It was eighth period, which was technically their theatre production class, but the closer they got to opening night, the more frequently Metatron declared the class period to be used as a study hall.

Which essentially meant free reign over the entire theatre wing of the high school—the auditorium, the dressing rooms, the shop, and the classroom itself.

Cas sat in the classroom along with a couple others- Sam, Meg, Chuck. Some of the cast members were down in the dressing rooms trying on costumes, a couple of students were in the shop working on putting the final set pieces together, and others had brought homework into the auditorium with them.

Metatron was in his office the next room over, probably working on his screenplay or something.

"Hey, Cas, whataya think?"

Cas turned at the sound of Dean's voice. It was probably comical looking, how far his jaw dropped when he saw his best friend. Dean stood in the doorway of the classroom, leaning against the door frame.

Castiel's eyes slowly dropped to Dean's white t-shirt, which he was wearing underneath a black leather jacket, and then even lower to the obscenely tight jeans, rolled up once or twice at the bottom to expose black converse high tops.

Dean squirmed a little under Cas' stare. "Cas?" he asked, approaching the speechless stage manager.

When he was close enough, Dean reached out and put a finger under Castiel's chin, forcing his mouth shut. "Is, uh, open-mouthed gaping good or bad?"

"Um," Cas said, a blush spreading to his cheeks. "Good?"

"It's a question? You don't know?" Dean asked, eyebrows drawing together and a pout pulling at his lips.

"No. I mean, it's good. Definitely good. Turn around."

Dean smirked and raised an eyebrow, but did as Cas said. The leather jacket had the T birds logo stitched into the back. Cas smiled and traced the logo. "I like it."

Dean turned back around, beaming at Cas. God, why did he have to be so beautiful.

Castiel remembered Charlie and her move with Anna. Confidence was key. It was like magic.

Cas looked at Dean's hair, spiked up in Dean's usual style. In a rare surge of bravery, Cas lifted his hand to touch the brown locks. He hesitated at first, just running a few fingers through the very tips of Dean's hair. When Dean didn't immediately pull away, Cas figured he was already well past being casual- might as well go all in.

"Your hair's still not right, though," he mumbled, taking a small step closer. Dean's eyes widened and Cas heard his breath hitch. Cas pretended not to notice, because if he acknowledged Dean then he'd realize what he was doing and start freaking out, which would probably end with him running from the room screaming.

He combed his entire hand through Dean's hair, trying to push it back so it lay flat. It wasn't cooperating, so Cas brought his other hand up to help the process.

"Do you use product?" Castiel asked, head tilting to the side.

"Uh. A little," Dean said, voice rougher than usual.

"It's soft," he observed. "Softer than I expected." He giggled a little. "And fluffy."

"You're gonna mess it up," he grumbled half-heartedly.

Cas chuckled and met Dean's eyes, realizing that he was more or less feeling Dean up and Dean hadn't pulled away yet. He tilted his head to the side again, one hand still buried in Dean's hair. Of course, upon making eye contact with Dean, Cas froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Sorry," he said after an excruciatingly long pause, pulling his hand away like he'd been stung.

"S'okay," Dean said, blinking a few times at the loss of contact.

"Uh," Sam said from across the room, "You guys realize you're in a populated classroom, right?"

Both Dean and Cas jumped and turned toward Sam, Cas looking guilty and Dean looking offended.

"Sorry to interrupt?" Sam said, raising an eyebrow at them.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean huffed, taking the smallest fraction of a step away from Castiel. "Anyways, Cas, if you're done caressing me—"

"—That was not—" Cas scoffed.

"—I meant to ask you something. Some of the cast's sleeping over at Garth's tonight. Including you. And you're not 'helping Charlie with her physics' this time, cuz I asked, and she's coming."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't sound like you're giving me much of a choice."

"None whatsoever."

"Well in that case, I suppose I might as well go," Cas smiled.

"'Atta boy," Dean grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go change. This jacket's really freaking hot."

.

.

A/N: I don't know, guys. I guess I have a thing about Charlie's mad flirting skills inspiring Cas to make a move on Dean. I did the same thing in my fic "One Does Not Simply Ship Destiel"... (If you haven't read it yet, go do it. That fic is my pride and joy and probably the best I've ever written. You won't regret it. :P)