Author's Note: Is love really patient? Is it really kind?

Castiel felt like a broken record at this point, repeating the same reassuring words over and over again. Dean had been crying for a solid fifteen minutes by now, and there didn't seem to be an end in sight.

The only thing he could do was attempt to soothe him. He had taken him back to the bathroom, the room where, eight weeks ago, they had been half-dressed, swapping clothes after Cas had accidentally spilled coffee on his shirt.

He had wanted to take Dean back to his dorm, but his shift didn't end for another two hours. Normally, he would've just asked Gabe if he could leave early, but, strangely, his boss was nowhere in sight. So, for now, he was stuck here, sitting on the cold bathroom floor, leaning up against the wall with Dean's head cradled in his lap.

"I-I can't believe Sam would compare you to him," Dean whimpered, closing his eyes as Cas carded his fingers through the short, golden brown strands of his hair.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you," Cas soothed, "Sam doesn't seem like that type of guy."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean mumbled and let out a shaky sigh. Every time Cas looked down at his red eyes and tear stained cheeks, it was like a punch in the face.

Silence fell upon the room, an uncomfortable silence filled with unanswered questions and overwhelming curiosity. Dean kept bringing up some guy that Sam had compared Cas to, and the fact that the younger man had no idea who he was practically drove him insane. He wanted to ask but knew now probably wasn't the right time.

"You want to know, don't you?"

Castiel's eyes widened, peering down into the other man's sad gaze in surprise. It was if he had just read his mind.

"Dean, you don't have to-"

"No, no," he interjected, shaking his head, "you deserve to know."

As excited as Cas was, he remained quiet. He could only imagine how much the other man must trust him to discuss such a touchy subject. Or at least he assumed it was a sensitive area considering the look in Dean's eyes and the tears he'd shed over it.

"Okay," Dean sighed, "it all happened when I was a senior in high school."

"You're one crazy son of a bitch," Dean chuckled, leaning back on the couch with an amused smirk on his lips.

He was at his friend's house, his best friend, the only person he'd known since he was a tiny first grader staring down the elementary school hallways with pure terror in his eyes. They were the two most popular boys in the entire high school, the head honchos, the classic jocks that every girl wanted. But, to be honest, Dean knew who was really running the school.

Benny Lafitte. The 6-foot quarterback with eyes the color of the sky and the deep, silky voice of an A-list actor. He was a wall of muscles, making sure to work out every single day in order to maintain his status as the guy with the best body. His arms could easily crush you and yet his smile always reduced you to a puddle of pathetic, unresolved sexual frustration. Of course, there was always a beautiful cheerleader dangling from his arm, a triumphant grin on her face as Benny led her through the hallways and brought her along to his games. He had it all, and although Dean was nearly as well-known and adored, he knew where he stood.

But it wasn't really that black and white. Dean had learned a long time ago that life loved to throw him curve balls and watch him struggle as he tried to overcome them.

He and Benny knew everything about each other, all of the closely guarded secrets that they didn't dare admit to anyone else. And that was mostly true. Except that there was something Benny didn't know about Dean and never would.

It started back when he was in middle school while they were over at Benny's house, almost like they were now. They were sitting around watching television, crammed together on the little couch in Benny's bedroom, when a sex scene suddenly came on. By this time, they were in 6th grade and had a pretty good idea about the birds and the bees so it shouldn't have been a big deal. And it wasn't- at first.

The woman was grinding against the man, her skirt hiking up over her thighs, giggling whenever the man moaned her name. Dean was aroused, as he should be, but it wasn't until the man's clothes came off that he really felt something.

Nervous, he glanced over at Benny. The other boy was staring intently at the screen, his eyes eagerly raking over the naked woman. Dean bit his lip, and then made a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. He glanced down at the crotch of Benny's jeans and noticed the way he was rubbing the bulge in his pants.

He was immediately entranced, watching his friend's hand with fascination. The image of his own hand doing the same thing flashed before his eyes, sending an excited shiver down his spine. And then it hit him.

He had a crush on his best friend. No, it wasn't simply because he was fantasizing about getting Benny hard, but because it wasn't the first time he'd thought of him like that before. If he were honest with himself, he'd dreamt about kissing him, slipping his hands beneath his shirt and pressing their bodies together.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he'd blurted, jumping off of the couch and sprinting into the bathroom. Benny, of course, knew what he was doing but had no idea it was because of him.

From that point forward, just about every wet dream Dean had involved his best friend. He couldn't stop staring at him, basking in the warmth of his contagious laughter and cocky smirk. It was hell, having to see someone every day and know that you could never have them.

But tonight, as they sat together on the couch as they'd done many times before, talking about what life would be like after college, Dean lost it. He and Benny had planned on going to the same school to study to become lawyers. It was all part of a big Master Plan they'd decided on back in 4th grade, and eight years later, they were still sticking to it. But the conversation had randomly taken a turn, and now they were talking about Benny's latest conquest.

"You better fucking believe it," Benny snorted, taking a long swig of his beer before setting the bottle down on the floor, "it's about time I found two chicks willing to do a threeway."

"Well, you gotta tell me how it is," Dean replied, struggling to keep the jealousy out of his voice, "seems pretty damn awesome."

"Hell yeah!" the other boy cried, shifting on the couch so that his arm rested along the back of the couch behind Dean, "I just hope they're as freaky as me."

"I'm sure they are," Dean laughed, subtly leaning back so that Benny's arm brushed against the back of his neck.

Benny nodded his head and picked up his beer. Dean couldn't help but glance over and watch the other boy as he drank. As his eyes raked over him, he realized something earth-shattering.

"I love you."

Thud. Benny's bottle hit the floor, the cold, yellow liquid spilling onto the white carpet. Dean was frozen, gaping at his friend as if he had spoken those awful words instead of him.

"What?" Benny cried, turning to look at Dean with a wild look in his eyes. Dean had known him long enough to know that he had just royally fucked up their friendship.

"Shit, Benny, I-"

"Did you say you fucking love me?" he growled, quickly climbing to his feet, "as in you're gay for me?"

"I-I…"

"Fuck! How long has this been going on?"

"Benny, I don't know, grade school maybe," Dean muttered, averting his gaze from the furious boy standing menacingly over him.

"Grade school?" he screamed, "you've been a fucking fag since grade school?"

Don't cry, don't cry, Dean silently begged, hesitantly standing. "No, you don't understand-"

"Oh no, I understand alright," Benny snarled, taking a step back from the other boy. He looked so angry, so disgusted, and Dean could feel the room spinning around him.

"Benny, please," he pleaded, tears beginning to blur his vision, "I never meant to-"

"Get the fuck out of my house!" Benny screamed, pointing towards the door, a tear gliding down his cheek, "and get the fuck out of my life!"

Dean could feel the ground drop out from beneath him, the world crashing down around him. He choked out a sob, his legs carrying him towards the door against his will.

"No, no, you can't," he whimpered, " Benny, no!"

"Dean, please," Benny whispered, tears now streaming down his face, "it'd be a lot easier for both of us if you just left."

Dean stood by the door, ready to push it open and do exactly as the other boy said. But he couldn't bring himself to do it without knowing one thing first.

"Can you just tell me one thing?" he pleaded, managing to speak through his sobs.

Benny didn't reply, but he didn't walk over and shove him out the door either so Dean took it as a "yes".

"Do you love me? At all?"

The room was painfully quiet, the only sounds to be heard being the soft sounds of the two boys' heavy breathing.

"No," Benny whispered, his voice so low that Dean nearly missed his response.

That was it. That was the final straw that pushed Dean over the edge, that pushed him to finally leave. If Benny, his lifetime friend, didn't even love him, no one ever would.

~the next day~

Benny had really hit a new low. As Dean walked into the school the next morning, he wished he had never even climbed out of bed.

Every person he passed growled "fucking fag" right in his face, some purposely running into his shoulder as they shoved past. The people Dean had considered his friends were the ones who seemed to push him the hardest, to snarl their disgust with the most scorn.

Dean began to sprint down the hallway, desperate to get to his first class and find a forgiving Benny sitting patiently in the seat to his left as he always did.

He frantically threw himself at the door, ignoring the wicked cackles of his classmates when the door didn't open immediately. Thankfully, it flew open after a couple more shoves, and he found himself standing in the middle of the classroom, frantically scanning the room for Benny's twinkling blue gaze.

And he found him but not where he had expected. He was clear on the opposite side of the room, the farthest away from his usual seat that he could possibly get. As Dean met his eyes, he realized just how stupid he'd been in assuming Benny would forgive him.

"Looks like the class cocksucker has finally decided to show his face," Benny jeered, playfully nudging the girl by his side.

It had been a while since Dean had truly had a breakdown, and it was the first time he had one in front of people other than just Benny or Sam. But he couldn't stop it once the feeling enveloped him, his lip quivering, his legs shaking, tears swimming before his eyes. Why did he have to love the self-centered bastard, the jock with the inflated ego who only cared about himself? Why did he still wish that that same asshole would run across the room and wrap his arms around him in a comforting embrace?

He remembered the innocent days, back when they both were young and naive. He remembered the days they sat out by the river fishing because Dean's father had said it was "the manly thing to do". He remembered the days they'd rode down the street on their bikes, racing each other to Benny's house where the winner received four popsicles instead of just one.

He also remembered the days they spent struggling through high school together. Like a stab in the chest, he remembered the first time a girl had broken up with Benny and he'd come running to Dean, burying his face in his chest as he cried. He remembered the time they'd danced together at a formal, much too drunk to care when Dean grinded just a little too close, jokingly held Benny's waist for a little too long. And he remembered all of the times Benny had made him feel great about himself, putting him up on a pedestal when no one else seemed to, when no one else seemed to actually care about him.

But it was all a lie.

"I hate you," he whispered, meeting Benny's victorious gaze one more time before turning and running back the way he had come. With tears streaming down his face, sobs bursting from his lips, Dean vowed something to himself.

He would never let someone in the way he'd let in Benny. Because no one would ever love him the way he'd loved his best friend.

And Castiel cried harder than he had before in his entire life.