It started with a single rumor: Dean Winchester has the hots for Castiel Novak. It spread around the seniors faster than influenza and by the time it got to Dean, the whole school was snickering behind his back and making him wish he could turn invisible. Dean doesn't even know who started the rumor or where they're getting their facts from, as Dean has said maybe two words to the guy in the year and a half since Castiel transferred in from some strict religious school.
In fact, he's said two words exactly; he said "no problem" in response to a brief "thank you" as he helped Castiel pick up the books he'd dropped in the hallway. That was 6 months ago. They have only one class together, English lit, in which Castiel frequently answers the teacher's questions and always seems to know what the author is really saying. Dean almost never knows. He tends to take things at face value, but Castiel's insightful comments often make him wish he could see beyond the words on the page. Despite being so talkative in class, Castiel always sits alone at lunch, and doesn't make any efforts to talk to anyone. The one time Dean attempted being friendly by waving at him in the hall, Castiel lowered his face and walked swiftly on. Even between classes he doesn't talk to anyone. He mostly just reads. He's a puzzle, an enigma. Maybe that's why Dean's found himself captivated by the smart but socially awkward boy of late.
It doesn't hurt that he's also really, really cute. He has dark hair that's always unruly, no matter how many times Dean catches him trying to smooth it down, and he has the brightest, bluest eyes Dean has ever seen. He talks like he eats dictionaries for breakfast, and much more eloquently than anyone would expect of an 18-year-old. He's always wearing these thick-rimmed glasses that are too big for his face, and dresses pretty nice for public school; often sporting these collared shirt and sweater combos that drive Dean a little crazy. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud.
His whole life, Dean has only dated girls. His longest relationship was with Lisa Braeden – that lasted all of junior year and even into the summer, but they drifted apart and broke it off before school started up again. Now all the senior girls whisper when he approaches. The only girl who doesn't – really one of the few people left in the whole school who doesn't – is his best friend, Charlie. They've been inseparable since their first day of freshman year, when she sat beside him at lunch and they bonded over Star Wars and how hot Princess Leia was in that gold bikini. She persuaded him to join a bunch of super nerdy clubs, and Dean would be lying if he said he didn't love playing Dungeons & Dragons every Thursday.
At first period break on Tuesday, four days after the rumor hit maximum saturation, Charlie sidles up to where Dean is half-hiding in his locker to avoid the stares. She knocks on the metal door, making Dean jump, and he sends a half-hearted glare in her direction.
"Lose something?" she asks, leaning in conspiratorially, "perhaps the misguided notion that everyone had about your hetero status?"
Dean rolls his eyes but can't hide his discomfort, "will you keep it down?" Charlie is the only person at school, besides his brother, who he trusted with the truth about his bisexuality. Charlie, who had made it clear during their first lunch together that she was interested in girls and only girls, had been totally supportive and swore to take it to the grave until a time came when Dean decided to make it public. She's always been more like his sister than his friend and he doesn't know what he'd do without her. He closes the locker door and slings his backpack over his shoulder, "besides, it's just a rumor."
Charlie raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? If it's just a rumor, why am I the only person who's talked to you in a week?"
Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the bank of lockers, mumbling, "not the only person..."
Charlie squishes in beside him and leans her head on his shoulder, "Sam doesn't count. He's your brother."
Dean's head falls back with a thunk and he sighs heavily, "well, I don't need anyone else anyway."
At lunch, Dean decides to give himself a break from all the giggling and whispers of "does he really like him?" and "guess he's not into chicks anymore" and hides out in the deserted club room. Charlie tracks him down, naturally, and offers him half of her pb&j because she knows it's his favourite, before dropping onto the couch beside him. He shoots her a grateful half-smile, but doesn't eat it. He slouches against the back of the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"This is really bothering you, isn't it," Charlie asks, voice sympathetic.
"It shouldn't. But yeah, it kind of is," Dean replies, sitting up and unwrapping the half sandwich. "Think it'll blow over soon?"
"Definitely," Charlie reassures him, weaving an arm through his and leaning her head on his shoulder again, knowing the gesture grounds and relaxes him. "Just give them time to find something new to buzz about."
They're silent for a bit while they eat, and then Charlie pipes up again, "I do have a question though..."
Dean side-eyes her, "yeah?"
"Is it true?" she asks tentatively, tightening her grip on his arm.
Dean doesn't look up from the sandwich in his hand, "I dunno. Maybe."
"I knew it."
Dean gives her his most skeptical expression, "how could you possibly have known that?"
She raises her eyebrow again, "dude, I've been your best friend for 4 years. I know everything."
Dean ruffles her hair until she jumps off the couch and huffs indignantly at him. "Seriously though, I never talk to the guy, how do you know?"
"You watch him. I don't know if you're always aware of it, but you do," she muses as she returns to the couch. "And I'm always with you, so it's hard not to notice."
Dean covers his face with his hands and groans. He thought he was being subtle, but realizes now that he should have known Charlie would pick up on it. Still doesn't explain how everyone else knows. He's confident that Charlie would never tell a soul, not even Sam. If Sam had known, he probably would have started badgering Dean about feelings and crap by now, so it's safe to assume it hasn't really reached the freshmen. The main concern Dean has currently, is whether Castiel has heard, and if so, how pissed off he is at having a rumor about him fluttering around the school. For someone who actively avoids attracting the attention of others in a social setting, having to deal with something like this must be pretty hard. Come to think of it, Dean has not seen hair nor hide of Castiel lately, outside of class. He wonders if he's been avoiding him to stave off further accusations...
The rest of the week's lunch periods are spent in the club room. Charlie joins him, except for Friday, when she has a yearbook meeting during lunch and Dean is left to eat on his own. He's just about to start leafing through one of the D&D strategy guides when the door flings open and none other than Castiel Novak hurries into the room, closing the door and collapsing against it, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched.
Dean sits in stunned silence, waiting for something to happen, wondering if he should make his presence known as he doesn't think Castiel realizes he's here.
Castiel opens his eyes and immediately spots Dean sitting on the couch across from him, D&D book in hand, staring, eyes wide, back at him. He blinks a few times, mumbles, "sorry", then turns to leave.
"Wait," Dean makes a snap decision and calls out. Castiel freezes, but he isn't leaving so Dean presses on, "Can we talk for a sec?"
Castiel is still frozen in place, hand on the doorknob. After a moment he sighs, and, adamantly avoiding eye contact, walks over and sits rigidly on the far end of the couch.
When Dean doesn't say anything, Castiel glances in his direction, looking pretty uncomfortable, and like he wants nothing more than to dart out of the room. He clears his throat, indicating that Dean should probably start talking.
"So I don't know if you've heard..." he begins.
"I've heard." Castiel replies, lightning fast.
Dean feels a lump forming in his throat, this isn't going well. "Okay. Umm. I just wanted to apologise, I guess..."
The boy suddenly levels a very serious stare at him, "Why? Did you start the rumor?"
Dean is taken aback for several reasons and his voice increases slightly in pitch, "No!" he clears his throat, "No. I – I just meant... I'm sorry you're involved... or whatever." He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling, rubbing a hand down his face.
There is quiet from the other end of the couch and Dean wonders if Castiel is still there or if he ninja'd his way out of the room when he wasn't looking. A quiet "oh," breaks the silence.
Dean lifts his head and glances over at Castiel to find the boy staring at his hands resting on his knees, no longer in fists. He suddenly remembers that day at the end of last term when he encountered Castiel trying to carry an assortment of binders and textbooks that were sliding from his grasp, and smiles. He has a moment of epiphany and realizes that was probably when he started to really notice the strange boy and begin to wonder what he was like under the layers of social-awkwardness and wool sweaters.
He chuckles softly, "You know, this is officially the most we've ever talked."
Castiel raises his head to stare at Dean again, eyebrows furrowed, head tilted slightly to the side. Dean reasons too late that Castiel probably wouldn't remember them ever having spoken in the first place but damn it if that wasn't the cutest thing he's ever seen. As he's kicking himself for the rosy hue that's quickly filling in his cheeks, he glimpses a flicker of recognition on Castiel's face, but the boy says nothing and turns his attention to the door. Dean can sense an end to this conversation approaching, but he doesn't want Castiel to leave just yet.
He's about to make some stupid generic comment about the paper they have to write for lit, when Castiel speaks. "You're an interesting person, Dean Winchester."
Dean huffs and casts a skeptical look at Castiel. "Yeah. Alright."
"You are." Castiel falls silent again and stares at his hands and Dean starts to think that any conversation he has with Castiel is going to take forever.
"I'm really not," Dean argues, "Mediocre at best. I'm barely passing my classes, I didn't even make the football team..." He did, actually, but practice would have conflicted with D&D on Thursdays so he dropped out. Charlie had pretended to be supportive of football but he knew she was happier once he said he'd changed his mind. It was his dad's dream, not his. There's another area in which he's disappointingly average at best. Not gonna win any 'son of the year' awards, especially if this rumor reaches John's ears somehow...
"Charlie tells me you're a master strategist."
"Yeah, I guess I am pretty good." Dean is so wrapped up in trying to think of more ways to convince Castiel of his uninteresting-ness that he almost doesn't catch the whole sentence.
"Wait. How do you know Charlie? And more importantly, why is she telling you shit about me?" Dean can feel his defenses rising, heart beginning to pound. He doesn't want to be mad at his best friend but he's having a hard time tamping that down right now.
"We have calculus together. And I asked." Castiel is now flipping through the guidebook Dean had discarded on the table.
"You asked. About me?"
"Yes," Castiel replies without so much as lifting his head from the book. "This game looks interesting."
"Use that word a lot?" Dean is still on the defensive, and is desperate to know what Charlie has been saying to someone he barely knows. He reaches forward and unceremoniously snatches the book from Castiel who frowns at him.
"Not particularly."
"What else has she been telling you?"
Castiel seems to realize then that Dean is upset, and he calmly slides a bit closer, hands folded in his lap, focusing intently on Dean, "I was curious about you, and I had seen the two of you together frequently so I asked her what kind of person you were." He pauses, watching Dean for some indication that what he's saying is getting through.
"You... were curious about me?"
Apparently it's not. Castiel tries to maintain a calm demeanor, "Yes."
Instead of asking 'why' as Castiel assumed he would, Dean replies with a hesitant, "okay," and waits for Castiel to elaborate.
"I took the opportunity one day to ask her when we were instructed to work in pairs to solve a problem. One that I suspect we'd both already solved ages ago. She sits beside me so it was convenient in more ways than one." Castiel starts to fidget with the hem of his shirt, hands nervously running along the seam. The one indication to Dean that there is more to this conversation, and he needs to see beyond the words. He tries, but the only analysis his brain comes up with couldn't possibly be right... could it?
While Dean tries to wrap his head around what the cute interesting boy before him has just revealed, said boy begins to worry that he's overstepped his boundaries.
"If I'm making you uncomfortable..." Castiel begins to slide back to the other end of the couch.
"No it's not that!" Dean exclaims, and unwittingly throws his arm out to grab hold of Castiel's, both boys freezing when his hand makes contact with Castiel's forearm. When Castiel doesn't try to move further away, Dean releases his arm and has to tap his fingers against his knee to keep from reaching out again. He doesn't know whether the spark he felt was created by static electricity or the charged atmosphere in the room but he certainly didn't hate it.
Castiel absently touches the spot on his arm where Dean's hand had been moments ago and with a somewhat less-steady voice continues his explanation. "Once I had broached the subject it was as if I'd opened a gate and all the Dean Winchester-related facts I could ever need had come rushing out." When he notices Dean tense up he hastily adds, "she didn't tell me anything really personal though, I swear to you. Please, don't be mad at her because of my selfish request."
Dean continues to mull this over, and he remembers what Charlie had said earlier when she asked if the rumours were true and he feels a mix of fondness and irritation. Of course if Charlie had suspected that Dean was interested in Castiel, the moment Castiel appeared to take interest in Dean, she would start to sell the shit out of her best friend to get the ball rolling. He only wished she had done the same on his end, as he still knew next to nothing about the boy before him. He relaxes a bit, having come to the conclusion that maybe this isn't such a bad thing.
Turning on the Winchester charm, he asks, "So do I have to go through Charlie to get to know you?"
Castiel seems surprised at Dean's cavalier and kind of flirtatious response to the situation. He tries his best to answer with a level voice, finding it hard to contain his glee. "You want to get to know me?"
"Yeah Cas, I do." Dean smiles genuinely for the first time since they started this conversation and Castiel can't help but smile back, a quiet smile that comes more from his eyes than his lips.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
They talk until the 3rd period bell goes and then reluctantly part ways, agreeing to meet in the same room after school. Dean decides he owes his best friend a punch on the shoulder and about thirty hugs, and when he finds her standing next to his locker he can't help but break out in a wide smile.
"What are you so happy about?" Charlie asks with a knowing smirk.
"Nothing." He decides on the fly that the withholding of information is a more fitting punishment given the circumstances and he pulls his bag from his locker and walks away to the sound of Charlie's frustrated huff. She quickly catches up with him but doesn't pry as they walk to Geography.
Third period drags on, mostly because Charlie keeps shooting suspicious glares at him from the desk to his left and the rest of the class still buzzes when he's called on to answer a question. But also because fourth period is English lit.
Dean skirts around desks and students as soon as the bell goes to avoid Charlie asking him any questions and practically runs to fourth period. He's there before everyone else, and takes his usual seat. A few people filter in and then Castiel walks through the door. They exchange small covert smiles and Castiel takes his seat. As Dean sits a few rows behind and one to the left of Castiel he has a hard time focusing on anything else. He's been watching Castiel subtly (he hopes) for a good 20 minutes, studying the line of his shoulders and the way he drums his long, slender fingers on the edge of the desk when he writes, when he feels a tap on his shoulder and the girl behind him (Jenny?) slides a folded up piece of paper into his hand.
When he unfolds it beneath the cover of his desk, the message scrawled there makes his blood run cold: "So you're officially batting for the other team, Winchester?"
He glances at Ms Mosely who mercifully has her back turned, before whipping his head around to give his most intimidating glare to the girl behind him. Her eyes grow wide as she holds her hands up in defense and shakes her head to indicate she's not the author just the messenger. Already on high-alert, He turns back to find Ms Mosley looking at him expectantly, hand on her hip. "Have something interesting you'd like to share Mr Winchester?"
He shakes his head, "no ma'am."
The whispers start up all around and Castiel angles a concerned glance toward Dean, who can only sit there and pray that Ms Mosely doesn't see fit to venture closer.
Luckily she returns to writing on the board and the surrounding buzz subsides.
After class, the girl behind him taps his shoulder again. Before he can turn around she whispers a name in his ear: "Tara."
Dean watches as Jenny scurries out of the classroom. He glances around for Castiel, but it appears he's already left, so Dean decides to pack up and head to his locker.
When he rounds the corner of the hallway in which his locker is located, he stops. Tara is leaning against the door of his locker, arms crossed with a smug smile on her impish face. He considers turning around and heading to the club room to meet Cas, but he has a ridiculous amount of math homework and he needs the textbook from his locker. He feels his hands clench into fists as he approaches. He parks in front of the short blonde girl and waits for her to move. When she doesn't, he contemplates just shoving her aside and getting his stuff but he doesn't want to escalate the situation any further, and he's not that much of an asshole anyway. She steps into his personal space, and he tries not to back up even though the thought of being in any sort of close proximity to the girl who has made his school life hell for a week and a half is reviling.
When she opens her mouth, Dean wishes he hadn't bothered with the textbook, "I've been thinking about you, Dean. Watching you." Dean stares blankly back at her, not giving an inch.
"Have you been thinking about me?" she twirls a strand of hair around her index finger.
"Can't say that I have," Dean responds, coldly.
Her flirtatious demeanor is gone in a flash and instantly becomes one of mocking and contempt, "Just Castiel, then?"
Dean tightens his fists but keeps them at his sides. His jaw visibly twitches as he stares her down, refusing to dignify her scathing remark with an answer.
She smirks and leans back against the locker, still twirling her hair, "I wonder if he knows..."
Dean has had just about enough of this. "Can you move?"
"Hmmm..." she fake-muses, "maybe if you kiss me first?"
Immediately Dean's stomach does a somersault and he's overcome with shock and anger. "Why the hell would I do that?"
"It would stop the rumors," she leans forward into his space again, and this time he doesn't stop himself from taking a step back.
"Rumors you started, right?" He snorts derisively.
She shrugs, but doesn't deny it. Which Dean takes as a resounding 'yes'.
"Who says I give a shit about the rumors?" he defensively stands his ground. Dean is certain that everyone has noticed his absence at lunch and his recent tendency to hide in his locker and walk swiftly to and from classes. It's quite apparent that the extra attention has not sat well with him. But right now, having this completely screwed-up conversation with this horrid girl, Dean couldn't care less about the stares he's probably getting or the whispers he can vaguely register. All he cares about at this very moment is getting his books and getting the hell away from her.
Her confidence doesn't appear to be swayed, "I'm pretty sure you do. But what about poor Castiel? How does he feel about the rumors?"
Like the freaky ninja he is, Castiel appears next to Dean, arms crossed with the iciest glare Dean has ever seen on a human face. "Why should the inane prattle of children have any effect on me?"
Tara's smug expression flickers for a moment but she quickly corrects it and lamely replies "I'm not 100% sure that what you just said was even English, but anyone who says they don't care is only lying to themselves." She crosses her arms over her chest as if challenging them to argue. Dean glances around and notices a rather large queue has formed around the bank of lockers, and he starts to feel claustrophobic. He unconsciously leans closer to Castiel, who is still standing firmly beside him, staring Tara down like he would smite her if given the chance. Which, as Dean notes, is actually pretty hot.
"I'll dumb it down for you then. I. Don't. Care." he brazenly slips his hand into Dean's and an audible gasp is heard from the spectators.
Dean's gaze snaps down to their joined hands and then back up to Castiel's face, where a daring grin is beginning to form. He tightens his grip on the hand holding his and with a renewed sense of 'who the fuck cares', proceeds to stare down each and every person watching this scene unfold, silently daring even one of them to say anything and attempt to escape alive. He doesn't know if anyone is actually convinced, but it seems to be working as the group is stunned into total silence. Only then does he turn his attention to Tara, who is still standing there, arms crossed, only now she looks as if she's legitimately terrified of Castiel, who had continued to stare her down while Dean was seizing his rare moment of boldness.
"So it's true then? You and him?" she projects over the audience, voice wavering slightly.
Apparently Dean's moment of boldness hasn't yet ended, "Yeah, you're damn right."
Castiel seems surprised even though he took Dean's hand in the first place. He looks up at Dean with a fond smile, "It would seem so."
Dean smiles back at him and forgets everyone else for a second. Just one.
"Kiss him then." Tara spits out, venom and cockiness returning to her voice.
Dean is instantly hit with a wave of anxiety and fear. He's not ready. He only just started talking to Castiel a few hours ago.
Before he can have a total brain meltdown, Castiel speaks up with a shockingly audacious "maybe later," and Dean's brain may have just imploded slightly. Castiel lets go of his hand and walks right up to Tara to stare coldly down at her. "Right now you need to leave."
She wastes no time. Tara turns heel and practically runs in the opposite direction and Dean feels a bit proud of his terrifyingly brilliant... Cas. Remembering the rest of the onlookers he directs a similarly icy glare at them and they quickly disperse. With a strong hand on Castiel's shoulder he steadies the boy who looks like he's about to collapse from the surge of adrenaline and having too many eyes on him. Then he notices the familiar face standing nearby, hand on hip, trying hard to look annoyed at her best friend.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me," her mock-disappointed tone turns excited and high-pitched near the end and Dean almost falls backward when she hurls herself at him with a great big hug.
Castiel watches, amused, but looking drained of all energy. When she's done with Dean, Charlie turns to Castiel, who looks vaguely frightened but accepts her monstrous hug nonetheless. "Thank you, Charlie."
"For what?" she asks, chipper and grinning like she's won the lottery.
"I believe the expression is 'getting the ball rolling'." Castiel blushes a bit when she reaches on her tip toes to ruffle his hair, and surreptitiously pats it back down when she reaches even higher to muss up Dean's.
"Knock it off short stop," Dean bats her hand away and wraps an arm around her when she fake-pouts. "Cas is right, though. Thanks."
"I didn't really do much of anything." She gazes up at her best friend of 4 years and the boy he likes and can't help but ask, "So, are you guys officially going out now?"
Dean and Castiel exchange uncertain glances and when neither one of them can find a way to answer, Dean seizes the opportunity to ruffle Charlie's hair, and then dashes away before she can retaliate. Castiel saunters after Dean, waving jovially at Charlie, who stands in the now empty hallway, smoothing her hair back into place. She sends out a silent 'I'm proud of you both' and starts heading to her own locker, a goofy grin plastered on her face.
One week later, Dean comes face to face with Tara as he's leaving English lit. Castiel, who was following close behind, lightly touches the inside of Dean's wrist, an unspoken 'everything okay?' Dean nods acutely and Castiel walks ahead.
He raises an expectant eyebrow at the girl who had been relatively silent since the Monday after the incursion at the lockers. After a weekend of getting to know each other some more, feigning a lot of accidental skin-to-skin contact, and Dean teaching Cas how to play D&D and then having his ass handed to him by a novice, they quickly came to the conclusion that there was definitely something there worth exploring. Rumors be damned. So, come Monday morning, Dean and Castiel walked into the school together, hands woven tightly and heads held high. Their fellow students and would-be lynch-mobbers had moved on pretty quick after that.
So it raises in Dean a question. What the hell does she want?
Tara isn't meeting his steely gaze, and he doesn't blame her. Half the school has been on her case about the incident. They either decided to finally pull their heads out of their asses, or they're just terrified of Castiel. However, despite it being one of the toughest weeks Dean has had at this school, the upheaval she caused also kind of worked in his benefit. After all, he got Cas.
"I wanted to apologise," comes a small voice. "I wasn't thinking."
"Really? Never would have guessed that." Dean bites out sarcastically. He's not about to let her off the hook yet.
"You have every right to be mad at me. I just wanted to let you know that I am sorry. It was never about the fact you were into a guy. To be perfectly honest, I was jealous that your attention was on him and not me, and I guess I went a little crazy." She self-consciously tucks a strange of blonde hair behind her ear. "But I'm glad everything worked out for you two. Whether you believe me or not, you won't hear another word about it from me." And with that she turns and stalks off, perhaps trying to save face. A little surprised at having received an apology at all, Dean lets out a resigned sigh and heads to his locker.
Instead of the debacle he found waiting for him that fateful Friday, he finds Cas leaning against his locker, reading Death of a Salesman, one hand resting at his side as if it's waiting for Dean's to join it.
Dean gazes in wonder at the adorable picture he creates, not knowing what he could have possibly done to get this strange, brilliant, and beautiful boy all to himself. Feeling a bit like he's floating on air, he sneaks up beside Cas, sliding their hands together. Castiel lifts his head from his book to give Dean one of his small quiet smiles and squeezes his hand, "All good?"
Dean gently takes the book from Castiel and tucks it behind his back. He leans in, inches away from thick-rimmed glasses, bright blue eyes and chapped lips and says "all good" before he closes the gap and finally kisses his Cas, rumors be damned.