There is no day in the entire school year that's ever as exciting as the first day after the summer. Except for the last day of school, that is, but that's long gone and won't come for another ten months to rescue the students of Lawrence High from the toil of gaining knowledge. For now, they've said their goodbyes to the adventure and the lazy days of games and leisure.
For now, they've long-since-last-seen-friends to hug in the parking lot, new hair and tanned skin to show off, and the tales of far travels and summer affairs to exchange.
Any other year, Dean Winchester would be happy to partake in the ritual. Especially after a summer like this: straight from the road trip to California, just him and his dad, where he'd be learning the ropes of the family business in the mornings, bathe in the ocean in the afternoons and party by the beach fire 'til late night hours. The last two months have been as good as could be. So it isn't for the lack of stories to tell that Dean, at the first sounds of the enthusiastic buzzing in the cafeteria, throws his leather jacket on and leaves the building.
But the quiet isn't in his cards for today. It doesn't take long for his usual gang to find him on the bleachers.
"You thought you could lose us, Winchester?"
Dean takes what little advantage he can, leaning back against Jo's legs as soon as the girl sits down behind him, and sprawling out comfortably, face raised to the sun.
"Wouldn't dream of it!"
Benny and Charlie sit on each side of him, ready to hold him back if he tries to escape. But he's not that desperate for solitude. And maybe solitude's not the best solution for him today, anyway. His little brother would probably tell him he's grieving or some crap like that, but Sam's just a smartass and his opinion should not be counted.
He sure as hell is happy to see his friends after the whole summer of nothing but rather cryptic texts and orange-and-teal-tinged pics on the Instagram thing.
"Alright, spill," Charlie insists, as soon as she's done bragging about all her gaming wins she finally had time to score. "You ended up chained to a coffee maker and photocopier dusk 'til dawn, that's why you ain't talking?"
Dean lets out a laugh. "I don't know what you think my dad's work looks like, but no. It was a blast. Dad didn't care what I did after hours, as long as he didn't have to drag me off the bed the next morning." He can't hold back a smile blooming on his face, though he knows it'll be his demise. "It was really, really great."
Benny shoots him a smirk of his own. "Am I sensing Hallmark?"
"You're saying it as if this player ever passed up on romancing."
"No, but look at him." The tips of Jo's blonde hair tickle Dean's face as she leans over him, drags his chin farther up. "This was no hookup."
Dean rolls his eyes, trying to ditch the stupid, giddy grin, but he must be failing miserably because everyone's noses are now in his business and there's no getting out of it.
"Fine! There was someone. Happy?"
But of course, it's not enough. Benny slides in closer, his elbow playfully in Dean's ribs.
"Come on," he coaxes, "tell me more, chief."
Dean snorts. "Not without the whole dance routine," he jokes, the whole Grease vibe not lost on him.
Next thing he hears is a deep sigh to his left. He turns just in time to see Charlie, as always ready to take one for the team, standing up with a very determined face.
Dean's eyes grow wide. "What the—Charlie, stop that!"
He grabs her by the waist and, with little resistance, drags her down, back to her seat. There's no one near to witness it, but Dean'd still rather avoid being forced to sing and dance because of his own dumb joke.
"Hey, that was your idea." Charlie shrugs.
Behind them, Jo's got just too much fun. "Now, I want to do this just to embarrass you."
Dean ignores her. His mind's already back in California on that beach where his eyes first met the radiant blue that for a moment was all of Dean's sky. The water dripped off the guy's hair as he hovered over Dean's face, concern wrinkling his brow until Dean coughed out and assured him that he was fine, salt still burning in his throat.
"There was a guy," he begins, the nostalgia tinging his voice. "A sweet, dreamy—" no, that's too much; he clears his throat "—hot guy."
"Mmm, go on." Jo shifts in her seat to lean between him and Charlie.
Of course. There'll be no rest for the wicked until they get every last detail.
While Dean'd rather keep the details to himself, if only for a little while longer. After all, they're all he's got now left of Cas.
Memories.
Of the way the fire made shadows dance on his face and rendered his eyes black. Of the taste of molten chocolate dripping from the s'more down Cas's chin. Of the strong grip of his hand as they ran from the cops who crashed the party.
Of the softness of Cas's lips with a lemonade beer aftertaste.
Of the texture of sand beneath Dean's back, the silver glow of their skin in the moonlight that slipped through the cracks in the dock.
Of the crack in Cas's voice as they said their goodbyes.
No. Those, Dean's taking to his grave.
"I met him on the beach and we hit it off right away," he begins, deciding to focus on the things that Cas is—was. "He was so— weird, in the most adorable way — peculiar. And intense—" carrying a heaviness in his eyes — "and gentle and—" bearing a childlike hunger for the world, as if everything he felt, he felt for the first time "—just fun to be around."
Dean closes his eyes, as his cheeks flush hot. This is just getting saccharine now. He straightens, collar up, palms thrust nonchalantly into his pockets.
"And he was crazy into me," he ends with a sly smirk, going back to his regular strut.
Jo shoots him down as quickly. "Right, he's the one head over heels."
She winks at Charlie and they both burst out giggling.
Dean's never been this grateful for the lunch break to be ending. Still, as he starts to stroll down the stairs, the girls go on without him, right behind his back.
"That's enough ladies, leave the guy alone," Benny comes, at last, to Dean's rescue, as they near the entrance. There's some commotion going on that Dean'd rather be paying attention to, instead, but his friend's next words make him rip his eyes off the three guys causing it. "It's gotta be the first time that our Dean is in love."
"Love!?" Dean snaps, crossing his arms. "Me? Nah. It was just, you know...summer lovin', that's all. Pfft, love," he echoes as if it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "I'll probably never meet the guy again in my life!"
The words couldn't leave his mouth at a weirder timing; as he turns back to where the new guys are, to one of those guys, in particular, his eyes land on a face he got to know so well, a pair of blues staring back at him.
He blinks to make sure his brain isn't making things up.
"Cas?"
It's him. It sure as hell is. Dean doesn't know how or why, but the guy he's spent every free minute of the last two months with, the guy he maybe—maybe—more than just likes, is standing right before him. The new guy in school, Dean own freakin' Sandra Dee.
And Cas recognized him too. The tiniest smile plays on his lips, a barely there thing, but Dean couldn't miss it for the world.
"Dean," Cas lets out with something of a relief in his voice.
"I can't believe you're here! What are you—?"
"Castiel?" a cold voice cuts Dean off. It's one of the other two who arrived with Cas. When his palm lands on Cas's shoulder, it seems to weigh a ton. "Who is this?"
Any sign of softness evaporates from Cas's face as if a stone mask was plastered on it. His stare turns so cold Dean shivers.
"No one important, Michael," Cas—Castiel drones. "Just a boy I met recently."
Before Dean can say a word—think of a word in his blank, stumped mind—all three men turn and walk into the building, leaving Dean frozen where he stands.
"What the hell was that?" Charlie blurts, nearly as shocked as Dean.
"Well, pal"—Jo lends him a comforting pat on the shoulder—"looks like you just got Danny Zucco'd."