Chapter 14
The annual St. T. Tolerance Days went down in some spacious exhibition hall right in the middle of the summerly seaside town, surrounded by trimmed lawns, pseudo palm trees and a huge, unnecessary fountain. Technically, the whole event seemed kind of unnecessary and dull, but oh well, that was only Dean's first impression and who cared about that, right?
Inside, the air was pleasantly air-conditioned, so that was something, and the food range was pretty decent, too. But that was about it. Truth be told, it all seemed pretty damn lame. No wonder that besides Dean's twenty-person group the hall was solely flooded with other helpless school classes, a few disoriented retirees and a reasonable amount of highly motivated political activists. The booths were so colorful it hurt Dean's eyes.
After two hours of free-time, during which they'd been supposed to "take a look around or let it be" (today really wasn't Mr. White's day), Dean and Gabriel got under way to their so-called drama group's venue at the very end of the hall.
Well, they, for one, had definitely taken a look around. If sunbathing, smoking outside and stuffing themselves with fast food counted, that was.
"Dean, Gabriel, why don't you sit down with us. We were just reading out the script for the first time. It's called 'The New Boy'. I know it isn't a very creative name, but I've been forced to write it for the contest, even though I hardly even get paid for teaching Chemistry", Mr. White grumbled, holding a small cardboard box out to them. "Sometimes I wonder what I went to college for. But, anyway. Now, draw your numbers, so we can factor you two in."
Dean and Gabe exchanged an unsteady glance, before Dean went ahead and picked a folded paper chip. It said 'boy 4'. Yeah, whatever that meant.
The two of them sank into uncomfortable plastic chairs, clustering round the white conference table, where one half of their class had already gathered. Smiling, Kevin handed out a copy to them, which of course Gabe snatched, immediately. With a shrug, Dean leaned back and crossed his arms above his head, while Gabe was excitedly searching the text for his first scene. Mr. White gave an indifferent wave of his hand, and the others commenced their scripted dialogue, haltingly. Inwardly, Dean prepared himself for a long-ass afternoon.
"I'm the effing lead, Dean-o", Gabe whispered. "Awesome."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, congrats. 'S gonna look great on your CV, man. Played the lead role on some stupid sketch written by Mr. White. Impressive."
Dean had every right to be pissed-off. This whole thing was a pointless drag, and Dean didn't understand why he even had to be here. Hiding in their room, that was where he truly wanted to be.
"Your ass is impressive", Gabe grumbled, scowling.
"Thanks. I know."
Then, Gabe graciously decided to just let Dean be, and turned to follow the read out text attentively with his finger. Dean raised his eyebrows. Gabe was taking this shit damn serious, the only question was why. Probably, Dean figured, he was feeling chosen now or something.
Uninterested, Dean gave a bored yawn, and let his lazy eyes go for a stroll around the table. Nope, no one was looking back at him. Apparently, they had all mutated to professional actors now, even if the script really sucked. So far, the play was all about some guys picturing their new classmate whom they only knew the name of. Of course, it had to be an Arabic one. So original.
Well, it was all the same for Dean anyway, because he had just spotted a big glass bowl filled to brimming with delicious cookies, not very far from Gabe's seat. So, inappropriately loud, Dean moved it across, and receiving another deadly glance from the much-admired actor next to him.
When one of his classmates started stammering, Dean sighed and settled back. In his head, he calculated the hours until he would be back in his safe hotel room. Daydreaming, he was casually throwing a cookie into his mouth, when all of a sudden something made him grow stiff.
A strange prickle in his neck, almost like a burning.
Irritated, Dean looked over his shoulder—and nearly choked on the crumbs.
Amongst the walking crowd, the sloppily dressed, still-standing figure of Cas brought the distant scenery to a sudden stop, if only to Dean's eyes. Cas' stare went around the passing people, through them, and was directly fixed on Dean. All surroundings grew hazy as Cas became the only notable thing in his vision. Dean's mouth fell open.
What was Cas doing? What was—
An urgent touch on his arm made Dean's head swirl around.
He blinked at Gabe.
„Your turn", Gabe said, pointing at the script lying in front of him.
Dean just looked back over his shoulder. Cas was gone.
"Uhm, hello?" Gabe laughed. „Are you high?"
Dean absently noticed everyone at the table staring at him. He nodded and swallowed, the cookie finally leaving his dried-out mouth. Raising an eyebrow, Gabe tapped a certain line which Dean vaguely identified as 'boy 4's text.
"Hello." Dean's voice failed, and he coughed. "Hello, Abdul, I'm insert name. Uh, I—I mean, I'm Dean. Nice to meet you. We're all very, uh, different people."
Dean turned around again. Did Cas friggin' disappear?
"Hey, Dean." Gabe squinted at him. „So, what's so different about you?"
„Uhm, well." Dean's look returned to the script. Gabe tapped his part again. "Well, Abdul. I'm not very special, but since you're already asking. There, uh, there's indeed something different about me. I'm b… b… uhm. What?"
Dean went beet-red.
„Please stick to the script, Dean", Mr. White yawned. "And try a little harder, would you. Go on."
Dean rubbed his neck. „Right, uh. Bi… sexual."
"Are you always speaking in keywords?" Mr. White said, bored. "Full sentences, please. We're trying to rehearse here, not throw some random words out there."
Dean closed his eyes. "I'm friggin' bisexual."
"Now, try again, without swearing, please."
"I'm bisexual. Dammit."
"Try again."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, I'm bisexual."
"And once more."
"I'm bisexual!"
Startled, everyone at the table looked up, staring at Dean.
Crap.
"I'm bisexual", Dean repeated, muttering, sheepishly.
"That's—cool", Gabe went on, eyeing him, suspiciously. "You're so straight forward, Dean. But, just to get the message, does that mean you try to", he snorted, waving his hand, apologetically. "Sorry, sorry, I'm serious. Does that mean you're into threesomes? What, I'm only reading the text here, blame Mr. White!"
"Uh—no?" Dean stuttered, reading. "Not necessarily. Threesomes are a sexual practice. Whereas bisexuality is a sexual orientation. And I, a bisexual—oh, come on. What kind of script is this, really?"
Mr. White sighed, head in his hands. "Dean, just do us a favor and read on."
With an eye roll, Dean returned to the text. His heart was racing. "And I, a friggin' bisexual, would know about that, wouldn't I? But I want everyone to know that being friggin' bisexual only means feeling attracted to both genders, and nothing else."
Mr. White groaned, dramatically.
"That's right", Kevin, 'boy 2', awkwardly chimed in. "Thank you for the explanation. Dean, like everyone else, is welcome to the community. We're all very colorful people. Isn't that right… Dean?"
"Yes. Very, uh, colorful", Dean read, reluctantly. „Yeah… so, Abdul. Have you known that… that… I'm sorry, Mr. White, but what's the point of this?"
Gabe frowned at Dean. "Dude."
Mr. White looked up, exhausted, taking off his glasses. "The point is, Dean, to simply go through the text without interruption, so that tomorrow, we can—"
"Yeah, I don't see it", Dean said, getting up. "I don't see the point."
Everyone was staring at him, speechless.
"Sit down, Dean."
"No, thanks. You know, why don't you read my part instead, Mr. White? Yeah, that's right. How would you feel, telling everyone you're friggin' bisexual?"
Mr. White started massaging his temples. "I would feel fine, because this is nothing but a boring script, for a pointless contest, and the identities of these roles do not apply to any of you, because, surprise, surprise, it is a script."
"There!" Dean yelled, winningly. "You said it yourself, it's pointless!"
"Dean—"
"I don't know about you, but I'm outta here."
Decidedly, Dean turned around.
Cas was nowhere to be seen.
"All right", Mr. White groaned. "Just come back when you're done with your identity crisis. Your role is important."
"Oh, you mean your role."
"Just come back. Christ."
"Yeah, sure", Dean scoffed, and got going.
Never in a thousand years.
„And then!"
Gabe broke out in hysterical laughter, laughing down every single conversation going on around the lambent bonfire.
„Then he, like, blushed so fucking hard, I thought he was going to burst or something! Like a ripe-ass tomato! And then, he, oh God." Gabe shook with laughter, his voice reaching a disturbingly high level. "Then he was all like, what the hell is this, and Mr. White told him to… you know… the way he stuttered, guys! Help, I can't deal with myself anymore or something, and—"
Gabe paused to wipe away his tears.
"—and then he kind of… ran away… Oh, jeez. I can't go on, sorry. It's too damn hilarious. I can't do it. Can someone take over, please?"
"Yeah, Gabe, I don't think anyone cares", Dean grumbled, embarrassed, drawing lines in the sand with his bare foot.
Lisa, who was sitting next to Dean on the overturned tree trunk, just smiled a bleak smile and took a sip on her beer bottle. Ever since Gabe had started his stupid narration she'd gone all silent and strangely passive, only watched the starry night sky and troubled ocean with an unreadable expression. Dean didn't like it one bit. She really didn't need to know more about his embarrassing exit earlier. In fact, no one needed to.
"Well, I do!" Gabe exclaimed, holding out his hands. "I care a whole damn lot about it, 'cause it was just perfect! One of your best moments, Dean-o. I mean, all right, hands down. That one time when you've puked all over your—"
"Gabe", Dean groaned, massaging his temples. „Just shut up already."
„—will always be the best one, but." He paused for effect. „It was just nice to see that you're still trying, dude. You've always been one of the ambitious ones. Lisa must be really proud of you. Well, I'm definitely proud. Are you proud, Dean-o? Since you've come out today and all?"
Finally, Lisa sighed. "Stop it, Gabe. It was just a stage play, you child. No one's calling you Abdul, either, right? So don't mock him like that, it's not funny. I think you've missed the point of the whole day."
She took another sip and fell silent again, while some more of their classmates were arriving at the warming fire, carrying an old-fashioned radio.
Gabe only shrugged at her words, adding to the uncomfortable silence. Dean wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or even more nervous. Things were so not cool between him and Lisa, hadn't been for so long. Most of the time he somehow managed to block it out, like so many other things, but right now he felt it, clearly. But as always, he did not know how to solve it.
Gabe gave it a shot.
"Anyway", Gabe began, awkwardly. "Hope you're feeling better now, dude. Maybe you've been kind of sick after all, who knows. Sudden cramps or something. Are you… feeling better?"
Dean gave him a doubtful look, and Gabe answered with a helpless expression. This was bull-shit. Dean had had enough of the beach, the people, the damn trip. Maybe it was just time to call it a day. Intended or not, Gabe's question was the perfect means of escape.
"Yeah, actually no", Dean replied. "Still feelin' pretty poor and stuff. Think I was kinda sun-struck or something. Guess I should just go to bed now. It's been a long day and all." Dean faked a yawn, inwardly cringing at his horrible acting. "You got the room key, man?"
Automatically, Gabe fished it out of his pocket.
"You're leaving?" Lisa looked up at him, sulkily. "Well, get well soon."
"Sorry, Lis", Dean said, struggling. "I know you wanted to spend the evening with me here, but I just… I'm just not feeling it right now."
"Okay. Sure, Dean. It's not like I've been looking forward to being here with you for months or anything. You just leave me here. You know, it's fine. After all, you're not feeling it."
Dean looked down at his feet. "Lis, I'm sorry."
"Well, I'm sorry, too."
Dean stood up, slowly, tucked the key away in his jeans and—in hindsight he had no idea why he'd taken that for the most appropriate thing to do—weirdly rumpled up Lisa's long, sleeked hair. She didn't react, just waited it out until he was done. Then she took another sip.
Yeah, Dean thought. Good moment to leave indeed.
He got under way off the remote bonfire place, leaving Lisa and Gabe to themselves.
Stomping through the white, luminous sand, Dean heard the music being turned on far behind his back. The folksy, simple guitar riffs were resounding across the wide beach, and as Dean was walking there all alone in the moonlight, so very self-aware, he got the strange feeling that this was the way he'd always end up. Walking alone, while everyone had a good time.
The thing was he didn't even want to go back there. He was fine, just making his way through the deserted darkness, the chill breeze letting his loose top flutter in the wind, giving him goosebumps. Pretty humbled, unbeloved and worthless, he felt, but still fine. Normal.
Finally, the golden street lights appeared in his view. He was approaching the grass covered dunes and the stony path leading back to the nighttime town, when he spotted an isolated scheme crouching in the dunes, a mere shade, just as lonely as Dean was.
Hopefully not some perverted creep, Dean thought, forcing himself to stare at the street lights, the sand rinsing at his bare feet, anywhere else, as he came nearer and nearer to the ominous shadow.
"Hello, Dean."
Dean stopped, abruptly.
As if he had known all along, it turned out to be no less than goddamn Cas who was crouching in the sand all by himself like a stranded hermit.
Cas wore an idle glance, and was absently rubbing his arms, that were holding his crouched legs in place. Dean thought of the morning he had found Cas sitting alone on his doorstep. He had looked just as downcast as he did now.
They locked eyes, and Dean found his own dark feelings somehow mirrored in Cas' gloomy look.
"You don't like the music?" Cas asked.
"No", Dean heard himself answer. "Not really my jam."
He forced a laugh, but Cas just nodded.
Dean couldn't help it. "What are you doing here, Cas? If you wanna see some naked skin, you gotta come back tomorrow. Y'know, when there are actually… people around."
"Oh, it's fine", Cas replied, abstractedly. "I don't mind being alone. Sometimes I just like being away from people. They can be quite nerve-wrecking at times, can't they. And other times… I just don't have anyone, I guess. Even if I don't feel like being alone. So, all in all, whether or not I like it doesn't really matter."
"Yeah", Dean said, shrugging. "That's… true, I guess."
"It is", Cas emphasized. "I just wish things were different."
Cas turned his head, looking up at Dean, sad-eyed.
"But this wish, as common as it is, has never brought any human forward."
Dean smiled, compassionately. "Yeah, we always want what we can't have. And once we have it—boom. We don't care about it anymore."
"I can't imagine not caring about you, Dean", Cas said, without hesitation, turning back at the ocean.
Dean's knees almost gave in. Dammit. He pointed at a grassy spot in the sand, next to Cas. "Mind if I take a seat?"
"Not at all", Cas said, surprised. "I just…"
"What?" Dean asked, sitting down in the prickly grass.
Cas studied his face, unemotionally, and, feeling insecure, Dean couldn't help but look back.
"I just thought that after what happened today, between the two of us, you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore."
"Oh, that", Dean said, blushing, drawing lines in the sand with his finger. "You mean our little plane incident? Or when you went all poltergeist on me back in the exhibition hall?"
"Both", Cas said, regretting, after a while of silent frowning.
"Good, because first of all", Dean said, counting with his fingers. "What happened on the plane, stays on the plane."
"Ah", Cas made. "You mean like in the so-called 'mile high club'. I've heard about it on television."
Dean blinked. He cleared his suddenly tight throat. "Uh, technically, yeah. Though we would've needed to do a little more to become members of that one, than just… kissing."
Cas turned to Dean, curious, eyes lighting up a little bit. "'Getting it on', right? We would have to 'get it on' on an air plane. Wow. I'm becoming really good at these 'slangs', don't you think."
"Yeah, amazing", Dean agreed, awkwardly. "But anyway. All I'm saying, Cas—don't beat yourself up about it. I was there too, you know. Takes two people for that."
"I guess it does", Cas said, gloomily.
"And besides", Dean went on, hesitating. "I wanted it, you know. Kiss you, or whatever."
Cas suddenly lifted his head, looking as if Dean had just proposed booking a ski holiday for the two of them after all. "But you said it was—"
"Unacceptable, yeah, Cas, I know", Dean gave back, struggling to maintain the eye contact. "I talk a lot of bull-shit if the day is long, y'know. I mean—"
Dean hectically gestured between the two of them.
"—what do you think this is, Cas? Do you think this is me not wanting to be with you? Do you think this is me thinking you're… unacceptable? Dammit, Cas, the line between acceptable and unacceptable things only exists just so I don't end up jumping your bones in the middle of math class, or wherever, really! We can't do that, y'know! We just can't!"
For a moment, Cas just sat there, open-mouthed. It took everything in Dean not to spontaneously bury himself in the sand all around them.
"You", Cas began, speechless. "You want me, too, Dean?"
"Hell, yeah, I want you, Cas!" Dean exclaimed, angrily. "But like I said, to quote Mick Jagger, you can't always get what you want."
Cas nodded, still fairly amazed. "The Rolling Stones. I've seen you wear their t-shirts."
"Well, did you check 'em out?" Dean asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Of course", Cas replied, a little proudly. "And I can see why you like them. They're very…" Cas paused, pondering, and eventually smiled. "They're very you."
"Yeah", Dean rasped, smiling, shyly. He scratched his cheek. "Yeah, they're awesome. Like me."
"That's true", Cas agreed, sweetly.
At the sight of Cas' little smile, Dean's mind went entirely blank, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything, Cas just sitting there, kind of contently, holding his knees, smilingly glancing up at Dean every now and then, and Dean slowly but surely getting all too warm inside, and damn, what the hell—why did things have to be so friggin' complicated. He thought of Take it or Leave it, heard the melody playing in his head, and he thought of Bobby's words from last week.
"So…" Cas spoke up, quietly. "What do we do, Dean?"
"Well, earlier I've found an ice cream shop downtown that's open 24/7."
"No, I mean—"
Dean looked at him, gravely. "I know what you mean, Cas."
Cas looked down, smiling, sadly. "So, what do you suggest?"
"Chocolate", Dean said, puckering his lips. "Strawberry, maybe, if I'm feeling experimental."
Cas' sad smile burst into adorable giggles. "Dean—"
"I've heard that ice-cream shack is known for its kick-ass banana split, so maybe I'll better go for that. But what do you suggest, Cas?"
Giggling, Cas' forehead gently landed on Dean's shoulder, and automatically, Dean put an arm on Cas' back, smiling himself. Making Cas laugh like that, after finding him here looking so depressed earlier, felt simply amazing. Having Cas so near, and feeling his breath on his neck, was giving Dean goosebumps all over.
When Cas mindlessly copied Dean's movement, and also rested his arms on Dean's back, suddenly the two of them found themselves hugging, crouching in the sand, surrounded by darkness and the chill ocean breeze. Cas stopped giggling at some point, but neither of them made a move to back off.
Dean knew that this wasn't quite taking it, but it wasn't exactly leaving it, either. Right now, it definitely was feeling more like the former, especially when Cas was now hugging Dean tighter, cautiously, testing the waters, and all Dean did in reaction was decidedly pull Cas closer to his chest.
He knew he couldn't go on like this forever, telling Cas one thing, but doing the other. He couldn't go on playing with his feelings like that, without making a decision. But when Cas was being like that—adorable, cuddly, amazing—Dean couldn't just cut himself loose.
Lisa's sudden voice, however, worked like a knife.
"Dean?" She called, sounding surprised.
Gasping, Dean backed off, holding onto Cas' shoulders.
The second before he turned to look for her, Dean saw something in Cas' eyes that would most likely keep him up all night—profound, undeniable love.
Walking up to them, Lisa was wearing nothing but her silver bikini, long hair wildly blowing in the breeze.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Novak…"
She faltered, coming to a stop in front of Dean, who was shakily getting to his feet.
"I thought you went to your room? Not feeling it and all that?"
Probably it was only Dean's overly active brain, but he couldn't help but notice a slight notion of suspicion resonating her voice. For how long exactly has she been there?
Startled, Dean blurted out the next best thing that came to his mind. "I felt—better. Mircale healing or something. So, felt it after all, I guess. Weird, huh? But, uh, now at least you don't have to walk back alone, so."
Dean grabbed for her hand, but she just glared at him, taking a step back.
"Felt it after all, I guess", she repeated, imitating his voice. "Listen to yourself, Dean."
"Yeah, well, Cas and me, we've been", Dean said, looking down at Cas for inspiration. Cas was looking back at him, frowning. "We've been viewing the ocean together."
"And Dean hugged me", Cas added, helpfully.
"You hugged me", Dean retorted, baffled.
"We hugged each other", Cas concluded, giving Lisa an apologetic smile.
"O—kay", Lisa replied, awkwardly. She crossed her arms. "So, Dean, do you want to walk me back to the hotel, or do you want to keep checking off the list with the things I've originally planned for the two of us to do here?"
"Walk you back", Dean quickly said. "Obviously."
"That's nice of you", she replied. Dean wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic. "Let's go then, before Gabriel comes back."
Before Dean knew it, she gave him a forceful peck on the lips.
"Maybe I'll manage to make you feel it, too."
Dean wanted to curl up and die. Mostly, because he felt Cas' stare poking his neck.
"Y—yeah, uhm. Maybe."
Winking, she dragged him on the soft sand, already beginning to gossip about some dramatic event that Dean had missed at the bonfire, but he did not listen. Again and again, he looked back over his shoulder, only to find Cas still watching him, thoughtfully. Lisa was cackling like a goose, and Dean forced a smile every now and then, not hearing anything she was saying, though.
Like a catchy song, Cas' words were playing on and on in his head:
So… what do we do?