The Treehouse – Chapter One

Dean and Castiel had never really been friends. Castiel might have a bit of a crush on Dean, but it was only from afar, just like every other girl at the school. Castiel was that socially awkward kid who ate lunch by himself even though some of his brothers were still in high school. He'd been told he'd never really been good with conversation.

Dean and his friends pulled pranks on him almost every day—typical of boys in high school. Wedgies, fake spiders in his locker, all those simple, failsafe pranks. The first few months had really bothered Castiel, but after that he expected something to be in his locker.

On this particular day, though, the only thing in his locker was a note. He rolled his eyes. I wonder what it could be. He opened it and read through it. He had to shake his head and start over; he couldn't believe it.

Hey Cas,

I got my friends to stop pranking you. They

probably think I'm a pussy now, but I thought it

was wrong the whole time.

It was signed by Dean. Cas tilted his head in confusion, then looked around for him and his friends. This has to be another one of his brilliant pranks. When he didn't see any of the usual suspects, he crumpled up the note and tossed it into the recycling bin. Castiel sighed, grabbing his books for the day. It was almost time for his first class to begin.

Castiel spent most of his time that morning staring blankly out of windows and despairing. He was supposed to hate Dean, right? He pulled pranks on Cas—all the time, and sometimes really mean ones. Nobody in their right mind would be attracted to somebody who did that. And yet, here he was.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Castiel had made up his mind; on the walk to the cafeteria, he went over the plan in his head for the thousandth time. Easy enough.

Or, it should have been. But his palms were getting sweaty; he had never really spoken to Dean, except for freshmen year, when they'd been lab partners in chemistry. He marched straight up to Dean's table, newly bought lunch in hand. "We need to talk."

Dean laughed and looked up at Castiel, seeming uninterested. "What about, Chuckles?"

Castiel's face inflamed, a bright red mess. Chuckles? Really? Deprived of most of his previous confidence, he started to stammer. "I-I-…" He quickly abandoned his oh-so-clever plan, scampering off to the bathroom and ducking into a stall. He'd seen girls in movies do it, so it must work for him. He spent the rest of the lunch period eating in the stall and cursing under his breath at how stupid he'd let himself look.

Cas walked wearily down the hallway toward the exit for the student parking lot after the rest of the classes had passed in a dreary blur. Someone was walking toward him.

Is that Dean? He turned on his heel. Looks like I'm taking the long way to the parking lot.

Dean called out, trying to get his attention. "Hey feather-ass! I need to talk to you."

Castiel's lips tightened at the new nickname.

"Castiel! Stop!"

This time Castiel turned around and glared at him. He spat out, "What? Going to prank me again?"

Dean seemed to pause in his tracks for a moment, but Castiel didn't have long to enjoy the small triumph—Dean was shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "What was that note all about?"

Dean stepped closer to him, lowering his voice. "The note wasn't a prank. I promise."

Castiel turned his head and rolled his eyes, "Sure."

Dean sounded slightly annoyed now, but still didn't raise the volume. "Look man, I never wanted to do all those things to you. They were cruel. But I don't want to lose my friends. You understand, right?"

Castiel shot him a nasty look. "No, I don't understand. I don't have any friends because of your group."

Dean frowned. "Look, I really am sorry." He looked at Cas with stupid, sincere, really-freaking-green eyes. "I'll make it up to you. I don't know how yet, but I will."

Castiel sighed and turned to walk away. "Sure you will."

Dean didn't try to stop him. Good, Castiel thought, walking out to his car and still fuming; there really wasn't a point. He was never going to convince Cas that he meant it. How could Dean really be sorry if he still acted like a dick in front of his friends? It wasn't right. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, he hoped silently that his brothers hadn't heard about him eating the bathroom today. He'd never hear the end of it.

He pulled into the driveway and went straight to his room. He wouldn't have to worry about his brothers until then—they all had their things to do after school.

Castiel didn't come out until it was time to eat, and even then stayed quiet at the dinner table, still keeping up his constant prayer that nobody knew about what had happened today. When they all finished, he collected the dishes, heaving quiet, relieved breaths; it was his turn to clean them. For a while, things turned into a rhythm of soapy bubbles and scratchy washcloths and the clink of dishes.

When it was done, Cas went back into his room to lie on the bed, still incredulously grateful that he'd managed to get away with his stereotypical crying-in-the-bathroom routine. He didn't bother changing into his pajamas; he just stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.