Author's Note: Profuse apologies to the trumpet players I have probably offended; I bass (ha) this solely off of my experiences with trumpet players and their questionable dynamic choices. Warning: this chapter does not contain much in the way of musical humour. The author apologizes.

MAKE DEAN FALL IN LOVE WITH CAS.
A plan by Sam Winchester and Gabriel Novak.

Step One: Force subjects One and Two into increasingly smaller spaces.

Dean glanced across the empty classroom at the bewildered face of the lead bassist. He sincerely doubted Sam's story, but he remained in the room nonetheless.

DEAN. There is a gas leak RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE STANDING. You and Cas HAVE TO GET INTO THIS CLASSROOM NOW FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR VERY LIVES.

Cas was wondering how on Earth this was supposed to further his pursuit of Dean. His eyes darted confusedly around the room for some answer before finally settling on Dean. He stared at him, transfixed, for some minutes.

Dean saw him staring.

Cas saw Dean see him staring.

Dean saw Cas see him see him staring.

Cas saw him see him see him see him sea hymn say ham salmon.

…whatever.

Dean sauntered towards hymn. Ham. HIM.

Dean stared meaningfully into Cas's eyes. He realized that was a bit gay and promptly gave him a manly punch on the shoulder. Turning around he shook himself mentally. He told himself to get a grip, to stop thinking about Cas and his beautiful blue eyes, eyes like the sky on a summers day that shone like-

Dean snapped out his reverie, discovering that somehow he had turned around and was inches from Cas's face. He ran out of the room, Sam's gas leak be damned.

From their hiding spot at the back of the room, Sam heaved a sigh and marked Step One as incomplete while Gabriel grinned mischievously.

Step Two: Hit on subject Two to make subject One jealous.

"Like we talked about, right gentlemen?"

Sam was giving a pep talk to Garth and Ash. The unfortunate pair had been roped into the conspiracy and were currently being asked to flirt with Cas. Not an overly difficult job (he was quite attractive), but they faced the very real possibility of the Wrath of Dean Winchester tm.

Ash coughed nervously and attempted to strut over to Cas. He failed miserably and ended up resembling something closer to a teenaged giraffe with balance issues. Garth followed, Mr. Fizzles already on his hand.

Ash, Garth and Mr. Fizzles approached the table. It should perhaps be explained who (or what) Mr. Fizzles is. Garth had long since discovered that people found it easier to talk to something that wasn't a person. A chance encounter with a sock had led him to the perfect outlet of this. The boy and his puppet had since been inseparable.

Returning to the scene, Cas had looked up dazedly from his book and was studying his two friends. Dean had disrupted his blatant staring (at Cas) to glare balefully at the interlopers. Sam tried desperately not to grin his face off and Gabriel rolled his eyes at the antics of his boyfriend. Had Gabriel had his way, they would've locked Dean and Cas in a closet until they came out, as it were.

"Hey, Cas. Did it, uh, hurt when you fell from heaven?"

Ash winced internally at what he knew was a terribly pickup line. That was only the first in a string of lines too numerous and blatantly bad to mention. Dean's face grew darker and darker, reaching far past vermillion and well into scarlet.

When the deluge had ended Cas blinked once or twice. Mr. Fizzles opened his mouth to come forth with another come on and Dean decided he had had enough. He grabbed the two smaller boys by the collar and yanked them away from Cas.

Sam nearly fainted.

Cas blinked again.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

Dean turned around awkwardly and began to fumble for an excuse:

"Well they were hitting on you, I couldn't rightly have them make fun of you or anything. It had nothing to do with...right, I'll just go," he finished, muttering something about puppets and paper shredders. Cas glanced back at Ash and Garth. The two appeared ready to fall over. Then they did just that.

Sam was almost ready to go with Gabriel's plan.

Step One Part Two:
PUT THEM IN THE CLOSET UNTIL DEAN IS READY TO COME OUT.

"Ah, I have found the light. Dean, did Sam mention when he would be returning?"

"No,"

Dean's response was shortened somewhat by his proximity to Cas. The two were now locked in what appeared by all accounts to be a broom closet in the school basement. Chuck had sent them to find some better mutes and they had 'accidentally' been shoved in by their brothers. Dean, meanwhile, was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on things like facts and breathing. Dean's mind tried desperately to tell him that he was not, in fact, gay.

It failed.

After two hours, Sam and Gabriel decided that Cas and Dean had been given enough time. Following the opening of the closet door Sam fainted and Gabriel fell against the wall shaking with barely concealed laughter.

"So are you *snort* dating, or were you attacked by a *giggle* wild puma?" he guffawed wiping tears from his eyes. Cas and Dean stood within looking disheveled. Cas's face was currently a brilliant red and Dean looked properly contrite.

Gabriel turned away, giggling, and slung the still limp Sam over his shoulder. He then almost collapsed because the other student was twice his height and weight. He elected to drag him back up to the music room.

Chuck had been doing quite well during this particular class. Dean was missing and so was Gabriel. There was almost something like order: tempos were almost met; notes almost in tune and the band had nearly finished the piece when a newly recovered Sam charged into the room, Gabriel in tow. Chuck saw this and the sudden deterioration of the class as his cue to leave. He promptly slid under his table.

It should be known that the entirety of the band had long ago placed bets upon the exact manner of Dean and Cas's relationship beginning. They crowded around Sam and Gabriel for details. When Sam had finished with the story they quieted down and agreed to play a piece. Then the two parties so asked after entered. The opening bars of 'Here Comes the Bride' struck up from the band.

"Class," a quavering voice echoed from beneath the table, "the concert is tomorrow," it continued, "would you mind if we practiced?"

Author's Note: Not a lot of music jokes, I know. Just wait; next chapter is the mother of all music jokes.