"Which class does Castiel have sixth hour?" Michael paced across the floor of the school gym, impatiently waiting on the younger cellist.
"I told him that he had to come help set up for tonight," Anna Milton chimed in from the corner of the room. The freshman had gained Michael's respect through her diligence and violin talents, and he didn't feel the need to question the truth to her statement.
As if sensing the conversation had turned to him, Castiel stumbled through the door, tossing his bag off to the side, then regaining his balance. "Sorry I'm late, Michael," the junior apologized, his face visibly flushed from his trip across the school.
"Thanks for the help, Anna. You can go home now, we just have a few final adjustments to make before the concert tonight," Michael dismissed the redhead before turning to address Castiel. Mild terror clouded Castiel's eyes; he flinched as the door closed behind her.
"So what do you think of Meg?" Michael asked, turning away from Castiel to straighten the row of chairs directly in front of where the orchestra would be performing.
Castiel shrugged, "she's okay, I guess." Michael nodded in response, continuing to straighten the same chair, though Castiel couldn't see anything wrong with it.
"Would you consider, I don't know, going on a date with her?" Michael casually suggested. Though his motives were more his own sanity rather than Castiel's best interest, he attempted to sound genuine. If Castiel went on a date with Meg, Michael wouldn't have to listen to her whine about her crush on him.
Castiel was shocked by the question, though slightly relieved that Michael wasn't angry with him. "She's nice and all, but I've never really been on a date…." Castiel made himself busy twisting the hem of his shirt, avoiding Michael's gaze.
"There are kids in middle school proclaiming their undying love for each other, and you haven't even been on a date?!" Michael seemed both surprised and amused at this fact, though he tried to disguise that. "There are worse girls than Meg to have a first date with."
"I don't know, Michael," Castiel said honestly, regretting that he had agreed to come and help in the first place.
"She's going to ask you out tonight, I think," Michael admitted. He had stopped adjusting the chair, and his full focus was now turned to the cellist, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "She's pretty, she's nice, and she likes you, Castiel. What do you have to lose?" Michael delivered his final argument. Now all he could do was cross his fingers and hope that even if he said no, Meg would no longer rant to him about Castiel.
"I mean, I can consider giving her a chance," Castiel started. "It's not fair to lead her on, though." Finding the edge of his shirt severely wrinkled, he released it, attempting to hold his nervous hands still.
With a last adjustment to the less-than-classy metal folding chair, Michael slid on his jacket and threw his bag over his shoulder. "I think we're done," he said, scanning the room for flaws. "See you tonight!" Before Castiel could respond, Michael was out the door.
"Good to see you actually at band, Dean," Lucifer sarcastically announced, rolling his eyes at the green eyed percussionist. A majority of the band students had already exited the room, with the exceptions of Sam, Dean, and Lucifer. Sam was leaning against the wall, checking the time on his phone as he waited for his older brother to drive him home.
"Yeah… I'm really sorry about that…" Dean was aware that he had been acting like a whiny bitch. He was trying to act normal; he was trying to get over it. He really liked her, but he was beginning to realize that it was just that-like. He wasn't in love with her, and maybe Sam was right. There were other girls in this school; he could be just as happy with someone other than Lisa.
"If you're really sorry, you won't miss any more practices," Lucifer stated flatly. Instead of giving Dean a chance to argue over if attending all practices was required and listening to a seemingly endless stream of 'what if's, he slipped in his earbuds, ending any conversation he was having with Dean. Dean wasn't in the arguing mood either, choosing to slide his jacket over one arm and grab his bag with the other.
"Ready to go, Sammy?" Dean asked, switching his bag to his right hand so he could put his jacket on properly as he walked towards his brother. Sam nodded, sliding his phone into his back pocket. "Are we still going tonight?" Dean asked, a mischievous grin decorating his face.
"For sure," Sam smiled back, grateful for the seemingly genuine expression that was just so… Dean. Hopefully, this was a sign that his brother was going to go back to the way he was before.
Dean unlocked the Impala, sliding into the driver's seat. Sam followed him, sitting on the passenger side. "Let's get ready to crash a party."