Author's Note: ...Hello? Are any of my readers still out there? Yes, I know I've been gone for yet another month, but now that school is rearing the end, things have been quite hectic. But rest assured, I'm only stuck in that prison for another week or so before I'm finally out for the summer! Then I'll be able to update this way more often. But anyway, back to the subject of this chapter. Oh this chapter...my original intentions were to make this update just a big ball of fluffiness with the total word count not even reaching 5,000...

None of those things occurred because my characters wanted to be all angsty at the end (surprise, surprise, I know), but don't worry, there is sprinkles of fluff hidden in this chapter here and there. But anyway, I'll let you get to it.

The next morning, Dean woke up to a pounding headache, the disturbing sound of someone heaving their guts out, and the revolting stench of vomit.

"What the fuck?" He mumbled drowsily, attempting to shake off his lingering sleepiness as he pushed himself up into a half-sitting position and looked around his bedroom. Not counting the fact that his eyes burned at the sight of light streaming in from his window, everything looked pretty normal—

Just then, a figure at the side of his bed finally caught his eye and jerked Dean fully awake. Blindly, he felt a rise of panic at some intruder being in his room, but it simmered down when he heard a familiar raspy voice croak out miserably, "My apologies, Dean. I didn't mean to wake you."

All tension immediately left his body and Dean let out a sigh of relief, looking over to see his hopelessly sick friend, "Cas, what are you..." He trailed off as the memory of last night came flashing through his mind. Hanging out at the bar, dragging Cas' drunk ass home, slipping into bed with him—

Shame and something else he refused to analyze further plagued his stomach at that last memory, and Dean didn't know if it was the lingering hangover, the overwhelming smell of puke hovering in the air, or the knowledge of what he did last night that made him suddenly have the urge to vomit as well.

"Dean." Castiel rasped out again, snapping Dean out of his sickening daze to focus on the younger boy.

He honestly looked he'd been run over by a bus repeatedly—red eyes, clammy pale skin, misery and exhaustion ghosting his angelic features, sullen frown of discomfort and agony...it was obvious that it was Cas' first hangover ever, and Dean was glad he was there to get him through it.

Because he was just that good of a friend. That was the only reason his stomach warmed in happiness at being given the job of taking care of the sick blue eyed boy. Seriously.

"Well, it seems like you had fun last night." Dean said, finding his lips slowly turning upward into a slight smirk.

"Perhaps." Castiel answered glumly, scratching the back of his wild mess of hair, "Though I don't believe it was quite worth feeling like this." To emphasize his statement, Castiel immediately turned around and puked heavily into Dean's waste basket (which he was so getting rid of after this considering how it was almost filled to the rim with Cas' vomit).

Dean chuckled but despite his amusement, the putrid smell still made his nose crinkle in disgust, "Dude, why didn't you just go to the bathroom?"

"I didn't know where it was," Cas pointed out helplessly once he regained his ability to speak, "And besides, I didn't want to hog it all morning in case one of your family members wished to use the restroom."

The mentioning of Dean's probably awake family made an unsettling fear boil in his stomach.

"Dean?" Castiel's weak voice croaked, but Dean was already out of bed and making his way to the door.

"Stay here, okay?" He whispered as his hand wrapped around the door knob, "I'll be right back." And because Castiel's fucking blind obedience and faith, the boy nodded earnestly before he started puking his guts out again.

Dean silently slipped out of his bedroom and tentatively tiptoed down the hall to his parents' bedroom. Their door was already halfway open and when Dean got brave enough to poke his head in there, the room was empty. That's either really good or really bad, he thought to himself with half-hope and half-dread brewing in his abdomen. He didn't know what he was so scared shitless about, but just the thought of one of his parents innocently poking their head in his room and seeing Dean's body tangled in another boy's—a boy that Dean had yet to identify his feelings for—was just enough to make his stomach churn.

He crept down the stairs as quietly as he could and saw that the living room was empty as well. So was the kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom.

So basically, Dean almost did something that looked mortifyingly like a happy dance before returning to his bedroom.

When he opened the door and saw Castiel clutching the waste basket and looking like a fucking wreck, Dean couldn't help but feel a swell of pity for him. He remembered his first hangover—it was years ago, and Dean remembered his father actually convincing him that licking a dirty ashtray would cure it (fool him once, shame on you...)—and he knew how miserable it was. And Dean wasn't really the biggest fan on seeing Castiel hurting in any shape or form, so you seriously couldn't blame him for what he did next.

"Okay, Cas," He sighed out, walking over and digging through his drawer for an extra pair of sweatpants and tee-shirt, "Time for phase one of Coping With A Hangover."

"And that is?" He heard the boy ask hoarsely.

Dean didn't answer for a moment as he finally picked out one of his smallest pair of sweats and an old Led Zeppelin shirt before replying, "Taking a nice, cold shower." He went silent for a moment before adding, "Actually, at first it doesn't feel all that nice, but trust me, you'll thank me later."

"You want me to take a shower at your house?" Castiel clarified and Dean really didn't like how the very thought of that made his nether-regions jump to life.

"Well, don't make it sound so dirty, Cas," He scolded in a forced teasing manner, smiling as he turned back around to see the other boy, "Two men can share a single shower." His green eyes widened as the words flew out of his mouth and he quickly added, "N-Not like that because you know, I don't wear green on Thursdays."

Castiel smiled a smile that looked amused if not a little sad, "I'm aware."

Dean cleared his throat and threw the clothes at him, "Anyway, here. You can change into these after you're done."

"Well, what are you going to do?" Cas asked as he reluctantly sat the wastebasket down and stood up on wobbly legs.

Dean grinned, relieved at the sudden change of subject, "I am going to cook us a feast!"

Cas smiled again, "I'd like that, Dean."

Dean nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, "So, the bathroom's downstairs, third door on the right." He then moved towards the door to start cooking, but Castiel's abrupt shy voice halted his movements.

"Uh...Dean?"

Dean threw a look over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

Castiel swallowed hard and stared down at the bed sheets, looking very hesitant to speak before he began gently, "I, uh...I don't remember much of last night..."

"It's alright, Cas," Dean assured him with a smile, "It happens to everyone one way or another."

"Did I say anything," He blurted out and when Dean gave him a confused look, he clarified, "...to offend you in any way?"

'You called me attractive a few times, but that really didn't offend me much' was what he wanted to say but immediately decided against it. It had been a fluke anyway; Cas didn't really mean what he said. He was just drunk, so Dean shouldn't get his hopes up (though for what, he wasn't sure).

So instead, Dean just smiled and shook his head, "Nah, you were the perfect gentlemen, Cas. Like always."

Castiel smiled a little at his words as he nodded, "Um...okay. Good."

With a two-fingered salute, Dean left the room and thundered down the stairs, hearing Castiel follow him seconds after. They parted with a single nod as Dean went to the kitchen and Cas disappeared to the bathroom.

Once in the kitchen, Dean caught sight of a post-it note on the refrigerator. He moved toward the fridge and squinted his eyes at it.

Sam, your father and I had to go to work early. Dean, you better've stumbled into the house by now.

Dean smiled in relief at his mother's sloppy handwriting before turning the burner on and beginning to cook.

Sam came into the kitchen just as Dean was finishing up frying the eggs.

"Dean," The younger boy greeted in a yawn, rubbing his eyes, "Glad you're here. Mom and Dad were worried sick about you."

"I'm fine, Sammy," He assured him, only glancing at him for a second before focusing back on his task, "So...how was your date?"

Even with his back turned to him, Dean could feel Sam's beam of joy.

"It was amazing, Dean..." His brother gushed and then proceeded to waste a whole fifteen minutes talking about his unyielding love for Jessica Lee Moore.

"You know, the only reason she wanted to go on a date with you was that she needed an interview about your upcoming basketball season for the school paper, and she knew you'd only talk to her if she pretended to be interested in you." Sam mused, and Dean actually felt wounded by this piece of information.

"Well, whatever," He grumbled before looking over his shoulder at Sam and waggling his eyebrows, "So...she put out or what?"

"Of course not!" Sam crowed with a fierce blush and a scowl, "Jess isn't like that, Dean. She's classy."

Dean chuckled, "In high school and still classy? Man, Sammy, you gotta marry this girl."

"She's awesome, Dean," Sam sighed out, "I mean, she's in almost all of my classes and I've always thought she was cute, but now I actually like her, you know? And I think she likes me too. We're going on another date next Friday."

"Good for you, Sammy." Dean said with a smile, and he honestly was really happy for his little brother. It turned out that his night was a success as well.

"So, what did you do last night?" Sam asked, and the smile was wiped from Dean's face.

Dean cleared his throat as he deposited his last fried egg onto the platter and switched the burner off, "I was, uh—"

"Dean?" And just because the universe hated him, Castiel sudden walked into the kitchen dressed in Dean's clothes and Sam was right there, dammit! But all sour thoughts were expelled from Dean's mind when he caught sight of how fucking good Cas looked right now.

His hair was damp and sticking up in random places from where he'd probably scrubbed a towel with it, and his clammy skin was finally beginning to get back a little color in it. And his clothes...fuck, his clothes. The tee-shirt was huge on him and hung very loosely on his frame, exposing his smooth, untouched pale collarbones. His sweatpants were a little too loose as well and rode dangerously low on his waist, but thankfully most of it (not all but most) was covered by Dean's baggy shirt.

He was freaking beautiful and hey, just because Dean was one hundred percent heterosexual (shut up; yes, he was), it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the view, okay?

It hadn't occurred to him that he'd been staring until Castiel's anxious voice said, "Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean snapped his mouth shut (when did it fall open again?) and averted his eyes, babbling, "I'm fine. I'm just..." staring at you because you look like a Greek god, "How was your shower?"

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him before hesitantly replying, "Good, I suppose. Your shampoo is quite nice. It smells like peaches." That was actually Sam's girly shampoo that Dean constantly mocked him about, but Dean was just going to take the compliment since he really didn't trust himself to speak at the moment.

Just now remembering that Sam was in the room, Dean looked over only to see Sam staring at the two of them with a slack jaw and wide, incredulous eyes.

At first, Dean was confused at his reaction before it finally occurred to him what this may look like...

Oh shit, he didn't really think—

"Um," Sam's strained, cracked voice said as he made a vague gesture between Cas and Dean, "How long has this been going on, and did you seriously do it while I was sleeping right next door?"

"Do what?" Castiel asked with a puzzled tilt of his head. Dean couldn't answer because he was too busy blushing like a fucking virgin.

"Of course not, Sam!" Dean hissed, his voice sounding a little bit too hysterical to his liking, "We're not—we didn't—"

"Oh," Castiel sighed out in realization, his pale cheeks slowly turning pink, "Your brother thinks we engaged in sexual intercourse, doesn't he?"

Sam plugged his ears shut, "Seriously, Guys, I don't want to know."

"I'm not gay, Sam!" Dean shouted, his words echoing through the house, "We just slept in the same bed and I let him borrow my damn clothes, alright? Get your head out of the gutter!"

It then was silent for a moment with Sam now looking at Dean doubtfully and Dean looking anywhere but Sam or Cas.

Finally, it was Castiel who broke the silence by clearing his throat and saying, "Well, this is...awkward. Is breakfast finished, Dean?"

"Uh—yea," Dean said hoarsely from his yelling, picking up the separate platters of bacon and eggs and setting them on the table, "Yea, let's dig in."

Castiel smiled at him as he sat down at the table and began filling up his plate. Dean got his own plate and slid into the seat next to him, and Sam—after getting over his initial confusion and bewilderment—joined them a minute later.

"So," Sam said after he swallowed a mouthful of bacon, "What did you guys do last night?"

"We went to a bar, got hammered, had a heart-to-heart, and passed out on my bed." Dean told him flatly before plucking a slice of egg in his mouth.

"I got drunk last night," Castiel informed Sam in a serious and stoic manner, "It wasn't a pleasant experience. I wouldn't recommend it."

It took Dean five minutes to eventually stop laughing.

After they finished eating, Castiel went back upstairs to "call Balthazar and tell him he hadn't slipped into Perdition" while Dean and Sam went to the living room to pick out a movie to watch.

Dean and Sam spent the next ten minutes arguing between "Silence of the Lambs" and "Pulp Fiction" before eventually settling on a Batman movie.

"I'd be okay with it, you know?" Sam blurted out after a long pause of silence as they waited for Cas to get back, "You and Cas. I wouldn't care."

"Dude, what is with everybody thinking I'm gay all of a sudden?" Dean asked exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I see the way he looks at you, when you're not watching," Sam said quietly, making Dean's body immediately still, "It's the same way you look at him when you think nobody else can see."

"I don't wanna talk about it, Sam." Dean replied softly, looking over at him with pleading eyes, "Please, I know you're just trying to help, but I don't want to hear it."

Sam nodded and they both stayed silent until Cas came back.

"What'd Sebastian say?" Dean asked as Castiel settled into the seat on the couch next to him (which was a little too close than necessary, but Dean wasn't in the mood to protest).

"He was upset at me, of course." Castiel said with a shrug and frown, "He spent the first five minutes yelling British obscenities at me."

"What, he mad I stole away his princess bride for the evening?" Dean asked with a small smile, ignoring the pitiful look Sam gave him.

"I had asked him to cover for me by telling Naomi I stayed the night at his house while I was out with you," Cas informed him, "I said I would be back soon, but when I never came to his house, he freaked out and spent the whole night looking around town for me."

"He always this paranoid?" Dean questioned with a humored smirk.

"Only when it comes to you, Dean." Castiel told him casually, and Dean didn't even know what to make of that statement so he just shrugged and decided to let it slide.

Dean broke out into a grin and teased, "So...did you spend the rest of the time arguing about snails?"

Cas stared at him like he'd grown a second head that breathed fire and burped rainbows.

"...Snails?" He repeated, his brow furrowed and head tilted to the side in complete confusion.

Dean's smile dimmed as he said, "Last night, you told me you and him argued about snails a lot."

Cas stared at him blankly for a few moments before responding slowly, "Oh, right...I remember." When in reality, Dean knew for a fact that the boy didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

Which was...weird. If sober Cas didn't know what he was talking about, why would drunk Cas say anything about it? Weird, he repeated in his mind and made a mental reminder to get to the bottom of that later.

But not right now; now, Dean plugged the movie in and settled back into his spot.

"What movie did you pick?" Castiel asked with a cocked head.

Dean grinned, "Batman."

Cas looked at him "Who?"

"Seriously?" Dean groaned, "How are you even from this century?"

"I'm glad I am from this time, Dean." Castiel admitted in all seriousness, "If I wasn't, then I couldn't have met you."

Dean stared at him for a long time before he looked back to the television and mumbled, "Just watch the damn movie."

"I think I like Batman," Castiel declared two hours later.

Dean smirked, "I knew you would."

"He's very...dark and self-loathing," Cas said thoughtfully, staring up at Dean's living room ceiling, "Quite the opposite of the average superhero's egotistical personality."

"Hey now, there's not wrong with having a big ego," Dean defended mockingly, pretending to appear wounded, "You need a little faith in yourself every once in awhile."

"Amen to that." Castiel murmured, tipping his head all the way back against the couch and causing a stray strand of hair to fall in his eyes. Acting on pure impulse, Dean leaned in and brushed the strand back, secretly adoring the way his calloused hand rubbed against Castiel's porcelain skin. As if that action wasn't bad enough, Dean was stupid enough to let himself get lost in the sensation, causing his hand to linger on Cas much longer than necessary.

Castiel swallowed hard and glanced down at him, confusion blended with something else pulsing in his deep blue irises. As soon as they locked gazes, Dean was glad Sam had went back to his room a half hour ago so he wouldn't have to witness the way the two boys just sat there silently, staring at one another with barely a ghost of a touch linking their bodies together.

The depth of Cas' blue eyes still got Dean every once in awhile. They were just like a work of art, a perfect meld and blend of tropical blues that hinted at the bright soul brewing behind them.

It was only a second later before Dean dropped his hand and looked to the ground, his fingertips still burning with the impression of Cas' cool, icy hot skin.

"Dean..." Castiel's soft voice began quietly, but the sudden noise of the front door opening ceased his speech.

"Boys, we're home—" Mary began to shout but stopped abruptly once he noticed Dean and Castiel sitting on the couch. Her eyebrows shot up dangerously close to her hairline (so that was where Sammy got that expression from...) and it took her a few moments before she said, "Hello, Dean...and Castiel."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Winchester." Cas greeted politely and rose from his seat, moving towards Mary and her armload of groceries, "Here, let me help you with that."

"That's okay, Sweetie," Mary said weakly but didn't put up much of a fight as Cas swiftly took the bags from her, "I've...got it."

Cas smiled kindly at her, "It's no trouble, Mrs. Winchester. I pack groceries every week when Naomi drags—I mean, takes me along with her to shop." And before she could protest further, the boy turned and began walking to the kitchen.

Mary cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest at her eldest son, who was still unmoving on the sofa, "Why can't you be that sweet?"

"What're you talkin' about?" Dean mocked with a grin, "I'm sweeter than sugar."

Mary scoffed as she threw the car keys to him, "Well, prove it by getting off your ass and carrying in the rest."

Dean whistled as he rose to his feet, "Damn, Mom, shoppin' day or something?"

"Your father finally got his check yesterday," She told him with a shrug, "I'd like to spend most of it on practical things as soon as I can before he wastes it all on beer and sports gambling."

"That was one time nine years ago, Mary," John grumbled as he pushed past his wife and made his way to the kitchen, "I said I was sorry."

"Sorry doesn't get you back that Christmas bonus, John." Mary said pointedly, making her husband huff and roll his eyes, mumbling something about 'stubborn women' under his breath.

Once John was out of the room, Mary looked to Dean with a serious expression and demanded sternly, "Where did you go last night, Dean? You worried me and your father to death."

"I was with Cas," Dean told her stiffly, rolling his eyes, "It's not like I was at a whore house or meth lab. Hell, I doubt Cas even knows those things exist."

Though her anger was still present, Mary couldn't fight the smile that played on her lips, "That's good. The longer you can prolong that naivety, the better."

"Naivety is another word for ignorance, you know," Dean reminded her with a smirk, "And knowledge is power, right?"

Mary rolled her eyes, "Just go get the rest of the groceries, Dork."

Dean grinned as he strolled past her and went outside to the car, popping the trunk and gathering the last three heavy bags in his arms (seriously, what did his mother buy, bricks?). He only barely made it inside the house before he heard his father's confused voice, "Uh…Mary? Why do we have a strange boy in our kitchen?"

Cas, his thoughts screamed as Dean quickly picked up his pace to the kitchen, praying that his blunt and occasionally threatening father hadn't interrogated him yet like he did with all of Dean's friends. It wasn't but a second later that he was in the kitchen doorway, and what he saw was even stranger than fiction.

"…So you're one of the Milton kids?" John asked Castiel, not a shred of intimidation in his tone but instead actual curiosity.

Cas smiled at Dean's father and nodded, holding out his hand, "Yes, I am. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester."

A corner of John's mouth curled into a half-smirk (and since when in hell had that happened before?) as he readily accepted it, grasping Castiel's hand and giving it a firm shake, "Call me John. So your name is…"

"Castiel," Dean answered before Cas could even open his mouth to reply, walking over to set the grocery bags on the table, "He's my best friend."

Cas looked over to Dean and his smile widened a fracture, a sudden glint in his eye appearing as he stared at the green eyed boy that wasn't there just a moment ago. Of course, John didn't notice the subtle change of atmosphere between the two (something that Dean thanked whoever the hell was up there watching over them since he really didn't need his macho dad to think he was queer), but by the way Mary slightly arched an eyebrow at her son, Dean knew that she wasn't as oblivious.

"So Castiel," John said casually, his gaze sweeping up and down Castiel's attire, "For a rich kid, you sure as hell don't look like it."

"John." Mary hissed in warning, smacking her husband on the arm.

"It's quite alright, Mrs. Winchester," Cas told her like the nice and polite boy he so fucking was, turning his attention to John as he answered, "Usually, I wear a suit and tie, but unfortunately, my outfit wasn't really the most appealing to smell at the moment."

"Yea," Dean agreed, forcing a smile he hoped didn't appear as awkward as he felt, "I loaned him some clothes for the day. Poor kid reeked at the end of last night."

Mary sent him a scolding look, but Cas handled it by glancing over at him and shooting back, "Like you smelled any better."

A real smile wormed its way on Dean's face as he lightly pushed him, "Is that really how you repay someone who cooked you breakfast? With slander?"

Mary snorted, "You cooked? And the house isn't burned down?"

Dean gave her a wounded look, "I'm hurt, Mom. Truly."

"Yes, I can see how devastated you are." She scoffed, ruffling Dean's hair as she passed him and moved to the table to unpack groceries, "So what are you boys up to today?"

An idea suddenly struck Dean so before Castiel could answer, he declared, "We're goin' out for ice cream."

"Can I go?" Sam asked, grinning at the glare he received from his brother.

"Nope." Dean told him before he was even aware of the word flying out of his mouth.

Sam cocked an eyebrow, "Why not?" His eyes then flickered between him and Cas, "Is there a reason you don't want me to join you?"

"No," Dean snapped before he forced himself to ease his tone to a playful manner as he continued teasingly, "It's just thatbitches aren't allowed to consume succulent dairy products."

"Dean." Mary said warningly, making her eldest son throw his hands up in fake innocence.

"What?" Dean asked, false naivety lacing his voice, "Not my fault. Congress just passed the law yesterday."

"I'm sure." She scoffed with a smile.

Sensing a rare opportunity to slip off, Dean started walking to the door, mentally telling Cas to follow, "Well, we'll be back later then." The rest of his family muttered out their goodbyes as Dean shut the kitchen door behind him and Cas.

"I wouldn't have minded if Sam came along," Cas stated as the two boys walked out of the front door, "You didn't have to exclude him for my benefit."

Dean almost let out a laugh at the "my benefit" part (because really, the reason he didn't want Sam intruding on his alone time with Castiel was completely for Dean's benefit), but thankfully kept it in, forcing his brain to come up with a viable excuse to why he always felt the urge to keep the perfectly imperfect boy to himself without sounding as creepy and gay as it sounded in his head.

He was silent all the way to the Impala until he finally decided to screw it and come out with it.

"I just…" Dean started before his treacherous tongue forced him to trail off. He didn't know why he was so reluctant to confess his totally heterosexual feelings to his not-so-heterosexual friend.

…okay, so maybe he did know why, but it wasn't like he was going to accept it anytime soon.

"I wanted it to be just me and you, you know?" Dean eventually forced out, avoiding the other boy's gaze as he slipped into the driver's seat, "I mean, uh…unless you don't want it to be because I can—"

"It's fine, Dean," Cas assured him with a smile as wide as Texas as he got into the passenger seat and closed the car door behind him, forcing Dean to meet his incredibly blue eyes before he continued slowly and sincerely, "There is nothing on this earth I want more than to spend time with you."

Well, that's good, Dean sighed to himself as he started the car before Castiel's words finally sunk in, wait, what?

"What—really?" Dean sputtered out, ignoring how his deep voice cracked like he was a snort-nosed twelve year old boy going through puberty.

Cas must have regarded his astonishment as something else because his bright smile dimmed into a worried frown before the boy dropped his gaze and stared out the window, muttering, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound so…unpleasant." You mean gay? was what Dean wanted to stutter out, but by the look at Castiel's drooped shoulders and sullen expression, he knew he couldn't bring himself to ask a question Cas so obviously didn't want him to answer (and the truth was that Dean wasn't quite ready for him to answer it himself).

So instead, Dean just touched Castiel's shoulder and said with a reassuring smile, "Hey, it's alright if you want to spend some one-on-one time with your best friend, Dude. I get it." Because that was what Cas obviously meant. He wanted to spend time with someone as awesome and straight as Dean in a totally heterosexual way. That was Dean's own explanation, and he's clinging on to it.

Disregarding the way Cas smiled back at him a little too sadly than he liked, Dean leaned back over to his side and drove out of his driveway, letting Led Zeppelin's "What Is And What Should Never Be" fill the silent air between them.

It didn't take long before they reached Lawrence's best (and only) ice cream parlor in town. Grinning, Dean cut his engine and climbed out of the car, prompting Cas to follow suit.

"So, does Ms. Tight-Ass ever let you come here?" Dean asked as they sauntered through the parking lot.

"Of course not," Cas answered with a scoff before adding, "But Gabriel usually finds a way to sneak me out and take me here occasionally."

"Hey, Gabriel being actually good for something," Dean chuckled, holding the shop's door open for Castiel, "Who would've thought?"

Castiel glanced at him with an almost scolding look as he walked inside, "Gabriel is useful for many things. The problem is that he just refuses to showcase his talents and therefore fails to reach his fullest potential."

Dean had the urge to roll his eyes (since the words Gabriel and talented didn't really go together in his opinion) but repressed it as he followed Castiel inside the moderately crowded room.

Clasping Cas on the back, Dean said, "You go pick us out a table, and I'll order us some cones."

Castiel swept his gaze around the room before returning his eyes to Dean, the slightest trace of worry showing on his face, "Dean…aren't you afraid of people seeing us together?"

Dean furrowed his brow, "No. Why, are you?"

"No, of course not." Cas said quickly, "I just…" He glanced down at his shoes, "I mean, it's perfectly alright if you don't want to be seen with me. I know I'm not—"

"Cas, screw what other people might think. You're awesome," Dean said sternly, ruffling his hair, "Don't let anybody convince you different, okay?"

Cas went silent for a moment before he finally dragged his gaze up to meet Dean's, a shy smile on his face as he replied quietly, "Okay, Dean."

Satisfied with his answer, Dean cocked an eyebrow, "So what do you want?"

"I didn't bring any money," Cas told him apologetically, "But it's fine. I'm not really hungry after breakfast."

"Dude, seriously?" Dean said in astonishment, glancing down to his rumbling stomach, "But that was, like, two hours ago. I'm starving."

Castiel smiled as he rolled his eyes, "Your bottomless appetite amazes me, Dean."

"I'll take that as a compliment instead of a fat joke," Dean declared before adding, "But seriously, Cas, get something. I'll pay for it."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," He said hurriedly, "It's completely unnecessary—"

"Cas, it's fine," Dean assured him softly, staring into his blue eyes meaningfully, "Don't let me make a pig out of myself alone."

Castiel still looked reluctant but after studying Dean silently for a moment, the boy finally sighed and gave in, "A small cone of chocolate mint would suffice."

Dean felt himself beam as he nodded, "Awesome. I'll be right back." And as Dean left his spot next to Cas in favor of the back of the (unfortunately long-ish) line, he tried not to think about his slowly turning relationship with Castiel Novak just as much as he tried not to wonder what the boy's mouth would taste like after his minty treat.

The line moved swifter than Dean expected and in no time, he was walking back with two small ice cream cones (one chocolate mint while the other was cherry pie flavored [yes, he had a problem; shut up]). It didn't take long to find the table Castiel had chosen (though it was more difficult than usual since the boy selected the table shoved up in the back left corner slightly away from the other ones).

Dean smiled as he handed Cas his designated treat and plopped down in the seat next to him, "Hello, Cas. Miss me?"

Cas scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Yes, Dean, that whole three minutes and a half was unbearable."

"Hey, who the hell taught you sarcasm?" Dean demanded mockingly, grinning slyly, "I'll kick their ass for tarnishing such an honest golden boy."

"It was the same person who forces me to eat unhealthy snacks just a few hours after a meal." Cas informed him with a small smile.

"Oh, well, never mind." Dean said with a shrug, taking a slow lick from his cone before continuing, "I heard that guy was awesome. And handsome, too."

"Don't forget modest." Cas replied pointedly.

"Shut up." He chuckled out, smiling ear to ear despite his inward protest. Cas looked as if he were about to respond like the ass he sometimes was (wonder where he got that from, right?), but something over Dean's shoulder caught his eye and caused the boy to halt his speech.

Castiel's jaw tightened and eyes narrowed in what seemed like intense irritation. Raising an eyebrow, Dean looked over his shoulder and followed Castiel's resentful gaze…

…where it shockingly landed on Fergus Crowley, Lawrence's well-known psychopath with a juvenile record about a mile long and a reputation that would make even Satan blush.

Fergus Crowley, who was blatantly staring at the two of them with a mixture of interest and disgust in his gaze.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Dean murmured in anger, about to rise to his feet and teach Mr. Psychotic Asshole to keep his leering eyes to himself and mind his own fucking business.

But surprisingly, Castiel beat him to it.

"Excuse me, Dean, I'll be back." The boy said curtly, glancing away from the English punk to look at Dean with a forced smile, "Bathroom break."

Dean swallowed down his growing suspicions and started to rise up, "I'll go with y—"

"It's okay," Cas cut him off smoothly, rising from his chair, "I'm perfectly capable of going by myself."

Dean glanced back over at Crowley, saying uncertainly, "You sure?"

"Positive." Cas answered in a mumble, giving Crowley one last lingering look before heading towards the boy's bathroom at the front of the shop.

It wasn't but five minutes after Cas left did Crowley take one last bite of his toffee blitz and rise from his own seat. He moved towards the bathroom, but not before sparing Dean one last curious look. Dean clenched his jaw and glared at him, ignoring the slight feeling of terror boiling in his gut. Fergus Crowley was known for his insane attitude and violent behavior, but Dean would be damned if he let that asshole know his initial fear of him based on the outrageous (and mostly factual) rumors that had been floating around about him ever since elementary school.

In response to his deadly glare, Crowley only smirked as he spun around on his heels and marched straight towards the restroom, leaving Dean alone with two melting ice cream cones and a heavy weight in the bottom of his stomach.

Curiosity and anxiety ebbed away at him for the next agonizing ten minutes. When he eventually caught sight of Castiel heading towards him, the rigorous tension he didn't realize he was holding in immediately released as a long sigh of relief escaped through his lips.

"Long break?" Dean joked with a smile, silently puzzling over the grim expression Castiel was wearing.

"We need to leave, Dean," Cas said lowly, picking up his own now melted cone and tossing it in the waste basket next to them, "Immediately."

Anger and fear plagued his system as Dean gritted his teeth, "What did that dick do—"

"Forget about Crowley," Cas advised him curtly, turning around and walking towards the exit, "Let's just leave. I need to get back to Balthazar's anyway." Dean furrowed his brow at Castiel's sudden coldness but followed after him. He was just about to catch up with Cas when he suddenly crashed into someone.

"Hey, Ass, watch where you're—" The words died in his throat when Dean found himself staring into a pair of malevolent brown eyes.

Crowley's lips curved into a smirk as one of his hands reached out to steady Dean, "My bad, Pretty Boy. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Dean scowled, "You're one to talk, you—"

"Dean," Castiel's insistent voice cut him off, a familiar slender hand wrapping around his forearm and tugging him away from Crowley, "Come on." Dean wanted more than anything to shake Cas off and take a swing at the bastard in front of him (there was an eighty-five percent chance he'd get his ass kicked since he'd seen Crowley take on the whole local police squad at once and only barely lose, but at least he'd get a chance to wipe that smug grin off his face), but something about the pleading in Castiel's voice made him choose otherwise.

"Yea," Dean grumbled, sizing Crowley up one last time before he allowed himself to be dragged away by Castiel, "Whatever."

"See you blokes later," Crowley called after them cheerfully with the same shit-eating grin, ignoring the way everyone was giving him terrified sideways glances at him, "I guarantee it."

Castiel didn't answer back as he forced Dean over to the Impala (and holy shit, that bony guy was stronger than Dean would've thought), "Do you know where Balthazar's house is?"

Dean shook himself from his furious daze and nodded as he piled into the car, "Yea, third house on the left on Eighth Street?"

"Yes." Cas confirmed, going silent as he shut his own car door behind him. Dean spared Cas one last expectant look for answers, but when it became clear that the boy wasn't giving any, he sighed and started the car.

"Okay."

Five minutes of riding in eerie silence past before Castiel finally spoke again.

"I apologize for the rush, Dean," The boy said softly, his gaze never leaving the window even as he talked, "I mean, I know I'm not the most entertaining person to be around, nor the most interesting…"

"Cas, don't talk like that…" Dean muttered lowly, but Cas continued as if he hadn't even interrupted.

"But for me, being around you is…" He suddenly trailed off, prompting Dean to glance away from the highway and to him. There was something different in his blue eyes that had only been there a few times before; something like vulnerability, and honesty, and hope—

But in an instant, the glint was gone, swallowed whole by the varying shades of blue around it, and Dean felt a pang of hurt in his heart. He wished Cas could trust him enough to tell him everything—the raw hunk of truth without the light seasoning of lies and deception—but he knew Castiel wasn't ready for that sort of thing yet.

Not after he'd trusted and been betrayed so many times prior.

"Being around you is a gift from God," Castiel finally finished, darting his eyes back out the window but not before Dean could notice the heartbreaking sincerity in his gaze, "A gift I don't really deserve."

Before his heterosexuality could protest, Dean detached one of his hands from the wheel and cautiously laid it on Castiel's knee. As soon as he touched him, he could feel the boy's body jump in shock, but Dean swallowed down his doubt and hesitation as he continued to say quietly, "Cas, if it were up to me, I'd give you the whole damn sky." Castiel turned his head away from him and didn't answer, but he didn't ask Dean to take his hand away.

So Dean didn't.

When he eventually reached Sebastian Balthazar's house, Dean didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy this afternoon with Castiel, but at the same time, he felt like he needed some alone time to think these newly discovered revelations over. And by the way Castiel undid his seatbelt with great reluctance, it was obvious that he didn't want to leave all too quickly either.

For a few moments, the two boys stared silently at each other, the only noise between them being their rhythmic inhales and exhales of breath. Castiel's eyes were roaming his face, as if attempting to memorize every tiny detail of his facial appearance, and Dean didn't know how he felt about the idea that Cas was trying to remember every aspect of him.

First of all, why would he want to? Sure, it wasn't like Dean was ugly or anything (actually, he believed himself to be quite handsome based on his track record of women chasing after him), but Cas was…fuck, Cas was Cas. His high cheekbones, porcelain skin, chiseled jaw, messy black hair, wiry body, wide blue eyes, pink chapped lips…

Castiel was a work of art so unique and unlike any other that it was hard not to remember or study him in every possible way. Dean might be considered "handsome," but then again, there are a lot of other boys that are attractive in that stereotypical, superficial way, too.

Seriously, there was plenty of people that were handsome like Dean, but there was no one else that was this sort of beautiful but Cas.

A sudden tap, tap, tap on Castiel's car window caused the two to jump, their buzzing thought processes coming to a screeching halt. Dean glanced away from Castiel only to see Balthazar standing right outside Cas' door, his green eyes staring almost furiously down at Castiel's knee…which Dean's hand still laid atop of.

Just now realizing this, Dean jerked his hand back like it had been burned, lifting it up to nervously scratch the back of his head, "So I'll, uh—see you Monday, right?"

Castiel smiled and nodded, the faintest pink hue splashing his cheeks, "Of course, Dean." Dean swallowed hard and stared down at his steering wheel as he heard Cas open the door and shut it behind him. It wasn't until he heard the annoyingly familiar sound of tapping on his window did Dean finally force himself to look up. Though all his irritation abruptly dissipated the moment he saw it was not the British douchebag but Castiel, who was making a gesture for him to roll the window down.

Granting his request, he ignore Balthazar, who was still standing an unnecessary proximity to Cas, and looked to his friend, "Yea?"

"I was wondering if you would like to continue our project after school Monday," Cas asked with a smile, "I myself don't have anything particular to do…"

"Me neither," Dean told him, nodding, "Sure, sounds fun."

Balthazar rolled his eyes at Dean's response and turned to Castiel, his expression suddenly turning grim and exasperated, "Mate, you have to save me. Meg's in there and won't let me watch the Project Runway marathon. Do you know how many Tattoo Nightmares I've had to suffer through for the last three hours?!"

"Sounds like a travesty," Castiel sighed out before looking over to Dean, "I'll see you at a later date then. Farewell."

"Yes, we'll all miss the warmth of your almighty presence," Balthazar said mockingly, pretending to sincere, "Me especially."

Dean scoffed, "Yea, I'll bet." His eyes dropped lower only just a fracture before he settled his gaze back on Balthazar, "Nice pajama pants, by the way. What is that, Phantom of the Opera?"

"It's a bloody miracle," Balthazar stated in astonishment, staring at Dean like he'd just solved world hunger, before his face split into an overly-enthusiastic grin, "The bumbling oath does have some culture!"

"Balthazar." Cas said disapprovingly, though there was a hint of a smile of endearment on his face as he stared at the over-theatrical boy. It seemed that whatever fight they had taken part in (whether it was about actual snails or not, Dean wasn't particularly certain) was over, and Dean was sort of glad for that. Someone as bruised and scarred as Castiel Novak needed all the friends he could get; even one as flamboyant and obnoxiously British as Balthazar.

Balthazar threw his hands up in mock surrender, "Don't smite me, Mate. I'm just proclaiming my happiness over the revelation that Dean is more than just a pretty face."

Cas rolled his eyes, "We're leaving now." He glanced over at Dean and gave him a small smile before turning around and walking back towards Balthazar's house.

Balthazar, however, stayed rooted to his spot and watched as Cas made his trek to the front door. Just when Dean was about to tell him to back the fuck up so he could leave, Balthazar said low enough for only Dean could hear, "You're going to break him eventually, you know; whether you mean to or not."

"I would never hurt Cas." Dean declared incredulously, appalled and insulted at the mere notion before he added venomously, "Besides, why the fuck would you care anyway, Peter Pan?"

"Because I'm going to have to be the one to pick up the pieces," Balthazar stated with plainly, a hint of sadness in his distant expression, "After all, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Well, it'll be the last." Dean snapped before his tone softened, "Look, Asswipe, I'm not looking to break him, okay? I'm going to fix him." And it was true; so true, in fact, that it even startle Dean himself.

Because no matter how the menacing Mitons spin it, the same fact remained that Castiel was just a selfless and kind individual that didn't deserve all this shit. He shouldn't have to endure these hoops and obstacles Naomi set out for him.

He shouldn't be just another foot solider in his own life. He shouldn't have bullies that torment him just because he dresses different and talks weird; he shouldn't look upon small acts of kindness as rare and cherished gifts. He shouldn't believe he was a burden to everyone else in the world. He shouldn't know what it was like to be hurt, and betrayed, and beaten, and broken…

He shouldn't look at Dean like he was some sort of angel of the lord that raised him from perdition. He should be able to realize that that righteous angel was himself.

Yes, Castiel was broken—that much was clear even to Dean. And Dean might be uncertain about many things regarding his complex relationship with Cas, but one thing was crystal clear: whatever it took, Dean Winchester was going to repair that boy's shattered soul and mend his broken heart.

"You may intend to do that," Balthazar replied coldly, finally flickering his gaze over to him, "But let's face it, Winchester: you're not the hero Cassie is hell-bent on believing you to be. You're not his Prince Charming. You're just another deceptive frog." Just by those simple sentences, Dean felt his heart cave in itself, but before he could half-heartedly toss another meaningless insult his way, Castiel interrupted him.

"Sebastian!" Cas called out from the front porch, causing both boys' heads to jerk over to his direction, "Quit pestering Dean and come along."

Balthazar's flat-lined mouth curled into a smirk as he gave a salute to the boy, "Your wish is my command, Cassie." Without even a second glance at Dean, Balthazar sauntered away from the car. Not wasting the opportunity, Dean started the engine again and sped away from the damned residence.

He wasn't ready to face the predictions Balthazar had made clear to him. He wasn't ready to test if what he'd said would eventually turn out to be true.

When Dean returned to his own house with a grim expression, Mary cocked an eyebrow at him, "Where's Castiel?"

"He had to go home." Dean stated flatly, though he knew that wasn't really true. Mary must have known also (after all, Dean could never lie convincingly to the woman that gave birth to him) but luckily didn't comment, somehow sensing that it was a topic not to be discussed at the moment.

Letting out a long sigh, Dean threw his keys on the in-table and looked around the desolated living room, "Where's Dad and Sammy?"

"They went to go get dinner," Mary told him, before scooting over a little on the sofa and patting the cushion next to her, "Come here, Sweetheart. Sit by me." Dean did as he was told and flopped down next to his mother.

"What're you watching?" He asked, trying to appear interested.

"The Notebook." Mary told him, and there was a flicker of worry on her face when she noticed he didn't immediately groan at her words.

"Are you okay, Dean?" She asked, concern and gentleness only a mother could possess written on her face.

"I'm just peachy." Dean said if not a little sourly, draping the blanket over him as well. She stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to spill his guts like he used to when he was nine years old and had accidentally killed one of Ellen's hummingbirds with his slingshot. But what she couldn't quite grasp was that Dean wasn't nine anymore; he was a teenager with teenage angst and problems, some of which he could never be able to share with his mother.

There were just some things you needed to deal with yourself, and Dean's feelings regarding another boy was solely his cross to bear.

When it was obvious to her that he wasn't talking, Mary turned her gaze back to the television, letting the subject drop like the intuitive mother she was.

It wasn't until later, when the movie was just about nearing its end and John and Sam were just minutes away from arriving, did Dean look to his mother and say softly, "Hey, Mom?"

Mary turned her attention away from the screen and gazed at him curiously, "Yes, Dean?"

Dean licked his lips, glancing down at the wool blanket over them, "If someone was emotionally neglected and damaged…could they ever become new and whole again?"

"No," Mary said steadily, and she must have seen the devastated look on Dean's face even in the dimlit room because she added quickly, "Look, Dean…someone can never forget the pain and trials they've been through, no matter how hard they try. But it's better that way."

"How is that better?" Dean demanded.

"People learn and grow from their past mistakes and destructive backgrounds," She told him gently, "Without suffering, there would be not joy. Without heartbreak, there would be no love. People that have survived misery have a greater understanding of that and an appreciation for the small things.

"But Dean, you must remember," She said sternly, lifting up his chin to make him look at her, "No one is ever beyond the point of saving."

Dean stared into her wise eyes for a moment, picking up not even a hint of doubt and uncertainty in her inspiring words, before he nodded curtly in understanding. A smile tugged at her lips as Mary released her son and looked back to the end credits of the movie, "Does that answer your question, Sweetheart?"

"Yea, it does."

And it did.

Author's Note: Loved it? Become emotionally drained because of it? Any feedback is appreciated (and I'll let you in on a little secret: reviews make me very happy and a happy author means more frequent updates), and I hope you liked this chapter regardless of the lack of fluff and the extra-heavy dosage of angst.

And an important piece of information: Crowley is a very major character in this. You'll be hearing from him again and about his relationship with Cas soon (perhaps next chapter, maybe the next one after that...not too sure, to be honest). Anyway, you'll be hearing from me soon (I swear this time I mean it!), and thanks again for reading!