~ Chapter Two ~

Anna's question was tailing him insistently.

Castiel had gotten through the rest of the week with the question on constant replay, followed by countless answers and justifications that didn't do anything for him. He still managed to stick to his routine though, believing that if he just tried to ignore what had disturbed his thoughts and peace of mind so greatly would stop doing just that. And when that happened, he assumed, he would be able to reconnect with his sanity… or whatever shreds of it he could find in the aftermath.

So when he awoke on Friday morning from a horribly sweet dream that featured the most haunting real set of elusive green eyes, Castiel panicked.

He didn't want to dream about Dean, he registered while in the shower, but it was the second time it had happened in two nights, and he wasn't exactly tired or bothered by it, to his surprise. It was just disconcerting how easily and quickly that this person had been able to infiltrate his every thought without even trying. But maybe that was just Dean's attitude – much like his highly intangible attitude towards school and almost anyone involved in it, he was a mystery himself.

A mystery, Castiel concluded with an air of annoyance, that he wanted to figure out.

/

The bell had already rung, shrill and loud when Dean sauntered into history class, unnoticed by the teacher, who was hunched over his laptop and the defective overhead projector that someone may or may not have put duct tape over the lens of, just to screw with the old guy. Not that he knew anything about that, but he'd heard a few kids he was sitting with at lunch talking about it, like they thought they were badass or something.

Dean slipped into a seat in the back corner of the classroom and plunked his textbook down on the desk as he slouched down into a comfortable position. The old guy managed to get the heading "World War One" across the screen and a thick black bar across the bottom where the duct tape was still stuck in place.

"This happens sometimes." A voice interrupted his bemused train of thought.

It was the kid with the locker next to his. The one with the blue eyes and carefully rumpled dark hair.

"Yeah?" Dean quirked back, letting the corner of his mouth twitch up in a half-smile at him.

The kid nodded around the same moment Dean noticed how he was wearing a blue sweater that matched the color of his eyes. Cute, he thought to himself for a fleeting second before mentally kicking himself in the ass. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to do that here, not again. People thinking he was a fag at the last school he was at was one of the reasons he'd been so eager to leave; even if he did know and totally understand that it was fine to be bi. Sam had given him that spiel one too many times already.

"Mr. Conway has been here for longer than the principal. He probably got his teaching job during World War One."

Dean raised an eyebrow at Blue-Eyes and grinned, chuckling a little and suddenly wishing he could remember the kid's name.

"I'd believe it."

They fell into comfortable silence once ol' Conway had yanked the duct tape off the projector's lens and started up the presentation, which was incidentally an introduction to the partner project they were going to do with the person seated beside them that required extensive research and a big, colorful poster. Great.

It wasn't the fact that it was a partner project, that was going to be a giant pain in the ass, Dean supposed, it was just that it was a partner thing. A partner thing where he would probably have to try and not seem like a dumbass around his partner, who looked like a really studious kind of guy. What with his tidy and polite-but-not-too-polite way he held himself with, perfectly organized workspace and clothes – Dean was teetering between just going forth with his original judgment that Blue-Eyes was your average nerd and the admittedly kinder perspective that maybe he wouldn't be so bad.

"Dean?" Blue-Eyes again.

"What?"

"Your number, please." Well that was a little forward; he raised a curious eyebrow at Blue-Eyes.

The kid rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a bit too, like he noticed how awkwardly funny his accidental flirt had been. "For the project, I mean. So we can contact each other." He placed a half-sheet of binder paper on Dean's desk.

"Oh. Yeah, of course."

He wrote out his name and cell phone number as neatly as his hand would allow before trading slips of paper with… Castiel. Well no wonder he couldn't remember the name – he could barely spell it without sounding it out. He folded it in half and jammed it in his pocket, making a mental note to remember to bring his phone with him to school tomorrow.

/

It was the second time in three weeks that he'd gone to church alone.

This happened pretty frequently, seeing as Castiel's parents worked so much and awak from home more often than not. He hardly knew, or wanted to know anymore, what investments they were attending to when they were away from home. His mother had given up on trying to inform and explain it to him years ago. That was all well and fine with him, but he did have to wonder what it would be like to have them around all the time again.

When he was a child, they were both at home far more often. His father though, would have to go on business trips habitually while his mother would stay home and take care of a young Castiel. She was a kind, soft-spoken woman to say the least, but that might've been due to the amount of people who wanted to speak with and be around his father as much as possible. All the thralls of people tirelessly working to achieve his gratitude and affection overshadowed his mother, which he now realized was somewhat depressing, seeing as she had a lovable personality. As a child, he'd understood completely why there were so many company executives and workers that wanted to be in his presence. But the older he became, the less powerful, all-knowing and wonderful father appeared to be. Nonetheless, he was family, and Castiel would never admit all this to another living soul.

Castiel's mother had called earlier that morning, right around when his alarm clock was going off at 6:30, making sure that he was attending church, even though she and his father would not be joining him. Again.

Driving home, Castiel thought of how he had called Dean the evening prior, asking if he would be willing to get started on their project. Dean had agreed much quicker and readier than expected, but was just as quick and ready to inform him that the public library would be closed on a Sunday.

This entire string of events over the phone had occurred accordingly to Anna's plan. Anna had chosen not to believe Castiel when he told her that he did not possess romantic feelings for Dean and thus suggested, as casually as one could, that he invite Dean to the library. She had, of course, understood that the library was closed on Sundays and because of this, thought it absolutely brilliant of herself that Castiel should have to invite Dean over to his house to work on their project. She wholeheartedly convinced herself that the two boys being together alone would be good for the make-believe crushes they had on each other. She was ridiculous sometimes, but in a way that he found platonically endearing.

Dean had unknowingly skipped several steps in the process of already knowing about the public hours of the library, leading Castiel to invite him to come over sometime on Sunday afternoon – not that Castiel was actually considering and following through with that half of Anna's plan. He wasn't.

Castiel was thinking and over-thinking the inane plan of Anna's wondering where she got off giving him relationship advice when she couldn't – or wouldn't, it was never very clear – keep a steady relationship for more than a few weeks. She claimed that she liked bouncing around between people like that because it was much more exciting than Castiel could ever possibly imagine. That was especially confusing to him – a longer-lasting relationship could be interesting too, he was sure of it, though he had no evidence of his own to battle against hers. He'd only ever gone on strings of dates that ended with mutual agreements to end the sequence right then and there. Furthermore, he wanted to believe that long-term relationships could be even more interesting than concise flings, since you could truly get to know someone and enjoy their company instead of forming a very breakable bond centered around lust and – "Shit!"

As he had grazed the corner nearest his house, readying himself and the car to turn into the driveway, he almost too late discovered that someone else had already parked there – he slammed down on the breaks.

/

Dean had just gotten out of the Impala at the address Castiel gave him yesterday over the phone. It was two-story house, with a manicured green lawn, swept porch and white painted walls that looked like a different color every time Dean blinked his eyes.

"Weird." He mumbled to himself as he strode over to the front door.

The door too, had the same pristine look and feel to it, with a gold knocker – he didn't even realize houses had those anymore. Motel rooms sure as hell didn't.

But after a few moments of unanswered silence by the pretty front door, Dean was beginning to wonder if Castiel had actually found a way to bail out on a study date thing at his own house. That would be taking rude to a whole new level, an impressive one, if that was actually the case, but still.

All thoughts of his project partner ditching evaporated into thin air at the screeching sound of tires out on the street – Dean spun around and practically hurled himself off the porch.

Stopped only centimeters away from Baby, was a silver-blue car, some Volvo thing that he already hated with a burning passion because of how ugly it looked compared to the beauty that was his car, but now that it had almost hit her? Not okay. Definitely not okay.

"What the hell?" Dean was barking as he jogged up to the almost-wreck, realizing only too late that it was Castiel in the car, meaning that this was his house and – oops.