The ground rushed up at him and he met it with grace, landing solidly on the ball of his foot before launching back into the air with a flourish. He pressed his arms outward, soaring across the stage, listening only to the thudding of his feet and the mournful whine of the portable disc player he had brought with him. The air attempted to resist him, but Castiel lunged forward cutting through the resistance with ease. He lived for this feeling.

Distantly, he heard the click of one of the auditorium doors sliding into place, but his mind was elsewhere and he dismissed the gentle echo. The song climaxed in a cacophony of crying violins and straining brass instruments. With a rehearsed breath, Castiel flung himself upwards, muscles stretching to push him as high as possible. For a moment, he flew.

All he knew was the feeling of the air brushing his hair from his face and the trumpeting of his pulse in his ears. The moment lasted no longer than usual and he landed with a solid step, barreling into his next move. As the music slowly dwindled, so did the fervor of his dancing. Castiel's toes traced the last of his movements before the piece finally ended and he stood poised in the center of the stage where he began.

His heart still beat out the rhythm of the song in his veins, quick and sad, but it was over, replaced by the huffing of his breath. His chin pressed against his chest where he stood, arms flung to his sides like bare wings, feathers molted into sinewy arms. How he ached for real wings.

He stayed there, motionless, as he came down from the emotion of the piece. He choreographed it himself, bleeding his dismantled hopes into the rehearsed steps, counting in time to the mournful bleating of the song. It was a private piece, secreted away from the critical eyes of his family and teachers. It was not technically beautiful or entertaining, the moves didn't transition well into one another and he didn't engage the whole stage like he should have. The voices of his professors trickled through the fuzz of his thoughts. It was why he hadn't shown anyone. It wasn't supposed to be for anyone else. It wasn't a performance. It was his aching heart expressed by his body.

A muted shuffling caught his ear and his head shot up, eyes darting about the auditorium. A shadow of a figure stopped suddenly in its creeping towards the exit.

"Stop. Who are you?" Castiel demanded. He was suddenly very embarrassed and very angry. Earlier he had heard the door, but the noise wasn't accompanied by footsteps and he had assumed that whoever had popped their head in had left in disinterest.

The gentle slope of the figure's shoulders betrayed guiltiness. The person quietly made their way forward,

"Sorry. I-uh, I didn't mean to... Well, I heard the music and I thought..." the man's voice trailed off as he crept into the halo of light by the stage. "I didn't mean to intrude, but you were dancing and-"

Castiel interrupted the man when as a grin slipped onto his face. The man was going to mock him, he knew it. He decided to halt the words before they could become etched below the list of criticisms he already held.

"It was none of you business to come in here. The room was clearly reserved for this time, privately." The brunette huffed the words out, watching the smirk drop from his audience's face.

The man across from him was no doubt handsome. His muddy blonde hair was classically cut and glittered in the stage lights. His eyes were vibrant and intelligent looking, a mottled green from what Castiel could tell, and peered right back at him with unveiled interest and a hint of remorse. A well worn army green jacket hung off his shoulders, hiding what Castiel could tell was a set of wide shoulders which tapered into a solid waist. The man scuffed his faded boots against the ground.

"Yeah, I saw that, actually," the man shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, still watching Castiel with curiosity in his eyes, "I'm sorry man."

Castiel's eyebrows twitched upwards, he hand't really been expecting an apology. A sigh of terse acceptance, a joke about his femininity or dancing, perhaps even a twinge of self righteous anger, but he hand not expected genuine remorse.

"It's... Fine. Sorry for snapping, I suppose."

The man accepted his apology with another shrug before flopping into one of the seats in front of the stage.

"No worries," the blonde quipped, "I'm Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester." Castiel balked a little at the audacity the man, Dean, had, to continue to impose himself upon Castiel's reserved time slot. Did he not have any idea how difficult it was to reserve this stage? He turned around, deciding he might as well pack up.

Dean huffed, "Well, who are you?"

Castiel slipped into his shoes, contemplating for a few seconds if he should even answer Dean before he turned again to face the intruder with a sigh.

"I'm Castiel." He had never been good at ignoring people.

Dean grinned, "Nice to meet you, Cas. So, uh, you're a dancer?"

"It's not Ca- never mind." Castiel didn't bother to answer the second question. He continued to tuck his possessions away. He pulled a shirt over his head once his things were packed before zipping a hoodie over it.

"So- what was that dance about?"

Castiel found it very difficult to ignore the blonde when he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. He answered with a shrug, turning about to face Dean.

"Why do you care?" Castiel had never met the boy across from him in his entire career at the university. Even people he knew from school didn't show that much interest in Castiel's dancing. No one spoke to him other than to critique his performance or congratulate him on executing a difficult move well. People considered Castiel aloof, but really he suffered from social awkwardness and low self-confidence. He was curious as to why this Dean Winchester had even spared his dance a cursory glance.

The emerald eyed man shifted in discomfort. Good. Thought the dancer, he hoped his discomfort at the inquiry was rubbing off on the man who had violated his privacy.

"Well... It was beautiful. That's all," Dean mumbled at his feet before risking a glance into Castiel's azure gaze, "And sad."

The words brought Castiel's mind whirring to a halt. He was prepared for scoffing, mockery, criticism, or silence. For this absolute stranger to not only praise him, but to also understand the emotion behind his dancing momentarily short circuited his brain.

"You thought it was... Beautiful?"

"Yeah!" Dean responded in earnest, the blush that had crept into his face at the admission of beauty faded quickly when Castiel didn't harass him for it. "You dance like you're flying or something," a smirk twitched his cheek, "At one point, I could have sworn you had wings."

It is possible that I will continue this a little bit later, but for the moment, this is it! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you though!