#jock!cas

Because while Dean doesn’t want to believe that that’s the case, he can’t ignore the fact that that’s a possibility. His friendship with Cas is already unusual, and not favorable by most of Cas’ friends—the words ‘jock’ and ‘nerd’ don’t often go together, despite how much Cas clearly doesn’t understand the typical decorum of high school cliques. Cas is on the football team and the soccer team, and plays varsity for both. Dean, by contrast, is the kid who’s friends with half of his teachers and vying for the title of valedictorian.

In short, they don’t mesh. And football players are dicks.

On the other end of the line, Cas is too quiet. Dean only notices it belatedly, and when he does, his stomach sinks. “...Cas?”

He’s listening so intently that he thinks he hears Cas lick his lips. “Dean. Do you really think so little of me?”

Dean flinches. “No, I—I don’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t think you would do that, I’m just—” He inhales shakily. Cas is silent. “Why do you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

Cas’ answering sigh crackles over the speaker. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re questioning this,” is the first thing he says. “I shouldn’t make you feel bad about it. Sorry. I’m asking you to do this because I’ve gotten myself into a mess.”

“What kind of mess?”

“The kind where I accidentally came out to half of my relatives.” Cas sounds wry as he says it, and casual, as if the fact that he came out isn’t at all meant to be the point of his statement, as if that part is a given, already established, and it’s most definitely not.

Cas...

Cas is...

Maybe the fact that he’s angling for a fake boyfriend and not a fake girlfriend should have been Dean’s clue.

His friend continues on with his explanation, oblivious to his internal meltdown, “I defended gay rights to my very conservative uncle, and in the course of the ensuing argument, I also implied that I have a boyfriend. Which brings me to my current predicament.”

Dean chokes out, “Implied?”

There’s yet another beat of silence. “Alright, I may have said that I have a boyfriend whom I’m very happy with. And now they want to meet this boyfriend, because they’re confident that I’m lying. Which I am. Because I’m... well.”

“Single.”

“Yes.”

Dean takes a deep breath. He can hardly believe this. He can’t believe what he’s about to do. He turns off the TV, giving up completely on the last of his Dr. Sexy, and says with more confidence than he feels, “Alright. Tell me what you need me to do.”

~

Half an hour later, Dean is pulling his car up along the curb in front of Cas’ house. Cas’ large house, he can’t help but note. With its brick facade and white posts on either side of the entryway, it’s ridiculously cliche, and also incredibly terrifying.

Apparently in addition to missing the fact that Cas is gay, he also completely missed the fact that he’s loaded.

His nervousness doubles in strength.

He sends Cas a text as he makes his way up to the house, and the other boy opens the door before he even has to knock. And god damn, Cas looks good. His hair is as perfectly tousled as ever, but instead of being in form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt or varsity coat like he typically is when he’s at school, he’s in—well, jeans, still, but nicer ones, paired with a button-down shirt that’s just the right shade to make his eyes look so blue there’s no way it’s not illegal.

“Dean,” Cas greets, and he sounds... breathless? His eyes rake over Dean’s form, which prompts Dean to shift his weight nervously. “You look... You look great.”

It’s not true—Dean put on an argyle sweater to meet Cas’ request of dressing nice, and maybe he spent ten of his twenty minutes getting ready on his hair alone, making sure every strand laid correctly, but of the two of them, he’s not the one worthy of ‘great’. Telling himself that, however, doesn’t help to tame his blush as much as he was hoping. He knows that arguing the statement will only draw the conversation out longer, though, so he tugs at his sleeve and accepts it.

“Thanks, Cas. So are we, uh. Are we doing this?”

The reminder of why he’s there visibly dulls Cas’ mood, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes, I suppose we are.” He pushes the front door back open where it had drifted shut behind him, and offers a hand out to Dean. Dean hesitates only slightly before he takes it, and once he does, Cas is pulling him across the threshold, and there’s no going back.

Dean toes off his shoes before they get too far from the front door, letting them join a lineup of many others, and then Cas slips an arm around his waist and guides him further in. Dean’s heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he almost misses the soft words Cas whispers into his hairline.

“I’m sorry for this in advance, but don’t forget that I am extremely grateful, and will find some way to make this up to you.”

It sounds ominous, and Dean’s stomach twists even as he mutters in return, “You fucking better.”

They’re stepping into a living room before Cas can say anything more, and a dozen sets of eyes are immediately on them. Most of them look judgmental, some shocked, and one—Cas’ brother Gabriel, of course, the only person here Dean has met before—just looks downright amused. It’s utterly silent in the room, everyone clearly having stopped talking when they saw Dean and Cas, and that makes it awkward as hell. Dean doesn’t know what to do, or say, so he looks to Cas for some indication—

“So, you must be Dean,” someone in the room says, and Dean’s head snaps back around to identify the speaker. The man (older, balding, mildly revolting to look at) has a tight grin on his thin lips, though the expression is really more of a sneer, than anything. It matches the false positivity in his voice disturbingly well. “Castiel here has been telling us a lot about you. The boy who has led my nephew into a life of sin.”

Dean’s stomach plummets, but Cas only heaves a sigh and says, “Zachariah. I’ve already asked you to stop saying that. This is not ‘sin’.”

Zachariah’s lip curls in distaste, and the tension in the room somehow manages to thicken. “We’re each entitled to our own opinions, Castiel.”

Cas’ teeth grind audibly, and Dean shrinks into his side. It only takes a moment for it to pass, though, as Cas quickly takes to ignoring Zachariah so that he may introduce Dean to the members of his family who are present. Three uncles, two aunts, a smattering of cousins, and two of his four siblings—Gabriel and Michael, who is apparently the oldest. Even if most of them are obviously dicks like Zachariah, they all at least have manners, and greet Dean in return cordially enough.

(Interestingly enough, Gabriel turns out to be the weirdest of them all about it, saying after Cas ensures Dean remembers his name, “Oh, this is rich.” Dean frowns, not sure what the hell it’s supposed to mean, but Cas merely kicks his brother in the shin and drags Dean along, depriving him of the opportunity to find out.)

Once Dean has been told everyone’s names—and forgotten probably half of them—he and Cas  squish together in the last remaining open seat. It’s halfway between an armchair and a loveseat, and while Dean would normally freak out over that kind of proximity with Cas, he doesn’t have much to lose right now, since they’re already pretending to be boyfriends. And if being pressed against Cas helps to steady his anxiety, too, well. That’s just a bonus.

They’ve hardly settled into the chair by the time Zachariah grows impatient, reclining back in his seat on the couch and eyeing the two teenagers opposite him with a smug grin. “Well, Dean,” he begins, “how long have you and Castiel been... doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

“Uh.” Dean shifts, fully aware of how tense Cas is at his side. The only positive is that not everyone in the room is actively staring at him—the aunts are whispering to each other, Gabriel is texting as quickly as his thumbs will allow, and the cousins (Uriel and Hannah being the only names Dean remembers among them) have clearly lost interest. But even with his audience down to half, it still takes far more courage than he cares to admit to say, “What we’re ‘doing’ is called dating, in case you somehow missed that, or don’t understand the concept.”

Cas sucks in a sharp breath. Gabriel sounds like he nearly chokes in an effort to contain his laughter.

Dean wets his lips. “And to answer your question,” he continues, the hard glint in Zachariah’s eye not enough to deter him now that he’s already going, “we’ve been together for almost six months. Since the beginning of the school year. Neither of us wanted to go to homecoming, so we went to the movies, instead.”

And they had; Cas had been asked to the dance by Meg Masters, but when he discovered that Dean both hadn’t asked or been asked and was going to be alone while all of his friends and classmates were out partying, he ditched Meg (who he admitted to not really wanting to go with, anyway, despite how baffling that notion was to Dean at the time), and insisted on hanging out with Dean instead. That was the start of their true friendship, and when they got milkshakes after their movie, sitting in a dim booth in the back corner of the Roadhouse, Dean had also come to realize just how hard he was falling for Cas.

It’s easy, then, to call that the start of their relationship.

Michael asks, then, only slightly less derisive than Zachariah, “Are your feelings for my brother genuine, or do you simply know that he comes from money?”

Cas makes a sound in the back of his throat like he’s going to interrupt before Dean has to answer, but for whatever reason, Dean doesn’t want that to happen. He agreed to come here and help Cas out of the mess he’s gotten himself into, and it that’s going to happen, then Dean can’t just be silent and let them both be stepped on. And Cas’ family really are dicks; he deserves better than this.

“First off, I didn’t know Cas ‘comes from money’ until today.” Cas winces almost imperceptibly, probably, if Dean had to guess, because that’s something he’s clearly kept a secret. Dean might give him a bit of shit for that later, but for the time being, he doesn’t give a damn, so he ignores his friend’s reaction. “And I don’t care who has money and who doesn’t. That’s not what makes a person. I have plenty of other reasons to love Cas, I don’t need that one.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Cas says lowly, sounding almost strangled, “Dean.”

Dean glances at him, unsure of how he earned that reaction—but then he realizes what he said, and the color abruptly drains from his face. He feels queasy. “I... I mean...”

There’s an unspoken question in Cas’ eyes, but far more than that, as well, and Dean doesn’t even know where to begin decoding all of it. He can’t tell what Cas is thinking, and not knowing what Cas is thinking right now is utterly terrifying. Gabriel lets out a low whistle, but even that doesn’t break their stare.

And then one of the other uncles, Raphael, breaks the silence. “What do your parents think about this relationship? About your sexuality?”

Dean looks over at the man and balks. He’s lost his momentum. Standing up to Zachariah and Michael was easy, because of nothing else, he could tell himself he was pretending, but now he’s said that word, as both he and Cas are keenly aware “I, uh... I mean, they...”

His blatant hesitation is like blood in the water, and Cas’ family latches onto it with a vengeance. Most of them look amused, like the question may as well have already been answered, and Zachariah sits forward with a sick sort of excitement in his eyes.

“Do they even know that you’re dating Castiel? Or has your guilty conscience insisted on keeping that fact hidden?”

Gabriel makes a derisive sound. “Guilty conscience, Uncle Zach, really, that’s the best you can do? Get off your goddamn high horse—”

“His parents probably don’t even know he’s a queer,” Zachariah adds, ignoring his nephew completely. Between the pressure of his stare, how close to home his question hit, and the fuck-up Dean just had with Cas—Dean needs to regroup. He can’t do this.

He quickly extracts himself from Cas’ side, mumbles an, “Excuse me,” and hurries out of the room and back to the front door. He steps into his shoes and slips outside, pointedly ignoring the outbreak of an argument he can hear in the room he just fled.

Christ, he shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have agreed to this, shouldn’t have gotten himself involved in this charade.

He leans against the railing of the small front porch and tries to focus on his breathing. Despite how much he’s starting to regret his current situation, it’s still not enough to make him ditch Cas. Maybe it should be. He’s already embarrassed himself, and probably made his friend’s situation worse, to boot. Why should he stick around?

He sighs and hangs his head. For Cas.

A few moments later, the front door opens and closes, and although Dean doesn’t look over his shoulder, he knows from the cadence of the footsteps that it’s Cas. Because of course it is.

Cas steps up to the railing beside Dean and mirrors his position, posture slouched and elbows resting on the wood. There’s a stretch of silence, and then Cas says, “I’m sorry for making you go through that. I had hoped that they would let your presence pass without harassment, but in hindsight, that was stupid of me. I should have known.”

Dean shakes his head. He can’t look at Cas, and studiously keeps his eyes trained on his hands. “Why’d you ask me to do this, man?”

He sees Cas shift in the corner of his eye. “I... I don’t know. I panicked, partially. I would probably consider you to be my best friend, and certainly my favorite. You’re the kind of person my parents would like—theoretically, at least. Kind and smart and charming. And I…”

He stalls, prompting Dean to finally look over at him. His heart is beating too loud, he feels too warm, and the things Cas is saying are sounding a lot more genuine than Dean would have ever expected them to. He swallows thickly and prompts, “Cas?”

“I just… I thought…” Cas closes his eyes for a brief moment, steels himself, and then pins Dean in place with an unwavering stare. “I thought it would be most believable if I pretended to date someone who I would be happy to actually date.”

All of the breath leaves Dean’s lungs in a rush. “Oh.”

“Dean, I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel the same about me, and what you said inside was out of context—”

Dean doesn’t need to hear any more than that. Operating on nothing more than instinct and following the spark of euphoria in his chest, Dean grabs Cas by his perfectly-pressed shirt, closes the distance between them, and crushes their lips together. It’s harried and crooked and far from perfect, but Dean couldn’t care less. Especially when Cas makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and starts to reciprocate. One of his hands slides up to cup Dean’s jaw, and then they’re steadier, more centered, and Dean couldn’t imagine it possibly being any better.

He has no idea how long they spend like that, but he doesn’t care, either. He only knows that when they part, his lips are tingling and his lungs are aching, and he’s never been happier in his life.

Cas grins, expression bright with awe and the most genuine excitement Dean has ever seen his friend wear. It has his heart skipping a beat, and the only thing that keeps him from kissing Cas again is the fact that the other boy is speaking.

“Dean,” he says, fingers curling into Dean’s hair, “will you be my boyfriend for real?”

Dean mirrors his expression without hesitation. “Hell yeah.”

    Dean and Cas were on the football team together, Cas was the quarterback meaning that he was one of the most popular guys in school. Dean wasn’t lacking in the popular department either, however. But they weren’t really in the same popularity group. Cas and Dean didn’t really spend a lot of time with each other, they were friends but they weren’t like best friends or anything. They probably could have been but Dean always got so Goddamn shy around him. Dean could barely manage a conversation with him without blushing and he had admittedly tripped over his words around Cas more than once. So, Dean did his best to avoid him as much as he really wanted to do the opposite and go up and kiss that stupid smile right off of Cas’ face. But, Dean did his best to not do so because first of all Cas was probably straight and second of all Dean was trying his best to be straight. But, sometimes interactions between the two couldn’t be avoided. Like their current one.

    Coach Singer had had the whole team do laps for the end of practice but he had given both Dean and Cas some extra ones for seemingly slacking during the beginning of practice. So now, Dean was running the edges of the football field with Cas trailing behind him. Dean was trying his best to not have to awkwardly jog next to Cas because he really was terrible at conversation but eventually he couldn’t keep the pace he was going so he slowed a bit. And soon enough he heard the sound of thudding footsteps approaching him. “Tryna’ outrun me?” Cas teased, and one side of Dean’s mouth quirked up.

    “Nah, you’re faster than me,” Dean told Cas which was true, Cas was built like a runner and Dean had seen how fast he could dart around the field.

    “Oh, well now you’re just flattering me,” Cas said, and Dean glanced over at him to see that wide bright smile of his gracing his face and Dean’s heart admittedly jumped at the sight, his own lips upturning even more at the sight.

    “Just telling the truth,” Dean said, his feet hitting the ground in time with Cas’. There was a moment of silence before Cas spoke again.

    “How’s your project in Ms. Harvelle’s class going?” Castiel inquired, referencing their Chemistry class that they had together. Dean shrugged.

    “It’s coming along. I got Chuck as a partner so he’s taking it over,” Dean told Cas who nodded.

    “You’re lucky, I got Alistar as a partner. Ugh, fucking dick,” Cas grumbled. Dean huffed a laugh.

    “Yeah, you are unlucky,” Dean added.

    “At least the whole thing will be over soon.”

    “Yeah, I’ll be relieved when it is over,” Dean went on. Then another silence graced the air before Cas spoke once more.

    “Hey, there’s a big party going on at Gabriel’s house this weekend, I was wondering if you wanted to go,” Castiel proposed. Dean froze and he couldn’t help the words that fell out of his mouth.

    “Like a date?” Dean wanted to fucking sink through the ground. But, Cas seemed unaffected despite Dean’s desperate want to be anywhere but standing next to Cas.

    “Would you like it to be a date?”

    “Are you asking me out on a date?” Dean inquired, his pace slowing. Cas’ slowed in kind.

    “Would you like me to be asking you on a date?”

    Dean paused and once again, his words were not under control because he replied with, “Well, no homo but I wouldn’t mind if you’d go on a date with me.”

    Castiel smirked, throwing Dean a sly look. “No homo but I’d definitely say yes.”

    Dean blinked, completely stopping dead in his tracks. Cas did the same, his chest still rising and falling quickly. “Wait, you would seriously go on a date with me?” Dean questioned slowly. Castiel nodded, smiling softly.

    “Yeah. I like you, you’re cute,” Castiel told Dean with a grin. Dean just gaped at him, and Cas just smiled back at him. “But if you aren’t going to then we should probably finish up these laps,” Castiel sighed. Dean opened and closed his mouth once or twice before speaking.

    “Do you want to go out?”

    “On a date?”

    “Um, yes?” Dean choked out. Castiel grinned again, nodding his head once.

    “Where’re we going?” he inquired. Dean blinked.

    “Um, we could get burgers on Friday after school if you want?” Dean suggested. Castiel nodded.

    “Sounds good to me. Burgers are always a nice first date. Hopefully there will be many more,” Castiel mused, a twinkle in his eye as he looked Dean over. There was a pause in the air before Cas spoke up. “Well, we should probably finish off the laps. I bet that I’ll beat you to the end,” he said with a mischievous little grin, giving Dean one second before turning and starting up running. Dean blinked but couldn’t help but grin.

[Act 1]

[Scene 1]

“Dean Winchester, are you paying attention?”

Snickers rattled throughout the class. Dean twisted his head away from the window, lifted his chin out of his hand and stared wide eyed at Eve, their substitute English teacher. Usually Dean could get away with not paying attention, but Eve had eyes like a hawk. He was a senior in high school; was he really expected to pay attention to Shakespeare?

I mean, sure, some of his sonnets were nice, Dean supposed. He knew the guy had talent, but he wasn’t one of his favorites. He liked stuff he could understand, stuff that mattered.

King Henry IV Part I did not matter.

“Yeah, course,” he answered instead.

Eve put her hands on her slim waist and frowned, her wavy brown hair bouncing behind her. She was young, just starting out teaching, all bright eyed and excited to ‘mold young minds’ or whatever. Dean thought she was more suited to kindergarten, the way she tried to bring out the best in absolutely every student, including the apathetic ones like Dean Winchester. She gave him a small, smug smile. “Well Dean, since you were paying such close attention,” she said, with sickening, honey sweet sarcasm, “why don’t you tell us what you think about the relationship between Lady Percy and her husband?”

Dean pursed his lips for a minute and glanced down at the book in his hands – which he hadn’t read, naturally – pages limp and creased where they’d gotten crushed in his backpack under the important stuff like, you know, physics textbooks. He flipped one page with a sharp ‘thwick’ and frowned down at it.

What sayst thou, my lady?

What is it that carries you away?

Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

Dean tried to fix a cocky smirk on his face, one that usually took the heat off of him whenever he was in a room. “Seems like they’ve got a pretty nice thing going. They joke around, like a good couple does,” he explained, winking at Cassie Robinson, who’d twisted around from the front row to watch Dean’s ever-impressive bout of bullshit. She rolled her eyes at his flirtation and turned back around as the class giggled and twittered to themselves.

Eve fixed him with a fearless, disappointed look and shook her head. “Are you sure?”

Dean shrugged. “Sure,” he echoed.

“Dean, come here for a moment, I’d like to try something with you,” she said, stepping aside so that the front of the room held an open space that was just perfectly Dean-shaped. His eyes popped out and he could feel the blush rising to his cheeks, coloring even his ears now, and Eve didn’t even give him a chance to protest before she waved him up again. “Really, it won’t take long. I hear people understand Shakespeare much better when they see it performed is all,” she chirped, bouncing behind the desk. “Can I have a volunteer to play Hotspur?”

As Dean got out of his seat, he frowned. “Does that make me Lady Percy?”

“You bet,” Eve answered brightly. The class chuckled. “No volunteers?” she asked, lower lip jutting out playfully. She knew perfectly well that no one was going to raise their hand. She eyed the student in the front row, also conveniently looking out the window as if completely unaffected by what was happening in the room. “Castiel,” she called gently. The boy turned his head and looked at her, brows up in focus. “I think you’d make an excellent Hotspur.”

Gabriel guffawed loudly, but Castiel slid out of his seat without a word, copy of Henry IV dangling precariously in his hand.

Dean swallowed loudly as he stood fidgeting at the front of the room, looking anywhere but Castiel as he took his place beside him. He locked eyes with Benny in the back of the room, and the two shared a mirthful look – one that had Dean settling down a little bit, reassured that the class was laughing with him and not at him.

He didn’t have anything against Castiel per say, he just didn’t really get the guy. For one thing he was super popular so it wouldn’t be all that hard to hate him, but he was like a superhero that only ever used his powers for good. He beat up Raphael for picking on the water boy, even though they were on the same football team and Cas knew he would get his ass handed to him. He got the ban on same-sex couples lifted from the school dances so that Charlie could take her girlfriend with her to homecoming. According to him, “God is utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.” Other than that, Dean had barely ever heard him say a word.

And he had this intense stare, hot and icy both at the same time and so, so blue. He always looked like he was off somewhere else, but the calm he carried about his person was always just so… unnatural. Like nothing would ever crack his shell.

Dean didn’t know what to make of him.

“Ok,” Eve began, excitement creeping into her tone. “Castiel, pick up from line 34,” Eve commanded, waving a manicured hand at the shorter of the two students.

Dean’s eyes bugged out – he’s got a whole soliloquy to get through after that! Cas gets two measly fucking lines and Dean’s stuck with a whole novel. Castiel cleared his throat delicately and took a small breath. “How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours.”

God, his voice was rough. Was he doing that on purpose? Hotspur’s a war hero, hyper masculine and, well, hotheaded. Well Dean definitely wasn’t going to pitch his voice to sound like a woman, nope. “Oh my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been –” Dean choked a little. “A banished woman from my Harry’s bed?” The class laughed quietly, and even Cassie Robinson lifted a hand to her mouth in a combination of both faux sympathy and amusement. Dean grumbled to himself under his breath and plowed through. “Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from thee thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth and start so often when thou sitt’st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks and given my treasures and my rights of thee to thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?”

Blessedly, Eve cut in. “So, Dean. What’s Kate all upset about?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Apparently good old Harry here won’t pay any attention to me.”

The class laughed again, and Castiel hid the hint of a smile. Eve grinned wider, almost predatory. “Maybe that’s because you’re not facing each other.” It was true: the two of them were standing side by side, elbows brushing as each boy lifted his book, facing the unforgiving faces of their peers. “This is a dialogue, you know.”

Dean wiped a hand over his face. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, falsely cheery. He pivoted on his heel to face Castiel, and found himself already squirming under those penetrating blue eyes. “Skip to line 61,” Eve said, leaning on her desk again.

Dean glanced down at his book and licked his lips. “Uh… Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, and I must know it,” he recited easily, swallowing before the next line. “Else he loves me not.”

Castiel, bless his socially awkward soul, did not notice the way Dean’s voice quieted uttering those lines. “What ho,” he said, dryly and not at all exclamatory the way the text suggested it should be (exclamation points definitely mean the same now as they did then, so Dean thought that Castiel was probably just bored). “Is Gilliams here with the packet gone?”

“He is, my lord, an hour ago,” Eve said from behind them. Hesitantly, Castiel turned more towards her, giving Dean his literal cold shoulder. Dean frowned a little as Castiel spoke again. “Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?”

“One horse, my lord, he brought even now,” Eve informed him.

“What horse? Roan? A crop-ear, is it not?”

Dean was getting a little frustrated now. Who gives a fuck about the stupid horse? Cas still didn’t answer his damn question.

Not that, like, he cared. This was just Shakespeare.

While Dean zoned out, Eve and Cas had apparently come to the end of their portion of the exchange, because Dean caught the words “forth in the park,” and then Dean was on again. “Uh, but hear you, my lord!” Dean said, probably a little too loudly, too forcefully. Cassie Robinson smiled at him.

“Getting impatient, Dean?” Eve asked, smiling as she caught his eye.

“A little,” he didn’t bother lying. The class laughed with him.

“What sayst thou, lady?” Castiel asked him, turning, frowning at him like he’d just interrupted his conversation. Which Dean supposed he had, come to think of it.

“What is it carries you away?” Dean asked. Oh, here we go. He’d read this wrong.

Cas smiled, cut throat and mean. “Why, my horse, my love, my horse.”

Man, did Dean feel dumb.

It wasn’t loving at all, what Hotspur had said. He wasn’t joking playfully with his wife. He was mocking her, playing her. She expressed her concern for him and he ignored her. All she wanted to know was what was keeping her husband up at night, why he wouldn’t talk to her, and he gave her snark and bite in response.

What a dick.

Eve seemed to approve of the look on Dean’s face as he blinked at Cas. “You get it now, Winchester?” she asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, uh.” His eyes flicked back up to Castiel’s, who looked just as curious as Eve did. His eyes held none of the malice they had as he read for his character. “I think I was wrong about them.”

Eve hummed in contemplation. “Still think they have a good relationship?”

“No, not at all,” Dean admitted. “It’s like he doesn’t even love her.”

Castiel opened his mouth then. “I love thee not; I care not for thee, Kate,” he recited. The class was silent and Castiel’s eyes flitted around the room nervously before settling on Dean’s face again. “Lines 86 and 87,” he murmured, more quietly.

Dean let a little hysterical bubble of laughter pitch forth from his chest. “Don’t hold back there, Cas.” The class laughed kindly, and Castiel shyly smiled up at him.

Eve hummed again, but higher in pitch. Disagreement. “I’m not sure I completely agree with you two. Dean? Line 92,” she prompted.

Dean tore his eyes away from Castiel’s and looked down at his book again. “Do you not love me?” he asked, risking a look up into Castiel’s eyes. There was amusement there, and Dean loosened up further still, even smiling a little himself. “Do you not indeed? Well, do not, then, for since you love me not I will not love myself.” Dean put a hand on his chest, scandalized and over dramatic. That earned a laugh from even Cassie. “Do you not love me?” he asked again, eyes boring into Castiel’s, whose shoulders were shaking with silent laughter he tried to keep behind tight lips. “Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.”

Castiel took a steadying breath and lifted his book to his eye line once more. “Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a-horseback, I will swear,” he lifted his eyes to Dean’s, a twinkle hidden deep in the waves of ice. “I love thee infinitely.” There was a low whistle and some scattered applause, and Castiel smiled just enough to show some teeth before dipping his eyes back to the page. “But hark you, Kate.” He raised a slim finger in Dean’s direction. “I must not have you henceforth question me whither I go, nor reason whereabout. Whither I must, I must, and, to conclude, this evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.”

Eve waved her arms out to the side. “Perfect, end scene!” The class applauded, some still chuckling to themselves, and Dean and Castiel shared a brief look. Cas inclined his head, a little bow of respect, and Dean bestowed him the same courtesy, holding back a small laugh of his own, before turning back to face the back of the classroom.

Their elbows bumped one another through their sweaters.

“You two can take your seats. Thank you,” Eve said. Castiel slid back into his seat effortlessly, and Dean took the long walk to the back of the room, accepting all high fives and thumps on the back that came his way. As he sat down again, bumping fists with Benny, Eve turned her shark smile back on him. “So, Dean, what do you think of them now?”

Dean practically stared a hole into the back of Cas’s head. “I think there’s definitely something there.”

 [Scene 2]

Dean was late to class the next day, like always, but one seat in the front of the room was noticeably empty. Gabriel had his feet up on his desk, ripped Converse high-tops on proud display, and tossed Dean a careless grin. “Hey, there’s the happy couple!”

Dean frowned, confused, but caught Gabriel’s drift as he saw Castiel slink through the doorway after him.

So that’s kind of how it started. Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel had honestly never noticed Dean before now, or whether it was just now that they’d had a shared experience that he felt it was ok to approach him. Either way, when Dean passed him in the hallway later, Castiel mumbled, “What sayst thou, Dean?” quietly enough so that it could be ignored, but loud enough that Dean would hear him.

Dean was so shocked by the utterance that he couldn’t help blurting, “Hey, Cas. Hi.”

Hey? Hi? You said that already, dumb ass.

Cas just smiled and went about his day, probably headed to his locker. Dean grit his teeth; he’d get him back with something wittier later.

He did end up seeing Castiel at his locker at the end of the day, and he smirked before nudging him gently with his shoulder. “Hey, honey,” he said in passing. He hiked the one backpack strap he chose to wear higher up on his shoulder, and even started whistling as he exited the school.

Charlie pounced on him instantly, ready for the movie marathon Dean promised her earlier in the week. “What’s got you in a mood?” she asked. “Cassie smile at you in algebra or something?”

Dean grinned. “Passed the hubby on the way out,” he explained, eyes lighting up. Charlie laughed and slid into the passenger side, thinking nothing of it.

And yeah, that’s how it started, but after a bit it got a little out of control. Nicknames like “darling,” and “beloved” were being tossed between them effortlessly, careless as spitballs. Dean’s hand would run almost possessively through Castiel’s hair when he passed him in the lunchroom, hunched over some book or another. He’d be smoking grass with Charlie under the bleachers when Cas would run by for football practice, and Charlie would remark, “Hey, there goes your husband.”

They’d never had a single conversation.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird?” Sam asked him when he got home that Thursday. “I mean, I’m glad you’re making new friends, but it just seems… I don’t know.”

Dean shrugged and took a bite out of the ham sandwich he’d fixed himself. “Cas doesn’t mean anything by it,” he promised. “We’re… friends.” Were they, though?

Sam frowned. “That’s another thing. You’re literally the only one who calls him that.”

“What, Cas?”

Sam nodded, eying the sandwich in his brother’s hands like it was about to grow legs and scuttle off. Like Dean was munching on compost or something that spurts grey goo and he needed to be evaluated, or institutionalized at the very least. “He’s ‘Castiel’ to everyone else.”

Dean waved a hand. “Aw, Sammy. When you’re married, you don’t have to worry about stuff like that.”

“Dean, you know you’re not actually married to Castiel, right?”

Dean snorted a laugh and choked a little bit on his sandwich. The bread stuck uncomfortably to the roof of his mouth, and he tried to swallow in vain. “Of course I know that, Sam,” he said vehemently.

Sam shrugged, taking a little bit of pleasure in his brother’s discomfort. “Whatever you say, Kate,” he teased, bolting for the stairs as Dean tried to chuck a dishtowel at him. It collapsed to the floor in a wet heap.

It got Dean thinking, though. How seeing Cas was the best part of his day sometimes. How those blue eyes were always tender with him, almost like he believed it when he called Dean “dear” on his way to class. The looks never lasted for more than a few seconds at a time, but Dean suddenly found himself wishing that they would.

What did Cas hide down there, underneath all that intensity? He could be surprisingly charming when he set his mind to it. Endearing. Cute almost, Dean thought horrified, remembering how chagrined he’d been quoting Shakespeare for the class when it wasn’t asked of him. Dean snorted as he remembered how Cas – Castiel Novak, football star and all around good guy – toed the faux linoleum floor and looked for the world like he wished it would swallow him up before Dean had the tact and the charisma to break the tension. It was relief, gratitude that glowed on Cas’s face then, Dean realized.

Sure, maybe Castiel had never seen Dean before. But it certainly wasn’t until they were fake-married that Dean saw a hint of the real Castiel.

 [Scene 3]

Dean started going to the football games. Well, he went to one, with Benny. “Come on, man! Dudes are supposed to like this stuff, right?” he asked, stuffing his hands into his hoodie as they closed in on the high school stadium.

Benny sighed like a martyr down at the cracked asphalt. “I’m missing ER for this,” he’d grumbled. Dean told him to suck it up and to get him some peanut M&Ms from concessions.

Castiel was a wide receiver, one of the fastest sons of bitches on the whole team, and Dean loved watching him just go for it. Cas could take a hit, too; he ended up flat on his back more than once. He always bounced right back up as his teammates dusted off his shoulders, smacked his helmet. Cas dashed across that field like an avenging angel, and when he made that catch, Dean whooped and popped another M&M into his mouth. “That’s my man,” he’d said. Benny had heard what he said just as Dean realized the words had left his mouth, and he bit down on the peanut to quash his embarrassment. Benny, bless his gentle southern soul, didn’t say a goddamn word about it.

They won the game, and nobody cheered harder than Dean.

 [Scene 4]

“This is getting out of control,” Charlie admitted one day. “Dean, I think you’re in love with your husband,” she informed him.

Dean snorted and popped another fry into his mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” Benny huffed, not daring to get involved but unable to keep completely quiet either. The three of them were at their usual lunch table, a booth in the corner of the room by the window.

Charlie rounded on Benny the instant he opened his mouth. “Did you hear that Cassie Robinson asked Dean out the other day after newspaper got out?” Cassie was one of the chief editors of their school’s paper, and Dean had seen her coming out of the library after school yesterday. “And that he said NO?” Charlie expressed.

Benny rolled his eyes. “‘Course he did,” he grumbled, stabbing another green bean angrily.

Dean frowned. “That doesn’t have to do anything with Cas,” he said.

“Oh, yeah right, Dean. You’re so full of it,” Charlie complained, standing up and getting ready to throw her tray away. Dean followed her – somebody had to set her straight after all! “This is like that time you tried to convince me that the Ewoks are stupid. You make terrible arguments for yourself.”

Dean squawked. “You! Make terrible… Ewoks are stupid, Charlie. They’re just tiny, ripped-off Wookies that run around naked in the forest without any practical artillery or strategy –”

Charlie threw her hands up. “The alliance couldn’t have taken the base without their help! Ewoks are badass, Dean! They’re an allegory for indigenous courage and competence!”

Dean rolled his eyes and braced himself on one edge of the cover garbage can, “They’re furry liabilities is what they are. And what about the Prime Directive, Charlie, huh?” he asked.

“That’s Star Trek, you moron.”

“It still applies,” Dean stressed. “Maybe the alliance contacting the Ewoks permanently altered their society so drastically that now, they’re suffering. Maybe now they’ve been irreversibly introduced to gang wars, illegal arms trade, that kind of thing. Ever think about that?”

There was a soft, warm pressure on the back of his neck, and Dean twisted around just to see Castiel walking by him. “You tell her, baby,” he encouraged quietly, grinning to himself as he passed.

Dean flushed bright red, arms still crossed defensively over his chest, and Charlie’s mouth was practically hanging open. “He just kissed the back of your neck,” she informed him, as if he wasn’t already aware.

Dean’s arms dropped to his side. “Aw, fuck, after I was ranting on about Ewok gang wars,” he groaned. Why couldn’t he have been talking about something cool, like engine transmissions or, like, sports?

He still smiled giddily to himself all day.

 [Scene 5]

“Dean Winchester!”

Dean looked up from the pages of Othello and smiled indulgently. “Yes?”

Eve smirked at him. “Since I know you’re a fan of relationship dynamics –” Gabriel snorted in the background. “Why don’t you give us your thoughts on Othello and Desdemona?”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, definitely screwed up. Guy’s practically abusive.”

“Not practically. IS,” Eve corrected. “But you don’t think he loved her?”

Dean shrugged. “If he did, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Eve smiled and turned, heading for the space behind her desk. “Castiel, would you mind?” she asked, waving to the open space in front of the class. Dean didn’t see it, but Castiel gave a small smirk at being called on again, and got up without a moment of hesitation. Dean was practically looking forward to getting up there. He couldn’t even get his dopey smile off his face. “Hey, Cas,” he said cheerfully, flipping open Othello.

“Hello, Dean,” came the quiet reply.

Eve smiled a little. “Now, we’ve heard Othello’s testimony before the court about how true his love for Desdemona is. ‘My life upon her faith,’” she quoted. “And we’ve heard Desdemona choose Othello over her own father, and demand to accompany him to Venice.” She lifted her chin in a very teacher-like pose and began to pace behind the desk. “Here they are, this unconventional couple, staking their marriage before a court and swearing, upon the other, that what they have is… profound, and strong. What Desdemona did took a lot of courage,” she explained. “And Othello risked his position in the military to keep his wife with him.

“But!” Eve exclaimed, holding up a finger. “This is only in front of a court,” she continued. “How will the two react once they are among their friends and at their most comfortable?” She snapped her fingers. “Act two, scene one,” she commanded, leaning on her desk and perching her chin in her folded hands. “Action,” she called sweetly.

“Do I still have to be the girl?” Dean asked. The class laughed.

Eve smiled at him, a little tight around the mouth. “Well you did such a good job last time,” she told him. “But, I suppose it’s only fair that Castiel get a turn.” Huh, Sam was right; people really do call Cas by his full name.

Castiel chuckled a little to himself and Dean nodded proudly, grinning slightly. “Oh, my fair warrior!” he proclaimed, looking right into Cas’s face.

“My dear Othello,” Castiel replied easily, smiling. It was a bit odd to hear that low and grumbly voice playing a woman, but Dean would rather hear that than whatever Cas’s attempt at a girl’s voice would sound like. Dean glanced back down at the page and groaned. “Ugh, are you kidding me?” he grunted, looking at the solid block of text he was going to have to recite. The class laughed and Eve shushed them, eyes trained on Dean.

“It gives me wonder great as my content to see you here before me,” Dean said, flashing Cas a little smile, which was returned immediately. “O my soul’s joy, if after every tempest come such calms, may the winds blow till they have wakened death,” wow, that was some pretty romantic shit. Not to mention a little close to home; the eyes boring into Dean’s were the same color as the sea after a storm. Dean swallowed. “And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high, and duck again as low as hell’s from heaven. If it were now to die, ‘twere now to be most happy, for I fear my soul hath her content so absolute that not another comfort like to this succeeds in unknown fate,” he concluded. Cassie Robinson sighed, chin in hand, as she listened to the tail end of Dean’s speech.

Cas spoke again before Dean could turn to look at her. “The heavens forbid but that our loves and comforts should increase even as our days do grow,” he replied. And that was odd, because Dean thought Desdemona was supposed to be a little indignant here, playful even, but Castiel said the lines tenderly. He was caught again in the sea storm gaze, and Dean’s fingers tightened around the jacket of his book.

Quit looking at him, jackass – everyone’s watching. Dean cleared his throat and raised his book a little higher, ducked his head a little lower, so he wouldn’t have to meet Castiel’s eyes. God, why was his heart beating so fast? Jesus, get a grip, Winchester. “Amen to that, sweet powers,” he boomed instead, choosing to deflect with a little comedy. “I cannot speak enough of this content.” Dean rolled his eyes a little. “It stops me here; it is too much of joy. And this, and this,” he continued, risking a glance up one more time, “the greatest discords be that e’er our hearts shall make.”

Dean glanced back down, waiting for Castiel to pick up the dialogue, but he blanched as he eyes hit the next line.

They kiss.

“Uh.”

Dean didn’t even have time to figure out what to do; there was a hand on his cheek all of a sudden, tilting his chin up, and Dean’s eyes blew wide as Castiel Novak pressed his lips to his. There was a scandalized gasp from the back of room – probably Gabriel – and a few excited shrieks, but Dean didn’t hear any of it. The hand on his face slid back into his hair, tugging him forward. Dean’s eyes slipped shut, and he let himself make out with the fucking football star in front of his entire English class.

They pulled back after only a second, just far enough so that their noses were touching, that their breath still wafted over one another. Dean’s eyelids felt heavy, his cheeks flushed, as he stared down at Cas’s lips. Castiel stared back, looking just as blissed out as Dean.

“Oh, you are well tuned now!” Eve’s voice rang out. Dean and Cas pulled away, still standing toe-to-toe and clinging tight to the tethers of their eye contact. She snapped her book shut, a wry smile on her face. “Thank you for that riveting performance, boys. You may take your seats.”

Blushing furiously from head to toe, Dean darted back to his seat, ducking his head and running his tongue lightly over his bottom lip. Benny nudged him with his elbow, and Dean refused to look at him.

“So, Castiel, what do you think? You think Othello never loved her at all?” Eve asked.

“Oh no,” Castiel assured the eager teacher. “I think it’s impossible to say he didn’t.”

Dean blushed harder and put his forehead in the crook of his folded arms.

He was never going to live this one down.

 Eve dismissed the class just before it was time to go, and Castiel took his time packing up his things. He had acted impulsively in the scene with Dean, and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if they happened to squeeze through the door at the same time.

He was also maybe hoping that Dean would come up to him after class, but he would never admit it aloud.

Everybody had left the room and Eve had returned to her computer in the corner of the room for her planning period, and Castiel sighed quietly as he hoisted his backpack up on his shoulders and headed for the door.

“You know, you could totally have a future in acting if you wanted.”

Castiel tried not to beam when he heard Dean’s voice from behind him. He thought he’d left already. Carefully, Cas schooled his expression into something much more cool, dare he say even flirtatious. “And what if I don’t want to act? What if I wanted to become a bee keeper?” he asked him, spinning around slowly. He leaned against a desk specifically in a way to draw Dean’s attention to the long lines of his body – Cas wasn’t an idiot. “Isn’t it my husband’s job to support my dreams?” he asked facetiously.

Dean smirked back at him and leaned against the desk across the aisle, posturing in much the same way. Son of a bitch. “It’s also your husband’s job to encourage you to do your best, what we both know you’re capable of. And man, are you capable,” he praised, winking. Eve glanced up at the two of them from her computer, but decided against saying anything. She turned back to her work with a tiny smile. Cas wasn’t sure how to reply, and Dean felt compelled to fill the silence, cockiness fading. “I mean, when you go for it, you really go for it, huh? Seriously, that was some great method acting, Cas. Bravo, five stars.”

Cas decided to jump in and save him. “I wouldn’t have kissed anybody else.”

Dean paused and then laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck to try and stave off the blush he knew was coming. “Well, I’d hope not; that’d put some serious strain on our marriage,” he joked.

“Dean.”

Cas’s voice was soft but insistent, and Dean couldn’t help glancing up. Castiel was staring straight at him, eyes bright and honest, lips twisted up in just the hint of a smile, the kind that softens up Castiel’s whole face and makes Dean feel like he’s got electric eels swimming around in his gut.

“I’m not sure Othello really meant what he said,” Dean blurted. Castiel’s brow furrowed. “To Desdemona,” he elaborated. “I mean, it’s like the trial isn’t it? All those people around them – it was just as much a statement as in the courtroom,” Dean rambled. “How can we be sure that he really meant it?”

Castiel’s brow smoothed out and he grinned a little wider, pushing off the desk. “Well, there’s no one around now,” he pointed out, taking a few steps towards Dean.

Dean tried to slow down his heartbeat. “No,” he agreed quietly.

Castiel leaned in. “So if you were to kiss me again…” he trailed off, fluttering his eyelashes shyly.

Dean reached out and gripped Cas’s hip, drawing him closer still. Castiel’s eyes widened. “I guess it’s safe to say I mean it,” Dean mumbled, before closing the distance between them.

 [Act 2]

[Scene 1]

Years later, when Cas is propped on one knee, holding up a ring, he asks, “What sayst thou, Dean?”

Dean drops to his knees right there on the fucking street corner and he grips Cas around the shoulders, dipping his cheek to his, clenching soft silk in his fists. “I love thee infinitely,” he replies, low and choked up.

“That’s my line,” Castiel complains, affectionately, lovingly.

“Tough,” Dean replies, relenting and twisting his head to capture his fiancé’s lips with his own. Wait, shit, not fiancé, he hasn’t even said yes yet. “Yes,” he whispered, as they break apart for air. “Yes.”