college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :â) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)
Thereâs an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, heâs scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesnât really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didnât have one that heâd given in. He doesnât post muchâdoesnât have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlieâbut it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. Itâs a Friday night, so thereâs all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlieâs story of a few of their friends playing D&Dâheâd be there, too, if it werenât for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.
Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.
HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. Iâll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.
Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out thisâwho posted this, anyway? Itâs a name he doesnât recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.
Oh.
That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and heâd ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him aboutâŠsomething he canât remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.
And now he needs help.
Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guyâsâCas?âInstagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.
i like beer, pizza, and welding things
Itâs smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: iâm an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.
Thereâs an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.
This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the Universityâs metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metalâŠthing.
Itâs due next week, Cas had said. I know itâs last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.
And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.
Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. âI know. Itâsâthis is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I justââ
Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. âWhat?â
Cas frowns back. âWhat?â
Dean shakes his head. âNo, I meanâIâm not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.â He traces one of the welded seams. âYou, uh. Obviously have good hands,â he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.
Thereâs a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. âMy good hands,â he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. âMake me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.â
Dean blinks at him. âExcuse me?â Move?
Cas frowns again, but itâs more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. âI sent you the plans yesterday.â Now heâs chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening themâŠâŠand immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.
Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these âplansâ are. âSure, yeah,â he covers, and hopes itâs convincing.
The metalâŠthing, because Dean still isnât sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middleâ6, to be exact, and theyâre poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. âSorryâ, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.
Dean is expecting to hear either itâs alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until heâs standing next to Dean. âWhat do you think this is?â
Itâs the closest theyâve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. Heâs wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings heâs wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyesâlike at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yetâare rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.
âItâs an angel,â Cas continues, and Dean isnât sure if heâs given up on waiting for a response or if heâd never expected one in the first place. âA biblical one. You know, the âbe not afraid,â kind.â He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didnât think was possible. He doesnât know what to do with the realization that it is.
âDonât think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,â Dean tries for a joke, and itâs half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.
âYes, well. The church preaches them as significantly moreâŠcuddly.â Cas frowns. âIt makes praying to them easier to sell.â
The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.
âAnd theseâthese are gonna move,â Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. âAll of them?â
âTheyâre electrons,â Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. âThey should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I canâtââ Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Deanâs. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. âI need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but donât know howâŠto do it.â
And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Deanâs face.
âLetâs get her moving, then.â
He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Casâ biceps when heâs screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.
Itâs there, back in Casâ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.
âYouâre the one who gave me that idea, you know.â
Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. âWhgââ he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. âWhat?â
Cas shrugs and doesnât make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. âAt the party we met at. The one we arenât talking about, for some reason.â
Dean wants Casâ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.
âYou told me you donât âgetâ art,â he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Deanâs shame deepens. âBecause you only âgetâ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.â
Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and heâs calmânot upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. âThe atom,â he blurts out, and Cas grins. âYeah.â
âArt and science.â
âYeah.â
Dean is sitting up straighter now. âBut, the angelââ
Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where heâd been leaning against the couch. He turns until heâs fully facing Dean. âDivinity,â he raises one hand, âand the core building blocks of humanity,â he raises the other. âArt,â he gestures with the first hand, âand science.â With the second.
Dean stares at him. âAre you calling art divine?â
âArt is an expression of divinity,â Cas shrugs. âScience is an explanation for it. But itâsâyou know. The same thing.â
Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.
âIâm sorry,â he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. âThe party, I didnât thinkâI didnât think you remembered.â
âI assumed you didnât,â Cas counters. âBut you did. You do. Why didnât you text me?â
Itâs exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. âUmââ Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching himânot staring at, watchingâbrows furrowed.
With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. âCome on, man. Look at me,â he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. âIâm an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and youâreââ he waves vaguely in Casâ direction. âYou know.â
The frown has deepened. âI donât.â
âCool.â It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.
Now, Cas looks taken aback. âDean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.â
Dean doesnât know if thatâs a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. âString theoryâs cool,â he grumbles into the bottle.
âYes.â Cas agrees. âAnd so are you. Althoughââ he pauses and tilts his head. âI could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talkââ
Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word âphysics,â but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. âShit,â he swears, already starting to scramble up.
âWhat?â Cas is following him, frowning.
âPhysics final. Inââ he checks his watch, ââ16 hours. I gottaââ he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep beforeâ
ââŠWhy did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?â Dean pauses from where heâs trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Deanâs heart.
âYou needed help,â Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. âGood luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free toââ
Heâs pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. âDean,â
Dean pauses, and CasâŠlooks nervous.
âI like D&D,â he offers, and Dean stares at him.
âWhat.â
Cas levels his gaze. âThere is nothing more punk than dragons,â he replies, incredibly seriously.
Deanâs brain short-circuits.
Maybe itâs the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe itâs the 1.5 beers, maybe itâs Casâ hand still warm on his arm, maybe heâs still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, butâhe leans down and kisses him.
Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediatelyâbut then heâs pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, justâŠenough. âYou have an exam in the morning,â he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Deanâs chest grows. âText me after?â
Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. âYeah, Iâyeah, I will.â
âThereâs not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,â he teases, but heâs smiling.
Dean flushes anyway. âIâm sorry.â
Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. âApologize tomorrow. Go.â
âOkay.â Dean doesnât move.
âOkay,â Cas replies.
âOkay,â Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.
âOkay,â Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. âGo.â
âOkay,â Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.
The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesnât pretend to forget.
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Okay, so does anyone have opinions or hcâs of what would dean would have majored in or have studied if he went to college?
Like Ik itâs no surprise Sam went for law. Nor that dean would have liked being a mechanic or firefighter. And I also know going to uni is not like a âhave toâ by any means, but Iâm just curious?
wait wait-- 'pay some bills'-- do you realise the plot bunnies you have set loose in my mind now???-- nerd!dean turning tricks.. nerd!dean as a camboy.. nerd!dean budding young pornstar.. omg SEXY LIL NERD!DEAN đđđ
Sounds like it's time to crack open a word doc and get writing!
Funnily enough I was going through a lot of your old fics yesterday for nostalgia reasons and now can't stop thinking high school enemies to lovers deancas ideally with some punk!cas nerd!dean maybe? Fully understand if that prompt doesn't tickle your fancy though
Please enjoy these 3.2k of enemies to homework buddies!
âWinchester.â
Dean will ignore him.
âHey, Winchester!â
Dean will most definitely ignore him. Just keep on walking. If Novak thinks he canât hear him, surely heâll leave him alone. Heâll go bother someone else, and Dean will finally be free of him.
âWinchester!â
Dean hears, but doesnât listen. He starts humming to himself when thereâs suddenly a hand on his shoulder, ripping him out of his thoughts.
âHey, Iâm talking to you, you assbutt!â
And there he is, of course: Castiel Novak. With his dumb boots and even dumber leather jacket, and, dumbest of all, that small little frown that slowly morphs into a way too pleased smile the longer Dean glares at him.
Christ.
By the time when Novakâs smile turns into a full-blown grin, Dean finally musters up the strength to look away. The soft rustle of tree crowns in the distance reminds him of what a great morning he has been having, and what a perfect day it could have been, had Novak decided to leave him alone. As it is, his day might turn out a bit marred, after all. A bit more normal, perhaps.
ââAssbutâ?â Dean quips, way too late. âWhat kinda insult is that?â
âWhat kind of delayed comeback is this?â Novak counters.Â
âItâs not as delayed as yourâŠâ Dean doesnât really know enough about Novak to be able to insult him in any meaningful way, and what he knows of him, he doesnât want to use. So, instead, he finishes lamely with, â...development.â
Novak could not look any less impressed, especially because the raise of his eyebrow alone continues their little banter in a manner that clearly suggests that if anyoneâs development is delayed, it has to be Deanâs. However, that level of insult is apparently not one Novak deigns to lower himself to, as he continues to look smug while busying himself with lighting a cigarette and blowing out a lungful of smoke with obvious relish.
Dean makes a face and pointedly waves his hand in front of his face. âSmokingâs bad for you,â he simply states, making Novak chuckle lightly.
âSoâs a lot of things, if society is to be believed. I am not much of a believer, though, and I do enjoy the small pleasures in life.â
The small, self-satisfied smile Novak shoots him sends a strange feeling through Deanâs body, from his lips down to his very toes, and everything in-between.
Dean swallows. âWhat do you want, Novak?â
âOh, nothing much.â Novak takes a drag while trotting along Dean who starts moving again, trying to put some distance between himself and the self-proclaimed anarchist. âI just have a small favor to ask you,â he says, sounding as though whatever he is asking for is actually not that small at all.
âAgain?â Dean grumbles, thinking of Novak quickly copying his homework last week, secluded in that small parking lot that no one but Novak and some people in the know ever seem to use, and of what Novak did in return. âIâm not doing you any more favors, man,â Dean scoffs, and stomps on.
Nonetheless, Novak stays hot on his heels.
âWhy not?â Novak presses, âIâm not asking for much -- I just need todayâs Math homework. I didnât hear Mr. Singer give us any, but Meg just told me he wanted us to solve like 15 fucking problems, and she didnât do them either.â
âOf course not.â Anything else wouldâve been shocking enough â if Novak has a bad reputation, Meg Mastersâ is even worse. All kinds of rumors are going around about her, ranging from drug use to prostitution to downright witchcraft. Although Dean cannot confirm nor deny any of the rumors, he is inclined to believe most of them. And Meg Masters herself would probably laughingly accept any accusations -- she is that kind of person. And although Dean cannot help but grudgingly respect her for her attitude, he also resents her for it: and how could he not, when he works so hard to do what is asked of him, and stick to the rules? Yeah, the only way someone like Meg could shock Dean would be to actually do her homework for a change.
âNow, now,â Novak chides playfully, even if it doesnât seem like he cares all that much about it. âMeg does her best.â
âJust like you do, huh?â
At that, Novakâs grin turns darker, a bit more dangerous. âSo harsh, Winchester. I think you know better than most how sometimes, things are not as easy as they seem. That circumstances are different for everyone.â
âYeah, yeah,â Dean dismisses, with a pang in his chest, though he gets it. Unfortunately, he really does. âAnyway, I wonât give you the homework.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause why would I? I donât like you and you only hit me up when you need stuff from me. Besides...â he begins, then swallows back a proper explanation. âYou know why.â
âOh, I do?â
âYou damn well know you do.â
âHmm, alright.â Novak takes another drag, unbothered. âListen, if you give me todayâs homework, Iâll make it worth your while.â
âNot interested,â Dean says, already having a hunch of where this is going.
âNo? Could be something similar to last time. You liked last timeâs payment, didnât you?â Novak asks, and itâs just like Dean expected.
Dean avidly fixes his gaze on the school building, still hidden behind some trees, but not too far off anymore. He will be safe there -- Novak would never dream of bothering him where anyone else could see.Â
âI fucking did not,â he argues, already feeling heat creep into his cheeks.
âReally? I couldâve sworn you did, what with all the blushing and squirming and your pants going--â
âNovak!â Dean barks with a swelling sense of despair. His entire face feels hot by now, and is probably as red as a tomato, âI sure as hell did not enjoy whatever you call âpaymentâ for last week. Besides, I wouldnât even call it âpaymentâ so much as fucking âharassmentâ.â
There is a beat of silence. Then, âAre you serious?â Novak asks, in an unidentifiable tone of voice.
ââHarassmentâ, âmolestationâ, âtaking advantageâ,â Dean recites, enjoying this now that he is gaining momentum. âYou call it payment, I call it an affront, and--â
âIs that really what you think, Winchester?â Novak cuts in at the same time he stands still, his eyebrows drawn together in an unfamiliarly serious way. âThat I harassed you?â
Dean stops as well. He looks back at Novak, his straight back and straightforward face, the way that he seems not just annoyed by the accusation, as Dean would have expected, but unsettled. As if he were taking Deanâs half-joke seriously, and reconsidering his own course of action.
Guilt wells up in Dean, and he holds his hands up in reassurance. âI didnât--â he doesnât know how to actually finish that sentence, so he just leaves it hanging.
There is nothing to say there, not really. What Dean said was half in jest, and half in⊠half in what he knows anyone else would think of the situation, or should think. Itâs what Dean himself should think: that it was unexpected, unwanted, unreciprocated. That his animosity towards Novak just grew over it, that he truly hates him now. That there was no part of Dean that enjoyed any of it, no part of him that longs to do it again.
Novak keeps staring at him, though, reassessing. His stillness is as unnerving as his little smiles and contemplative looks usually are, even if in different ways. Regardless, he seems to come to some sort of conclusion as he takes in Deanâs still figure, the flush in his cheeks and whatever else there is to see, since he suddenly steps forward, closer towards him again.
âHarassment, was it?â Novak says, now with cold fire burning in his eyes that takes away Deanâs breath for just a moment. âBecause I do seem to remember that you were the one who not only told me it was okay if I gave you a kiss on the cheek, but turned it into something more. By turning your head, parting your lips, not letting me go. You were the one who slipped me the tongue and kept going and going. You were the one who begged me to do more, kiss you more, touch you more, fu--â
âNo!â Dean interrupts him, with burning cheeks and a stomach that has already dropped all the way down. âS-Stop making shit up, Novak. You know Iâm not like that -- Iâm not like you --, so Iâd really appreciate it if you could leave me out of your fantasies. You were the one who harassed me--â
â--I just said--â
â--who pushed me to give him my homework in the first place--â
â--I asked you if it was okay to--â
â--and who made me do something I sure as hell neither enjoyed nor wanna do again.â
âOh, really?â Novak asked, raising an eyebrow, in what might constitute a challenge or a feeling of false imputation, or both. âSo, if I told you Iâd love to kiss you again if you let me copy your math homework, youâd tell me no? Would what, cry harassment again if I dared touch so much as your wrist or even came close to you again? Or,â he continues, voice dropping into a darker tone while he does indeed inch closer towards Dean, close enough to touch him, and who remains where he is, rooted to the spot, âwould you tell someone about it? Mr. Singer, perhaps? Or the counselor? Hmm, one thingâs for sure, though.â He laughs, but thereâs no humor behind it. It sounds pained, even to Deanâs ears, knowing. âYou wouldnât tell your dad, would you? That you made out with a guy, and liked it? That you wouldnât mind doing it again, given the right circumstances, some good excuse? Such as taking the long way to where youâve parked your car, past the small parking lot you know where mine is and where I usually hang out? So that, I donât know, perhaps I might come over when I see you, and all you had to do was bat your long lashes at me, bite your pretty lips, and wait for me to make a move again?â
It feels as if all the air is sucked out of Deanâs lungs. Standing there in front of Novak, feeling the heat of both his words and his body, he feels seen-through, known; and as lacerated and repugnant as an open wound.
Dean wants to draw back into himself, into his safe shell, but he canât. âYouâre ridiculous, man,â is all he can mumble out in return as he twists his gaze away from Novak.
They remain there like this for God knows how long. Dean, looking somewhere between their feet and Novakâs almost heaving chest, and Novak, with his face hidden from Deanâs view, but his hands clenched into fists.
By the time Novakâs hands open again, it feels as though an hour has passed, though it probably were mere minutes.
âAlright,â Novak blows out on a breath, âlet me make you a deal. Just so weâre on the same page, and weâre both absolutely clear on what is okay and what might be harassment or anything of the sort.â
Hearing Novak say that word again revives the feelings of guilt in Dean, but he knows heâs made his bed, so now he has to lie in it. So, he swallows and nods, feeling all of his body tense. âWhat kinda deal?â
âIt goes like this: you either refuse to let me copy your homework and I wonât ever touch, much less kiss, you ever again. Iâll leave you alone. Or, you allow me to copy todayâs homework at the very least, so Mr. Singer wonât call my foster home again, and you can choose whatever payment you want, as long as itâs somewhat reasonable. Money, cigarettes, beer, anything you want me to do, you name it. As long as you name it. I wonât give you what youâre not explicitly asking for.â
Dean frowns. âWhat? How is that a deal? Itâs either you win or I do, no in-between. I mean, fine by me, but you get nothing out of it, so what gives?â
âItâs not that bad of a deal,â Novak says, finally flinging his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out.Â
He gives no further explanation, though, which gets on Deanâs nerves even more. âYou suck at coming up with deals, you know that?â
âNot really,â Novak says, shrugging a little. âAs I see it, itâs win-win for you and win-lose for me. Which, for me, too: is fine. It all depends on what you want.â Thereâs something strangely soft in the way he is looking at Dean, something almost wistful. âAnd on whether youâll actually express it.â
Put on the spot yet not, there isnât much for Dean to do but nod in acquiescence. Heâd like to pretend he still doesnât get what Novak is going for, but he does, deep down. Itâs both an in and an out -- what he was hoping for, but couldn't have asked for. Now he has to ask for what he wants, and if he doesnât, he wonât get it. And heâs not sure he can. Not when thereâs rules and expectations and the shadow of a man larger than Dean, larger than life itself, endlessly looming over him.
âOkay,â Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Novak keeps staring at him in that stiffly intense way of his. âAlright. I mean, it probably would be pretty bad if you turned up without homework again, huh? Last I heard, you got into some pretty dire straits when Mr. Singer called your foster home, right?â
Novak huffs out a sound of amusement, his shoulders sinking in what looks like relief. âYouâre well-informed.â
A furious blush threatens to stain Deanâs cheeks again. âItâs just what I heard. People talk. About you. And, uh, everyone else, I guess.â
There it is again, that soft expression. And Dean thinks he might recognize it now, impossible enough: Novak looks fond.
âThey do,â Novak agrees, showing no offense at any possible implications of him being the talk of the school, which he most definitely is. âAnd yes, it was âpretty badâ, as youâve said. Iâd much rather not have a repeat performance.â
âEasy way to avoid it.â
âYes, Iâm working on it at the very moment.â
In spite of himself, Dean huffs out a laugh. âI meant doing your own damn homework. I know youâre smart enough to do it, even if you barely show up in class. You ace all the tests even when you werenât there, so I donât believe you couldnât just as well hand in your homework if you fucking wanted to.â
Novak hums in open amusement. âIs that your own observation or people talking again?â
Feeling as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Dean just lamely stammers out a, âItâs-- itâs common knowledge, okay?â before setting into motion again.
Novakâs laughter follows him the first few steps, then he is beside him again.
âWho knows, maybe youâre right and I could take care of my own homework. But maybe I like not doing so, and asking certain other people for it instead.â
Itâs obvious what -- or rather, who -- he means by that, that Dean is pretty sure his skin will never be anything but pink again. âOh yeah?â he needles, âYou got many people doing your homework? Giving them the same payment, too?â
âNo,â Novak replies surprisingly quickly, âthereâs only one person, and only one time I offered that type of payment.â
For a minute, they walk in silence as they almost reach the stairs of the school house. Thereâs few other people around, most of them just entering the building or looking at their phones, unheeding of the pair.
âSo, we have a deal?â Novak eventually asks into their waiting silence.
âYou can have todayâs homework,â Dean relents, holding out on what he knows Novak is actually going for.
âThank you, Dean,â Novak says with a gummy smile.
The sound of his name stirs Dean him up a bit more, reminding him of the only other time when Novak called him by his first name: when he was crowding Dean up against a wall, removing his glasses, and kissing his cheek so softly that Dean needed more, needed to be closer to this other guy, to this enigma of a person.
âDonât mention it,â Dean mumbles.
âAs for your paymentâŠ?â Novak probes, though with his voice in a whisper as they are close enough to other people now that they might otherwise be overheard.
âDonât know yet,â Dean says, his voice clipped.
âIâm sure you already have something in mind.â Itâs completely uncalled for Novak to say this in such a low and heady way.
âMaybe you do, but I donât.â He doesnât know, he thinks. He canât, is why. He wonât, he tells himself.
âDean,â Novak says, using his first name again, as if they were friends or something more, sounding intimate in the most casual way, and that does it.
âDamnit, Novak, I wantââ Dean bursts out.
Novak looks at him in expectation, all of him turned towards Dean, listening.
He wonât, he wonât, he canât.
Canât he?
ââtime,â Dean finishes lamely.
Novak pulls a face that clearly says, âIâm not mad, just disappointed.â
Which is all the worse.
âListen, Novak, you⊠you might be right.â Dean pulls a face. âI canât believe I just said that. But yeah, I might have an idea of what I want, what Iâd like to have,â he pointedly does not look at the other boy or anything else but straight towards the school. âBut youâre also right in that my dad wouldnâtâ I canât--â He swallows, tries to shake the thought out of his head, but it unfortunately stays stuck. âIt doesnât matter. Iâll think about it, okay?â
âYou will?â Novak asks, sounding hopeful.
âYeah, sure. Maybe.â He blows out his breath, scrubs a hand through his own hair, and continues, âMight take me some time, though. Maybe a long time. Maybe forever.â He laughs mirthlessly. âSo, todayâs homework might actually turn out to be a freebie for you.â
The expression on Novakâs face is hard to read, but undeniably one he usually does not show in public. For a second there, Dean thinks Novak wants to reach for him: his hand lifts and opens just so, swerving in his direction. Before anything comes off it, though, he drops his hand again, burrows it in his pocket and says, âTake all the time you need, Dean.â
He might have to, Dean thinks. Probably nothing will come of this, not right now, maybe not for as long as he is as young as he is, dependent on his fatherâs will, bound to him for freedom. Perhaps, though, some other time, in some distant future, or hidden behind some bleachers, he might find a taste of liberation, or the touch of Novakâs lips again.
Dean turns away from the other boy as the school bell rings, the call-back to the present not quite as oppressive with blue eyes and a soft smile still impressed on his mind.
Prompt 17 from my â30 Destiel Promptsâ for @eccentriccasÂ
ao3 link
It stared at Dean from the fridge, tacked up by a Stanford University magnet gifted to Dean by his brother, Sam.Â
Heâd known his high school reunion was coming up at some point but seeing it embossed in gold lettering created a pit in his stomach.Â
High school wasnât the best time for Dean for a few reasons. First, his dad had died in freshman year, which Dean had had mixed feelings about if he was honest. He was mostly concerned about his mother. She didnât take it well. And then there was-
Dean was torn from his stare down with the invitation by the door bell. He trudged over to answer it. His best friend, Charlie, came bounding in with all the energy of a labrador puppy.Â
âHey, friend!â She exclaimed, pulling Dean into a tight hug. âAre you ready for our movie night?âÂ
Dean let himself be infected with Charlieâs excited energy. âOf course, dude! Give me superheroes in spandex already.â He laughed.Â
âYou go set up the first movie and Iâll put the beers in the fridge, okay?â Charlie instructed.Â
âSounds good, Bradbury.â
Dean lucked out when heâd met Charlie. Theyâd been assigned as roommates in college. There had been a mix up with the room allocations. Dean had been a little confused when heâd turned from his boxes to find a tiny red-head standing in the doorway of his dorm.Â
Charlie had taken a step into the room, let her backpack fall to the floor, and said, âDonât even think about trying anything. Iâm gay as the day is long and Iâm not afraid to punch a guy back into his place.â Dean hadnât known how to reply so heâd just nodded and silently gone back to unpacking his things.Â
It was when Charlie had put up a Star Wars poster above her bed that Dean knew he was about to make a best friend.Â
âOoh whatâs this?â Charlieâs voice came from the kitchen.
Crap. Charlie had probably found the invite. He should have hidden it when he had the chance. He sighed and moved into the kitchen.Â
Charlie had an extremely mischievous grin on her face, and that was saying something for her.Â
âWhen were you going to tell me about this?â Charlie asked.Â
âUrm, never?â Dean mumbled, reaching to snatch the paper out of Charlieâs hand.Â
But Charlie was too quick and dodged Deanâs grasp.Â
âCome on Dean. You have to go!â Charlie implored. âItâll be fun!â
Dean gave his friend an unimpressed look. âCharlie you know how much I hated high school.â
Charlieâs face softened. âI know, it sucks that you got outed before you were ready. No one deserves that. But, itâs been ten years. Things have changed.â
âYou donât know the people I went to high school with.â Dean scoffed.Â
Charlie rolled her eyes. âStop being dramatic, you nerd.â
âDramatic or not, I ainât going.â Dean plucked the invite out of Charlieâs hand and tore it in two.Â
Charlie stuck her tongue out at him. âParty pooper.â
*Â *Â *
A few hours later, Dean and Charlie were deep into their annual âNerdFestâ movie night.Â
âI swear, if I didnât bat for the best team, Iâd be so down for a bit of Black Wing.â Charlie mumbled around a mouth full of popcorn.Â
Dean couldnât help but nod in agreement. Aside from Captain America (because, hello Chris Evans!), Black Wing was Deanâs favourite superhero. But heâd only appeared in ensemble movies. There had been rumours of him getting his own solo movie after fans online had campaigned for it but nothing ever seemed to come of it. The guy who played him seemed to just drop off the map.Â
Shame, Dean thought as he watched Black Wing kick ass on-screen, that dude was hot!Â
âTake someone like that to your high school reunion and it would make those dicksâ jaws drop.âÂ
âDrop it, Charlie.â Dean groaned, glaring at the red-head.Â
âJust saying. Get a hot date and youâll win the game of life in their eyes.â Charlie raised her hands in defence.Â
âNoted. Letâs move on.âÂ
âFine.â Charlie pouted.Â
Dean nodded and turned back to watch the screen, content that the subject had been dropped.Â
âOH MY GOD!â
Dean jumped out of his skin, sending popcorn flying through the air. âWhat the hell, Bradbury?â He exclaimed.Â
Charlie started excitedly slapping Dean on the arm. âI have the best idea.â She practically squealed. âPut an ad up on Craigslist for a hot date.â
Deanâs eyes went wide. âNo fucking way. Never happening. Now stop.â
âBut-â
âNo!â
Charlie sulked for the next half an hour, all through the iconic fight scene with Black Wing and his fellow team of superheroes. She stopped eventually after Dean offered her a piece of pie as a peace offering.Â
*Â *Â *
After a couple more movies, Charlie had to leave. Apparently, being an adult meant that you canât just spend all night watching with your best friend anymore - who knew? So with a âsee ya later bitchâ, Charlie was gone.Â
Dean felt the aches from being sat on the couch for hours and he was looking forward to laying out on his bed for a good nightâs sleep.Â
He sighed to himself and tidied up the last remains of the movie snacks. He was ready for sleep but he had to work early in the morning and he wouldnât have time to clean up before he left.Â
Shuffling into the kitchen to put the rubbish in the trash, Dean spotted his reunion invite where he left it on the counter. Except, it wasnât ripped in two like heâd left it. It had âmysteriouslyâ been taped back together. He dragged a tired hand down his face in exasperation. Charlie just didnât know when to quit. She was the bratty little sister he never wanted.Â
He plonked himself down on the chair at the counter and stared at the white paper for a few moments.Â
Fuck it!Â
Charlie was right (though heâd never admit it to her face). He was determined to prove to the assholes he went to school with that the shit they threw at him didnât stick. It didnât matter that Dean didnât really believe it to be the truth,â fake it til ya make itâ as they say.Â
Before he could chicken out, Dean had Craigslist opened up on his phone. Thinking back to Charlieâs suggestion earlier, Dean decided against asking specifically for a âhotâ guy. He dreaded to think what kind of douchebags that would answer the ad proclaiming themselves to be an adonis.Â
And, despite knowing since he was young that he was bisexual, he decided to aim the ad towards guys. His few relationships with women had never worked out. Even though this was all going to be fake, Dean would like to be able to at least get on with the person.Â
In the end, he decided on a short and simple ad:
âHi, Iâm Dean (28M) looking for a guy to take as my date to my stupid high school reunion next Saturday. Message if interested (no weirdos)â
He posted the ad and then spotted the time at the top of the screen.Â
Midnight. Shit.Â
He closed the website and dashed upstairs as fast as his tired legs could carry him.Â
*Â *Â *Â
The next morning, Dean got woken up by the feel of sunlight shining on his face. He must have forgotten to shut the curtains before he passed out last night.Â
His blood ran cold when he realised that the sun shining on his face meant only one thing. He was late for work. He scrambled around looking for his phone to check the time but it was nowhere to be found.Â
Suddenly, it came to him. He must have left his phone on the counter in the kitchen, meaning he didnât hear his alarms going off.Â
He cursed himself and sped to get ready. Quickly sniffing a shirt to check it was okay to wear, he got dressed and raced downstairs. Sure enough, his phone was sat on the table where he'd sat the night before.Â
When he picked it up he found that it had also run out of battery overnight.Â
Great. As if this day couldnât get any worse.Â
Forgetting all else on his mind, Dean grabbed his phone and dash out of the front door.Â
*Â *Â *
The ad remained forgotten until a few days later.Â
Dean was just about to sit down and relax with a beer when his phone lit up with a notification. He put his beer down on a coaster to check it out.Â
It was a message from Craigslist telling him someone has been trying to contact him about his ad.Â
Deanâs eyes went wide. Heâd completely forgotten about the ad for a date after being late for work and being chewed out by his boss. He couldn't believe someone had actually responded. He looked at the date for the first message. This guy had contacted him like an hour after heâd posted the ad.Â
He opened the message.Â
(01:28) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Hello. I saw your ad for a date to your reunion. It says Iâm only 10 miles from your location. Iâm interested in helping you out. Are you still in need of assistance?
(10:11) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: I assume, as you havenât replied, that youâve decided to go with someone else for your date.Â
(11:20) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: On second thought, this ad was probably a joke. Please ignore my messages.Â
Wow. This dude talked funny. And reading that last message, Dean felt a little sorry for the guy too. He seemed lonely. But beggars canât be choosers, so Dean prepared to reply.Â
As he went to type, he noticed the guyâs username and smiled to himself.Â
(19:37) impala67 says: donât worry dude! the position as my date is still open. youâre the only one who has responded.Â
PS. I like your username. you a Black Wing fan too?Â
The reply was almost immediate.
(19:41) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Okay. What information do you need from me?
PS. You could say so.Â
âYou could say soâ? Was this guy purposefully trying to be mysterious? Either way, Dean was intrigued.Â
(19:45) impala67 says: idk dude, just the basics I guess. how old u are, what u look like
(19:53) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Iâm 30 years old. I have blue eyes and dark hair. Iâm 6 feet tall. Anything else?
Dean hummed to himself. The guy sounded pretty average, which was okay with him.
(19:55) impala67 says: nah, thatâs awesome dude. anything you want to know?Â
(19:58) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: I suppose it would be nice to know what you look like too. Also, if you donât mind me prying, I wondered why you need to have a date for a school reunion. And why have you turned to Craigslist to find it?
Dean was set aback by this guyâs forwardness. But, he did have a right to know what he was getting into Dean supposed.Â
(20:05) impala67 says: you already know Iâm 28. I have green eyes. sort of light brown hair and iâm around 6â2â. as for the other shit. high school was a shit show. Iâve always been a bit nerdy i guess. people didnât like it. then I realised Iâm bi (hope thatâs not a deal break btw). tried asking this guy out senior year. got outed to the whole school. got a lot of shit for it.Â
(20:11) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Iâm sorry to hear that happened to you. No one deserves that. Why do you want to go back? No one would blame you for leaving and never going back. (Again, if you donât mind me asking.)
Dean blinked at the screen. His forgotten beer was getting warm but he was fascinated by this guy. He seemed genuine and Dean felt himself wanting to share the darkest parts of himself with a complete stranger. He sighed and typed.Â
(20:20) impala67 says: I guess I want to prove to those assholes that the things they said didnât affect my life. even tho thatâs not always the truth. I still struggle to accept myself i guess.
Dean chewed his lip, debating whether to include that last line or not. But, hey, he was asking this dude to be his date, the least he could do was be honest with him. He pressed send.Â
Blue Eyes didnât reply instantly this time and it made Dean nervous. He wished he could take back the last bit of the message.Â
After a few anxious moments, Blue Eyes still hadnât replied so Dean gave up, figuring heâd scared the guy away. He cursed himself and moved to put his Doctor Sexy DVDs into the player. Heâd never admit it to anyone, not even Charlie, but Doctor Sexy was his comfort show. It provided him with a much needed distraction.Â
A couple hours later, Dean was beginning to doze. The extra few beers heâd had cushioned him into a deep sleep.Â
When he woke, surrounded by darkness with only the DVD menu playing to no one lighting the room, Dean rubbed his face tiredly and went to check his phone for the time.Â
Instead of looking at the clock, Deanâs eyes were distracted by the Craigslist notification. Blue Eyes had messaged him back! Feeling a little foolish that heâd reacted too quickly before, Dean opened the message.
(23:23) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Youâre incredibly brave, Dean. Not many people would be able to do what youâre doing.Â
Dean blushed in the darkness. Why were a random internet dudeâs words affecting him so much? He didnât really know what to say in response so he just sent a quick âthank you, dude.â
*Â *Â *Â
Over the next few days leading up to the reunion, Dean carried on messaging Blue Eyes just to get to know him a little more. Turns out the dude is dorky as hell. And, despite the original impression he gave with the Black Wing username, the guy didnât understand any of Deanâs other references.Â
It had occurred to him after theyâd been messaging for a while that Dean still didnât know his name.Â
When he confronted Blue Eyes about it, the man had taken a while to respond again and answered only with âIâd rather not disclose my full name at this time. But, you can call me C.â
Dean had been a little skeptical of the guyâs response at first. But then, he figured the worst case scenario was the guy turned out to be a catfish and Dean would just blow off the reunion altogether and go get drunk. And he couldnât blame the guy for not wanting to give out personal details over Craigslist.Â
The day before the reunion, they agreed it was probably best to meet somewhere a couple hours before so they had time to get to know each other in person and iron out the final details theyâd need to know about each other.Â
*Â *Â *Â
Dean sat in the coffee shop theyâd agreed to meet at (public and easy to escape if things went south). He tried to stop his leg from trembling under the table.Â
He was nervous for a couple of reasons. The obvious: this guy could turn out to be a creepy old dude stalking men on the internet. And the less obvious but more surprising to Dean: he actually wanted this to go well. Without even knowing what he looked like, Dean had found himself beginning to like the guy. Even if he wasnât attracted to him when he finally saw Blue Eyes, Dean would be cool with being friends with him.Â
His eyes were following the patterns in the wood on the table top when a deep voice came from above him.Â
âDean?â It asked, with nervous uncertainty.Â
Dean swallowed and looked up to the source of the voice and-Â
Holy shit!Â
It was him! It was the Black Wing!
What was the guyâs name? Cas- something? Castile? Casteel? Castiel! That was it!
Holy fucking shit! This couldnât be happening.Â
Dean realised heâd been staring wide-eyed during his internal freak out and Blue Eyes, Castiel, was stood looking as nervous as Dean had felt before the surprise adrenaline took over his body.Â
âSorry, dude. Please sit down.â Dean gestured to the chair opposite him. He wiped his hands on his jeans, nerves starting to take over once again.Â
Neither man spoke for a few moments.Â
âSo I-â Castiel began.
âI donât-â Dean spoke too.Â
Both men chuckled. âYou go,â Dean told Castiel.Â
Castiel smiled softly, âI suppose, from your reaction, you know who I am.â
Dean blushed. âYeah. For what itâs worth, Iâm a big fan.â He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.Â
Now Castiel blushed, âThank you, Dean.â His expression turned serious. âI hope you understand now why I didnât give you my full name while we spoke online.â
âYeah, of course, dude. Donât want any crazies hunting you down.â Dean chuckled.Â
Castiel chuckled with him. âYes, something like that.â
âSo, um, before we get into the details for later, I was wondering if I could ask you a question?â
âOf course, Dean. You were honest with me, itâs only fair I return the favour.â Castiel smiled.Â
âItâs only because I watched one of your movies the other night with my best friend, Charlie-â who was totally gonna freak out when Dean told her about this â-but wasnât there meant to be a solo Black Wing movie? Everyone in the fandom was talking about it and then suddenly you seemed to disappear. I guess, Iâm just wondering why you changed your mind?â Dean asked, nervously. He was waiting for Castiel to tell him to go fuck himself (though Dean knew that Castiel wasnât really that kinda guy).Â
Castiel cleared his throat and met Deanâs eyes. âWe were just about to go into production for the solo movie when my brother and his wife were killed in a head-on collision with a truck.â
Deanâs mouth dropped open. But, he could sense Castiel hadnât finished so he stayed quiet.Â
âThe only blessing was that it was instant, so they didnât suffer. That, and luckily their daughter, Claire, was at the babysitterâs at the time.â Castiel smiled, melancholy whispers gracing his features.Â
Dean knew he barely knew the guy but he could sense when someone needed comfort so he reached across the table to place a soft touch on Castielâs hand.Â
âI took Claire into my care. And that ended my career as I knew it.â Castiel shrugged. âI was deeply disappointed to have to leave the movie, but Claire came first. And I didnât want her to grow up in the spotlight, with people using her parentsâ tragic death as a way to sell magazines. So I left the industry. That was three years ago and I havenât looked back. Claire is five now and sheâs all I could ever want.âÂ
Dean was awestruck. âWow.â He breathed. âI canât believe it.â
âWhat?â Castiel asked, head tilting in confusion. (If the situation wasnât so serious, Dean would have struggled not to comment on how adorable he looked.)Â
âDude.â Dean choked. âYou called me brave for wanting to face a coupla high school assholes. But you - you gave up your entire career to give the best life to your niece.â He shook his head in disbelief. âYouâre amazing.âÂ
Castiel blushed again (and Dean found he was slowly falling in love with that look on Castielâs face). âI donât know that Iâm amazing, I just want a normal life for Claire and I.â He shrugged.Â
âA normal life, huh?â Dean asked. âWell, I can try and help with that.â He lifted his hand from where it had been placed on Castielâs and held it in the air between them. âIâm Dean Winchester. Iâm twenty eight. A bit of a nerd and in need of a date this evening.â
Castiel huffed a laugh and placed his hand in Deanâs, shaking it. âIâm Castiel Novak. Iâm thirty. Uncle to a beautiful niece and I would be honoured if youâd let me be your date for this evening.âÂ
Deanâs face broke into a smile, which turned into a laugh that caused a smile to spread across Castielâs cheeks.Â
They let their hands settle naturally on top of the table.Â
Now, with their barriers down, they began making plans and ideas for that evening. Though, if Dean were being honest, it felt like heâd known Castiel forever already.Â
Eventually, after what felt like hours of talking, Castiel got up to finally get himself a coffee. It wasnât until Castielâs hand left his that Dean realised theyâd been holding onto each other the whole time.Â
*Â *Â *
Dean and Castiel ended up talking for so long in that coffee shop that they were late for the reunion. The party was in full swing when they arrived.Â
Just before they entered the hall, Dean stopped in his tracks.Â
âWhatâs wrong, Dean?â Castiel asked, worry etched into his features.Â
âAre you sure about this, man? Thereâs a chance someone in there could recognise you or something. Itâs not worth ruining your life plan over just for me to say âfuck youâ to a couple of dicks.â Dean stressed.Â
Castiel reached to take Deanâs hand in his. âSome things are worth a little risk.â He whispered and walked with Dean through the hall doors.Â
It seemed Dean had had nothing to worry about in the end. Theyâd spoken to a few people who had seemed genuinely interested in that Dean had been up to since graduation. And they barely batted an eye when heâd introduced Castiel as his boyfriend. (Heâd meant to just call him his date but clearly his mouth had had other ideas.) Castiel himself had just placed a soft hand around Deanâs waist - stopping Dean from an internal panic.Â
It was all going so well and Dean was starting to think Charlie had been right (again, damn her!). Maybe everyone had just grown up and moved on.Â
Once theyâd finished a conversation with the guy Dean sat next to in English class senior year, Castiel went to the bar to get them some drinks, whispering in Deanâs ear that heâd be back in a moment. Dean was a little sad Castiel hadnât gone a bit further and placed a kiss on his cheek.Â
âWell, well, if it isnât Dean Winchester.â The voice of Bela Talbot came from behind him. Dean turned with a scowl on his face.Â
âHello, Bela.â He said through gritted teeth. Sheâd been one of the main people instrumental in his forced coming out.Â
âGoodness me, Dean. If Iâd known how pretty youâd turn out, maybe high school could have gone a lot differently.â She practically purred, running a perfectly manicured finger along Deanâs cheek bone. âBut, hey, thereâs still time now, I could be the one to knock you straight again.â
Dean was frozen to the spot. He was back to being a scared kid, dealing with the loss of a parent and being taunted daily for his sexuality. He knew he shouldnât have done this. He wasnât brave. He was pathetic. He couldnât even stand up to a school bully ten years later.
âExcuse me.â Castiel appeared suddenly at Deanâs side. âWhat did you say to him?â The look on his face was nothing short of murderous.Â
âIâm just getting reacquainted with an old friend.â Bela answered, sickly sweet. âAnd who are you?â
Castielâs eyes narrowed. âIâm Deanâs boyfriend and I donât appreciate the way youâre speaking to him.âÂ
Deanâs eyes went wide. Earlier it had been a slip when heâd called Castiel his boyfriend but now Castiel was purposefully saying it? Dean didnât dare to hope.Â
Bela laughed, causing Castiel to glare even harder (honestly, if looks could kill, sheâd be in hell). âAh! So heâs definitely still gay then.â She said, lip curling with distaste.Â
âNot that itâs any of your business, but heâs bisexual, not gay. Iâd tell you to educate yourself, but clearly, after ten years youâre still the same bitch youâll always be.âÂ
Bela looked taken aback, like no one had ever spoken to her like that before.Â
Castiel didnât wait for her response. Instead, he grabbed Deanâs hand and stormed out of the building.
It wasnât until the cool evening air hit his face, that Dean finally snapped back to himself. Theyâd ended up in the parking lot, stood next to Deanâs car.Â
âCas..â Dean breathed.
âIâm sorry, Dean.â Castiel said, begging for forgiveness. âI just couldnât stand the way she was speaking to you.âÂ
âCas-â Dean spoke.Â
âShe was just so rude a-and small-minded. I hated it.âÂ
âCas!â Dean raised his voice. Castiel snapped his jaw shut. âItâs okay. Thank you for sticking up for me.â Dean stepped closer to Castiel, playing with the lapel on Castielâs suit jacket.Â
Castiel looked into Deanâs eyes but Dean couldnât hold his gaze. âIâm just embarrassed that I froze up. After all of this, I failed at standing up for myself. Iâm pathetic.âÂ
Castiel placed his hands on Deanâs cheeks, forcing Dean to look at him. Green eyes finally met blue. âDean, listen to me. It was incredibly brave to walk into that room tonight. You are the bravest person Iâve ever met.â He said earnestly.Â
Dean couldnât hold it in anymore. He hoped he wasnât about to ruin this before it even started. But, as a wise man told him recently: some things are worth a little risk.
Wasting no more time, Dean pulled Castiel into a deep kiss.Â
Once Castiel was on board, he pushed Dean up against the car behind them.Â
After a few heated moments, of what can only be described as heavy making out, Dean growled at Castiel to get into the car before they got arrested for public indecency.Â
They somehow made it back to Deanâs house but their clothes only managed to stay on long enough to get through the front door. Dean directed them to his room and threw Castiel down on the bed.Â
He took in the sight of the beautiful man laid out under him before kissing up Castielâs chest and took over his mouth again. The only words said between them were muttered assurances that they were on the same page. Dean could never have dreamed this is how this night would end but he certainly wouldnât change a thing.Â
*Â *Â *
The next morning, Dean and Castiel laid in each otherâs arms, content to be together in the quiet.Â
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Dean. âWhat about your niece?â He worried. âDonât you need to get back to her?â He sat up frantically.Â
âDean, Dean, donât worry.â Castiel raised his hands to calm the other man. âI texted my babysitter yesterday at the coffee shop asking her to stay with Claire for the night.âÂ
Dean relaxed into the bed, smirking a little. âSo you knew how the night would end even before we got to the reunion.âÂ
Castiel blushed. âI wouldnât say I knew. But I did hope.â
Dean smiled, pulling Castiel closer to place a tender kiss on the side of his head. âI hoped for it too.â He whispered.Â
They settled into silence again, warm in each otherâs company.Â
A short while passed before either of them spoke again.Â
âThank you, Dean.â Castiel murmured, breaking the quiet.Â
âFor what?â Dean frowned.Â
âFor thinking of Claire.âÂ
âWell, sheâs important to you. Sheâs your whole world.â Dean shrugged.Â
âMaybe my world could get a little bigger now.â Castiel suggested, smiling nervously up at Dean.â
âYeah, I think it could.â
*Â *Â *
Later, as they dug into a couple of burgers Dean threw together, another thought crossed Deanâs mind.Â
âCas?â
âHmm?â Castiel hummed around the burger in his mouth.
âWhy were you looking through Craigslist ads in the first place?â
Castiel swallowed and chuckled to himself. âSometimes I look through to find funny ads people put up.â
Dean was beginning to get a little offended when Castiel reached across the table to hold his hand.Â
âBut, the night that I saw your ad, I had just put Claire to bed and I was feeling lonely. I took a risk. And I think it worked.â Castiel smiled shyly.Â
âHell yeah, it did!â Dean grinned from ear to ear.Â
*Â *Â *
Charlieâs phone vibrated next to her. She paused the video game she was playing to pick it up. Seeing it was a text from Dean, she opened it immediately.Â
On her screen was a selfie of Dean with another dark haired dude captioned:
âI should take your advice more often Bradbury.â
Her eyes turned to saucers and she looked at the image again more closely. She frowned slightly, looking at the man whose cheek Dean was kissing.Â
Wait- That totally looked like-
Her phone dinged with a new message from Dean.Â
âAnd yes, itâs exactly who you think it is.â
HOLY FRIGGIN SHIT!Â
-
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it Taylor!Â
If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my â30 Destiel Promptsâ challenge, or just send me your own prompt youâd like me to fill!
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