Dean was not prepared for the knots about to form in his gut when he pushed the door open of the small cafe downtown Castiel loved. Right away his eyes tracked the mass of untidy hair in their corner table, Castiel's back to the door like usual, but his boyfriend was not alone. Sitting across from Castiel was a boy Dean had only seen wandering around their school, with flopped over brown hair, a rueful smile on his angular face. Dean took in the bright red suspenders over a wrinkled button-down shirt and a goddamned bowtie around this kid's neck. His sleeves were pushed up and, Dean was pissed now, had the nerve to hold Castiel's hand in his on top of the table.

He stalked his way past the tables full of college students furiously typing away on their computers, couples sharing bashful smiles from across tables, business men and women holding meetings, and forced a smile onto the scowl etched on his features. Placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder, he pressed a quick kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head. "Hey, babe," he smiled, pulling the chair from the table next to them and sitting next to Castiel.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said quietly, jerking his hand away from the strange boy's and folding it idly in his lap. He felt the wave of shame slowly heating up his cheeks and neck while fixing his gaze on the edge of the table.

"Hello!" Both boys glanced up, Castiel's blue eyes wide while Dean's green eyes were narrowed. The other boy leaned forward on his elbows, emerald eyes glinting as he smiled at Dean. "I'm John Smith, but all of my friends call me the Doctor. Castiel and I share advanced art history at school, and I ran into him here while he was waiting for you."

"Uh-huh," Dean grunted, struggling to keep a lid on the anger growing inside of him. He didn't care who the hell this boy was, he didn't get to be all lovey-dovey with his Cas. Neither boy noticed when John left, an unmistakeable sadness in his gaze.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Castiel mumbled, running a hand in circles on the small of Dean's back. "I didn't know when you would be here, and John was just keeping me company."

He stood up suddenly, sliding in across the table from Dean. Reaching into the pocket of his soft khackis, Castiel pulled out the now-worn paper and slid it across the table. "I don't know what to do, Dean."

That prompted Dean to look up, meeting Castiel's scared eyes with ones of his own. Hesitant, he picked up the paper and unfolded it. He read it once, twice, three times. Then again. It felt like someone punched all of the air out of him at once. He knew that things had changed in a small manner between him and Castiel over break even if he never knew what it was that had changedl, but this? It hadn't even entered into his worst-case scenario list.

"I have to go," Dean said, pushed the chair back noisily. He didn't dare meet Castiel's eyes, instead stumbling backwards and all but running out of the cafe. He didn't stop to see if he had been followed as he slammed the door of the Impala shut and felt her roar to life. It seemed like seconds later he was pulling into his driveway, his whole body trembling as he managed to make it to his bed before collapsing. He didn't hear Sam knock on his open door, or when he came in and bounced onto Dean's bed next to him.

"Dean?" Sam asked softly, a breath of relief escaping when his brother grunted in reply. Good, Sam thought, he isn't dead. "What's wrong?"

"Cas-" he stopped, taking a shaky breath and flipping over on his back. He decided to start over so this sounded somewhat coherent. "Remember over winter break when Cas had that weirdo museum trip with his art history class? The one where they took like a week and flew to New York City?" Dean took Sam's silence as a yes and plugged forward. "So apparently he and this kid John-"

"John Smith?" Sam exclaimed, making Dean give him a look.

"You know the bastard?"

"Uh, yeah," he answered haltingly. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to say anything. They were interrupted by the doorbell ringing and Sam bouncing off, an explanation of bringing Rory over for a "cultural education" or something trailing in the air behind him. Dean groaned, but pushed himself off of the bed. The least he could do was be hospitable to the boy, and Dean smiled slightly. Without a word he made his way downstairs and ignored Sam's adamant protests as he settled in on the couch between his brother and the gangly form of Rory, with his wide eyes but lips curled up in a smile, stealing the popcorn bowl for himself.

"So, what're we watching?"

Castiel wasn't quite sure what to call their relationship anymore, if it was even that. Dean still gave him rides to and from school when he could or when the weather was unforgiving for a bicycle. They walked to classes together, stayed lab and project partners, ate lunch with Amy every day. Dean still held his hand or slung an arm around his shoulders, pressed kisses to his cheeks, forehead, knuckles; anywhere but his lips, really. Castiel continued to tutor Dean on physics and attempted to get him to see the value of classic literature. Castiel cooked lunches for the two of them, maintained his perfect attendence record, managed to snag a win at a regional debate tournament. But the past month had been driving him insane.

He wasn't quite sure what to do, and that had been the whole point of showing Dean the note in the first place. Nothing made sense anymore, though.

"If you keep thinking this loud I won't be able to concentrate on how I'm not doing homework," Gabriel complained, pausing his video game. The Novak brothers were in the living room, Castiel trying to read his book for the English test he had the next day, while his older brother focused his efforts on smashing a virtual car into as many obstacles and people as humanly possible.

"I didn't know it would hurt this much," he said softly, closing his book and sliding it onto the table.

"Did you and Dean..." his brother trailed off as he pulled a chocolate bar from the pocket of his hoodie and offered it to Castiel.

"I don't think so," Castiel pushed the heel of his palm over his eyes, thinking over the month. "I think we should, though. It's the logical thing to do after something of this nature occurs, is it not?"

Gabriel tilted his head slightly, devouring the chocolate as he thought. "Is that what you want, Cas? I mean, I know you and this John kid really hit it off... And Dean's been an asshole to you for months before the museum trip."

"I want to be happy, Gabriel," he finally answered after giving his brother's words a good amount of thought. "I don't know that I can have that with Dean. But if I do... this, then you need to take your own advice."

"Yeah, but your crush doesn't run the little risk of being jail bait!" protested Gabriel, a smile breaking out over his features. "I'll make you a deal, then, Cas. If you follow your heart and get with John then I will attempt to make merry with the moose."

"Deal," Castiel smiled, feeling much more at ease with the world. He didn't want to hurt Dean, but this facade they were playing was eating him alive. And John made him feel important for the first time in a long time. In too long, he decided.