#running lines

Castiel took another glance out into to room, thinking it must have been someone passing by and finishing his line for him. He cleared his throat and leafed through the pages. 

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shine, the gentle fine is this,” Castiel held out his hand, imagining his partner there, “my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He bowed gently and pretended to kiss an invisible persons hand.

A sudden light from the balcony flooded the stage, drenching it in a soft blue haze. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,” the voice called again. “Which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Castiel held his papers to his forehead and squinted into the light. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

“Juliet,” the voice chuckled. There was a light thud and footsteps followed by “Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Castiel sighed. “That’s not---that doesn’t mean where-- never mind. I’m trying to rehearse. Can you please---” Castiel’s words stuck in his throat as he watched a figure walk slowly down the aisle.

A boy about his height walked towards the stage. Even in the blue light Castiel could make out is bright green eyes. The closer he got, the wider his smile became. Castiel watched in awe as the boy lifted himself up onto the stage. He faced Castiel with his hand stretched out.

“Technically, my name is Dean,” he said with a wink. “And I know it doesn’t mean ‘where is Romeo’, she means why.”

Castiel stood frozen in place, watching the boys eyebrows pull together, then looking down at the still offered hand.

“Oh. Uhm. Castiel. I’m...Castiel,” he stammered, shaking Dean’s hand. “Why are you---”

Dean pulled his hand away and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Tech guy,” he gestured towards the panel behind the curtain. He scuffed his toe against the shiny floor boards and smiled. “Looks like we’re gonna be workin’ together for a while.”

Castiel’s eyes widened marginally. “Yes, I suppose we are. I assume I can thank you for the lighting as well,” he nodded with his head towards the spotlight above the balcony.

Dean nodded and looked up at Castiel through his lashes, his freckles darkened by the blue light. “You uh, need help running lines? My brother was Romeo last year in the school play,” he waved a hand nonchalantly but with a proud smile. “I probably still know a lot’a her lines.”

Castiel swallowed hard and nodded. “I--yes. I’d appreciate that, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean smiled wide. “No problem, Cas.” He took the pages out of Castiel’s hand and flipped through them. “Any spots your havin’ a hard time with?” His tongue peeked out over his lips as he scanned the pages. He looked up when Castiel didn’t answer, smiling when he realized Cas was staring at his lips. “Cas?”

Castiel’s eyes shot up to Deans. “Sorry, what?”

Dean laughed and ran a hand over his mouth. “Lines. Where you wanna start?”

“Oh, um, the balcony scene I guess,” he answered shyly. “I think that’s most interaction they have together.”

Dean nodded as he flipped through the pages. “Ok, here,” he pointed. “Want me to start?”

Castiel nodded and cleared his throat, taking a few long steps backwards.

Dean smiled and glanced at the page. “Ay, me,” he sighed dramatically, batting his eyelashes.

Castiel bit back a smile. “She speaks,” Castiel said in a hushed voice. “Oh speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night.” He pulled his eyebrows together, taking a step forward. “Being---being over my head as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he---” he sighed, looking up to Dean for the rest of the line. He stepped forward again. “Dean? What’s the line?”

“Oh. Uh,” he skimmed his finger over the page, murmuring to himself. “When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air.”

“I knew that,” Castiel sighed, running a hand through his hair roughly.

“You’re doin’ great, man. You got a week before this place fills up with people, tons’a time to practice,” he reassured. “Bestrides,” he gestured towards Castiel.

They finished the scene with minimal help from Dean. Castiel knew his lines well but was distracted with Dean standing there, saying Juliet’s words with his stupidly beautiful mouth.

“Anything else?” Dean asked, tossing the pages onto a nearby chair.

“Maybe,” Castiel bit back a smile, “um, maybe the scene where Juliet finds Romeo in the tomb.”

Dean pulls his eyebrows together. “You don’t---I mean, Romeo doesn’t have any lines there. He’s dead and Juliet’s talkin’ to----oh.” Dean licked his lips, taking a step towards Castiel.

“Go get thee hence,” he began, speaking quietly, “for I will not away. What’s here?” He reached out and held Cas’ hand, turning it so his palm was raised. “A cup closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.” He closed the distance between them, a smile tugging at his mouth. “O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips,” Dean reached up and ran his thumb across Cas’ lower lip, watching as he gently pulled it down. “Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make me die with a restorative.”

Castiel held his breath as Dean leaned in, one arm wrapping gently around his waist. Dean smiled before closing his eyes and kissing Castiel gently on the lips. He pulled away slowly, keeping Castiel held close.

“Thy lips are warm,” Castiel whispered, opening his eyes.