concerned.

“How different is Beyond the Midnight Hour the book from Beyond the Midnight Hour the movie?”

“Oh. Um.” Castiel clears his throat, but thankfully has the good grace to let the subject be changed. He settles his weight back on his heels as he switches to thinking about a subject he’s actually familiar with. Dean can see how much it relaxes him; the difference in his posture is like night and day. “Actually, the novel I wrote is called Outside the Midnight Hour. After the film rights were sold, the studio came to me with the idea of changing it for the movie adaptation. Something about original titles and alphabetic preference, I don’t fully remember. I was too happy to be getting a movie to care.”

“Oh.” Dean wrinkles his nose without thinking. “You weren’t offended by that? I mean, you must have worked your ass off to write that book, and then after all that, some studio mooks decided to just change the title for their own reasons? The title can be the trickiest part of the whole book, right? That doesn’t sound fair.”

Castiel blinks rapidly, then stares at Dean in what seems to be a stunned silence. It takes a while for him for respond, and when he does, there’s a distant note to his voice. “I… I hadn’t actually thought about it in those terms. I wasn’t offended, but… Should I have been?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. If you aren’t offended, you aren’t offended, I don’t have any right to tell you how to feel. You seem like a good guy, though, Castiel—”

“Cas.”

Dean loses his grip on his rant. “What?”

Castiel’s cheeks have turned pink again. “A lot of my friends call me Cas.”

“Oh. Cas. Okay.” Dean’s face feels a bit warmer than usual now, too, because—is it just him, or does that make it sound like the two of them are becoming friends? Maybe it’s a bit too early for them to actually be at that point, but if nothing else, it’s definitely an invitation.

He clears his throat and makes an effort to remember what it was he had been saying. “Um—anyway. If you’re not offended about the title thing, that’s fine. I probably shouldn’t be saying shit that might pit you against the studio, anyway. Not if I want this job.”

“I’ve already signed my contracts,” Cas says, waving his hand in a vague gesture. “I can’t be turned against anyone. But your perspective is… interesting.” He assesses Dean for a moment, then asks, “If I were to tell you that I was offended by the change in title. What would you do about it?”

The answer to that is an easy one. Dean knows what he would do without a second of hesitation. And, even though he swears he can hear Charlie’s voice in the back of his mind telling him that it’s a bad idea, he gives that answer to Cas.

“If you weren’t into it, I wouldn’t do this movie. I know I already said this, but the screenplay is fucking incredible. You created a great story with great characters. If this movie didn’t respect your vision and earn your support, I wouldn’t want to support it, either.”

Cas’ expression goes slack with the force of his surprise. Dean can’t blame him for the reaction; he’s sure it’s not what Michael would have said.

(Dean has never met the guy, but he seems like a stuck-up prick, so he doesn’t exactly have any desire to. He knows enough from interviews and general gossip, thanks.)

“Why would you give up this film?” Cas asks—demands, really. Once he gets a grip on his surprise, he verges on being angry. “I know your work history, so I know this project is a huge opportunity for you. You told me that you started acting with the hopes of supporting your brother. This would be a better paycheck than any you have ever seen, which could help both of you. So why the hell would my opinion of something as inane as the title convince you to give up your chance?”

“Well… not just the title..” Maybe his logic doesn’t feel quite as sound now that Cas has thrown it back at him like that, but that doesn’t mean Dean is going to change his mind. “It’s your story. I’m just some guy who might be allowed to act it out. One of those things is way more important than the other.”

Cas reels back slightly. “Dean Winchester,” he starts to say, but for a long moment, nothing follows it. Dean waits, feeling uneasy (and definitely like he has blown his chance and used this alone time with Cas all wrong).

Then Cas finishes, “Dean Winchester, you are phenomenal.” In the same breath, he turns his head toward the conference room door and shouts, “Cain?”

It only takes a handful of seconds for Cain to appear, opening the door and strolling through it without a care in the world. There’s no one with him, Michael or otherwise. Dean frowns.

“Any thoughts, Castiel?” Cain asks, casting a cautious look in Dean’s direction. Cas is quick to answer him, though, redrawing his attention completely.

“Dean is the one. I would like him to have the role over Michael.”

Dean’s has just about hits the floor. He turns to Cas, abruptly feeling dizzy and certainly not understanding what the hell is happening. “What? But I… I haven’t even been in the same room as him, yet. Why would you pick me? I mean, his name alone—”

Cas cuts him off with a shake of his head. “I already spoke with Michael earlier in the day. When he thought he had a few, secret minutes alone with me, he spent his time trying to impress me with his reputation and connections. He flat-out offered to introduce me to my favorite actor if he was given the part.”

Dean blinks. “And you didn’t want to take him up on that?”

Cas shakes his head and graces Dean with a small, secret kind of smile. “I think I have a new favorite actor now, anyway. And he’s much kinder. He cares about the work itself instead of just getting the job. Better looking, too, if I’m being honest.”

Cain muffles a chuckle behind his hand. Dean stares up at him in surprise; Cas is so absorbing that Dean already managed to forget that he came back into the room. And when he does look up, the director offers Dean his hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Dean. I’ll make sure everything you’ll need to look through gets sent along to your agent.”

“I—” Dean swallows hard. He’s dangerously close to getting choked up, but he eagerly shakes Cain’s hand nonetheless. “Thank you, sir. I’m looking forward to working with you, too. I appreciate this opportunity.”

There. Charlie would be proud of him for that line.

Dean can sense that the meeting (or ambush, really, since that’s what it turned out to be) is going to come to an end now that the casting decision has been declared. Part of him feels like he should keep his mouth shut and let that happen, not push his luck, but as soon as Cas starts to walk away from him, presumably toward the door, something like panic grips at Dean, and he instinctively reaches after him.

“Hey Cas, wait up—” Dean leaves Cain Mullen behind in favor of catching Castiel Novak by his elbow. Cas is slow to turn around to look at him, and when he does, his blue eyes have gone round with surprise. And god, with a face like that, how is this guy just the brains behind the story? It’s almost ridiculous.

Nerves bubble through Dean, and he gently releases Cas’ elbow. Neither of them moves to put any additional space between them, though.

“I was just, uh. I was wondering.” Shit, when did Dean become so bad at this? “Do you want to maybe… grab coffee? Or something? You know, new favorite actor to new favorite author? You never did tell me how different Outside the Midnight Hour is from its movie adaptation.”

Cas stares at him. “I suppose I didn’t,” he concedes. Then, after a moment of deliberation, a smile steadily stretches across his features, lighting him up. “Favorite actor to favorite author, you say?”

Dean feigns a casual shrug. “Kinder and better looking than any other author I know.”

Dean knew it was Cas that was walking towards him while he himself was under the Impala, giving her a good ol’ tune up. Dude really had to get better looking shoes than those fugly expensive pair of Blundstones.

Cas stopped beside him and nudged one of his legs with a foot. “If you wanted it so much, why didn’t you buy it?”

“Buy what?”

“The jukebox.”

Dean’s hand stalled for a moment. “I mean, where would we even put her? She’s too big.”

“We have enough space in the bunker.”

“Well, who knows whether I could actually set that thing up to work? I could be pouring money down the drain for nothing.”

“I’m sure you’d learn.”

“Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dean rolled out from underneath the car and wiped down the wrench he was holding. “We don’t really need a jukebox. We already got a record player and Sam’s shitty ass iPod speakers.”

“Dean. You’re making excuses.”

“I—” Dean flushed. “I’m not! I’m just trying to be realistic here.”

Cas raised an eyebrow with a Look and Dean fidgeted with the wrench in hand, avoiding his piercing all-too-knowing eyes.

“Look, it’s not like I’m actually gonna go out and buy this thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because… Because! You just don’t go out and buy something like that. And it’s not good to have real thoughts like ‘oh where would I put her’ or ‘how many songs could she hold’ or whatever when I’m not even gonna buy her.”

Cas gave him a skeptical look.

“That’s just how humans work,” he added.

Cas narrowed his eyes further but he usually never argued when Dean pulled the ‘humans just do things this way’ card. It was a dick move but Dean just wanted Cas to get off his dick. Figuratively. Obviously.

But for some reason, Cas was just as persistent to see this argument to the end this time around. “Dean, you don’t need to hold yourself back on every thing you want.”

“I’m not!”

“You are. There was the jukebox, then the suit of medieval armour you were fond of, and that food processor that seemed to get you going for a while.”

Dean rubbed his cheek with a sigh only to remember the grease on his hands and grimaced at the tart sticky pull on his face. He had half a mind to joke ‘now look what you’ve done’ but he didn’t say that. He shrugged. Under the buzz of the brightly lit garage lights, there were no secrets he could hide. “It’s just what I’m used to, I guess.”

“To what?”

Dean’s hands were filthy. “When I want something, and I mean really want something, it’s… I try not to think about it too much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just never have.” Dean took a daring glance up at Cas. He gulped. “If I think about it too much then my head climbs up and up and up… and I end up with huge expectations. Usually don’t work out so well. My own damn fault,” he said with a tight smile.

Cas’s face fell and along with it, Dean’s heart to his stomach. Why couldn’t Cas ever laugh these things off? Always so god damn sincere. “Dean, you’re still allowed to want things.”

Bold of Cas to say something like that, the pinnacle of what Dean—

Dean waved the thought away, and he was about to wave Cas off with a flippant comment when Cas stepped right into his space just then, close enough for Dean to see the deeper lines on Cas’s face that had developed over the years. He raised a hand over to Dean’s cheek and for that second Dean sucked in a breath and held it, his heart beating in his ears. Cas gently wiped off the grease that was streaked across his face.

“If you ever change your mind,” Cas said ever so softly, “about the jukebox or anything else, I promise I’ll come with you.”

Dean stayed like that, frozen with Cas’s palm warm against his cheek.

“Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay,” he added just for good measures.

Cas flashed a brief smile and he slipped away out of the garage, every step he took against the concrete floor simultaneous with Dean’s heartbeat.

Dean stood there uselessly for a while longer, taking a moment to thumb over the spot on his face.

Still warm.

It took Dean a month or two to think it over, to really think it over and go through every reason on why he shouldn’t buy this jukebox only for Cas’s words to echo back to him. It took him a while longer to actually muster up the courage to knock on Cas’s door. But he did eventually knock on his door, and when he did, Cas was there on his feet, ready to kick back in the passenger seat on their drive to the store where they saw the jukebox.

“Someone probably already bought her,” Dean said mostly to himself on their way over.

“It might still be there,” replied Cas anyway, ever the optimist.

“Dude, did you even see her? She was fucking gorgeous. You’d have to be a fool to pass up on her.”

Cas gave him another Look and this time, Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, alright. Whatever, dude. I was a fool.”

“At least you know now,” said Cas.

In a way, Dean was sure it didn’t even matter if the jukebox was gone or not. Well, maybe it did, but Dean felt… light. Like he could achieve anything he put his mind to. It was the most free he’d felt in years and the whole drive over to the store, Dean only hoped to god that he wasn’t too late in making this choice.

Maybe Chuck was listening though he doubted it, or maybe the universe was finally granting him one thing in his life that he wanted, but the jukebox was still sitting neatly in the display as if she’d been waiting for him to take her home the whole time. It only took a few minutes and a pair of shaky hands to purchase her, a few more to load her up in the car, and there Dean was, driving back home with something he chose for himself. Not for Sam, not for dad, not even for mom, but just. For him.

“Where will you put it?” Cas asked.

Dean tapped his thumbs on the wheel to no particular rhythm. He grinned. “I have a place in mind.”

Cas helped him to carry her over as Dean explained.

“Sam doesn’t know about this place yet. Actually, you’re the first person in here so hey, welcome to the uh… the Cave. Dean Cave? I still have to work on the name.”

Dean flicked on the lights and stationed the jukebox to the side where she fit in perfectly while Cas looked around the room. Dean didn’t have much in here with only band posters and album covers adoring the walls, but the jukebox made for a pretty sight in the otherwise empty room.

“When did you…?”

Dean shrugged. “I always wanted a room like this, to sort of hang back with a beer and play pool or whatever. It’s not much and I don’t have a lot to fill up the space right now, but I just… went for it anyway. And hey.” Dean chuckled. “Turns out, acting out on what I want is a lot more exciting than just thinking about it.”

Cas smiled all soft and knowing and this time, Dean didn’t ignore the flutter that came from the sight. He did fumble with the quarters but nobody could fault him for that. “Anyway, let’s give ‘er a whirl.”

The previous owner sure had some good taste and Dean recognized a number of songs. He picked whatever first song he was familiar with, which happened to be Entre Nous by Rush. As soon as he plugged the number in, the electric piano and the beats of the drum and the guitar filled the room along with Dean’s heart, and Dean was just glad that they decided to do this whole ordeal while Sam was out.

“Pretty good, right?”

Cas grinned and nodded, walking towards him to peer over his shoulders. “I know that one,” he said, pointing out Ramble On. Dean had put it into Cas’s Zeppelin tape. “Play that one next.”

Dean nodded, his lips so much drier than it was moments ago as he queued up the song. For a while they stood side by side with their shoulders snug against each other, letting the music wash over them. Entre Nous faded away. For all he’d done for it, Dean hoped that the universe was ready to grant him one more thing. “Hey, Cas?”

Cas was so god damn close to his face that Dean could practically count every one of his eyelashes. “Mm?”

“Thanks for... well. You know.” And Dean leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

With almost comical timing, Ramble On started playing as Cas slowly turned his head, wide-eyed as he registered what’d just happened and… and a smile spread slowly over his lips and he leaned forward slightly, leaving just enough space for Dean to come forward and accept should he choose.

Dean licked his dry, dry lips, with Robert Plant cooing softly in the background. It was almost time for the chorus.

And this time, with their hand linked over the jukebox, Dean leaned over and kissed Cas properly. Cas’s arm wrapped around his waist and pulled them closer, deepening the kiss with another breath taken between them. Dean only realized he’d closed his eyes when he opened them again, and Cas was grinning at him with his lips red and sweet from their kisses.

“Did that meet your expectations?” Cas asked.

Dean blinked, and huffed even as his face grew hotter to match the shade of Cas’s lips. He nodded, hoping that his grin was as bright as Cas’s. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Dean held the scroll in hand, marking off each name as they had been called to him. His kingdom was thriving, his enemies destroyed and he couldn't be more grateful for his subjects doing as he had asked of them without question. He sat on his throne, enjoying the feel of conquering the entire North and taking what he wanted.

“There is one, brother. Who escaped the pillage as we raided the castle. Your former lover Castiel. He seemed to be missing among his family. He is out there Dean. What do you wish for us to do?”

Dean swallowed hard. He didn't know that Castiel had been back in the North, he didn't know that he had been there with his family when they were being captured. He was certain that Castiel knew the emblem that Dean had procured for himself and knew that he felt betrayal.

None of that matter however because Castiel had betrayed him all those years ago. Castiel had been the one that left him. He had been the one that had chosen to stick by his family instead of the man that he loved.

All of this, all of this was because of him.  

“Drag the entire Novak clan to the dungeons. Torture them if you must. I need to know where he has gone. And I need to know now.”

If it meant doing what he needed to be done, he didn't have a choice.

                                         ¤

Castiel ran as fast as his legs would carry him. With the army invading and the sign, he knew that emblem and he couldn't believe what he saw. Dean was a carefree soul, one who hated conflict. He would fight. Of course that was the way that he was raised but to enslave an entire population and….

No. That wasn't the man that Castiel knew and he wanted nothing more to do with that. He would need to recoup, to find stragglers or anyone who would help him take back their freedom.

He needed to.

He stopped at an inn. Miles away from his own Castle. He held a dirty rag over his mouth and nose in hopes that no one would recognize the former prince.

“I would like a bed and a hot meal if I may. And if you know of any, a few men who would be more than willing to overthrow the self proclaimed king of the north. Dean Winchester.”

The innkeeper nodded. He poured Castiel a drink, a steaming hot plate of food sat in front of him and he called over a group of men who would be more than willing to help him in anyway that he could.

“We have more men. Some of them outside the border. They will fight.” One said.

“We have weapons.” Another.

“You have our allegiance.” All of them said  in unison.

He felt pride swell inside of him.

This is what he needed.

He would hate to have to do this but he didn't have a choice.  

-

Their reunion is cut short by Gabriel's arrival. Of course.

"Don't you have better things to do?" Dean grumbles, tugging his shirt back into order.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Not here to see you, Dean-o. Cas here detoured straight to you without checking out his own little slice of Heaven."

"I assumed I would be sharing Dean's." Based on what, he's not sure.

“Nope," Gabriel says, with a snap of his fingers. "We made this one just for you, bro.”

Castiel stares out at the sunny meadow. There is a line of trees in the distance, and he can just make out the deer hiding among the leaves. Birdsong fills the air, and the distant sound of water suggests the small clearing to the right leads to a stream.

And everywhere there are white tulips.

He feels the sudden burn of tears behind his eyes.

“Cas?” Dean asks, and he takes Castiel’s hand after Gabriel winks and disappears. “You okay?”

He squeezes Dean’s hand.

“Let’s go back,” he says, voice tight.

“You don’t like it? If I need to go kick Gabe’s ass, you just let me know.”

Castiel can’t stop how the corners of his mouth twitch up at that. Dean is a calming presence at his side, and he would understand.

“The flowers,” he starts, "they mean forgiveness."

They stand in silence for a while, taking in the beautiful field around them.

"I don't deserve this." Castiel's voice is a quiet rumble. He almost wishes he had stayed silent or that Dean couldn't make out his words.

Because then Dean pulls him around so they are face to face and says, "That's a load of crap."

It's simply, even calmly, stated.

Castiel drops his eyes from Dean's gaze. The guilt for everything he has done in the past to Heaven, to his brothers and sisters--it’s enough to make him mad. Heaven came so close to being wiped from existence, and he had played a lead role in it’s destruction.

If it hadn’t been for Gabriel and Jack--he stops that thought. What matters is they did. But it remains that their actions don’t have the ability to wash the spilled Grace from Castiel’s hands.

“Hey,” Dean says. His fingers sweep gently along Castiel’s jaw until he musters the courage to meet Dean's eyes again.

And he doesn’t see pity there, only understanding and love.

“None of that. We've talked about this, Cas."

Castiel nods because they have and everyone seems to have forgiven him. Everyone, that is, except for himself.

Dean must see the tension lingering on his face because he turns to walk further into the meadow, pulling Castiel by the hand.

They end up sat beside each other on a soft patch of grass near a large bumnlebee busy investigating a tulip.

Dean loops an arm around his waist, says, "I love you."

And not so very long ago, that also was difficult for Castiel to accept.

He leans into Dean's side and looks out at the waves of silky white petals, willing them to wash over him with a sense of peace.

Maybe one day.

"I love you, too."

Dean picked up his flowers and walked into the living room where the whole gang was gathered, Charlie, her girlfriend Dorothy, Garth and his girlfriend Bess, Cas, Benny, Sam and his new “friend” Eileen were sitting around drinking beer and watching a movie and said, “Which of you guys left these flowers in my room?” he interrupted, “I'm not mad. I'm just asking” Charlie, Benny and Sam looked surprised at him and the flowers in his hand, so they were ruled out. Garth raised his hands in surrender, “Wasn't me who left the hydrangeas, buddy”

Cas suddenly looked away for a moment and looked up which was slightly weird but not very out of character for him. Cas looked at Dean and shook his head when he looked at him questioningly. He turned his head to sweep the room again, a look of confusion on his face.

“This is the second time I'm getting flowers, if it's not from any of you then who's it from?” Dean said. That apparently made all their eyes light up, never a good sign.

“Should I be worried that our house isn't safe?”

His question was met with dismissive sounds and Bess said, “Oh, Dean's got a secret admirer”

At the same time, Charlie said “Just because we didn't give you these flowers doesn't mean one of us didn't deliver it”

All of them seemed very interested in Dean's new secret admirer, the movie forgotten in the background. Dean groaned remembering his assignments,  thanking his lucky stars for an opportunity to get out of this impromptu interrogation, he left making his excuses.

As soon as the door to his room was safely closed behind him, Dean let out a sigh. He put the flowers carefully in water and sat down at his desk as his thoughts drifted, he hoped that he hid the pang of disappointment he felt when he found that Cas wasn't the one who had sent him flowers. He couldn't think about his friend like that, he couldn't afford to ruin his friendship with Cas, not now, not ever. He wasn't scared to admit he was in love with his best friend, at least to himself, and it wasn't the fact that Cas was a guy, he was open about his bisexuality, and Cas liked guys and girls too, he called himself pansexual.

Cas deserved so much better than Dean. He was so smart and had so many plans, and ambitions. He shouldn't have to be weighed down by Dean, with his morose thoughts and no ambition. A noise from outside brought him out of his thoughts. Groaning internally, he got to work.

Having bad days seemed to be a pattern with him, but he didn't get any flowers, which probably added to his disappointment. Charlie, Garth and Benny managed to convince him that sulking in his room wasn't going to help and got him to the coffee shop on campus. They had promised him that the gang was going to meet them there with the exception of Sam who was off doing some nerdy stuff. Everyone arrived slowly. Dean was listening and slowly sipping at his rapidly cooling coffee, his mind wandering to think about Cas and his glaring absence. “Hey, did Cas say he wasn't coming?” Dean wondered aloud. As if  summoned, his phone buzzed in his pocket, a text from Cas telling him to meet him outside. Dean made his way out of the coffee shop as fast as he could, leaning his coffee and friends behind with a wave. Dean crashed into a solid body that smelled of flowers just as he walked out the door. Looking up he saw that it was Cas who Dean had crashed into. Seeing his best friend made a smile appear on his face, “What was so urgent that you had to message me when you were right here?” he asked.

“I had to give you something” Cas said pulling out one of the bouquets from behind his back, “For you” They were the same bouquet of flowers, with the same kind of ribbon

“It was you? You told me you didn't give me the flowers”

“I lied”

Dean was surprised but also curious, “I have one question. What kind of flowers are these?”

“They're pink hydrangeas” Cas suddenly looked away blushing, “It signifies romance, heartfelt emotions, and love”

It was Dean's turn to blush and look away “Does that mean, does it mean you love me?” he asked, expecting the worst but still hoping.

Cas let out a quiet laugh, “Wasn't that obvious? I've been pining for you for so long” his smile suddenly faded, as he said, “I understand that you don't love me back. But I couldn't help myself with these flowers. I'll learn to deal with my feelings, hopefully we can still remain friends” he said it in such a small voice Dean just wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him.

“I think I've loved you since we were sixteen. I didn't dare to hope that you would reciprocate those feelings though”

Instead of responding Cas pulled him close with his free hand and kissed him. They parted when they heard a whooping from the direction of the coffee shop. Turns out they had an audience, their friends were all cheering.

“You knew didn't you?” Dean asked the group.

A loud thump startles Castiel out of the doze he was slipping in and out of. He jerks up with a start, looking around for the source of the noise blearily and finding it easily enough. Dean is standing right beside him, his physics textbook tossed onto the desk.

Castiel shoots him a half-hearted glare and leans back in his seat, blearily rubbing his eyes. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Well hello to you too, Sunshine,” Dean greets. “When was the last time you slept, man? You left drool on your textbook.”

A glance down reveals this to be true. Castiel winces and attempts to scrub it off with his sleeve. He only succeeds in wrinkling the paper. He gives up with a sigh, flipping the book closed before eyeing Dean wearily. “What do you want?” he repeats. He is far too tired for Dean’s antics at this moment.

Dean snorts at him and pulls out a chair to plop into, dropping his backpack carelessly to the ground at his feet. “I’ve got a physics test, remember? You wanted me to go over some review stuff with you before I took it, so here I am.”

Castiel blinks. He had completely forgotten about that. The only reason he had happened to be in the library at all is because he had wanted a quiet place to study for his precalculus exam.

Oh well. Dean’s here anyways, and Castiel can always study during his free hour. It’s not like he was getting much work done before Dean interrupted him anyways.

“Right, of course,” Castiel says, glancing at the clock behind the librarian’s desk. “You’re late. You were supposed to meet me here seventeen minutes ago.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “Dude, are you kidding me? You were asleep, and you’re going to rail me for being a little late?”

Fair point. Castiel grumbles at him and slides a hand down his face. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

They work right up until the bell, going over everything from basic definitions to Ampère's circuital law. If he’s being honest, Castiel can admit that Dean probably doesn’t even need tutoring in this subject anymore. His main struggles are math-related, and he’s already mastered all the formulas he would need for this course. Despite the image Dean projects, he really is quite smart. Brilliant, even. The boy could rival Castiel’s spot for valedictorian if he just applied himself for once.

Still, Castiel knows how stressed-out Dean was for this test, even if Dean did his best to hide it behind his devil may care façade. Physics and Auto Shop are the only subjects Dean really cares about. It’s the other ones, like English and Algebra 3, that Castiel has to push Dean to work hard in.

“Seriously, man,” Dean starts as they pack up, “what’s got you so worn out? It’s not like you’re the type to stay up partying all night.”

Castiel shoots him a dry look. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was up late studying for an exam.”

“Studying? Why? You’re a nerd, you don’t need to study.” Dean looks genuinely puzzled, and Castiel has to hide a fond smile at the expression.

“Dean, by that logic I could make the argument that since you’re a ‘jock,’ you don’t actually need football practice.”

Dean tips his head to the side. “Fair enough,” he concedes. “And how many times do I have to tell you not to do the air quotes thing? It’s lame as hell.” He pauses in zipping up his backpack, licking his lips nervously. Castiel does his best not to track the movement. “Okay, be honest. How do you think I’m gonna do on the test?”

Castiel’s demeanor softens, Dean’s insecurity eating away at him. “You’re going to do great. You are much smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

A brilliant flush spreads over Dean’s cheeks at the praise. He nods once and clears his throat awkwardly. “Right. Uh, thanks.” Castiel can pinpoint the moment the mask slides back up, Dean’s soft expression morphing into a cocky one. “So, you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?”

It’s clearly one of Dean’s attempts to act like a dick, but once the thought enters Castiel’s mind, he can’t shake it. Castiel has, much to his dismay, developed somewhat of a crush on the other boy. To feel Dean’s lips pressed against his own, even just for a split second, would be… Besides, for all that Dean puts Castiel through, he deserves at least a little payback.

Castiel quickly leans forward to place a gentle peck on Dean’s lips. It barely lasts a second, but the slack jawed look Dean gives him when he pulls back is priceless. Castiel grins and gives him an exaggerated wink before hauling his bag onto his shoulders and taking off, Dean left sanding motionless behind him.

Definitely worth it.

-----------------------------

“What’s up with your boyfriend?” Balthazar prods at lunch that same day, poking Castiel in the ribs.

Castiel grunts and rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his sandwich. The bread is stale and the lettuce is far from crisp, but it’s about as good as you can expect from cafeteria food, and Castiel would like to savor it in peace. “For the last time, he’s not my boyfriend. I’m just tutoring him,” he chides. “Besides, what are you even talking about?”

“He keeps looking your way every five seconds,” Balth explains. Castiel blinks and looks up at him in shock. Balthazar just wiggles his eyebrows and grins. “It’s like he can’t keep his eyes off you. How romantic.”

Castiel can feel a blush heating his face and Balthazar laughs at him. “Whatever,” he grumbles. There’s no way Dean is actually looking at him. Dean never pays him any attention outside of their spot in the library. Balthazar is probably just teasing him. As always.

Castiel should really find a better friend.

“I’m serious!” Balthazar protests. “Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

He unleashes a dramatic sigh when Castiel keeps his gaze firmly on his lunch tray. “Fine, be that way,” Balth huffs, but he does mercifully change the subject.

Castiel doesn’t risk it until several minutes later, once Balthazar has left to attempt to woo the lunch ladies into giving him seconds. Carefully, he glances up towards the tables where the football players sit, trying to be subtle about it.

Dean is looking straight at him. The moment he notices Castiel has caught him he blushes enough that Castiel can see it from across the room and quickly turns back around to focus his gaze on the table. From what Castiel can tell, Dean doesn’t risk looking his way again.

How utterly strange.

----------------------------------------------

Castiel doesn’t really see Dean again, other than fleeting glimpses in the hallways, until two days later. It’s a Thursday, which means he and Dean have their biweekly afterschool tutoring session. The school library is usually just about deserted at this time of day, all of the other students having escaped back to their houses. The quiet atmosphere and access to computers makes it the ideal spot for his and Dean’s sessions.

Castiel, as always, arrives first. Dean, as always, arrives five minutes late. Dean is grinning as he approaches the table, and Castiel raises an eyebrow at him.

“Guess what?” Dean says once he’s directly in front of Castiel.

Castiel waits until he realizes Dean is expecting him to reply. “What?”

“I got a hundred percent on the test!”

Dean’s enthusiasm is rivaled by Castiel’s, who gives Dean a wide, gummy grin. “Dean, that’s amazing! I told you that you’d do fine.”

Dean smiles and rubs the back of his neck, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at Castiel. “Yeah,” he says gruffly. “I uh, I guess that good luck kiss worked.”

The pink flush on Dean’s cheeks makes Castiel smile. “Hmm,” he says teasingly, seizing the chance to torture Dean a bit more, “Maybe we’ll have to do that every time.”

Dean’s eyes widen, mouth opening and closing, and Castiel laughs at him before shaking his head. “Sit down, Dean. We’re doing English today.”

Dean’s answering pout only makes Castiel smile wider.

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“You know,” Dean says a week later as they finish up another session, his voice a strange mix between teasing and nervous, “I’m turning in that English essay tomorrow.”

Castiel hums in acknowledgement, focusing on organizing his papers. “I hope you do well.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Yeah, me too. Only… I think some good luck could be pretty damn helpful.”

It takes Castiel a moment to process what Dean is implying, but once he does he sucks in a sharp breath and looks up, eyes wide. Dean’s expression is one of cautious hope, and it quickly falls at the look on Castiel’s face.

“I—never mind, I was just being stupid—”

“Dean,” Castiel interjects, halting the other boy’s nervous rambling. He steels himself and passes his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. “You’re going to have to lean forward a bit if you expect me to be able to reach you.”

This time, when their lips brush for the briefest of moments, Dean isn’t the only one blushing.

----------------------------------

It becomes a sort of tradition after that. It’s not something either of them acknowledges or discusses, but without fail, every time Dean has some important assignment or test, he’ll request a good luck kiss.

And the thing is, they work. Dean’s grades go up across the board. Granted, logically speaking that’s probably a result of something else entirely, but still. It’s an excuse to keep going along with it.

The one thing Castiel can’t seem to piece together is why Dean’s choosing to go along with it. He’s straight.  He likes beautiful girls with alluring curves and dainty giggles. Castiel knows this, he’s seen the girls Dean dates first hand. And even if that wasn’t the case, even if Dean was interested in men, he still wouldn’t be interested in someone like Castiel.

Now, Castiel isn’t insecure. He knows that he’s moderately attractive, that his brains and dry sense of humor have their own special appeal. But he’s also not so delusional as to think he’s any match for someone like Dean. He’s not charming or suave, he’s not drop-dead gorgeous, and he’s certainly not athletic. Not to mention the fact that he’s well near the bottom on the popularity chain. Other than a few acquaintances like Kevin or Hannah, he really only has one friend. And while that doesn’t bother him in the slightest, it certainly might bother Dean, or at the very least Dean’s friends.

So why on earth is Dean doing this? It could be a joke of some sort, but Castiel is certain that Dean isn’t that cruel. Sure, he puts on an arrogant act, but that’s all it is. An act.

Well, hopefully. Cas might just be biased towards Dean, after all.

-------------------------------------

“Balthazar,” Castiel intones, voice laced with warning, “enough.”

“Oh, come on, Cassie,” Balthazar whines. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Castiel slams his locker shut with a bang, only to look in his hands and realize he grabbed the wrong textbook. He growls in frustration and starts entering the code to open it again. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do. You’ve been acting weird for weeks, and I’m willing to bet that it’s because of that Dean guy.”

Castiel ignores him in favor of finally swinging his locker open again. He throws his Chemistry textbook back in and grabs his English one with more force than necessary.

Yes, he can admit that he’s been acting more strangely than usual lately. He keeps switching between hoping that Dean feels something in return and beating himself up for even considering that to be a possibility. The kissing and the way Dean has been acting around him lately are enough to make him question his certainty, but everything else makes him think that he must just be projecting his feelings. This back and forth has affected his mood to the point that he’s been far more irritable than he typically is.

It certainly doesn’t help that Balthazar won’t stop pestering him about it.

“You know, the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one,” Balthazar says in a sing song voice.

Castiel shakes his head and stalks away, weaving through the crowded halls. He reaches the refuge of the English classroom before Balth can catch up with him again.

----------------------

“Jeez, man, glare at that table any harder and you’ll burn a hole straight through it.”

Castiel jerks his head up, surprised beyond belief that Dean is actually on time for once. On any other day he would make some fond yet sarcastic remark congratulating Dean on it, but today his can barely work up a strained smile and a “Hello, Dean.”

Dean eyes him strangely as he takes the seat across from Castiel. “You feeling okay? There’s nothing urgent I gotta study for, so you can just go home if you want.”

The thinly veiled concern in Dean’s eyes is enough to make Castiel’s smile just a bit more genuine. “I’m fine, Dean. It’s just… It’s been a very long week,” he explains with a sigh.

Dean doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he does pull out his math homework to go over some problems with Castiel.

Castiel doubled up on math classes sophomore year, so he already took Algebra 3 last year. Between that and the fact that math is one of his favorite subjects, helping Dean in this class is usually a breeze. But this time Castiel somehow manages to make three careless mistakes on the same problem, and it definitely doesn’t escape Dean’s notice.

“You sure you’re alright? You seem pretty distracted this week.” Dean leans back in his seat, twirling a pencil between his fingers with practiced ease. “Let me guess, girl troubles?”

It’s meant to be teasing, but Castiel just sighs. “You could say that.”

The pencil halts mid-twirl. “Seriously?”

Castiel gnaws on his bottom lip, debating how much to say. This is a horrible idea. A stupid, terrible idea, but something in Castiel just decides to hell with it. “Actually,” he says, avoiding Dean’s gaze, “It’s um, guy trouble.”

Dean freezes, an expression on his face not unlike the one he had when Castiel kissed him the first time. “I—really?” Dean chokes out.

Castiel just nods, already regretting his decision. Dean is probably homophobic, and now he’s probably going to start avoiding Castiel, or at the very least be uncomfortable around him, and—

Dean jolts him out of his thoughts by clearing his throat. “Um, alright. Cool.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “’Cool’?”

Dean just shrugs. “Well, yeah. Look, I admit I was surprised at first, but it’s not like I’m a homophobic dick or anything.”

A blush makes its way up Castiel’s neck. Admittedly, he does have the tendency to jump to conclusions, but still. He should have had more faith in Dean. “I… thanks. For not, you know…”

Dean just smiles at him and rolls his eyes. “Whatever man. Now, on number nine, how do did you say you solve for x?” ----------------------------

Castiel had reluctantly admitted his crush to Balthazar not long after his talk with Dean. Balthazar had simply claimed that he had “totally called it” and told Castiel to “stop being such a wuss and ask Dean out already.”

If only it were that easy. But the fact is that Dean is still uninterested and Castiel is simply not willing to set himself up for rejection. If that makes him a coward, then so be it, but that is not a risk he is willing to take. He would rather have Dean as a friend (if you can even call their strange companionship that) than not at all. Besides, Castiel is Dean’s assigned tutor and he’d really rather not mess things up for the rest of the year. Facing Dean twice a week for two hours with Dean knowing that Castiel likes him would be humiliating.

Even though Balthazar was utterly useless in actually helping Castiel, he has at least stopped nagging Castiel about Dean as often. Castiel considers himself lucky for that, because the last thing he needs at the moment is more stress.

Something, though Castiel couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, shifted between him and Dean after that talk. Dean seemed… off, somehow. And sometimes, when Castiel eats lunch with Balth, he’ll catch Dean looking over at him with an expression that’s almost sad. But that doesn’t make any sense. What could Dean possibly be sad about?

It’s not until three weeks later as Dean is turning to leave the library and go home that Castiel realizes something.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Dean pauses and spins back around, eyes scanning the table before he scrunches his eyebrows at Castiel. “Um, no? What?”

Castiel grins at him and lifts an eyebrow. “You have a math test tomorrow.”

Dean frowns slightly, shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders. “Yeah,” he says, “I know.”

Castiel blinks. “Won’t you need some luck?”

“Oh.” Dean glances away from Castiel, looking uncertain. “I figured you… Look, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Castiel’s heart sinks in his chest. He should have seen this coming. Of course Dean wouldn’t be okay with that any more. Not after he’s found out that Castiel is gay. Especially not if he ever suspects that Castiel likes him.

He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut. Hell, he never should have even started this stupid thing in the first place. Castiel rearranges his expression until it is carefully blank. “I understand,” he says, quickly averting his attention to put away his books.

Dean runs a hand through his hair. Castiel doesn’t know why he won’t just leave already and let Castiel mope in peace. “Cas, look, it’s not that I—”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Castiel interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear excuses. Dean is perfectly justified in his discomfort, Castiel knows that. He doesn’t need any explanations. All he needs is to go home and sulk like the pathetic person he is and try to get rid of these stupid feelings. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Dean stresses. “It’s not—I just—I don’t want to piss off your boyfriend.”

Castiel pauses, the book that was in his hands dropping to the table with a steady thunk. “Excuse me?”

Dean looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know this… thing we’ve been doing is just a stupid joke and all that, and that it doesn’t even mean anything. Hell, you’ve probably already told your boyfriend all about it, and he’s probably fine with it, but it just… I can’t.”

Castiel just stares at him. “My… boyfriend?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says, eyebrows raised. “Smarmy British dude, always wears V-necks, is constantly hanging around you? Ringing any bells?”

“Balthazar? You think I’m dating Balth?”

Dean opens and closes his mouth, suddenly looking unsure of himself. “Um. Yes?”

Castiel shakes his head, dumbstruck. “No. Heavens no. Balth? Really?” He scrunches up his nose at the thought. Yes, Balthazar is his best friend, and yes, Castiel can admit he’s somewhat attractive, but dating him?

“But, I mean, last month I kept seeing you guys arguing a lot, and then you said you were having guy troubles, and you’re always with him so I just thought…” Dean gives him a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Castiel agrees. “But I understand. It’s a reasonable assumption to make.”

Dean gives him a relieved smile. They both stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do now. Castiel picks up the textbook he had dropped, needing to busy his hands.

“So…” Dean says, shuffling his feet.  “Ever figure out that guy trouble, then?”

Castiel snorts. Secretly, he’s pleased that Dean is making an effort to talk to him more. They never used to discuss anything outside of school work, unless you count Dean’s attempts to annoy Castiel or get him off-subject. Still, of all the topics Dean could choose, he has to ask Castiel about this? “Not really,” he admits, thumbing at the pages of the book nervously. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid crush. The guy is straight anyways, so it’s not like I ever had a chance in the first place.”

He almost swears he sees a relieved expression cross Dean’s face, but it’s gone before he can even blink. “Ah, well, in that case… I mean, are you thinking of dating anyone else?”

There’s an unmistakably hopefully undertone to Dean’s voice, and Castiel almost drops the book again. “What?” Surely Castiel must be misinterpreting this situation.

But the blush tinging Dean’s cheeks says otherwise. “I mean, I know I’m probably not your type or anything, but if you want maybe we can like, go out or something?”

“I—but—you’re straight,” Castiel sputters.

Dean blinks at him in surprise. “Bisexual. I thought… I mean, the whole football team knows, I figured word would have gotten out.”

Castiel shakes his head dazedly. Dean Winchester is not only not straight, but he is also apparently willing to go out with him. What on Earth…?

Dean grimaces and runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up every which way. “I take that as a no, then?” he says, and the resignation in his voice makes Castiel’s heart constrict.

“No! I mean, yes! Not no to you, but no to taking it as—you’re my guy thing,” Castiel blurts out. Dean looks utterly baffled and Castiel rushes to explain before he can mess up this situation even more. “You’re the straight guy I had—have—a crush on. At least, I thought you were straight, but I guess…”

The grin that erupts across Dean’s face is nearly blinding. “You know,” he says, taking a step closer to Castiel, “for being such a smart guy, you sure can be an idiot. All you had to do was ask.”

“Oh shut up,” Castiel grumbles. He is more than a little disgruntled to admit that Balthazar was right. Lord, when Balthazar catches wind of this he’ll never let Castiel hear the end of it. “Have you changed your mind about needing some luck?”

Dean nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. Actually, I might need a bit more luck than usual. Maybe it’ll transfer better if we do it open mouthed?”

Castiel hums and fists his hands in Dean’s t-shirt. “We can certainly try,” he murmurs, already leaning in.

---------------