Castiel was very interested in painting. He loved the feeling of creating a completely different universe in just a 14"x20" piece of canvas. And even more, he loved being able to escape into those said universes during school hours.
Second period every day, the sophomore Castiel pushed through the heavy black door of the art room, dropped his backpack next to his easel, and immediately went to work. He unzipped the pouch that held his brushes and dropped them into a cup, each handle making a soft plunking noise as the tip landed at the bottom.
He lost himself in his work, layering color upon color onto the upright canvas. Getting into it, he began using his entire right hand to smear the paint and blend the colors together. The reds, whites, and oranges streaked across his palm.
Before he knew it, the bell was ringing, signaling class change. Castiel cursed to himself and rushed to clean himself up. He was on his way to the in-room art sink when he tripped over his own backpack; caught himself on someone's muscular shoulder.
"Hey, careful there," the guy said. Castiel blushed and they both looked at his hand on the tight black tee. Castiel knew this guy. He's had a crush on Dean Winchester since middle school when the older boy had performed in an air band for the school talent show. They had played "Eye of the Tiger." He cautiously lifted his hand and his breath caught in his throat.
Castiel's paint-covered hand left a multi-colored handprint on the guys shoulder.
"Oh! U-uh… I am so sorry," he stammered.
Dean waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, don't sweat it." He pointed to the sink, "Just help me clean up."
Castiel nodded, still feeling the heat in his cheeks, and followed Dean to the sink.