Dean sighed, tapping his pen against his desk.

He glanced at the clock again, there was still half an hour left of class. He had a blank piece of paper in front of him, and an image of beautiful blue eyes in his mind. He frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. He put his pencil to the piece of paper, his brain trying to move his hand to form the words floating through his mind.

He shouldn't write another one, he knew that. It was already the fourth letter this week and it was only Tuesday. It was going to very quickly stop being sweet and start being creepy.

Dean closed his eyes tightly. His pencil began to move.

I tried not to, but I can't help it. You don't understand how much I think about you. My head hurts to not write about you, to not tell you how I feel. You probably think I'm really weird, or a creep but you should have some appreciation for the little guys.

Why don't you brush your hair down like a normal person? Instead it's fucking beautiful, as if you woke up and just came to school. Do you even know what that does to me? I just want to reach out and touch it, but I can't. I never can.

Don't brush your hair down like a normal person, you are perfect the way you are. Your eyes, your lips, your hair, your goddamn laugh. Your radiant as the sun smile. That smile drives me nuts, I don't know how no one has noticed the way I look at you. Of course you never could, I have ways of avoiding you seeing me.

Now that sounded creepy. Classes will change soon so I will leave you to your day.

The bell rang, and Dean's pencil dropped. He opened his eyes, looking down at the writing on the paper before him.

"Fuck," he murmured. He stood up, taking his time to fold the paper, to keep it from wrinkling as he held it in his hand. It felt warm and a little heavy. He sighed, pulled his backpack over his shoulder and walked to the locker. He dropped the letter between the slots in it.

His eyebrows furrowed when he saw that there was an envelope taped to the front of the locker. The front read: To The Mysterious Writer. Dean rolled his eyes but took the envelope, opening it. He pulled out the letter. The paper smelled faintly of flowers and honey, making Dean smile and wonder if that was what his heart's desire smelled like.

You are odd, but I do not hate your letters. They do make my heart flutter, but I wonder why you will not approach me. Mysterious Writer, in your next letters, give me something to read about other than myself. If you would.
Sincerely, Castiel.

Dean stared at the paper, lowered his eyes, folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. He placed the letter in the breast pocket of his flannel, and pulled out another piece of paper. He sat cross-legged on the floor with his pencil.

I do not know if you know this, but the paper you gave me smelled like honey and flowers. Is that what you smell like because I could drown in that beautiful smell.

You want me to talk about myself, but I can't. All I can think about other than you is my car and my brother. I love my brother, I love my car, I probably love you. It must be weird to get a love confession from pencil led on a piece of paper.

You look cute when you

"Um, can I help you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked up to see Castiel staring down at him. His mind raced, his heart clenched but he did not let his poker face waver. Dean nodded solemnly and he stood up.

"I'm doing a survey for class, we have to interrogate certain people and according to a student in my class this is your locker… Castiel?"

Castiel squinted his eyes at Dean.

"It is," he agreed. Dean stood, growing eye level to the boy. "Did they not tell you I have class this period?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, showing genuine confusion.

"They did not."

He was lying through his teeth. He knew Castiel had class this period. He didn't know why he was here now, but he was determined not to get caught in this lie.

Castiel looked skeptical, but shrugged, gesturing for Dean to step aside. Dean did and watched as Castiel opened his locker door.

"Anyways, the question for the survey is asking how many times in a school year you disobey the code of conduct," Dean stated. Castiel didn't seem to hear him, as at the exact moment Dean began to talk Castiel saw the letter Dean had previously put in there.

His eyes sparkled in glee and a smile flickered across his lips. He picked up the folded paper and made a soft noise.

"When you got to my locker was there an envelope taped to it?" He asked turning sharply towards Dean. Dean took a small step back in surprise.

"Uh, why would there be an envelope taped to your locker?"
Castiel squinted his eyes.

"Answer the question."

"No, there was nothing on the locker," he assured. Castiel frowned, and looked down at the folded paper.

"I feel like I don't understand something happening here."

"You feel correctly," Castiel replied coldly, and the irritation struck Dean pain in his heart. "I just wish I could know who was here before you."

Dean pressed his lips together.

"Well-" He stopped himself before he could finish his sentence, reminding himself that continuing would endanger his secret. Castiel looked up, eyes wide.

"What? Well, what?" He asked quickly. Dean shook his head but Castiel wouldn't take it.

"I have been receiving letters in my locker for the past month and if I do not find who it is leaving them I will become neurotic," Castiel said harshly. He paused. "Who are you?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean replied, his voice a lot softer and shakier than Dean would like to admit.

"Do you want to see me angry Dean Winchester?"

Dean had imagined meeting Castiel for the first time many times, but he never imagined it would be like this. Castiel angry, and scary.

"No," Dean breathed. Castiel made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Then tell me," Castiel said.

"I go over school videotapes on Fridays, to catch all the kids doing stuff they aren't supposed to," Dean said, his voice quivering. "I could see who has been visiting your locker for you, if you want."

Castiel's stern look wavered, and his face broke out into a smile.

"You would do that?"

Dean took a hard swallow and nodded.

"Yeah," he choked out.

"Thank you," Castiel said excitedly. His body wrapped around Dean's in a hug, paralyzing Dean to his spot.

Hugging Castiel was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to Dean Winchester in his entire life.

"I do not ever disobey the code of conduct, to answer your question," Castiel finally replied, pulling away from Dean to unfold the paper in his hands. Dean stared at him a little bit dumbly before remembering his cover. He nodded absently and pretended to write down the answer.

"Thanks."

"Where do I meet you?" Castiel asked warmly, his eyes scanning the note Dean had written. Dean fought for a reply, his mouth dry.

"The front office."

Castiel smiled and closed his locker door, closing his eyes. Dean must have made an odd noise because Castiel opened his eyes to look at Dean.

"Thank you very much for this Dean."

Then he slipped the note into his pocket and walked off.

Dean stood there for a long moment, trying to stay relaxed but failing miserable. He sat back down and took a shaky breath.

Smile. You are scary when you are mad. I saw you, today in the hall with that boy. You were very angry. I thank god you were not being like that towards me, it would have broken my heart.

Dean bit his lip a little at the twist of truth.

I could not have been able to stand you, the one desire of my heart, to be angry towards me. It hurts my heart to consider you may have been angry because of me.

Please do not go with that boy on Friday. Please do not look to see who I am.

I wish you had hugged me instead of him.

Dean grunted softly.

He stood up, folded the paper, and pushed it through the slots of the locker with a little smile on his lips.

Castiel did smell like honey and flowers.

Dean wrote Castiel ten love notes before he met up with him on Friday after school, and only received one note back from Castiel informing him that if Dean wanted him to or not he would be going.

Dean was hoping he would change his mind, but Castiel came into the office, head buried behind Dean's latest note.

"Back again with the letters from Juliet?" Dean asked teasingly. Castiel glanced up, an adoring smile on his lips.

"My mystery writer told me that he found me intoxicating, that he breathes me. He informed me that he wished we could talk more because anytime he can not see me he is drowning."

Dean swallowed hard as he made a disgusted face.

"That's very Nicholas Sparks."

Castiel shrugged, pocketing the paper.

"I like it. I can not wait to meet whoever it is."

Dean shut his eyes in pain for a moment and then opened them again. Wordlessly he lead Castiel to the security room and pulled up the feed around Castiel's locker. He prayed to God that the feed would make Dean unnoticeable.

God must not exist, because the picture of Dean's face was clearer than day. The feed showed Dean walking by the locker with his friend talking, six minutes later it showed him coming back to drop something into it. Time passed and it showed Dean walking and writing he paused in front of the locker, finishing off something. He folded up the paper and dropped it in. During Castiel's class period and Dean's lunch period Dean walked up to the locker, dropped in a folded paper, stared at the locker for a second. Then he smiled and sat down. It showed him writing another letter and dropping it into the locker. That was the last time Dean had gone to Castiel's locker that day for letter delivery, but it showed Dean walking by later with a friend and glancing longingly at it.

Castiel was silent the entire time.

Dean stood up, his entire body shaking. He began to step towards-

"Stop."

Dean froze, his brain screamed at him to leave but his feet refused to react.

"You wrote me the letters," Castiel murmured, sounding like the entire thing was a revelation he had never stopped to consider. "You lied to me."

Dean looked down, and then shrugged offhandedly. He opened his mouth to say something, anything.

"I need to go," he choked out. Dean broke out of his trance and fled the scene, running out of the school. Once he was safe, safe in his Impala on the other side of town he got out a piece of paper.

It's comforting to not have to lie to you about the little things any longer.

I'm Dean Winchester. When I first saw you, I fell in love with you. My heart stopped in my chest, I stopped speaking mid sentence and I stopped breathing. I was plagued with your image, your beauty. I am sure you know that, I have spoken of this before.

You changed my life.

I found out a lot about you. You are kind, and popular and smart. It is on record that your smile can cure cancer. (I am sure that one is true.) When you caught me writing you a letter at your locker I was horrified. You angry at me, made me want to cry, and I never cry. Except for in some chick flicks when the love interest does something stupid and almost ruins everything. (This truth thing is embarrassing.)

I love you so much Castiel but I did not want you to know who I was because that is not how I wanted this story to end. I did not want to deal with the rejection that would inevitably come from you. I can't deal with the rejection. You don't have to talk to me, if you want this will be the last letter you receive. I will never bother you again.

The thought that I may have disappointed or angered you breaks my heart. The idea that I may never talk to you again, get to enjoy your company again obliterates it. But Castiel, for you I would do anything.

Dean sighed tapping his pencil against his leg.

Love,

Dean Winchester

Dean shut his eyes tightly and stared up at the night sky, trying to draw Castiel in the stars.

That Monday morning, Dean went to drop the note in Castiel's locker to find Castiel standing there. They made eye contact, and Castiel's eyes found the note. He held out his hand expectantly.

Dean swallowed and handed Castiel the note.

Castiel took it. Their fingers brushed, sending a shock of electricity through Dean.

He shivered.

"Stay," Castiel murmured. His fingers hugged the edges of the paper. His face softened and hardened. His smile grew and fell. Eventually he folded the paper back up.

"I did not know you before Tuesday," Castiel said softly. Dean nodded. "But, I want to get to know you. I can not say that I love you but I do feel a strong attraction to you and I am not just saying that to be kind."

Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes wide.

"You are not as undesirable as you seem to believe," Castiel commented. Dean tried to steady his breaths but he found it hard when he was so close to Castiel. Castiel who was telling him that he had a chance.

"Really?" Dean spluttered. Castiel chuckled and smiled.

"You are a very good writer. You make a compelling argument about your love for me." Castiel's eyes twinkled. "I think I may have fallen in love with you through it."

Dean cracked a smile.

"Does that make you my Roxanne?"

Castiel looked amused at the comparison and nodded.

"And I suppose that makes you my Cryano, Dean. Let's avoid the tragic ending."

Dean's face turned red but he nodded lowering his eyes.

"Let's," he agreed. Castiel took a step towards Dean, his fingers brushing over Dean's cheek sending shocks through him.

"Let me see your eyes Dean."

Dean obliged silently, looking into Castiel's eyes. Castiel smiled and pressed a very soft kiss to Dean's lips.

"You would look cute in glasses," he commented thoughtfully.

"I used to," Dean replied. "Now I wear contacts at school and them at home. They looked stupid."

"I would like to see you in them," Castiel said with a gummy smile. Dean nodded.

"Anything," is all he said, knowing the rest of the sentence was already understood.

"Even…?" Castiel's thumb reached up to brush Dean's lips. Dean blushed and nodded.

"Yes."

Castiel smiled and pressed their lips together.

Author's Note:

This was heavily influenced by Cyrano de Bergerac, the most epic french story of love and insecurity and secrets. If you haven't read or watched Cyrano drop everything and do it right now. We had to read it this year in school and I love it so much. As a bit of a book nerd, I seriously suggest reading it. It is one of the best love stories I've ever read and I love it, and that's what inspired this fanfic. Cyrano is hilarious just trust me on this one guys.