A/N: Sorry about the weird time jump from last chapter, but I'll make up for it in this one. I don't think there'll be any more like it in later chapters, don't worry.

If You Dare Challenge - #530 (True Love)

Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #543 (theme - first kiss)

Fanfiction Writing Month: November [994]

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It became quite clear one December night before Christmas when they were fifteen that Dean and Cas loved each other.

Cas had told everyone that he was going to a Christmas party after school; Dean was comfortable with his friend's absence, because he promised to be home by six. Dean, Jaime, Sam, and Danny played Spades until dinner came. When six o'clock passed, Dean assumed he was running late. They ate dinner without him—it was taco night—but Dean made him a plate and set it in the refrigerator.

Six thirty passed. Then seven. And eight. Dean constantly glanced at the door. Was he caught in traffic? Was Cas hurt? Was he dead? In the hunter life, if someone was late, they were probably dead. Dean didn't want to think it, but it was his instinct; although he was no longer a hunter, he couldn't rid himself of this feeling of dread sliding through him like ice.

He sat in front of the door, staring at it. Sam and the other boys went upstairs, but he sat at the kitchen table, simply watching. He tossed his bottle of holy water from one hand to another, anxious and scared. If Castiel came back possessed, he would be ready. He'd lined the doors and windows with salt and had a silver knife handy.

He was terrified. He hadn't felt this scared in a while. Amina sat with him to calm him once Sam went up to bed, but even she couldn't soothe his frayed nerves. At around eleven thirty, she went upstairs to talk to Sonny; they had determined that if Cas wasn't back by midnight, they would call the police.

Upon hearing a muted thump from the front door followed by footsteps, Dean perked up, clutching his knife tightly. He slipped into the shadows, his hunter abilities taking over. He was a little out of practice, but he could still—

The door creaked open, and Castiel stumbled inside. He didn't seem particularly monstrous, but Dean couldn't be sure. As soon as Cas reached the table, he threw his mixture of salt and holy water on him. His friend gasped in surprise. "Dean?" He covered his face with his hands. Dean realized he was hunched over.

"Cas! Where have you been?" he demanded, his fear giving way to worry. "You said you'd be back by six!"

He reached to turn the light on, but Cas cried out, "No! Don't turn it on!"

Suspicious, Dean tapped his friend with the silver knife, but there was no sizzling or cry of pain. "Why not?"

"I…" Cas limped towards the stairs. Limped.

"Cas, stop! What's going on? What happened to you?" Castiel only shook his head; it took Dean a few moments to realize he was crying. "Cas?" He turned the light on, and discovered that Castiel was shirtless, his face was bloody, and his torso was covered in dark, thick words. "Oh…"

Cas cried harder.

Dean's entire body hardened with anger. "Who did this to you?" he snarled. He could read the words now; idiot, fairy, stupid… A few curse words… But most prominent of all was the four letters written on his forehead. H-O-M-O. "Tell me who did this. I'm gonna kill them, I swear to you—"

"It doesn't matter," Cas mumbled, wiping his tears away. "I'm just gonna go upstairs, okay?"

"No," Dean said firmly. "You're going to sit, and you're going to tell me what happened."

Dean sat Cas down at the kitchen table and fetched the first-aid kit from the cabinet. The worst cut was on his forehead; the others were only trivial, but were combined with bruises. He wet a washcloth and began to dab at Cas' face, wiping away the blood while Cas spoke. He told Dean how four boys at the party locked him in a closet upstairs, yelling that they wouldn't let him out until he 'came out of the closet.' They'd seen Dean and him together and had found a picture of Dean in Cas' locker. When Cas, angry and frustrated, had admitted to being gay, they had unlocked the closet and beaten him up until he was unconscious. When he woke up around 11, he was outside in the mud, and his body was covered in words. He walked all the way home, bloody and bruised, unable to find his shirt even to cover the evidence.

Cas hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No," Dean said gently, his hands on Cas' knees. "You don't get to feel sorry for this. It's those bastards who should be sorry, Cas." He frowned before starting to work on washing away the words on Cas' skin, rubbing gently so as not to hurt him. "We should probably get your eye checked out, Cas. Just to make sure."

"No, Dean. I'm fine, really." He shrugged and winced.

Dean pressed the cloth to Cas' face. "Don't lie to me, Cas. I've had enough lies to last me a lifetime."

They talked more until the words were almost completely gone. Then Dean asked, "You have a picture of me in your locker?"

Cas blushed. "Sorry. Owen took it about a year ago, before he left; you know how he loved photography. I just… liked it a lot. You looked… happy." His face fell. "They wrecked it, Dean, I'm sorry. I can't…"

"You still have it?"

He nodded. "Can I see it?"

Cas pulled the crumpled photo from his pocket. "I don't know what they poured over it… I—I couldn't get it off."

"It's okay, Cas." Dean set the picture on the counter, smoothing it out.

"I just kept it because… I like you."

Dean's hands paused in wringing out the washcloth. "Oh." He started moving again, dabbing at the final O. "Do you—oh." He was speechless.

They sat in silence for a while until Cas spoke again. "I'm sorry about this whole thing, Dean. I—"

Dean cut off Cas' words with a kiss.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think! Next chapter coming soon...