For the rest of the week, Castiel barely saw Dean. Although he wasn't quite sure if he was the one avoiding, or the one being avoided. Either way, he was thankful. Castiel knew that he wouldn't be able to keep what Sam had told him a secret for much longer, but he also was not looking forward to talking to Dean about it. That was why, from the moment he showed up to work that Saturday, Castiel did everything in his power not to be around Dean for extended periods of time. And for the most part, his plan was working out just fine.

That was until about 3 o'clock when his best friend, of all people, foiled him.

"Look at my little worker bee," Pamela cooed as she entered the front office of the shop.

"Please stop," Castiel groaned, looking up from his paper work.

"Don't make me tell the old man you're sassing me," she teased, handing Castiel the keys to her car.

"Please. Even Bobby knows that in a battle of sass, if I went up against you, I'd be a goner," Castiel joked.

"So true," Pamela agreed, smiling mischievous at him.

"Just an oil change, right?" Castiel asked, making his way around the desk so that he could give Pamela's keys to the mechanic on duty. Which, unfortunately for him, was Dean.

"Yes sir. And while you're out there say hi to your man for me," Pamela taunted.

"Suck it, hag," Castiel shot back before he entered the garage, closing the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel mentally prepared himself for the task that awaited him. Speaking to Dean was normally like pulling teeth, but somehow with the weight of Sam's confession on his shoulders, it seemed so much more difficult now. Maybe it was because Castiel couldn't fathom one of his parents hitting him. Even knowing that his father was exceedingly against his sexual orientation, Castiel knew that he would never lay a hand on him. And if he ever did, Castiel would go ballistic. He could put up with a lot of things, but physical violence from a parent was not one of them. That was why Castiel was having such a hard time facing Dean. And what made matters even worse was Dean's lack of concern toward the whole thing, walking around like he didn't have a care in the world, even though he was wearing the evidence of John's assault on his cheek. It made no sense to Castiel, and that was why looking Dean in the face and talking to him like nothing was wrong was taking such a toll on him.

Trying his best to push his personal feelings aside, Castiel scanned the room, quickly spotting Dean, who was filling out a form on a car he had just finished with.

"Hey, Dean?" Castiel called, his tone reflecting how nervous he felt. "Pamela needs her oil changed," he added, causing Dean to look up from his task.

"Pamela? Is she that hot chick who's into the Ramones?" Dean asked, setting the form down on his work desk before walking over to stand in front of Castiel.

"She's the human being who is my best friend. And trust me when I tell you I would have no qualms about shedding blood for her. So watch yourself. Also, I don't think like is the word I would use to describe her interest in the Ramones. I think deeply obsessed is a better fit," Castiel explained, tossing Pamela's car keys to him.

"Duly noted," Dean replied, catching the keys effortlessly, a playful smile on his face.

How such a simple gesture could distract Castiel he would never understand, but he soon found himself staring aimlessly at the boy in front of him.

"Did you need something else, sweetheart?" Dean asked, chuckling as Castiel realized what he was doing and averted his eyes in alarm.

The action was so conspicuous that Castiel could have died from embarrassment on the spot. Without replying, Castiel returned to the front office, tremendously annoyed with himself that he could get so flustered just by Dean smiling at him. What the hell was wrong with him?

"How are things with the boy toy?" Pamela asked, noticing the blush on Castiel's cheeks as he shut the door behind him.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," Castiel said, trying to recover from his epic fail as he returned to the front desk.

"Oh come on, Castiel. Would you really deny your best friend the reason why you just shot in here like a bullet? You're the color of a fucking Twizzler for crying out loud," Pamela mused, folding her arms over her chest.

"Have a seat my nosey but beautiful best friend. It will be about fifteen minutes," Castiel replied, earning a groan from Pamela who, much to his surprise, accepted defeat quite easily, sitting down in one of the three chairs that were positioned against the far wall of the office.

Picking up a magazine, Pamela let Castiel continue his work, waiting patiently for Dean to be done with her car.

About ten minutes later, although he dreaded it, Castiel was about to go check on Dean's progress when a small blonde girl entered the shop.

"Hello, Crystal," Castiel said, putting on a fake smile.

Crystal Summers was one of Castiel's classmates, the captain of the cheerleading squad and one of the meanest people he had ever come in contact with.

"Is my car ready?" Crystal asked, not bothering to return Castiel's greeting.

"Rude bitch." Pamela muttered under her breath and Castiel had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

Shooting Pamela a "go to hell" look, Crystal tapped her foot on the floor impatiently.

"Yes, it is," Castiel informed her happily, trying to avoid a nuclear meltdown, "I just need you to sign this form and you'll be ready to go."

Sighing loudly, Crystal signed the form quickly before jerking her keys out of Castiel's hand.

"Your car is right this way," Castiel said, walking her through the door which connected the front office to the garage.

Crystal, pushing past Castiel as soon as she spotted her car, was about to open the driver's side door when she noticed Dean sliding out from under Pamela's Malibu.

"Dean!" Crystal squealed, walking over to kiss him on the cheek when he stood up.

"Hey there, darlin'." Dean said, giving her his best smile.

Giggling, Crystal smiled back, getting uncomfortably close to him as though she were going to shove her tongue down his throat with no regard for Castiel's presence.

"Is Pamela's car ready?" Castiel asked testily, pulling Dean's attention away from Crystal.

"Yeah, tell her the keys are in the ignition. She's all set." Dean answered as Crystal stood in front of him, staring holes into Castiel.

Nodding, Castiel nearly ran back to the front office, desperate to get away from Crystal and her icy cold stare.

"Ugh!" Castiel exclaimed once there was a closed door and a wall of concrete between him and the garage.

"Let me guess? Crystal was scamming on your man?" Pamela asked, getting up from her seat.

"If we don't change the subject I'm gonna puke," Castiel teased. "Oh, and your keys are in the lion's den," he added, making a sour face.

"I'm afraid to go out there…" Pamela cringed as she wrinkled up her nose in disgust.

"God's speed, my friend," Castiel joked, giving his best friend a big hug.

"I'll call you later," she said, giving Castiel one last dramatic look before cautiously venturing into the garage.

Once Pamela was gone, Castiel reluctantly headed down to the storage basement to get some paper for the printer. He had been putting the task off for as long as he could, but it was almost the end of the day and he needed to print a few forms before he could leave.

Determined not to spend any more time in the basement than he had to, Castiel located what he was looking for almost immediately and was about to leave when he heard a strange noise.

Turning around, he quickly realized that the sound he heard were the stairs creaking under someone's weight as they descended.

Castiel could hardly hide his shock when he realized that someone was Dean.

Utterly confused, Castiel looked at him suspiciously as Dean sauntered down the steps before walking over and knocking the paper out of Castiel's hands.

"What the hell was that for?!" Castiel shouted.

"Stop acting like such a fag," Dean replied venomously, causing Castiel to stop dead in his tracks.

"Don't call me that," Castiel warned, looking Dean in the eye.

"Why?" Dean asked maliciously, taking a step closer to Castiel. "You suck dick, don't you? That makes you a fag."

"Enough, Dean!" Castiel exploded, making Dean flinch ever so slightly.

However, he recovered quickly, taking a couple more steps toward Castiel until they were chest to chest.

"Make me," Dean challenged, his voice a whisper.

"Wh-what?" Castiel stammered, taking a step back.

"I said make me," Dean repeated, pushing Castiel so that his back was up against the stone wall of the basement.

Unable to move, Castiel tried desperately to think of a way out. It wasn't that he couldn't defend himself. He could. Castiel had taken karate lessons since he was six and being a small guy he worked hard to be able to defend himself against jerks just like Dean Winchester. He was pretty sure he could take half the football team if anyone of them ever picked a fight. But he knew for a fact he couldn't take Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester, who was the captain of not only the football team but the wrestling team as well. For Christ's sake, this was the boy who got jumped by four dudes for talking shit during a game with a rival school and still ended up the winner. Castiel knew better than to engage in a physical altercation with him.

"I don't want to fight you, Dean," Castiel said, placing a hand on Dean's chest in an attempt to push him away.

"I bet you don't, faggot," Dean teased, trying to get a rise out of Castiel.

"I said don't call me that!" Castiel shouted, shoving Dean hard.

The push didn't do much except to egg Dean on.

"What? You don't mind getting on your knees for dudes but you don't like being called a faggot?" Dean taunted.

At that, Castiel lost his cool. It all happened so fast he barely even realized he had balled up his fist, punching Dean as hard as he could in the mouth.

The punch sent Dean reeling back, but didn't knock him off his feet.

For a moment, he just stood there, his head turned to the side like he was processing what had just happened. Castiel's hand throbbed as he stared at Dean, bile rising in his throat at the thought of what was to come next. Finally, Dean looked up; his bright green eyes clouded with an emotion Castiel couldn't quite identify. Castiel's eyes then landed on the large cut he had made on the other boy's lip, spotting the blood trickling down his chin.

"Dean…I…" Castiel began, but his words were silenced by Dean's fist colliding with his right eye.

The impact made Castiel stumble, but it was Dean tackling him that sent Castiel to the ground.

"Saw you staring at me again," Dean huffed out as Castiel struggled under him to get free. "You're always staring at me."

"This isn't funny, Dean. Get off of me," Castiel ordered angrily, blushing at Dean's words.

"Let me guess, you are having all kinds of fantasies about this sweet ass?" Dean asked, receiving a wide eyed glare from Castiel for his trouble.

"You fucking wish!" Castiel gritted out as he surged forward, pushing Dean to the side.

Unfortunately, Castiel wasn't fast enough and Dean taught him by the wrist, delivering a punch to his stomach.

"Bastard!" he spat as the wind was knocked out of him. Acting on pure adrenalin, Castiel then elbowed Dean to the side of his head, causing him to release Castiel's wrist.

"Ha, looks like my little kitten has claws after all," Dean grunted, shooting Castiel a wicked smile as they both sat on the floor of the basement trying to catch their breath.

Unable to reply, mainly because he had no idea where to even begin, Castiel moved to lay flat on his back, letting out a deep, steadying breath.

The room was spinning.

Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Castiel desperately tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his head. His right eye was already starting to swell, and his vision was slightly blurred.

"You are the biggest asshole I've ever met," Castiel said finally as he made yet another attempt to get up.

Once again, his plan failed miserably. Dean, moving incredibly fast, roughly pushed Castiel back down, straddling him before pinning his arms above his head.

Making a tsk noise, he looked down at Castiel, a predatorily smile forming on his lips.

"Language, Castiel. Honestly, we might have to do something about that filthy mouth of yours," Dean teased as Castiel flailed under him.

"Let me up!" Castiel demanded, feeling Dean's grip tighten around his wrists, bruising him.

Leaning forward, Dean brushed his lips against Castiel's, causing him to gasp. It wasn't until that moment that Castiel realized something outright unbelievable.

Dean was hard.

"You're driving me crazy. You know that, right?" Dean asked, his voice completely wrecked. Castiel could feel his breath hot against his lips, sending a sensation of pleasure through his whole body.

Looking up, Castiel's lips parted slightly, his bright blue eyes searching Dean's face for any sign of insincerity.

"Earlier, were you jealous that I was flirting with that chick?" Dean inquired, referring to Crystal practically jumping him in the garage.

Biting his bottom lip, Castiel nodded, watching Dean closely for a response.

Not that Castiel needed to look hard for one. At his confession, Dean closed his eyes, chocking back a moan which threated to spill from his lips. Seeing Dean's reaction, knowing he was turned on because of him, lit a spark in Castiel. Bravely, he found himself eyeing his right hand, silently asking Dean to release it. Cocking his head to the side, Dean looked at Castiel thoughtfully for a few seconds before complying. Once his hand was free, Castiel made a move to run his fingers through the other boy's hair.

The action was hesitant, Castiel treating Dean almost like a caged animal. He didn't want to make any sudden movements for fear that it would spook him.

"I hated hearing that bitch talk to you, let alone seeing her touch you," Castiel heard himself say, his voice not sounding like his own. It was rough, almost animalistic. Every syllable conveying just how much he wanted Dean.

Then without thinking, Castiel rocked his hips upward, his crotch rubbing against Dean's.

"Motherfucker," Dean gasped, fighting to conceal the look of pure pleasure that flashed across his face.

Unable to help himself, Castiel smiled widely, satisfaction evident in his body language. He was turning Dean on. He was making Dean squirm. Castiel couldn't even believe it. Dean Winchester was falling apart at the seams and it was all his doing.

But before Castiel could find the courage to say or do anything else he heard someone calling to Dean and him from the top of the stairs.

It was Bobby.

"Winchester! Novak! Where the hell are you two knuckle heads?!" Bobby yelled, his voice guff.

In a flash, Dean rolled off of Castiel, charging up the stairs.

"Be right there, sir!" he called, leaving Castiel flat on his back and utterly confused.

Not being in a hurry to face Bobby, he continued to lie on the basement floor, letting out a frustrated groan. Why was it that every time Dean decided to make a move on Castiel someone had to show up and ruin everything?

Deciding not to dwell on the negative, Castiel knew his time would be better spent trying to calm himself down. After all, his body was still shaking from the whole ordeal. Shutting his eyes, Castiel tried to relax. His breathing was slowly returning to normal when suddenly he heard a strange noise coming from the back corner of the room.

It was that familiar scratching noise, the one Dean seemed to know about before Castiel had even said anything about it.

Abruptly, Castiel was all too aware that he was in the basement alone. A chill washed over his body as he quickly got up, dusting off his uniform before making his way to the stairs.

On the bright side, being left by himself in the devastatingly creepy basement was a grade A boner killer. So in the long run he was kind of thankful for it. What he wasn't thankful for was what was waiting for him back in the front office.

"One of you two idjits better explain the state of your faces ASAP," Bobby demanded, examining the cuts and bruises scattered across Castiel and Dean's skin. In the fluorescent light of the front office the blue and purple marks stuck out much more vividly than they did in the darkness of the basement.

Castiel and Dean stood there silently, neither one of them jumping at the chance to explain themselves.

It took Bobby crossing his arms in irritation for Dean to finally speak up.

"Castiel tripped walking down the stairs to the basement," Dean lied and Castiel had to exercise all of his strength not to make a face.

"Uh-huh. Well, that don't explain the cut on your lip, Winchester," Bobby retorted, obviously not believing Dean for a second.

"When I went to help Cas up he accidently elbowed me." Dean explained nonchalantly.

It was the biggest load of bullshit Castiel had ever heard, but it was better than what he could come up with, which was absolutely nothing.

"Yeah, I was disoriented and didn't realize Dean was so close to me. My elbow just kind of caught his lip. It was my bad," Castiel collaborated.

Bobby, visibly furious, listened to the boys' nonsense story with a scowl on his face, shaking his head in disgust.

"Well, I can't make you two tell me what happened but I can put you both on probation," Bobby said, causing Castiel's heart to drop through his stomach.

In the full two years he had worked at Singer's Auto Shop, Castiel had never been in trouble. He hadn't even been given a warning.

"I won't tolerate fighting in my shop," Bobby added sternly. "No matter the reason, understood?"

"Yes sir," Castiel and Dean answered in unison.

"Good. Now both of you go home. I'll close up," Bobby grumbled, disappointment evident in his tone.

"Yes sir," Castiel said miserably as Dean was already on his way out the door.

To be continued…