It's a Friday afternoon and he's sat on the bleachers alone during a free period so he can study in the sunshine. After a while, he sets aside his notes, twirls the pen around between his fingers and leans back against the seats. He closes his eyes to the sound of sports on the field below, a coach yelling, the feel of sunlight on his cheeks. There's a calming influence to being outside, alone, and feeling warm air circle around him. He likes it this way, wants to keep it this way until Anna's finished all her lessons and he can drive them home.
It quickly fades, however, when he hears a creak of someone sitting beside him, and cracking open one eye slightly he sees that it's Dean. He groans audibly, sees Dean grin widely when he does, and he sits up properly, because if he's going to deal with Dean, he needs to be in full control of himself, and not some lazed out version of himself that relaxation incurs.
"What do you want, Dean?"
Dean just looks out over the field, arms stretched either side of him. The one that lays behind Cas' back is warm and solid, and Castiel has to actively keep himself from leaning back onto it, curling into Dean and giving up. Dean is an asshole. A flirtatious and lecherous dick who wants to fuck with Castiel. Hell, he'd ended their first conversation by saying he wanted into Cas' pants, so why the hell is Castiel having any trouble at all saying no? This should be easy, because he doesn't like horrible people, and Dean Winchester is a total dick.
"You study too much," Dean observes eventually, still not giving Castiel his whole attention.
Cas rolls his eyes. "Thanks for your input, Winchester. I'll be sure to keep in mind that the new kid thinks I shouldn't work hard enough to make something of myself."
Dean's lip twitches upwards again, and Castiel scowls. They sit like this for a while; both just looking over the pitch where a game of baseball is in process. There's a silence between them that feels oddly comfortable, and that shouldn't be happening because Castiel doesn't like Dean, so he shouldn't be able to just sit with him in total silence and feel – well, content.
"Wanna go for a drive?" Dean asks after a while, and before Cas can simply scoff and say of course not, Dean turns to him. His smile is in place, showing a bare hint of teeth, and this close up Castiel could almost count his freckles. He feels his breath catch when Dean purses his lips. "C'mon, Cas. Live a little. Come out with me."
Castiel opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. It takes a while of fingers opening and closing by his side, of having Dean looking directly at him, unwaveringly, before he makes the stupidest decision he's made in all of his eighteen years of existence.
"Yes," he answers, and doesn't wait to see what reaction that gains from Dean before he bends his head and packs his stuff away. He stands up when he does, Dean following, too, and they just stand there for a while, looking at one another, until Castiel gestures for Dean to move. "Go on, then. Lead the way."
Dean does. It's a short walk to the school's parking lot, but to get there they have to walk past the field. This means that the sophomores playing baseball on the field and the assortment of cheerleaders by the side stop and gawk as Dean and Cas walk by, in silence but clearly together. It sets off a lot of hurried whisperings that Castiel knows is about him, and it makes his skin heat up at the attention. Dean seems unaffected, and has Castiel mentioned that he really, really hates him?
They walk up to the big, black car that has appeared in way too many of Castiel's jerk off fantasies of late (not to mention the pretty face that drives it) and Dean rubs a hand over the hood almost reverently.
"Would you like a minute alone with the car?" Cas teases, and Dean looks up and his smile is crooked. Castiel's heart melts slightly, and he has to duck quickly into the now open car to stop the fact appearing across his face.
Dean comes in a moment later, smile still crooked and almost criminal. He puts the key in the ignition and the engine purrs to life, and when it does Dean glances to Castiel beside him. "She's beautiful, ain't she?" he says, and all Castiel can do is nod tightly in order to stop stupid words from falling out of his lips.
"Where are we going?" Castiel asks, and Dean shrugs.
"Dunno, Somewhere."
Castiel frowns. "You really thought this through."
Dean shrugs again. "Didn't think you'd actually say yes," he admits, and then he turns his head to wink at Cas. "You're gonna be glad you did, though."
Castiel opens his mouth to reply but finds nothing will come out. He closes them again, purses his lips, looks outside the window, scowling. Dean chuckles, low, reaching over to turn on the radio, filling the air with the sound of a band Castiel thinks is AC/DC, but that's more surmising from Dean's t-shirt than any kind of knowledge of the band itself. They drive in silence, only the sound of a song that seems to be about thunder – or maybe sex? Probably both – filling the gaps, and Dean goes out of the parking lot, winds down roads Castiel's not sure he even knew existed and just keeps going.
The roads get bumpier and bumpier – less gravel now, more dirt and mud – and Castiel didn't think through the possibility that, well, he doesn't actually know Dean. This isn't exactly safe, because whilst Dean is known and, yes, people did see Cas leaving with Dean, that will only mean if he gets murdered they'll be able to catch the killer. He'd really rather pre-emptively strike so as not to have to actually, you know, die.
"Are you going to kill me?" Cas blurts out. Dean's bark of laughter surprises him, and when he turns his head he sees Dean's eyes are crinkling and he's showing his teeth. Castiel can't help but let a small smile slip onto his own lips.
"Why would I kill you?" Dean asks, still smiling, and Cas just shrugs.
"I don't know. You're the one driving us into the woods. Seems like a kind of murderous thing to do, to be honest."
"I'm not going to kill you." Dean is shaking his head, eyes flickering over to Cas every once in a while, grin still firmly in place.
Cas narrows his eyes. "That's what a killer would say," he mentions, and Dean laughs again. Castiel finds that he's growing to really like that sound, wants it to happen more often, wants to run his fingertips over the creases beside his eyes, press kisses against them. He shakes his head to dispel the thoughts.
"I can't win here," Dean mutters. Castiel shrugs again, a silent yeah, well, and then Dean is pulling to a stop in the middle of nowhere.
They're surrounded by trees and grass and Dean turns off the engine, puts the keys into his pocket and then just stares out of the window. Castiel waits, expecting maybe Dean to say something, explain why he'd asked Cas to go for a drive with him and then proceeded to take them to the middle of nowhere and just sit. He's oddly offended that Dean hasn't tried anything on, to be quite honest. Did he look bad today He runs a mental check: button down and khakis, just like usual – and didn't Dean say he 'had a thing' for that? – hair messy and unkempt, but there's nothing much he can do about that. He looks the same as every other day when Dean has leered and made lewd comments, but today he's not, and Castiel feels strangely bereft.
He clears his throat. "So now that you've got me to serial killer haven," he starts, and Dean's smile tugs up again, "what are you gonna do with me?"
Dean peers at him then, turning his head slightly, smile lazy and lecherous. Castiel wants to hate it, but he just can't, so instead he feels his pulse quicken and his fingers itch to reach forward and touch. Dean just looks at him for a little while, eyes roaming the contours of Cas' face, searching for something that Castiel's not sure what it could be. Then he shrugs and leans slightly closer.
"What do you want me to do with you?" he asks, and there's an actual fucking glint in his eye.
Castiel swallows. "Nothing," he chokes out. Dean raises an eyebrow dubiously. "I don't want – want anything. You're an asshole. I don't like you."
Dean breathes a small laugh and leans closer still, lips barely a murmur away from Cas' and breath warm against Cas' skin. "Oh yeah?" he asks challengingly. Castiel can't answer. "Well, if you don't like me so much, why are you here?"
Why is he here?
"I don't know," he answers honestly.
Dean licks his lips. "Well, I've got an idea." He shifts closer, moves his lips to right beside Cas' ear, brushing against the shell and making Cas' eyes fall shut and his fingers fist in his pants. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks next. "I think you want me to fuck you."
A whimper accidentally escapes its way past Cas' lips. Dean pulls back and smirks – fucking asshole, has Castiel mentioned that? – and he raises an eyebrow again, waiting for an answer.
"You're an asshole," is the only thing Castiel can think to reply.
Dean grins sloppily. "I am," he agrees amiably. "But I'm also a fantastic lay, babe."
Castiel hates him. Totally and entirely hates him. Doesn't want to hear that fucking gruff voice of his muttering obscenities, doesn't want to see the sparkle in those absurdly green eyes, the smirk on those lips that Castiel can't help but imagine wrapped around his cock. Castiel hates Dean Winchester for fucking with him, making him want things he's never really wanted before, making him want to lose control and be stupid just for a little while.
But, Castiel also knows that there's no point denying it any longer: he wants Dean Winchester to fuck him. Bad.
The only solution is to press forward and kiss that smirk off of Dean's face.
So he does, swallowing that fucking smile with his teeth and tongue, letting Dean bite at his bottom lip and fuck into Cas' mouth with his tongue. Cas' hands are on Dean's jaw, and he's not really sure what he's doing here because he's never really done this before. Sure, he's had his first kiss, and his second and third and so on, but those were all with shy teenage boys, the ones who blushed when they held hands and never let their palms leave Cas' waist.
Dean is decidedly not a shy teenage boy, and Castiel is overwhelmed by what Dean can do. Dean's hands are trailing up and down Cas' side, untucking and slipping under his shirt, resting, warm and oh so fucking welcome on Cas' skin. His fingernails dig in slightly when he clutches at Cas' hips, raking blunt marks that make Cas break away from Dean with a groan. He rests his head on Dean's shoulder, pants loud into the silent air of the car and hears Dean doing the same.
"Dean," Cas breathes, screwing his eyes shut. "Why are you doing this?"
He asks because he has to, because he has no freaking idea why Dean has singled him out. There are plenty of gorgeous people at their high school; ones who don't wear khakis and always do their homework on time. Ones that would be a much easier lay, not so held back by eighteen years of abstinence because he didn't want to get sidetracked from his work, from his future. There are people who would gladly sleep with Dean – probably wouldn't call him an asshole beforehand and who would definitely not be as inexperienced in this as Cas is – and Castiel has no idea why Dean didn't just choose one of them.
Dean puts one hand to Cas' chin, cradles it between thumb and index finger, brings it up so that Cas is looking straight at him. His eyes are strangely soft, not the usual smirk and arrogance, and Castiel wonders if many people have seen this side of Dean before. Probably not, he decides, and tries to ignore the way that thought settles into his skin and makes him want to beam with happiness.
"Get in the backseat," Dean murmurs, though, eyes trained on Cas' mouth, and if Cas expected any nice words, any kind of, fuck, romance, he was clearly mistaken.
He scrambles into the backseat anyway.
His nails scratch at the upholstery in his haste and at the sound of Dean chuckling behind him, his face starts burning red. He didn't mean to seem so, well, eager, but with Dean's hand on his thigh and the thought of oh fuck this is the backseat of a car running through his head, he can't help the way his heart beats in his ears and his dick twitches in anticipation.
He lays himself down on the backseat, leaves his legs hanging open, a clear invitation. Dean takes it, sliding into place in the slot between, pushing their hips together, the sound of material scratching together when he rolls his hips down, slowly.
Cas moans. "You like that, baby?" Dean asks, and it should be a turn-off, because that sounds like shit from a fucking porno, but instead Cas just screws his eyes shut and nods, lets his hands grip onto Dean's waist and needs.
Dean chuckles again and this time it's closer, the gruff laughter vibrating against his skin, into it. Cas' eyes are still closed when Dean kisses him again, wasting no time before he slips in his tongue, curling it around Cas' and running it over Cas' teeth. He kisses with definitive experience, hips rutting expertly and fingertips gripping bruises into Cas' pale skin. A part of Cas knows that part, at least, he should object to, because he's on the swim team and that is one thing people will definitely notice next time he goes to practise. He can't find it in himself to say stop, though.
"Dean," he breathes, the words getting lost into the indent of Dean's lips. He punctuates the word with the roll of his hips upwards, by letting his head fall backwards against the car door with a thunk, silently asking Dean to bite and lick at his neck. Dean groans, low, and gets to it. His lips are warm and wet, the feel of the flat of his tongue against Cas' skin making his cock ache and his pulse beat at double time. "Dean – Dean, please, please touch me."
The air is filled with the sound of ragged breathing, the frenetic rise and fall of Cas' chest a clear show that Cas fucking needs. Dean pulls back slightly, looks Cas dead in the eye for a second, or two, or longer, who fucking knows or cares, and his hands trail from Cas' hips to the button of his jeans.
"Where do you want me to touch you?"And fuck, it's almost a fucking growl. Cas whimpers and pushes his hips upwards in search of friction, but Dean just takes his hand away and tuts. "No, baby, we're gonna do this my way. And my way is you staying still until I tell you that you can move, not coming until I say it's ok. Got that?"
All Cas can do is nod mutely and frantically. Dean smiles when he does, filthy and pleased against Cas' mouth before they're kissing again and Dean's hand is popping the button of Cas' pants, pulling the zipper down agonisingly slowly. Cas lets it happen, doesn't move an inch even when Dean hooks a thumb either side of Cas' khakis and takes them down, pulling them off along with his shoes, and it's only when Dean follows the path, rucks up Cas' shirt without even undoing the fucking buttons that Cas' hips buck up.
"Ah," Dean says, a sharp little noise as he stops his movement and looks up at Cas. "What did I just say, Cas?"
There's a pause like Dean expects an answer. Cas swallows heavily. "You told me not to move," he repeats, and sees Dean smirk lazily.
"Exactly," Dean confirms, and presses his mouth against the skin of Cas' abdomen. "So don't fucking move, ok babe?"
Cas' breath is caught in his throat and his hands by his side, unsure whether he's allowed to touch or rut, but knowing that he likes being talked to this way, being told what do and being entirely submissive. He can't say it's something he's ever expected but now that's it's here, happening, Cas fucking loves the way Dean's forearm is across his hips, holding him down, how Dean is telling him exactly what to do, how to do it.
Dean smirks, smug, and presses a soft kiss to the jut of Cas' hipbone. "Good boy," he murmurs, and continues to pull down Cas' khakis. He slips them over Cas' knees, pausing at the feet to let them bunch there, restraining Cas' movements even further and that thought goes straight to his dick.
He knows that he's leaking through his boxers, knows it would only take a glance down and he'd see the wet patch against the white cotton of his tight briefs. The thought makes him flush slightly but then Dean's nose is against his crotch, through the material and his mouth breathing so fucking hot against Cas' erection. It's a struggle to keep his hips still, but he manages it. He doesn't manage to keep the strangled whimper in his throat, though.
"Dean, please," he chokes out, not even entirely sure what he's asking for, but knowing that he needs something.
Hands curl around Cas' thighs, fingers digging into skin and palms warm. He looks up at Cas from beneath his lashes, eyes dark and mouth parted on a groan. He tugs at Cas' legs, makes Cas shift so his legs fall open wider, so his hands clutch at the upholstery and his dick is so fucking close to Dean's mouth.
"Take off your shirt," Dean commands, voice steady and gaze level. "Take off your shirt and keep your hips still, babe. Not gonna touch you properly until you're begging for it like the little slut that you are."
There's no hesitation before Cas hands are on his shirt, ripping open the buttons he can't unfasten quickly enough. He pulls it roughly open, feels a low breath of laughter against his fucking cock and sits up on his elbows to pull it over his shoulders and then shove it unceremoniously onto the car's floor.
"Ok?" he asks, when he's done, on his elbows and drinking in the sight of Dean in between his legs, Dean's mouth against the inside of his thigh, Dean's hands clutching onto his skin. He feels as though he's going to fucking die if Dean doesn't touch him soon, and he's so fucking eager to do whatever the hell Dean wants, ready to be Dean's anything to make Dean happy.
Dean sucks a mark onto Cas' thigh before answering, using teeth and tongue and lips and leaving Cas incoherent and harder than he's ever been before in his life.
"Perfect," he murmurs when he pulls off, and he's up by Cas' mouth then, kissing him open and filthy and gorgeous. "You're fucking perfect."
Cas whines in the back of his throat and arches up, and this time Dean lets him. Dean puts a hand between them, still biting at Cas' lips, and cups Cas through his underwear. And Dean is – Dean is still fucking fully clothed, for fuck's sake, still wearing his leather jacket and jeans and there's not enough skin for Cas to lay his hands on. He wants to rectify that as soon as possible.
"Can you," he starts, breaking away from Dean's mouth and panting heavily. "Can you take off your clothes, please?"
Dean peers down at him for a while, contemplative, the hints of a smirk in the corners of his lips, his eyes heavy and lidded, bright and fucking scorching as they roam over Cas' body. Cas squirms under the attention, under the way Dean's eyes rake over his body, lingering on his nipples while he licks his lips. Dean chuckles under his breath and raises one eyebrow, and then he fucking backs off and sits himself on the other side of the backseat, legs open as he keeps looking at Castiel.
Cas sits up. "What – what – why – "
"You do it," Dean commands, cutting off Cas' increasingly incoherent mumblings. Cas sits up on his elbows. "If you want to see me so bad, you can take my clothes off." Cas' breath comes out of him in a broken exhale, and Dean's smirk returns with a vengeance. "And then you're gonna suck my cock with that pretty mouth of yours until I tell you that you can stop, got that?"
Cas just nods and scrambles towards him, eliciting a loud laugh from Dean. His hands go to Dean's jacket, shoving it hastily off his shoulder and to the car floor, Dean complying even as he eyes Cas' body all over like he's fucking inspecting it. Next is Dean's t-shirt, and Cas slips his fingertips under the hem first, skirting over warm skin and hard muscles, making his dick twitch obscenely in his thin boxers. Dean notices and licks his lips, eyes trained on the bulge and he's still wearing too many clothes, so Castiel takes the t-shirt off, too, as fast as he can.
Dean's torso is fucking gorgeous. All tanned skin and hard muscles, abs that Cas just wants to bite and suck at, leave marks on and memorise the feel of with the flat of his tongue. He's staring, he knows that, and it takes Dean's voice to bring him back.
"Hey," Dean barks, and Cas looks up at him. "When I tell you to suck my cock, I mean now, babe."
Cas blinks, swallows, and shuffles back on his knees, the leather sticky against his skin, his hands running up and down the denim over Dean's legs. He shifts until he's almost on his front, mouth hovering over the crotch of Dean's jeans, breath hot against the scratchy material and just itching to touch. He looks up once, sees Dean staring down at him with bright eyes, so dilated that the green is almost swallowed entirely by darkness, and darts his tongue out to wet is lips.
Slowly, tentatively, he moves one hand to Dean's zipper, making fast work of it despite his shaking hands, and moves to hook a thumb either side of the pants. He looks up at Dean again, sees Dean nod slightly and then raise his hips accommodatingly, and he slides the material down, past Dean's thighs, his knees, letting them catch at his ankles and stay there.
His mouth is right by Dean's ankle so he presses a light kiss to the inside of it, hears Dean's sharp intake of breath and knows he's onto something here. He begins to his way up, switching between legs, pressing his lips lightly to the inside of Dean's ankle, his calf, his knee, all the way up until he's in between Dean's thighs, Dean's cock hard and twitching in his boxers, Dean's hands fisted in his hair almost painfully tight. He presses his lips to the base through the cotton, hands in his hair clutching even tighter, and Cas smiles slightly.
"Like this?" he asks, pressing his nose and lips against the bulge, light and teasing while Dean bucks.
"Yeah, baby, just like that," Dean groans, voice strangled. "You're so fucking good at this, darlin', feel so fucking good. Can't wait for you to put my dick in your mouth, suck my fucking brains out with those perfect, pink lips."
Castiel moans loudly in the car's silence, the noise bouncing off the car's frame and back to him and it's like he can't fucking take it anymore so he just yanks Dean's boxers down to his ankles.
When he comes back up he sees Dean's cock properly: long and hard against his stomach, pre-come pearling at its tip, and it's enough to make his mouth fucking water. He slowly wraps one hand around its base, hears the thud of Dean's head falling backwards against the door, and he takes that as all the acquiescence he needs before his mouth is descending, wrapping around just the head first, tongue on the underside.
At first he is aware of a taste of salt. Only slightly, not necessarily badly, but he's never done this before and he just didn't quite know what to expect. He presses the flat of his tongue to the slit experimentally, hears Dean moan really fucking loudly from deep in his chest, and he takes it as a success. He starts to move down slowly, swallowing inch by inch until he doesn't think he can take anymore, and what's not in his mouth he wraps his palms around, squeezing gently and starting to suck, hard.
"Christ, Cas," Dean pants, hands so tight in Cas' hair and hips bucking up just a little, not too much for Cas to deal with. Cas absently wonders if Dean is restraining himself for Cas' sake, but the thought is quickly overwrought by the taste of Dean in his mouth, salty and wet and warm, a heavy, welcome weight against his tongue. "Yeah, baby, come on, move your head up and down. Yeah, yeah, just like that, angel, so fucking perfect."
He bobs his head up and down, humming and making Dean writhe, his own dick painfully hard in his shorts. He opens his eyes slightly, looks up at Dean from beneath his lashes and finds Dean staring down at him, eyes dark and lidded, looking like he wants to fucking devour Castiel, and Cas thinks he wouldn't even mind if he did.
Cas keeps their gazes locked, starts bobbing up and down faster and faster, sucking harder and harder until Dean is bucking up mercilessly, pushing it so far in that Castiel almost chokes. He keeps going though, eyes watering and jaw aching, but wanting this too much to even consider stopping. Dean's cock is in his mouth and he's hungry for it, wants more and more, all that Dean can give him, wants from Dean what he's never wanted before from anybody else.
Dean licks his lips, fingertips wandering to Cas' jaw, his cheek, brushing lightly against his skin, almost reverent. "So fucking close, Cas," he murmurs, voice gruff and Cas groans. "You're so good at this, babe, I'm gonna come in your pretty little mouth and you're gonna swallow it all up, aren't you? Taste every last drop." Cas nods eagerly, head bobbing and Dean's eyes searing. "Touch yourself," Dean demands. "I want you to come with my dick in your mouth, yeah?"
All Cas can do is let his eyes roll back in his head, use one hand to quickly push his boxers down his thighs and then wrap a hand around himself. He strokes to the same rhythm as his head bobs, brushing a thumb over the head and spreading pre-come to use as lube. It's hot and frantic, his mouth swallowing Dean and his hand moving so fucking fast it must be a flesh coloured blur. He keeps going and going, eyes watering and heart hammering in his chest while Dean murmurs above him, words like fuck and baby and so perfect.
It's when he opens his eyes and looks up, sees Dean staring down with an intensity that burns straight through his skin and he just says, "Come," that Cas loses it.
He spills over his hand, seeing stars behind his eyes so fucking bright, and then Dean is coming in his mouth. Cas swallows as much as he can, greedy for the taste of bitter salt that runs down his throat, lapping at the head of Dean's cock and milking him through it, fucking loving it all the while.
It takes some time for it to be over, for Cas to come down from his almighty high into a lingering buzz that thrums in his veins, and when they're both done he pulls off, an obscene pop noise that settles low in his stomach. He can feel come on his chin so he brings up a hand to wipe it, but Dean catches it in his own before he can.
"Let me," he says, smirking, and then surges forward and fucking licks it off, tongue swiping the remnants away and Cas' dick twitches so hard, too sensitive, and it fucking hurts, but it's so good anyway. Dean pulls back. "All done."
Cas lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Fuck," he breathes, and Dean winks.
"Maybe next time," he promises, and Cas would roll his eyes if he had the power to control his movements.
Dean leans down to get his clothes and Cas shrugs his boxers and pants back on. He hands Cas' button down to him with a smirk and Cas dresses hurriedly, scrambling to save himself from nakedness because he just had his first sexual encounter in fucking public with some asshole he barely even fucking knows and right now he really hates himself.
Once they're both dressed, Cas steps out of the car, feels cool air against him and breathes in and out slowly, seeing if the outside can lessen his shame. Surprisingly, it doesn't. He's still in the process of trying, at least, when a arms wrap around his waist.
"Alright, babe?" Dean murmurs into his ear. Cas whips around angrily, shoving Dean's hands off him and glaring.
"I can't believe I just fucking did that," he mutters angrily, more to himself than anything else. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Dean frowns. "Calm down, babe, it's just sex."
"Don't fucking call me babe!" Cas yells, and Dean recoils slightly. "It's not just sex! It's – that was – that was the first fucking time ever, and now I'll always have to remember it being with some fucking asshole who probably won't even remember my name tomorrow! I'm so fucking stupid! How could I just let myself do something like that?"
Dean takes a hesitant step forward, but Cas doesn't notice because he's staring firmly at the ground, hard enough like maybe he can burn a time portal into it with his glare, go back in time to the bleachers and have a hint of common sense and just fucking walk away. Dean reaches out a hand to wrap around Cas' waist again, and Cas' head snaps up.
"Don't touch me," he warns, and Dean backs off immediately, palms held up in placation. "Don't ever touch me again. Just – just take me back to school and never touch me again, ok?"
Dean just nods, face expressionless. "Ok," he says simply, and walks off to climb into the car.
Cas takes a second, breathes in and out a few times, and then climbs into the passenger seat. When Dean turns on the ignition the radio blares into life again, but Castiel blurs it out in favour of sitting in his own thoughts. They drive back in silence, winding road after winding road until the school comes into view. When Dean pulls into the parking lot Cas is out of the car in an instant, and it's lucky he is because it's only a few shorts seconds for him to stalk back to his own car before the bell rings and students begin to mill out.
He leans against the side of his car, still breathless and flushing and refusing to look over to see if Dean's car is still there. Eventually, Anna comes out, bright and perky and smiling, walking over to Cas with a wave.
"Hey," she greets, and Castiel offers her a weak smile. She frowns. "You ok, Cas?"
He swallows, accidentally glances to the side and sees Dean leaning against his car, talking to some freshman who Cas has done enough research to know is his little brother, Sam, and he just shakes his head faintly.
"I'll tell you later, yeah?" he pleads. Anna's still frowning but she nods understandingly, so Cas presses a grateful kiss to her cheek. "Thank you. C'mon, let's go home."
He climbs into the car, Anna in the passenger seat, and as he's pulling out of the parking lot he sees Dean staring into the driver's seat, eyes hard and confused and Castiel sinks lower into the seat. He blushes bright red, hates himself for it, and if Anna notices anything she doesn't say, and that's why Cas loves her.