~ Chapter 10 ~

Dean felt uncomfortable driving Cas home.

It wasn't that he minded that Cas was drunk or anything, or the fact that Cas was totally shitfaced, but he was genuinely worried for the kid. Castiel wasn't the kind of guy to get drunk, really. He was the kind of guy to wear light button down-shirts in every color of the rainbow underneath a black blazer. He was the kind of guy that if he wore leather shoes, they would probably fucking sparkle, they would be so clean. He was the guy with the ridiculously blue eyes and fluffy dark hair. He was the guy with the full lips that quirked up in a sort of smile whenever Dean made an unbelievable horrible joke. He was the guy that probably spent his free time reading. He was the guy that was giving Dean butterflies 24/7 like some dorky, thirteen year-old girl with a bad crush. He was the guy that was so incredibly everything Dean wasn't, and most definitely the guy that was driving him crazy.

But he was definitely not the guy that Dean had to drive home that night. As amused as he was to see Castiel unraveled and without inhibitions the way he was, it was that same looseness of every movement and every word that made Dean want to cringe away. It wasn't him. Cas was too good for that shit, wasn't he? Always drinking coffee from a travel mug and clutching his books to his chest because he was a good god damn student. He was better than getting drunk at a lame high school party.

He was so much better than the careless way he collapsed into Dean when they bumped into each other in the dark, and how the hell did he even get in the house? He probably only had to pee, but still. The guy was damn clever, even when he seemed drunk out of his mind. He was so much better than the way he slurred his words, his too simple, easy words that anyone could've used. Castiel was a higher education, wanting to travel the world and an expansive vocabulary, not drunk on cheap booze. He was so much better than all that, and hadn't Dean tried to warn him once? In the closet? And shit, if that didn't sound hilariously filthy, he didn't know what did. He'd told Castiel he wasn't a good guy, and Cas had reasserted his belief that he was and some other crap and now he was just giving Dean proof of that damn belief.

Dean almost wished Castiel hadn't fucking invaded his personal space that night and kissed him the way he did, with too much force for it to be anything chaste and forgettable, no thanks to his train of thought. But he was beginning to get to know himself better, or at least start to understand himself better, and he knew too well that that wasn't true.

What he understood was this: Cas was good and Dean didn't want to ruin that. He liked how genuinely innocent and interesting and smart the guy actually was, and the more he thought about better ways to phrase that sentence, the less friend-y it sounded and the more gay. Which really wasn't what he was going for, and still wasn't, really, but he was starting not to care as much.

/

"Cas, wait up!" Dean called after him, jogging to catch up.

He stopped and turned around, waiting patiently with an odd mix of emotions present on his face.

"Thanks."

He just nodded and they walked towards the parking lot together; Dean was mostly just glad that Monday was over and he was finally getting his chance to talk to Cas today.

"How are you?" The question kind of startled Dean considering that he meant to ask the question first, seeing as he wasn't the totally hammered one last Friday.

"I'm, uh, I'm good. You?" He jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Better than I was on Friday, if that's what you've been concerned about." Castiel looked rather smug at his response, his blue eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee for a few moments before returning to their usual serenity.

"What, are you a mind reader now too?"

"That's impossible, Dean."

Sigh. "I know, man, it was a joke."

Cas shrugged. "I know."

Dean chewed his lip as they walked towards the parking lot. A quick scan showed that Cas' car was parked adjacent to Dean's today. Huh.

The walk continued in silence until Dean was at the driver's door of his car and Cas' was at the passenger of his, a short step behind him; he didn't know what to say. Cas didn't seem to either, or if he did, he didn't show it. He just put his hands in the pockets of his black blazer, bless the fucking perfect thing, and looked at the ground, seeming to contemplate the dust and dirt on the asphalt very sincerely. Dean joined him in that, though he was favoring looking up at the darkening clouds overhead and enjoying the quieting sound of people leaving the school. He hated the vast majority of them, but then again, what was high school for if not mutually hating your peers who you coincidentally knew nothing about other than their first name?

Light, warm pressure on his hand shocked him back into reality, though it felt more like the dream he had last night – Cas was holding his hand gently, but he was leaning forward so quickly and so suddenly that Dean didn't have half a second to catch his breath before Cas' too soft lips were pressed into his, all warm and tasting like sugary coffee.

And just as soon as those lips had been against his, they were gone, and Cas was leaning against his car again, hands in his pockets and a faint blush on his cheeks. Shit, that wasn't fair at all.

"Hey," He heard himself murmur, and God, something must've possessed him to lean back towards Cas again, in the fucking school parking lot, and kiss him back. There was more force in that kiss than he intended, though it wasn't like he meant to have the kiss anyways. It was sort of like a reflex – when someone hugs you, you hug them back, it's natural, right?. Maybe the same thing went for kisses and Cas – if Cas kisses you, you have to kiss him back. God, please let it be in some damn rulebook of the universe or something.

/

Castiel wasn't sure how it all happened, but all he fully understood was that it was happening and he was not against it at all. It was just as if Dean had stopped all of a sudden and in his characteristic way, went "fuck it".

He was completely aware of what was going on every time Anna would "accidentally" trip or push Castiel into Dean in the hallways or in a classroom because he would hear her little snicker of approval at the way Castiel would try to apologize for knocking into Dean for the millionth time this week. He found it strange at first, but then again, he couldn't control what Anna did and why she thought Dean was so great for him. But he wasn't going to try and fight it anymore.

It was getting to the point of being pretty fun, if he was going to be truly honest with himself.

He liked the pink blush on Dean's cheeks when they brushed shoulders in art class or when Anna sent Castiel sprawling at Dean's feet, the way Dean smiled when they first saw each other almost every morning, the gentle, teasing way Dean had with Castiel and how he couldn't prevent himself from having butterflies every time it happened or from hopefully anticipating it every other moment. He liked the giddy bounce this strange dance of affections with Dean gave him; it distracted him at times, but he was rather productive these days anyhow. Castiel's favorite part though, were the brief, chaste kisses they shared throughout the day.

The kisses would only happen when they were positive no one was looking, excluding those first ones in the parking lot that day – behind their easels in art, on their side of the tree at lunch, behind Castiel's locker door before or after school if the hallway was particularly empty. Neither of them sought the kisses out with an extreme amount of effort, but they were most certainly not unwelcome. They felt spontaneous – eyes meeting for a brief and fleeting moment before each kiss, quick and innocent. Castiel was more than satisfied with this, enjoying the increasingly familiar taste of Dean on his lips after every kiss and the ease in which they carried themselves around each other nowadays.

Though it did strike Castiel as odd, as he sat in Japanese one day, that they hadn't bothered to talk about what they had been doing for the past two weeks. It just seemed to Castiel that they were just enjoying the simplicity of the actions, the wordless sentiments and undying comforts as long as they could.

At least, it had seemed be so until 9:34 PM on a Thursday night when Dean texted Castiel, confirming their arrangement to hang out after school the following day. And even though he was only halfway done with an English essay and would normally have finished his work before responding to Dean's message, Castiel nearly broke his neck trying to get to his cell phone on his nightstand, eager to see if it was a message from Dean.

"We still good for tomorrow?" Dean's text read.

"Of course."

"Cool ;) "

Castiel turned the phone sideways in his hand, observing the emoticon on the screen. It looked like a usual smiley face, but this one winked at him. Was that what Dean had meant to type?

"Is that a winking face?"

"What?"

"The emoticon. Is it winking at me?"

Dean didn't respond for a few minutes.

"No"

"Okay." He set the phone down.

/

They were at Dean's home, his living room to be precise, and sitting together on the couch. A TV show called Dr. Sexy MD that Dean swore up and down the wall was a "quality television" played in the background, its volume turned down to the point of nearly being on mute while its watchers' interest was held elsewhere.

Castiel leaned against the arm of the couch, which was really more like a loveseat because it was too small to be considered an adequate couch, while Dean kept moving closer and closer to him, hardly breaking their frantic kisses to breathe. Dean's apparent solution to this problem was to work open Castiel's lips with his tongue, easing it past teeth and tickling at the tip of Castiel's until he joined in slowly. He was enjoying these kisses, he truly was, but he was confused nonetheless.

"Dean," Castiel breathed as Dean ventured into both new and old territory, kissing and nipping gently along Castiel's jaw like he had that one Friday night, though there was more precision and control in these actions.

"What?" Dean's response was of the same breathy nature, his pupils dilated wide as he pulled back.

"What are we doing?" Castiel asked the question in total sincerity, but Dean gawked for a moment before snapping out of it.

"We're baking pies, Cas, what do you think?" A smug smirk played at the corners of Dean's lips as he leaned in again, claiming Castiel's lips again with more force than before.

Castiel felt himself laugh into the kiss, because what kind of response was he expecting? Dean's lips curved up into a smile at that as he proceeded, lowering his hands as Castiel reached upwards, cupping Dean's face in his own.

Castiel's heart slammed in his chest with every touch Dean's curious hands made, though they never lingered lower than his waist, and he was thankful for that. Thankful and also completely entranced by how strangely good Dean's hot, flicking tongue and gentle, nibbling teeth felt against his lips, neck, collarbone. He wanted to return the favor too, tugging on Dean's shirt and sitting up straighter until he got the idea and allowed himself to be placed slightly beneath Castiel, who was more eager than he would've expected of himself to be as gracelessly nipped and licked all along Dean's neck, starting from his jaw, sinking his teeth a little more on a spot beneath his ear, eliciting the most captivating groan of approval from Dean. Castiel pulled back, barely concealing his look of sheer joy at the way Dean rested, his chest rising and falling with every breath, green eyes only half-open and dazed or sleepy looking.

"You're good at that." Dean cooed, grasping Castiel's shirt with one hand and pulling him in for another smiling kiss.