Castiel saw in colors. He watched the bees hum by and listened to the waves crashing on the shore while he dug his toes into the surf. He'd walk through gardens and smell the flowers, feeling their fragile petals in his hands. Castiel could see and hear the wonders of the world, but he could never tell anyone about them.
The doctors said it was the result of a traumatic event when he was a child, but Castiel couldn't remember anything that would fall under that title. He just couldn't speak and that was that. There wasn't any problem with his vocal chords or anything like that, words just didn't come out when he wanted them to.
His parents had taught him how to sign, but Castiel didn't like doing it. He often tripped over his own hands, getting letters and actions confused. He was much more content with writing things down. But people didn't seem to be okay with Castiel thrusting a piece of paper at them with a hopeful expression. Even if it had something as simple as "Hi" on it.
Castiel learned to live with it though. People just assumed he was quiet and he didn't have a reason to speak. There were no friends to hand out with on Friday nights and his family rarely spoke to one another. The only real conversations he had were in his head, the dialogue for the characters in the elaborate stories that he often concocted while relaxing under the large tree in his backyard.
One of his favorite pastimes was mouthing the words to his favorite songs. When he did that he could talk, he could sing and he could have a thousand voices. He could croon with the smooth sounds of Frank Sinatra, or scream along with AC/DC. He'd often use his bed as the stage, performing concerts to the old stuffed animals that watched him with their beaded eyes. It was just him and the vibrations of the music, the voices of the singers that he could make his own for the short time of the melodies.
School was always a hassle. The first few years had been the hardest, when the teachers would call on him and he'd be expected to answer. He'd never forget the looks the other students gave him as he sat there gaping like a fish, flailing his hands, trying to make them understand that for whatever reason, God hadn't given him a voice.
He didn't blame anyone for his being mute, in fact he'd rather express himself in other ways. Talking was boring, the same sounds grating on his ears. He liked writing much better. He could properly express himself through poetry. Weaving verses and limericks together in ways that no other voice could. He'd sometimes have Anna read them to him, listening as she pronounced the words and trying to get her to do it with the inflection he would have used.
It was on the first day of the third week of his senior year that he met Dean Winchester. Well, properly met Dean. Dean was the popular jock who always had a girl on his arm, giggling and looking up at him like he was the best thing the world had to offer. Castiel didn't really care for Dean's sense of humor or the way he failed every test and managed to pass the class by giving the teacher his best smile. What Castiel did like however, was Dean's voice.
Dean spoke in a deep, gruff tone that always sent chills down Castiel's spine. Castiel would often crane his ear in Dean's direction when Dean would talk with his friends at lunch. Dean could tell a mean tale when he wanted too, though they mostly consisted of who's house he'd been at last night or what amazing play he'd made in football. Castiel didn't care that it was trivial conversation. He just liked listening to the way Dean's mouth formed the words and wondering what it would sound like if Dean were to read his poetry to him.
On that first day of the third week of his senior year, Castiel was opening his locker when Alistair and his gang decided that he was their next target. They started by knocking the stack of books out of his hands and then asking him to tell them to stop as they ground the heels of their boots into the pages of Castiel's favorite Harry Potter book.
Castiel tried to tell them to stop. He signed and made those wild gestures with his hands, even going as far as trying to yell, only producing a high pitched wheezing noise as the air got trapped in his throat. That only made Alistair and his goons laugh, pointing fingers at him and calling him names. The taunting didn't hurt Castiel as much as the fact that he couldn't order them to stop. All he could do was wave his shaking hands at them and try to mouth words that never met the air.
Castiel never resorted to violence in these matters, but he was fed up with the taunting and the mimicking, so fed up that his hand was balled in a fist and colliding with Alistair's nose before he even realized what he'd done. He did realize that he was in serious trouble when he saw the red dripping over Alistair's lips. He'd be lucky if he only made it out of this with a few busies and a black eye.
The first punch was to his gut and he doubled over with a whine. Although he couldn't speak, he was perfectly capable of making those small noises people made when a shoe collided with your shin. The little noises of pain seemed to urge Alistair on and he delivered a particularly hard punch to Castiel's right cheek.
The force of it sent Castiel stumbling backward and into the firm body of Dean Winchester, who immediately looped his arms under Castiel's armpits and hoisted him up when Castiel began to slide toward the floor. He held Castiel against him like Castiel was a marionette whose strings had been cut, which was fairly accurate seeing as Castiel had suddenly lost the strength in his legs.
Alistair pointed a bony finger at Dean, sneering, "Standing up for the fag, Winchester?"
Castiel could feel Dean's response vibrate through his body as Dean growled, "Fuck off, Alistair."
"Just let me finish with him," Alistair sneered, looking at Castiel distastefully.
"No," was Dean's last response before he slung one of Castiel's arms over his shoulder, grabbing Castiel around the waist so that his other hand was free to punch Alistair unconscious.
The other students who had gathered around cheered loudly, but Castiel didn't hear the whistles and clapping. He was too focused on the fact that Dean Winchester was whispering into his ear, "I'm gonna get you cleaned up, okay?"
Castiel could only nod, and even that sent blood from the cut on his cheek dripping down his fafce. Dean made a vague motion to one of his friends on the football team, and Castiel's books were immediately given to Dean, who carried them under his arm, the other still wound around Castiel's waist as Dean made his way to the men's restroom down the hallway.
He shouldered the door open and helped Castiel limp inside. This restroom was always empty due to the rumor that a freshmen boy had slit his wrists in there during the 90s. It was said that his ghost haunted it, and none of the guys were too keen on taking a piss with the possibility of some dead dude watching them. That didn't stop Dean from hoisting Castiel up onto the counter so that Castiel's back was against the old mirror.
Dean dropped Castiel's books next to him and then went into one of the stalls. He reappeared with a roll of toilet paper, from which he tore off a chunk, wetting it and bringing it up to the cut on Castiel's cheek. Castiel inhaled sharply at the sting and Dean said softly, "I'm sorry about Alistair. Guy's a fucking dick."
Castiel opened his mouth to say how thankful he was, but naturally nothing came out. He clamped his mouth shut with a click, a fierce blush staining his cheeks. He just wanted to tell Dean that he was a hero, to him anyway. Actually, he wanted to tell Dean that he was amazing, that he'd sometimes sit on the bleachers just to listen to Dean call out plays. That sometimes on lonely Saturday nights he'd think about writing him a poem about his eyes.
Dean's eyes were the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen. They were so green in color that Castiel had often spent long nights trying to compare them to other things, trying to find a match. It wasn't the sea or a new budding leaf, not even emerald, although that was close.
Sitting in front of Dean now, Castiel could see those eyes clearly, they were a few inches from his face as Dean dabbed at the blood on his cheek. They flicked over Castiel's face, moving so quickly that Castiel just wanted to reach out and keep Dean's face steady so that he could find the perfect match for those eyes.
He realized that Dean was saying something and he shut his metal dialogue off so that he could focus on Dean's voice, "Shoulda given that asshole a kick in the balls for good measure. He sure as hell deserves it. Piece of shit."
Castiel smiled and tried not to shiver as Dean brushed his thumb over Castiel's cheekbone. Castiel wanted to know why Dean was being so nice to him. They'd never talked before and Castiel knew that most of the boys around school were uncomfortable with him being gay. Dean seemed perfectly fine with it though. He didn't even bat an eye as he wedged himself between Castiel's legs to get better access to Castiel's busted lip.
Dean was meticulous with his cleaning of Castiel's cuts, and the soft touches made Castiel tense up. No one had ever been this gentle with him before. If anything, all he got was pity. Looks accompanied by small shakes of the head and muttering about how hard it must be to be mute. He'd try to look brave and act as though they didn't bother him, even though they did.
Maybe that was part of the reason he liked Dean so much. Dean treated him like he was an actual person. Like the way he was talking right now, just mumbling to himself as he cleaned Castiel up, not even expecting a response.
When Dean finished with Castiel's lip he stepped back to inspect his work and gave a quick nod of approval before chucking the bloodied toilet paper into the nearby trashcan. He straightened up again and Castiel needed to tell him thank you, so he tried mouthing it to Dean, putting extra emphasis on the shape of the words.
Dean's lips quirked up in a smile and he said passively, "No problem. It's high time someone gave Alistair a taste of his own medicine."
Castiel wanted to ask Dean why he'd stood up for him. Castiel was nothing special and often got picked on. Dean was the last person he would have thought to do what he'd just done. He started to sign and then stopped at the confused look Dean gave him. Chewing on his lip, he tried to mime writing to Dean, using the palm of his hand as paper and his finger as a pen.
Dean gave him an Oh look and then rummaged around in his backpack, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. He handed them to Castiel who began scribbling, handing Dean a note that read Why? Dean gave him a confused look and said, "What do you mean?"
Castiel wrote again on the pad. Why are you being so nice to me?
Castiel had to stop from cringing when Dean gave him that pitiful look before saying, "No one should be bullied and especially not over something that they can't do anything about."
Castiel pointed to his throat in a question, asking if his inability to speak was what Dean meant. Dean gave a small nod, but didn't say anything else so Castiel wrote Thank you on the paper and handed it back to Dean. Dean smiled at it and then at Castiel, who grinned back.
There was a moment when all they did was smile at each other and then Dean cleared his throat loudly . "Well I've got a class to get to. You gonna be okay?"
Castiel nodded and hopped off the counter as Dean shouldered his backpack again. He made sure Castiel had his books before pushing the door open and letting Castiel walk out of the bathroom first. Dean even walked side by side with Castiel until he reached his classroom, going as far as giving Castiel a small wave before going in. Castiel was left alone in the hallway, clutching his books to his chest and trying to figure out what the balloon like feeling in his ribcage was.
That night he went home and wrote that poem about Dean's eyes, and he dreamed. He dreamed that he could talk and tell Dean everything he wanted to and Dean listened. Dean listened and Castiel woke up happy for the first time in over a year.
The next day Dean walked Castiel to his first period class, standing close enough so that people knew he was with Dean Winchester and that if they messed with him, they messed with Dean. The idea made that balloon expand and Castiel smiled through his entire class. He even got to join Dean for lunch and listen to those stories while face to face with him.
It continued that way for a few weeks and Castiel found that Dean had seemingly taken him under his wing. He was constantly watching him out of the corner of his eye, making sure that he was okay, giving him pointers for homework, even waving at him from the football field. By the end of the first semester that balloon had popped and the air had flooded to all parts of Castiel's body so that he was warmed from the inside out when Dean smiled at him from across the lunch table, or when he threw his arm around Castiel's shoulders while they talked to the cheerleaders in the hallway.
Castiel had never been in love before, although he figured this was what it must feel like. Of course he didn't say anything to anyone about it. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want them to tell him that he should stop dreaming and realize that Dean would never like him. Castiel knew Dean was going to end up with some beautiful cheerleader or something. He wasn't going to fall for the silent boy who trailed after him in the hallways, writing poetry about him in his head.
Things changed when Castiel came out of Physics one day to find Dean nose to nose with Gordon Walker. It was obvious they had been fighting, but Castiel ducked behind the lockers when he heard his name called out by Gordon who had one finger planted firmly on Dean's chest as he finished by calling Castiel, a "slutty little cocksucker" who "probably lost his voice choking on some guy's dick".
Dean's angry voice could be heard through the entire hallway. "Don't you fucking dare speak about Cas like that, Walker!"
The sound of flesh hitting flesh came next and then Dean was in front of him, a fury burning in his eyes. Castiel didn't know what to do when Dean grabbed his hand and started leading him out into the hallway. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, gripping Castiel's hand tightly and yelling to Gordon, who was nursing what would be an impressive black eye.
Once he had the attention of everyone in the hallway, Dean did something that made Castiel's brain short circuit temporarily. He spun Castiel around to face him and slotted their lips together in a forceful kiss. Castiel's body went stiff and he could hear the gasps from the other students, but then everything faded away when Dean yanked him close, winding his arms around Castiel and pulling him flush against him.
Dean broke away when Castiel began to grip his arms tightly. Dean pulled away only to flip Gordon off before practically dragging Castiel out of the school and into the famous Impala where Dean had made many a story in. The door shut behind Dean and Castiel barely had time to catch his breath before Dean was pressing him against the leather of the backseat, lips locked.
Castiel had never been kissed before, but he was finding that he enjoyed it immensely, especially when it was Dean doing the kissing. He opened eagerly for Dean's curious tongue, moaning softly as Dean began tasting him, nipping and pulling until Castiel was shaking beneath the other boy's body. When Dean pulled his mouth away from Castiel's it was so that he could latch it onto Castiel's neck.
Dean Winchester had a very talented mouth and Castiel wanted to tell him that, but he settled for just grinding their hips together, earning a long moan from Dean and a breathy, "Shit, Cas."
Castiel's fingers tugged at the collar of Dean's jacket and he leaned up to kiss Dean's bottom lip reverently. He intended to tell Dean how he felt the only way he could do it. Slowly he slipped the jacket off Dean's shoulders and then pulled up his shirt, yanking it over Dean's head before proceeding to mouth his way down Dean's chest.
Dean sucked in his breath through his teeth and then he was flipping them so that Castiel was on top. Castiel moved his lips over Dean's tan skin, worshiping it with his lips and tongue, tracing patterns and writing the words that he couldn't say out loud. Dean was quiet beside the occasional groan of encouragement.
When Castiel finished mapping out Dean's chest and stomach he moved to undo the button on his jeans. Dean helped him shimmy them off and then Castiel slid the boxers down to Dean's ankles so that he could continue his silent glorification of the marvel that was Dean's body.
He started at the base of Dean's erect cock, kissing around the flushed skin, breath hot and kisses wet. He then moved up the shaft, using more tongue until Dean was squirming and begging beneath him. Castiel put a finger on Dean's lips, tracing over the plush bottom one before moving his mouth from Dean's leaking erection to his lips.
Dean surged upward into the kiss and Castiel moved his hand down to stroke Dean as he plunged his tongue into the other boy's mouth. Dean bucked into his hand and Castiel ran his thumb over the tip of Dean's dick, smearing the precome on his thumb and forefinger. He took his mouth off Dean's so that he could suck his dirtied digits into his mouth, the taste of Dean sharp on his tongue.
Dean's eyes went dark as Castiel pulled his fingers from his mouth, but he had little time to comment on the sight before Castiel's mouth was upon him. Castiel deep throated Dean in a single movement and the sound he got in response was something that he never wanted to forget. Dean's hands were in his hair, his legs braced on either side of Castiel's head, throat bared as he threw his own head back, thrusting into the damp heat of Castiel's mouth.
Castiel's tongue had never been used to form words, but he knew how to move it just right against Dean to have the other man crying, begging for him. He clenched his throat around Dean's cock, breathing through his nose as he let it slide further into the back of his throat. When he felt it throb he pulled away to take a deep breath before placing his mouth just on the red head. He pressed a kiss there and then took Dean in all the way again.
He was rewarded with a loud groan and the sound of his name on Dean's lips. Castiel was never going to get tired of hearing Dean say it like it was the best thing in the world. A part of him didn't want anyone else to say it ever again. Just Dean's mouth should be able to form those syllables that he could not. Only Dean.
It took only a little more to make Dean come, spurting hot into the back of Castiel's throat. Castiel swallowed it down and then pulled off him, smacking his lips and then leaning down to kiss Dean, letting Dean taste himself on Castiel's tongue. Dean's hands framed Castiel's face and then they moved to Castiel's chest, pushing him so that they could switch positions.
Dean made short work of Castiel's sweater and then Dean's tongue was making patterns on Castiel's chest. He circled it around a peaked nipple and Castiel let out a breathy moan. It earned him a smile from Dean and then a long kiss which ended with Dean's hand down his pants, stroking his cock in long smooth motions that had Castiel panting into Dean's mouth.
Dean didn't make love to Castiel the way Castiel had to him. He used the words that Castiel had been trying to convey with his mouth and hands, saying things like gorgeous and beautiful. Castiel could feel the vibration of Dean speaking, each word whispered into his skin. Perfect found a place at his hip, gorgeous and beautiful on his nipples, and when Dean finally moved his mouth and his praise to where Castiel wanted him, the word mine was breathed out into the fine hair above Castiel's cock right before it disappeared down Dean's throat.
Dean brought Castiel to orgasm quickly and Castiel's mouth fell open in a silent scream of pleasure as that white hot fire coursed through his system. When he came back down, Dean's eyes were hovering above him, green specks of light in his post orgasm haze. He reached up a hand and stroked the face that those eyes belonged to, the face that Castiel very much wanted to wake up to each morning.
Dean kissed the inside of Castiel's wrist. His lips moved up to Castiel's again and his body was soft against Castiel's when they lay together on the backseat. Castiel breathed a happy sigh into Dean's mouth, but then Dean was pulling back, much to Castiel's disappointment. Castiel tried to tell him this by chasing his mouth but Dean simply chuckled and leaned so that his lips were by Castiel's ear. He then proceeded to whisper the final three words that Castiel had told him with his lips against Dean's skin. Those three words that Castiel said back to Dean by pressing their foreheads together and brushing his thumbs along Dean's cheekbones before kissing him reverently.
I love you.