Gabriel had picked Dean and Castiel up for their last two periods of the day, much to their dismay. They were caught up in a heated debate exploring how the famine in the USSR differentiated from the one in China before Gabriel decided to honk his horn.

They turned into Rosewood Drive and passed McDonald's. Castiel skimmed through the last page of "Call of the Wild."

"So, what the hell were you two talking so excitedly about?" Gabriel asked them, his eyes flickering between the two.

"Just history and music," Dean said absentmindedly. The younger teen's eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Dean was sprawled across the backseat, his foot elevated on Castiel's bunched up hoodie, staring out the window, deep in thought. Castiel wanted desperately to know what the man was thinking. In the moments when he wasn't talking his head off, he was quiet, deep in thought. It made him wonder what was brewing behind those green eyes of his. What it was that made him tense. What it was that paralyzed him so much.

"Staring's rude, Cas."

He looked away almost immediately.

"Sorry."

Gabriel made a right turn onto Colt Avenue.

"We're here," he sang, semi-quoting the girl from the Poltergeis as he pulled up to the entrance of the school.

A handful of students, as well as a couple of faculty members, strolled down the sidewalk, talking amongst each other as they headed towards the parking lot. Once the Corvette finally slowed to a complete stop, Dean and Castiel pushed the car doors open and climbing out of the car before stepping around the back. Gabriel pulled away and steered towards the parking lot.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Castiel glanced down at Dean's ankle.

"Cas, I told I'm fine. Alright? I rolled my ankle hours ago and then laid on your couch like a sack of potatoes. I'm fine."

Castiel jogged up the stairs, Dean limping at his heels.

"What class do you have before mine?"

Castiel thought for a minute.

"Gym."

DCDCDCDCDC

"Another day, another fuck I don't care to give."

Balthazar adjusted his backpack strap.

"So, Gabriel told me you stayed home earlier to take care of Mr. Winchester after he broke his ankle on your porch?"

"He didn't break it; he rolled it."

"For old people, rolling is breaking."

"No, it's not, and he's not old!"

Balthazar held his hands up defensively.

"Okay, okay. Sorry for dissing your boyfriend." Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head, moistening his lips as he continued down the steps. "So why was he at your house, anyway?"

"Our mail got mixed up. He was dropping mine off."

"He could've done that during class, or after."

"Yeah, well, we live near each other, so..."

"Or maybe it's 'cause he's got a crush on you."

"Balthazar..."

"Maybe he woke up with a boner, thinking about how pretty you looked a night gown."

"Oh, fuck off already."

Balthazar giggled. Next to the steps, Crowley was leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette pinched between his lips. He leered at Castiel, making the sixteen-year-old's stomach turn.

"Your boyfriend's here," Balthazar teased.

"You're a dumbass," Castiel grumbled, his eyes dropping to his feet.

"So, you gonna ride with us or are you gonna miss the bus just to hitch another ride with your daddy-o?" Balthazar snickered, earning himself a punch in the arm. He glanced over at Crowley.

"It looks like I'll riding home with you idiots this afternoon. Better than another run-in with him"

DCDCDCDCDCDC

Castiel stood beneath the hot spray, languidly lathering his hair with shampoo. Balthazar had gone out to see "Justice League" with Raphael and Gabriel, leaving him to his own devices. He let his mind wander to his conversation with Balthazar earlier. The possibility that Dean might actually be attracted to him, the idea that someone that handsome could actually look at him that way, made him giddy. He never saw himself as an attractive person. Smart, maybe, but never attractive. Of course he did have big blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin, but that didn't make him beautiful. If anything, it made him look like a character out of one of those emo vampire books or something, and not in a good way, either. Apparently, Crowley thought differently, what with the way he's been flirting with him constantly.

His dick twitched as he imagined that it were Dean hitting on him instead. Lusting after him. He reached down at fisted his cock, wrapp

Everyone else sits at their desks, watching in awe as Dean inches towards Castiel, his lips curled into a predatory smile. Castiel inhales the sharp, sweet scent of the other man's aftershave.

He stroked himself slowly, moaning at the friction against his tingling shaft.

Dean's close to him, so close he feels a thin line of heat separating their chests. Minty breath tickles his lips.

Castiel increased his speed.

The older man brushes his lips against his own.

He shuddered as he ghosted his other soap-covered hand against his erect nipple. He pinches and rolls the nub between his fingers.

Castiel pulls him in and deepens the kiss, feeling Dean's teeth clack against his own. Dean brings his hands to the teen's waist and pulls him in so that their bodies are flush against one another's. Castiel feels himself being pushed against the desk, the edge biting into his back. He hops up and wraps his legs around the older man's waist. He feels Dean's hard cock against his own. Dean breaks the kiss and sets him down before reaching down between them to unbutton his own pants. Castiel watches with anticipation, saliva thickening in his mouth, as the man pulls the waistband of his underwear down to reveal his long, wide and swollen red cock.

He pumped faster, keening as he feels the tingling heat wrapped around his dick. White plumes of steam rose from the ground, curling before his eyes, breathing against his skin, adding onto the pressure on his sensitive cock. He threw his head back and grunted, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Dean is now rubbing their cocks together while the students watched. Sweat forms at Castiel's hairline. He pants and grips Dean's broad shoulders, his fingers now beneath the cotton fabric of his button down, as he thrust into Dean's hands. His nails bite into the other man's skin, almost deep enough to draw blood. Dean is looking into Castiel's eyes through his long eyelashes.

His cheeks flushed and his mouth dry, he pumped harder, his cock now throbbing in his fist. He felt a bead of cum oozing from the slit and trickling down the slope of the engorged, purplish head. He whimpered.

Dean thrusts faster, harder, rubbing himself against him .

"Dean," he whines.

"What do you want, my pretty angel?"

"Wanna...cum."

"Then cum, precious. Cum."

He cried out and sprayed all over the walls, painting them white with cum.