For Christine,
"Is that Castiel?" Gabriel asks, peering over Dean's shoulder at a drawing sitting on his friend's desk.
Dean hides the drawing, cheeks burning pink.
"Go back to your own desk, Gabe." He growls.
"No," he drops a small piece of candy-something wrapped in yellow, a stark contrast to the reds and pinks of Dean's candy pile-as a peace offering.
"Thanks."
Gabriel just pulls on his friends hair with a sneering "Happy Valentine's Day," before skulking off to give a sweet to Crowley.
Butterflies in his six-year-old stomach, Dean makes his way to Castiel's desk-which happens to be all the way on the other side of the classroom. He is so nervous he forgets his manners; the little plastic chair goes on not pushed in.
He feels uncertain when he sees the pile of candy and pre-printed valentines Cas has.
"I-I made this for you."
A lost look on his face, he looks up. He is the only kid not hopped up on confections.
Dean loosely holds his drawing out for Castiel to take.
big, bright blue eyes
a hint of a smile on the stick figure wearing a trench coat
...but what is most prominent
what are most prominent: wings
huge black wings
like some kind of...angel
Cas gives one of those rare smiles, and immediately all feelings of nervousness flush out of Dean's system.
The drawing takes its place atop the hill of valentines and sugary, chocolate treats.
Castiel reaches into his desk, retrieving a painting. He places it in Dean's hands.
a handprint
paint, the color of scarred flesh
A smile plastered across his face to match Castiel's, he is struck with an idea. He has seen grownups do it.
Leaning across the desk, he plants a kiss on Castiel's lips.
It lasts all of three seconds.