Author's Note: There's texting in the chapter. Castiel's are in italics.

"Home late. Picked up an extra shift at the hospital. Leftover potroast from last night in the fridge. Love you – Mom."

Tossing down the note, Castiel bypasses the fridge without a second glance and grabs a packet of chocolate poptarts off the counter. As he steps through his bedroom door, he feels his phone vibrate once in his slacks pocket. Dropping his messenger bag by the door, Castiel pulls it out to see he has a text from Charlie. He sits on the bed and unwraps his dinner before looking back down at his phone.

how'd it go with your stalkee?

It was just studying.

nothin more exciting?

A second later a series of quick texts follow.

no spontaneous boy kissing?

under the table footsie?

have u tried winking?

nvm… i've seen u try to wink

Castiel rolls his eyes and reluctantly smiles at her teasing. He begins to type out 'Speaking of stalking, Dean stalked me home' before backspacing and deleting it. He felt a momentary stab of guilt over the memory and telling Charlie he'd snapped at her friend probably wouldn't earn him any brownie points. Before he can think of a neutral response, he gets another message from her.

well forget ur head over heels for a straight guy for a while and come over

He considers it for a second.

dory's bringing doritos? wii mario kart? saving the princess?

Then he doesn't have to think about it anymore.

I have an english essay to write. Have fun.

He can't sit across from them being cute. Not today. If he has to watch one of their pinching fights, tickling battles or exchange of those soft glances, he just might be sick. They deserve to be disgustingly adorable together without his sour mood bringing them down.

ur loss, Goomba =)

Castiel ignores his books and eats the rest of his poptart lying down on his back with a hand behind his head. He replays the whole half hour he shared with Michael like one of those crime forensics experts would on tv. As if he's searching for hidden clues in the corners of his memory. Closing his eyes, he focuses on every time Michael leaned forward so he could show him how he'd arrived at the answer for a particular equation. Every upturn of lips, that one quiet laugh he made, it all makes Castiel smile just thinking about it. For a while, he can forget Michael only knows he exists because he does his math homework for him. For a while, he can imagine more.

Sadly, after only a few moments of this, Dean intrudes into his memories. Castiel huffs and opens his eyes, staring at his ceiling. He refuses to feel bad. He probably imagined that flash of hurt on his stupid face. Unwillingly he begins to half-heartedly compare Dean with Michael. Dean's cheeks were dusted in light brown scruff as opposed to Michael's clean-shaven look. He couldn't fault him on that alone since his own cheeks were always a little scratchy no matter how often he shaved. He absently ran a thumb over his cheek trying to picture it smooth as Michael's then his mind put Dean there as well as if to say 'fair is fair if we're comparing'.

Sighing, Castiel drops his hand and leans forward to get his books. He won't feel bad. Dean will just be his normal annoying ever-playful self tomorrow and he'll have to deal with it all over again.

But he doesn't see Dean the next day. He doesn't even realize it until almost the end of lunch when the warning bell rings and he breaks away from watching the footballers walk off the field to look back towards the school. Dean didn't show up.

He doesn't comment on it to Charlie and she doesn't mention it either. It was nice to have a lunch without his abrasive presence for once anyway. Even if the reminder of how he left yesterday gives him a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach, he firmly pushes it down.

The next day he notices sooner. Charlie's mid story about how she's pitching doing her English paper on the obvious oppression of the munchkins in The Wizard of Oz when he abruptly interrupts her.

"And I mean, hello? Forced to sing on command? It's totally-"

"Is Dean at school today?"

"Huh?"

"Is he sick? I haven't seen him."

"Oh, I think he's been hanging out in the courtyard with some friends. He said 'hey' on my way out here."

Cas nods. That niggling feeling is back and he tosses down his untouched Cuban.

"Why?" she turns to him.

"No reason."

She squints at him. "Your foreheads going all broody."

"Broody?" Castiel repeats with a raised eyebrow, not even seeing the players his eyes are on.

"Yeah. You're approaching Angel-level broodiness."

"Who?" Unwillingly, he remembers Dean's comment about his name. Right before he had yelled at him.

"From Buffy? Badass vampire slayer?" Charlie strikes a pose with her plastic fork like she's about to stab him in the heart with it.

He shakes his head.

"Oh come on. Who hasn't seen Buffy?"

"I'm sure a great many people." He pretends to focus on straightening his tie. "It's just… Dean has been showing up at lunch uninvited for over a month. I'm surprised is all."

Charlie shrugs like its nothing. "Isn't that what you wanted? Him to 'play hacky sack with the other glassy-eyed degenerates'." She quotes with a deep voice and sarcastic little smile.

Castiel screws up his face in thought. The idea that Dean had stopped coming because of him didn't sit well.

"Anyhoo.. Thursday huh? Excited to beat some knowledge into that boy's thick head?" She lifts her chin towards the players.

Castiel shakes his head to try and clear it of Dean. If he had finally succeeded in getting the point across to Dean, then good. Great. All they did was argue. And Charlie's right. It was what he wanted. So why is it still bothering him?

"Yes," he says, distractedly.

"So I run 70 yards and it was perfect. Benny let her go and I just knew I was gonna-"

"Uh huh."

Castiel stares at the equation he stopped writing over a minute ago, completely unaware he'd zoned out somewhere in the middle of Michael's rendition of last week's game.

"Hey. You listenin', man?"

"Oh, sorry." He clears his throat and straightens up a little. "I was preoccupied. Please go on."

"Eh, it's alright. Guess football's not all the interesting to someone like you, huh?"

Castiel's forehead furrows as he asks, "Someone like me?"

"Just.. you're so…" Michael gestures vaguely up and down in his direction. Castiel looks down at his own self as if there on his chest is the answer.

"Smart and all but kinda uptight.. I guess?"

He tilts his head, trying to beat down the wave of nausea. "Uptight," Cas repeats mechanically before glancing back down to the paper to pretend he's focused on useless math he'll never need.

"Yeah. It's like Jesus man, wear some jeans or something once in a while. Lose the tie. Loosen up."

After a second more, he pushes down the automatic feeling of insult and looks back up. This doesn't have to be a bad thing. Michael has noticed him enough to comment on his appearance. Give him input. Castiel swallows his nerves and asks, "you think I should? Wear jeans, I mean?"

Michael shrugs. "Up to you." He does a long languid stretch with arms over his head that has Castiel forgetting the sting from a few seconds ago and moving his thoughts firmly in another direction. Michael turns back quick enough to catch him openly staring and only raises an eyebrow without looking away.

His cheeks are almost definitely pink but he doesn't break eye contact. "Okay, maybe I will."

Michael casually glances at the library clock. "Ah shit." He gets to his feet and grabs his book up hurriedly along with the work Castiel had previously done for him.

"In a rush?" He asks getting to his feet too. A little confused about what had happened or if he'd imagined it.

"Yeah gotta meet pick up Shauna." He salutes with a finger to his temple. Castiel frowns and watches, surprised when he stops after a only step as if he forgot something. Turning on his heel he casually asks, "But hey, I meant to ask, there's that test coming up next week…"

"Oh well if you study over the notes I gave you, I'm sure there won't be an issue with-"

"Yeah but see I'm not so sure."

Castiel tilts his head in question.

"Think I might need some extra help. Maybe tomorrow?

His mouth drops open just a little at that. "Um... Tomorrow?" he repeats dumbly.

Michael acts like he's mulling it around. "Yeah tomorrow. After school. Meet me at the locker room? Practice's cancelled. Think coach got a hot date with that Spanish teacher that always wears those tight little skirts.

"Ms. Sepulveda," he offers automatically, brain still frozen on anything else to say.

"Yeah anyway think he's hoping to see her bilingual skills in action."

Castiel just stares as Michael starts walking backwards.

"I'll bring the notes!" he finally calls, happy he at least got something out of his too slow mouth.

Michael just shrugs and smirks. "If you want."

And he's out the door leaving Castiel slowly lowering back into his chair, world tilted a little.

Did that just happen?

He sits there until the tired looking librarian tells him she needs to lock the doors.

He won't tell Charlie. This is his secret. His own amazing secret. And maybe he imagined the implication anyway. Is that possible? That must be it. They can't be meeting tomorrow. Alone. They just can't be happening. This is one of his daytime fantasies and he'll snap out of it soon because someone like Michael couldn't possibly be interested in him. What might happen? What would he say or do or- or...

Castiel barely sleeps but he definitely dreams. With his eyes closed and his mind reeling with possibilities, he relieves the tension with his hand twice until finally he passes out in a sweaty mess on top of his covers.

That morning, he should be tired but he's practically buzzing with nervous energy. He spends twenty minutes and a good amount of hair gel trying to tame his crazy hair into lying flat. Then Castiel moves on to digging at the bottom of his drawers and finds an old pair of jeans Gabriel made him buy to go out with him to a party once he absolutely did not want to go to. They still fit, maybe slung a little low on his hips but they'll do. He goes across the hall to Gabriel's old room and raids his closet for a shirt. He was away at college (hopefully soaking in a little of the higher knowledge he was supposed to be there for) and he left a lot of clothes here for when he infrequently made a trip home.

Stepping over the clutter that always seemed to accumulate even when he wasn't here, Castiel surveys his choices. His instinct is to go for a long-sleeved dark green polo but he puts it back in favor of a blue short-sleeved tshirt with some fake vintage café logo on the front. Once it's on, he stares at his pale arms in the mirror for several seconds. When he tilts his left to bare his inner arm, he can just see the barely there scars that look sporadic. Not uniform to give anything away, but random spots that anyone could have. His inner arm is his favorite spot but it's been a while so the marks are only really visible if you knew where to look. Still he felt a wave of self-consciousness make him shift his weight before he caught himself doing it. He couldn't let that awkwardness take over. Not today. He straightens, tugging at the bottom of the tshirt one last time and heads out of his brother's room.

Surprisingly his mom was up and in the kitchen sipping coffee.

"You're awake," he observes, going to the freezer to grab the Eggos.

"Well good morning to you too." She hugs him from behind and kisses the back of his head. "I have to go in for a bit this morning to finish up some paperwork then I'll get to catch up on sleep before church tonight."

He nods, popping a frozen waffle in the toaster and waiting. He fidgets under her scrutiny but she doesn't comment on his choice of clothing.

"Your uncle will be speaking tonight. I'm sure everyone would love to see you..."

He doesn't turn around from watching the toaster toast. He'd dodged going back to church for several months now. His mom was fully aware he was gay but didn't want him to mention it around his church friends. And especially not his Uncle. She said she loved him no matter what but they might not understand. It made him feel like he was hiding and maybe made him recent her just a little.

"I might be home late today, Mom," he hedges.

"Why?"

His breakfast pops up and he grabs it gingerly, turning to face her. "Studying. With a friend."

"Charlie?"

"No, another friend."

"Oh." She smiles with her teeth, making it painfully obvious she didn't think he had any other friends. "Have fun then. Don't be home too late."

He gives her a small smile back, and even goes to give her a kiss on the cheek as he grabs his bag up and takes his Eggo to eat dry on the way to the bus.

"Whoa."

"What?" he asks, guiltily.

"Look at you." Charlie takes in his appearance, slowly circling.

"What about it?" Castiel tugs on his short sleeve anxiously. "Do I not look okay?"

"No you look great. Different. But great."

He all but beams. "Thank you. You know I value your opinion above all others."

Charlie's eyebrows raise comically high at his almost chipper mood so he scurries away to his first class before she can start needling him on his sudden change in appearance.

That day marks the third lunch Dean doesn't show and he resolves to fix that. He feels too good to have any fleeting feelings of guilt bringing him down. Leaving five minutes early from the bleachers with an excuse to Charlie, he finds him. Dean was in a corner of the courtyard, smiling and talking in the circle of a bunch of friends that all seem to be trying their very best to stand out and flaunt their teenage rebellion. Guys with baggy jeans or shorts to their knees and socks up to their shorts. A few girls mixed in, tight pants held up with pyramid studded belts and matching accessories. Some have piercings winking in the sun. Shaggy hair, dreads, two or three with bright unnatural colors. He can't help thinking they're a little like colorful fish. Dean almost looks normal in comparison with his shorter hair and faded shirt, baggy jeans combo but still he fits in seamlessly, looking comfortable in his element. Castiel hesitates, but thankfully, with the ring of the first warning bell signally next lunch, they all disperse. Dean's hauling on his book bag, his ever-present skateboard must be in his locker, when walks up to him before he too can leave.

"Dean."

His eyes flick up briefly before he flips his bookbag around to unzip and dig for something.

"Yeah?"

"I was... abrupt the other day."

Dean laughs without humor. "Just the other day?"

Exhaling through his nose, Castiel allows, "In general, then."

Dean's head is still bent as he pulls out a textbook and rezips his bag. "So this your apology?"

"I never said I was apologizing."

"Good because you're doing a crap job of it."

Castiel clenches his jaw and takes another calming breath. It was too easy to get pulled into their usual back and forth and that wouldn't accomplish anything.

"I apologize."

Dean finally makes eye contact, raising one cocky eyebrow.

The irritation over that familiar smug expression Dean's wearing falls away for a second. The light happens to be making his skin almost glow and Castiel's surprised to be seeing freckles he never paid attention to or cared to.

"You have freckles," Castiel says out of nowhere.

Eyebrows arching in mild surprise, Dean asks a little defensively, "Yeah, Captain Obvious, I do. That a problem?"

"No." Castiel cocks his head slightly with a little frown. With the afternoon sun hitting that light brown scruff it looks almost golden, freckles popping out everywhere now under his gaze. And he has to admit, Dean's eyes are actually a very pretty green. Castiel suddenly blushes for some absurd reason. When he realizes what he's been doing, he glances away and adds, "They suit you."

Dean is grinning when he turns back as if he somehow could see into his head and know what he'd been thinking. Looking much more receptive, Dean sits then, straddling the stone bench before raising one leg up to hook an arm around it and look completely comfortable.

"So jeans, huh?" He says, conversationally. "Didn't think you owned any. Something wrong with your usual uniform?"

"No. Today I felt like dressing like this." Castiel lifts his chin defensively and tries not to shift his weight. Dean does a once over and he squirms a little anyway, picking at an invisible speck on his t-shirt hem.

"Dude. I wouldn't have believed it but you looked more comfortable in the monkey suit."

"I'll get used to it. I'm just trying something new."

"Uh huh." Dean looks over to the group of familiar popular kids he hadn't even realized had gathered. "This something new wouldn't have anything to do with a dumbass jock would it?"

"He's not a dumbass," he immediately jumps to his defense.

"Sure, Cas. So you still chasing after that?"

With the mention of him, Castiel covertly darts a glance over at Michael's table. It's his lunch period, Castiel's having just ended. He should get moving to his next class before the final bell makes him tardy but it's like he's suspended in place. Anxiety and excitement begin to bubble at the thought of later. Would Michael kiss him? Had he misread everything? His arms feel exposed and he keeps going to tug on the sleeves but they're not there. What if they kept meeting? Secretly. Maybe it'd start out kissing and then eventually move on to other things. He knew the mechanics but would Michael? Had he done this before? Would he want to lead or… or was Castiel supposed to? He probably misunderstood the whole thing anyway. Little zings of apprehension shoot through him at the thought of actually being naked and sweaty underneath him but Michael would make it okay.

He watches Shauna jump into Michael's lap and wind her arms around his neck. He turns away before he can see them kiss.

What was he doing?

Castiel presses his lips hard but when he remembers Dean and turns back to him, his face isn't mocking or teasing. There's concern or something else he can't guess at around his eyes and Castiel lowers his own out of shame.

Dean gets to his feet, shouldering his bag and carrying his lone book under his arm.

"Just take care of yourself, man. Guy's not worth it."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he can't help biting out.

When Castiel sees Michael's eyes connect with his briefly, he lifts his arm in waving but Michael either doesn't see it or pretends not to. One of friends does unfortunately. A huge lumbering barrel-chested boy in a bright red letterman jacket yells, "Ay! See something you like, sweetheart?!" He grabs his crotch in his beefy hand while another one behind him catches on and starts whistling. "Ow ow oooowww!"

The cluster of girls nearby laugh along with Michael who shoves the one who started it playfully and they all descend into headlocks and manly wrestling.

"Yep. Guess not." Dean cuffs him on the shoulder as he walks on to his next class. Castiel watches him go.

The rest of the day is a panic-infused blur. By the last bell, Castiel's so nervous he worries he might throw up and wouldn't that just be perfect. At the last minute, he stops by his locker to grabs all the Trig notes on the off chance he misunderstood everything.

"Hey!" Charlie pops up next to him at his locker making him almost jump a foot in the air.

"Oh," he clutches his chest, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Whoa, guilty conscious?" She pokes him in the ribs.

He just smiles with strain in response.

"Wanna hang out later? I have the second season of Downton Abbey recorded…" She sing songs enticingly.

"Um.."

"You'll even get treated to my best fake British accent, my good man."

"Maybe. I'll uh text you later, okay?"

She narrows her eyes at his infrequent eye contact.

"You ok?"

"What? Yes." He slams his locker.

"You sure? Because you're being weird."

"Weird?" His voice was an octave too high and he damned it viciously inside his head.

"Yeah weird," she says more firmly.

"Charlie, I have to go. I'll text you later."

"You're dressing different. Being all avoidy."

He already felt like he was going to jump out of his skin and he didn't need her being her quizzing him right now.

"I just wanted to dress differently today okay?!"

Charlie just stares at him, eyes a little too wide. "Okay," she says softly.

Damnit. He sighs and turns towards her. "Charlie..."

But she has a fake smile plastered on and backups first. "No it's fine. Um, see you later."

Watching her leave, Castiel blows out a heavy breath. He would fix that. He would. Later. When it didn't feel like butterflies started a fight club in his stomach.

He tightens a hand on the strap of his bag that crosses his chest and heads towards the back of the school. Kids bump his shoulders on either side, eager to start their weekend but he barely registers it. He has tunnel-vision.

Would he kiss him? Hard and hot up against a wall. Or be shy? Was it his first time kissing a guy? Endless questions and he realized he never thought Michael would ever be into him. He was just someone to put on a pedestal and worship from afar but now he was actually real. And wanted to meet up with Castiel. Secretly but still. Wasn't that more exciting anyway? A secret gay teen romance. Seventeen magazine, eat your heart out.

Taking several deep breaths, Castiel tries to smooth down his hair one last time and pulls open the locker-room door. It's heavy. Or maybe he's just about to fall over from nerves and his arms are betraying him.

He's never been in here but it looks pretty much like what he expected it to. Tiled walls. Rows of lockers and cabinets with equipment. Another doorway that presumably leads to a communal shower. He takes several tentative steps forward.

"Michael?"

His voice bounces off the walls making him wince.

"Hey. You showed," he rounds a corner.

"Yes… "

He smiles shyly and steps forward, licking his dry lips. He doesn't know what to do, should he just go for it? Try to kiss him? But Michael just steps back and sits down on the bench. Castiel frowns and looks down at him, moving to sitt beside him warily. Michael smiles that smile that flips his stomach. After a second, he leans back and gestures to his lap. His jeans are as ever perfectly ironed.

"Well?"

"Um... What?"

"You gonna suck me off or what?"

Cas almost chokes on his own saliva. "Pardon?" He's probably opening his mouth and closing it like a stupid fish. "I… "

Michael gives him a raised eyebrow and a 'what are you waiting for' look.

"Oh you want- So you are... um..."

Yeah he's apparently definitely gay. Or at least willing to do .. Gay things. Or have gay things done to him. Castiel almost laughs when he has a fleeting thought that he can tell Charlie how wrong she was.

Michael sighs and starts unzipping. "Do you need an invitation? Geez, thought you'd be all over me."

Castiel had kinda hoped to like kiss a little or something. Not just jump to… that.

Suddenly Michael's dick is out and he's cuffing the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

"Just open your mouth and I'll do the rest..."

Cas almost lets it happen. He wants this right? He asked for this.

At the last second, he jerks out from under that big hand and falls backwards on his butt on hard unforgiving tile.

"What the fuck?" the other boy sighs impatiently. "Are you one of those twinks that gets off on being a cocktease or something? I thought you were cool."

Cas swallows hard. Apparently cool meant blowing him in the locker room. Frowning, he tries to salvage this.

"Can we uh maybe talk or something first? I just... this is a little fast."

"Yeah I got friends I can talk to. That's not what you're here to do. Now seriously I'm blue-balling. Get that mouth over here."

His first time wasn't going to be this. A lot of stuff was fucked up with him, but he wasn't far enough gone to do this to himself.

"No thank you."

"What?"

He looked a little ridiculous now holding his dick in his hand with this disbelieving look on his face like he couldn't believe he was getting denied.

"I said no. Thank you." Castiel got to his feet with Michael scrabbling behind him buttoning his pants.

"You little faggot."

Michael balls his hand in Gabriel's t-shirt and slams him back against the lockers, head hitting painfully. Through the throbbing in the back of his skull, he sees an ugly sneer fall over the face in front of him that he'd dreamed about so often.

"Fine. Whatever. Your fuckin' loss, freak." He slams him back once more time and Castiel's bites his lip so he doesn't cry out. "But you even think of telling anyone, you little bitch, I'll make you wish you were fucking dead."

Michael punches him in the gut, right where all the butterflies had been swarming, and all the wind goes out of him. Cas doubles over eyes watering as Michael stomps out the door.

After laying there for several minutes, he makes it outside to back of school and decides here is as good a place as any. Throwing his bag down carelessly, Castiel slides down the brick wall until he's back on the ground and wraps his arms around his bent knees. He rubs his hands over his face, over and over, hating the stinging in his eyes.

Anger over his own pathetic hopes tears into him. What had he expected? What stupid fantasy was he hoping for? That they'd go to Prom and kiss on the school steps?! What the fuck was wrong with him?

Memories of Michael's smile morphing into that sneer loop in his mind to torture him. Castiel grits his teeth and fists his hands in his gel-flattened hair and god he wishes for something sharp. Instead he digs his nails into the soft pale skin of his inner arm. The skin raises like he's seen a hundred times but it's not enough. Not even close. After another series of long desperate scratches, he has to stop because someone's coming. He quickly folds his arms and tucks his head close to his chest. He needs his coat. Sleeves. Then he can continue. Damnit he left it at home. Why hadn't he brought it at least? He hadn't had a day like today in so long. Hadn't brought it because Michael said loosen up and it'd been forever and now...

Cas doesn't look up but the footsteps stop near him. After a second, they begin to move on but before he can breathe out they hesitate again. Then they come back to right in front of him.

"Hey, Cas."

Damnit. This has to be a cosmic joke. The one person in the world he would never have wanted to see right now-

"Dean."

Castiel stares at his Vans, being rude but not caring with the bubble of dark thoughts he's surrounded by. Go. Go please. Go now. Fucking go.

His vision is a watery blur and his head's throbbing dully.

He needs more because he can still think and the anger and helplessness are still pressing at his insides trying to get out. So he needs Dean to fucking go.

Instead without any encouragement, Dean sits down beside him against the wall with crossed legs.

"So whatcha doing here?"

School was out by now. It probably did look odd him sniffling against a wall. He quickly reached up to wipe at his face for any stray wetness like he could erase it.

Dean doesn't comment or ask anything else which is something. It's just quiet until Cas looks over to see he's staring at the angry red raised skin on his inner arm.

Cas folds his arms again, face flaming. Damnit. Damn Dean. Damn Michael. Damn him and his imbecilic expectations. He's wrapped in a bitter numb embarrassment that knows no end. What was Dean thinking? What conclusions was he drawing? What will he say-

"Wanna ride?"

Castiel turns to him abruptly, sniffing once. "What?"

He was expecting some awkward question about what he'd seen but instead Dean seemed not affected.

"Just uh... you're here and the buses already left, right? I got my Baby back... in the Juniors lot. Wanna ride?"

"I'm… " he hesitates, mind struggling to change gears. "I can't go home yet."

He told his mom he wouldn't be home till later and if he came in now, she'd ask what happened. She can't pretend everything's fine in their little corner of the world if he comes in sniffling... He needed more time to compose himself.

"No prob, man. I'm going to the skate park if you wanna tag along." Thinking better on it like he remembered Cas' disdain for skating he adds, "or whatever. We could go uh wherever. Somewhere else."

"No. That's fine."

Dean looks surprised but nods. "Cool. I just gotta pick up my little bro, Sam on the way."

He offers Castiel a hand up and Cas takes it, taking one last swipe under his eyes for good measure. They were probably red and puffy but it's the best he could do. Dean's biting his lip when he looks back at him, but just smiles tightly when he sees he has his attention again. Castiel doesn't know what to make of Dean anymore. Why was he being so nice to him? Because he was a sniveling mess? Most people would avoid that like the plague. He processes the last part finally. Everything seems a second or two behind at the moment.

"Oh your brother? I - nevermind. I'll just walk." He looks down self-consciously at his wrecked arms.

Dean frowns but notices him fidgeting with his arms, clasping his wrist behind his back as if to make them less obvious.

Without a word he removes his flannel, revealing a black tshirt with a triangle design and 'Dark Side of the Moon' emblazoned across it.

"Here." He hands it over and Castiel barely flicks his eyes up before taking it.

He stares at it in his hands for a moment, feeling a hard lump in his throat. "Thank you, Dean."

Author's Note: Thank you for my feedback, darlings. It does wonders for my motivation. I'm sorry if this wasn't a fun chapter. I promise next one will be a lot less angsty.