Title: You're the One That I Want
Pairing: Dean and Cas (because obviously)
Tags: Fluff (as usual), Alternate Universe, Lots of sexual tension, Some smut-ish-ness, Truth or Dare with theatre kids (always a fun time there)
A/N: Happy fluffy fic to help you cope after the season 10 premier!
This was a prompt fic! :) And for the record, this is entirely based off my own high school's theatre department and my own experiences with the plays/musicals I've been (which is quite a few). If you have a different experience or your school does something differently, please don't yell at me! D:
Prompt text: "destiel au where they are both in the theatre department at their school? maybe where they are best friends forever and everyone ships them?" (with a few other details I'll leave as a surprise)
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"You're writing all of this down, aren't you?" the director asked, leaning too far into Castiel's space for comfort.
"Yes, sir," Cas sighed, rolling his eyes. Mr. Metatron, while a surprisingly decent director, was an annoying dick. And don't even get Cas started on his teaching skills…but he was the only theatre teacher Lawrence High had.
And what did Metatron think this was, Castiel's first rodeo? He'd been in every school production since second semester his sophomore year. It may have been his first time as stage manager, but he knew how the gig worked.
"We'll run through the song from the girl's perspective one more time, then the guys are up," Metatron said to the group.
Castiel twisted in his seat to see where the boys were sitting, immediately making eye contact with Dean Winchester. The boy gave him a grin and a thumbs up, the former of which Cas weakly returned. Then Dean nodded at the back of Metatron's head and made a face, pulling a more genuine smile from his friend's lips.
Cas turned back to the front, still smiling to himself.
It was Castiel's senior year, and this was the spring musical. The last performance he would ever be a part of. Fortunately, they were putting on one of his favorites: Grease.
Granted, Cas wasn't a fan of the story. It was laden with misogyny and effimiphobia, and what was with the message? It's perfectly okay to give up your standards for a boy?
Buuut…greasers. Danny Zuko did something to Cas. He couldn't help it. (He was trying really hard not to think about the fact that he would soon see Dean in costume as Danny…he was positive that would be the death of him). Plus, the music was awesome. And the costumes. And generally everything 50's.
He smiled at the stage wistfully. They were in the school theatre (auditorium, technically, but whatever), working choreography. The choreographer was taking the girls through "Summer Nights" a final time. The first time was atrocious. Girls were falling over each other, going in opposite directions, just standing on stage looking confused…now they looked almost uniform. It would never be perfect, but hey, it was a high school performance. And for having learned it just twenty minutes ago, well…Cas was impressed.
The choreography itself was fun and easy enough for untrained high schoolers without looking cheesy. Castiel was excited to see the guys' part—the choreographer thought it would be easiest to go through the song working with the girls first, then the guys, rather than trying to handle both at once.
They were nowhere near combining vocals and choreography yet, obviously, so for now they just used one of the generic tracks from the cd that came with the script.
So far, they'd only had one music practice—and that was spent sightreading through every piece once and getting out early. They had another one next Monday, but—Cas checked the schedule—yeah. Dean wasn't going to be there because he had a baseball game. Something Metatron wasn't very happy about.
When the girls were finished, the guys took their place on the stage. Cas watched Dean run and jump onto the stage, forsaking the stairs. Castiel lifted a hand to cover his smile when Metatron yelled at him. Dean had to know that was going to happen.
He was so busy watching the exchange that he almost didn't notice someone plop into the seat next to him.
"I can't believe you talked me into this, Clarence," she said grumpily.
"Ms. Masters," Metatron scolded from the other side of Castiel, "how many times do I have to tell you? The front row is reserved for the director and the stage manager only."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll leave when the choreographer actually starts working. She's just introducing herself," Meg gestured toward the stage.
Metatron huffed. "Fine." Cas suspected Metatron only allowed it because he was secretly terrified of the leather-clad senior.
"I don't see why you're complaining about this, Meg," Cas said. "You don't even have to act. You literally are Rizzo."
"What can I say? I'm just very in-tune with my character," Meg shrugged. She leaned close to whisper in Castiel's ear, "Quit checking out Winchester's ass, Clarence. You're about as subtle as a brick wall."
Cas jumped and tore his eyes away from Dean. "I wasn't. I was looking at the choreographer—"
"Right," Meg grinned.
"I believe she's starting, Ms. Masters."
Meg scoffed and joined the other cast members in the seats.
Cas watched the choreographer slowly take the boys through the song, trying (and failing) to hold in a laugh. He thought the girls were bad.
The boys' dance was much easier than the girls' too, but you would have thought the choreographer was asking for the moon. Chuck managed to step on everybody's toes at least once, poor Sam actually fell flat on his butt when trying to spin on his heels, Balthazar—Cas suspected—was intentionally messing everyone else up, and Dean's cheeks were redder than tomatoes. To the extent where Castiel actually worried for his safety. Garth was…well, Garth was frighteningly good, truth be told.
They were about halfway through the song when the choreographer introduced a new kind of move, something Dean and the others would be doing "a lot of," according to the choreographer.
It was not good. Well, there wasn't specifically anything wrong with it, but Castiel was one hundred percent positive that this was going to be what ended up killing him, before he even got a chance to see Dean dressed as a greaser.
He looked away from the stage, unable to handle watching Dean doing anything with his pelvis that could be classified as a "wiggle," a "twist," or, God forbid, a "thrust."
From the day he saw the cast posting, Cas knew it was going to be a long three months. We've already established Cas has a thing for greasers. He also has a thing for guys that can sing. And dance. And of course, he has a thing for Dean.
Who wouldn't? Dean was gorgeous: all bright smile, smattering of freckles, and luminescent green eyes. He was fit, too—both captain and star of the school's baseball team.
He was popular and charming, and on top of that, loving, kind, and gentle.
He was a total geek, at the same time. He knew what he loved and refused to be embarrassed by it, whether it was his obsession with the original Star Wars trilogy or the fact that he was president of Theatre Guild.
And for some insane, unfathomable reason, he was Castiel's best friend.
Of course Castiel was in love with him.
The guys went through the song several times, then the choreographer decided to try everyone at once.
It was…interesting. But Cas couldn't stop grinning because there was definitely potential.
.
"Hey, Cas," Dean came up to him after practice, "Need a ride home again?"
"I have to stay back a little while," Cas said, moving to shut off the auditorium lights, "Metatron said I could handle closing everything up."
"Bastard's just lazy." Dean followed Cas. "How long is this gonna take?"
Cas stopped, tilting his head to one side. "You don't have to—twenty minutes?"
"And with my help?" Dean grinned.
"Less," Cas smiled, "But what about Sam? Is he going to want to wait for me?" Cas asked, moving again.
"Eh, he's going to Jess' place to 'study.'"
"Why the air quotes around 'study?'" Cas asked.
Dean gave Cas a look, as if Castiel should just know. Cas gave him a blank look.
"Cas," Dean sighed, "it's just like when I invite you over to study. We never actually study. It's an excuse to spend more time with each other. Sam just really likes Jess and is too chicken shit to ask her out, so he settles with 'studying.'"
Dean seemed to realize he said something he didn't mean to say and his mouth clamped shut. Castiel debated asking about it, but decided against it.
"Speaking of which," Dean began after a minute, smiling again, "wanna come over to study tonight?"
"And by study, you mean…?"
"Indiana Jones marathon, of course."
Cas laughed. "Sure. No sleepover, though. Gabriel's back from college, and I promised I'd have breakfast with him tomorrow."
"Whaat," Dean whined. "But it's the perfect weekend for a sleepover! Mom's visiting the grandparents this weekend, and Dad's working a job. It'll just be me, you, and Sammy. I can drive you back home in the morning."
"You say that every time, and then come morning, you're too tired to get up."
"I'll wake up this time, promise," Dean said, giving Cas his best pout. And damned if Cas could ever refuse that look.
"Dean Winchester, if you don't get up tomorrow morning, I will turn into the stage manager from hell and make the duration of this musical a living nightmare for you."
Dean laughed. "There's that scary stage manager voice. I promise I'll drive you home bright and early tomorrow morning."