[FIC] Worn Out Spaces (1/2) for brokentoy85
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Worn Out Spaces (1/2)
Author: wolfrider89
Recipient: brokentoy85
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 14,400
Warnings: Underage sex (they're both 17), main character getting abused by his parents
Spoilers: None
Summary: The first time Dean meets Castiel, he makes it his mission to befriend him, whether Castiel wants it or not. As time passes, Dean realizes he might be interested in a little more than just friendship; he's not complaining, but there's still so much he doesn't know...
Author notes: Huge thanks, as always, to my beta. She's the best! I really hope you enjoy this, brokentoy85! Merry Christmas!
They meet in a park, of all places. Dean thinks later that that’s probably a good thing, because he would never have spared the guy a second glance if they’d met at school. Castiel is the quiet type who dresses in too-big clothes and avoids your gaze if you meet on the street. Dean is...not.
It’s the beginning of October when they meet. The trees are losing their leaves, brown and yellow and orange covering the wet ground. Dean has mixed feelings about the fall, but it means he can wear his leather jacket without dying of heat stroke, so he’s not gonna whine. It’s raining that day, a light drizzle that creeps under his collar and clings to each hair individually without clumping them together. Sam insisted he wanted to go to the park, though, and Dean can never refuse him. Mom says she’s proud of him for looking after for his baby brother, but really, it’s all down to Sam’s puppy eyes and begging face. Dean just has a soft heart. Don’t tell anyone, though.
So Sam’s running around, his little five-year-old arms and legs carrying him surprisingly fast up the ladder of the slide. Climb up, slide down, climb up, slide down. Dean wonders how it can still be fun after twenty repetitions, but as long as Sam’s happy, he’s not gonna complain. Besides, it leaves Dean time to relax for a bit.
He’s sitting on a park bench as he watches his brother, probably looking like some delinquent teenager about to pull out a packet of cigarettes and pull a swig from an illegally purchased beer can or something. The damp is seeping through his jeans, making them cling to his legs, but it’s not too cold yet; he’ll give Sam another half hour.
That’s when he notices him. He’s sitting on the other side of the playground, a huge tan canvas jacket wrapped around him and making him seem smaller than he probably is. He looks about sixteen, maybe seventeen, thin and bony like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, and his shoulders are hunched like he’s trying to stave off the cold. Dean doesn’t know what makes him notice the guy, except maybe that it's a new face in a town where he's been able to at least recognize everybody since first grade. His eyes are drawn to him, and once he’s looked, he can’t keep his eyes away for long.
His gaze flits like he’s at a tennis match. Sammy, guy, Sammy, guy, back and forth while Sam slides and the guy just sits there, motionless. Dean’s almost convinced himself that he should go talk to him when Sam yells.
“Deeeeeeean,” he hollers, like he can’t understand why Dean isn’t there the second Sam thought of him. Dean tears his eyes away from Park Bench Guy and jogs over to his brother, who seems to have found himself a friend in this almost abandoned playground.
“Hey Sammy, who’s this?” Dean asks, crouching down so Sam doesn’t have to crane his neck to look at him. Sam once told him that one day he’ll be just as tall as Dean, and Dean had silently hoped that day was a long way off. He doesn’t want his baby brother to grow up too fast.
“This is Rachel,” Sam says proudly, presenting her like she's someone famous and important, his smile gap-toothed and so damn adorable Dean has a hard time looking at it sometimes.
“Hi,” Rachel says shyly, tugging at one of her pigtails and hiding behind Sam.
“Hey Rachel, I’m Dean,” Dean says politely, wondering how long it’ll take for her parents to show up and yell at him for talking to their daughter. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again.
“Dean, we want to go on the swings!” Sam proclaims, bouncing where he stands. “Rachel’s sitter can push her and you can push me and we can go really, really high like Mom never lets me!”
Dean blinks.
“Uh, sure, buddy, but maybe you should ask Rachel’s sitter, too, huh?” he says. Rachel nods like she thinks that’s a good idea and runs off, pigtails flapping after her, right over to Park Bench Guy. He smiles at her when she reaches him, and Dean isn’t close enough to be sure, but his smile seems just as sappy as the one Dean has when he talks to Sam. Based on that alone, Dean decides he likes the guy.
Rachel grabs Park Bench Guy’s hand and starts pulling him towards where Dean is crouching, Sam regaling him with the story of how he and Rachel met on the slide. As there are only two other kids at the playground, both involved in some sort of sand eating contest in the sand box, Sam meeting Rachel was pretty much inevitable, but Dean just smiles at Sam and listens, one eye on Rachel and Park Bench Guy as they get closer and the other on Sam and his flailing arms.
“And Rachel says her sitter always pushes her as high as she wants on the swings! I wanna go really, really high, Dean. Can I?” Sam says, his eyes huge and innocently pleading. Dean hopes Sam never discovers what power that look gives him over his big brother.
“Yeah, sure buddy,” he says, hoping their mom won’t somehow find out.
Rachel and Park Bench Guy reach them then, Rachel pulling on the guy’s hand like he’s walking way too slow.
“This is Cas,” she exclaims, her previous shyness forgotten. “Cas, this is my friend Sam and his brother and I want to go on the swings and go real high!”
Dean raises an eyebrow at Rachel’s transformation and gets to his feet. He puts his hand out to the guy-Cas, was it?-and gives him a smile.
“Hey, I’m Dean, the brother,” he says. The guy doesn’t take his hand, just looks at Dean with hard eyes as Rachel and Sam talk excitedly and run off to the swings. “Uh, I hear we’ve been summoned to swing duty,” he tries, wondering if he should take his hand back. What’s this guy’s problem?
“I... Yes,” the guy says, finally reaching out to shake Dean’s hand. His grip is firm, almost too firm, and his hand is cold in Dean’s. Dean wonders how long he’s been sitting on that bench, watching Rachel play. “I’m Castiel. Cas. It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” he says politely, the phrase sounding rehearsed and not at all heartfelt. Dean tries not to take offence, but it’s hard.
“Dean, c’mon!” Sam shouts impatiently. He and Rachel have already each chosen a swing, their short legs just barely touching the ground as they try to gain speed. He grimaces a little; the swings are almost certainly wet.
“Nice to meet you too,” Dean says, smiling at Castiel despite the guy’s closed-off face. “Swing time, I guess.”
They don’t talk more that day, but Dean watches him. He sees how his face lights up when he’s talking to Rachel, how he lets his guard down around both her and Sam but slams it back into place as soon as he looks at Dean. He wonders if Castiel is like this with everyone, or if there’s something about Dean that makes him act this way. Either way, Dean sees it more as a challenge than as a rejection.
He’s gonna make Castiel like him, whether Castiel wants to or not.
~¤¤~
It’s no later than the following Monday that Dean sees Castiel again. It’d rained the entire weekend, the light drizzle of Saturday morning transforming into full-on torrent by noon, so Dean spent most of his time entertaining Sam while his parents worked and went to home owner’s meetings and tried to find suitable Halloween pumpkins two weeks too early. He loves his little brother, he really does, but it’s a bit of a relief to be back at school where he’s allowed to act like a teenager and not a parent.
He’s sitting at his and his friends’ usual lunch table when he spots Castiel again. Anna is entertaining the group with a tale about how she made Mr. Gallagher lose his train of thought no fewer than six times in one class, and Dean is laughing along with everyone else when a movement in the corner of his eye snags his attention.
The cafeteria is noisy, like it always is, people sitting in their chosen groups. They’re talking, shouting, teasing, whining, and, at one table, singing. Dean kind of likes his school, because while there are cliques, there isn’t an all-out war between them like the movie high school cliché. The cheerleaders aren’t all bimbos, the chess club kids can talk civilly to the goths, and it isn’t often that someone gets shoved into a locker. Dean's group is about as mixed as it can get: Victor the overachiever, Anna the class clown, Pam the rock chick, Chuck the comic nerd, and Dean the... Well, people might call him a rebel if they didn't know what a softie he really is.
Castiel is walking in the middle of this cacophony, head held high, face blank, his eyes locked on an empty table in the corner, seemingly unaware of all the people around him noticing the only new kid to grace this school in years. He’s wearing his too-big jacket, even indoors, and his hair is just as mussed as it was when Dean met him on Saturday. His grip on his lunch tray is the only indication that he’s feeling anything at all, his knuckles white from the force of it.
Dean doesn’t remember what excuse he gives, but he’s up from the table and at Castiel’s side in five seconds flat, the smile on his face probably overly friendly for someone he’s only met once.
“Hey, Cas, right?” he says, and Castiel flinches, swirling around to face Dean, holding the tray like a shield between them. His face softens in recognition for a second, but then it's blank again and he straightens, giving Dean a nod.
“Yes. Hello, Dean.”
Dean wonders if he should take it as a victory that the guy remembers his name despite their previous lack of conversation.
“Hi,” he says, deciding to celebrate it later. “I was just wondering if you'd like to sit with us?”
Castiel looks like he's about to refuse; he even opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then he shuts it again and stares at Dean for a second.
“Us?” he finally asks, and there's something a little less hostile about his demeanor.
“Yeah, me and my friends have a table over there,” he says, gesturing over to where Anna is flailing her arms around. She likes to be the center of attention, that girl.
Castiel looks over, seeming to consider it, his brow slightly furrowed and the grip on his tray a little less tight; he nods.
“Alright,” he says, and Dean wants to do some sort of victory dance, but that would probably scare they guy off. Instead, he leads him over to the table, indicating the seat next to his for Castiel.
“Guys, this is Castiel,” he says. “Castiel, this is the guys. Be nice, he's new.”
Everyone greets Castiel, and he nods at each of them as Dean introduces them by name. He's guarded again, and Dean doesn't know whether to feel gratified or concerned that it isn't just around Dean that he acts like that. He files it away for future reference and tries to get Castiel to open up a bit. It's made easier by the fact that Anna has started talking again, giving them the illusion of privacy.
“So, Cas, where you from?” Dean asks, spearing a sorry excuse for a tomato on his fork and eying it suspiciously. Castiel has started eating the cafeteria food like it's the best thing he's had in weeks, and Dean just doesn't get it. Everyone knows cafeteria food is just one step above low-budget army rations and prison food.
“Maine,” Castiel replies after he's swallowed. “ A small town, you probably haven't heard of it.”
“Yeah, well, it's not like a lot of people have heard of Hollow Hill, Washington, either, and yet here you are,” Dean replies, making a grand sweeping gesture with his free hand. “Where the weather is gray and the Starbucks is struggling. How come you moved here, anyway?”
Castiel looks down at his tray, and then up at Anna as she loudly exclaims that Pam is her best friend on the entire planet. Dean wonders if Pam gave her an extra dessert or something, because that's the kind of thing that Anna gets excited about.
“I...” Castiel starts, then looks back at Dean, something confused in his eyes like he can't believe he's actually having a conversation. “My father, he got a new job.”
“In Hollow Hill?”
“No, in Seattle. My mother prefers small towns, though, so he commutes.” Something about the way Castiel says that, some unidentifiable emotion coloring his words, make Dean decide to change the subject.
“So what do you do for fun?” he asks. “I mean, I guess you haven't had all that much time to get acquainted with the town yet, ‘cause I haven't seen you around before last Saturday, but do you have any hobbies?”
“I enjoy going to the cinema,” Castiel concedes, scraping off the last scraps of food from the tray.
“A film buff, huh? That’s cool. We only have two movie theaters in town, but they're pretty good at having films for different tastes. It's not all blockbusters and Michael Bay, I mean.”
“Like there's anything wrong with Michael Bay,” Pam cuts in, apparently deciding that they've had enough time to themselves. “Transformers kicked ass.”
“Transformers sucked ass, you mean,” Anna protests, rolling her eyes. “Way too much focus on Megan Fox's legs and way too little on the robots.”
“Don't knock Megan Fox's legs.” Pam grins, waggling her eyebrows.
“If we're talking about movies that sucked, I think we should mention X-Men 3,” Victor cuts in, and Dean groans. Here we go again.
“That movie is an atrocity!” Chuck exclaims. “I can't believe they went with Brett Ratner to direct when Bryan Singer wanted to make Superman Returns!”
“Right?” Victor says, turning to face Chuck like he's surprised Chuck agrees with him. Like they haven't had similar discussions over every other meal in this cafeteria since they started here.
Dean turns to Castiel to roll his eyes over how geeky Dean's friends are, but he finds that Castiel is watching them intently, his brow furrowed and his face attentive like he doesn't want to miss a second of it.
“I mean, they killed Cyclops,” Chuck continues, and Dean watches Castiel gives a small nod. It makes Dean smile. “It's not something you do. He's Cyclops.”
“And Rogue took the Cure,” Victor continues, and now Castiel is frowning even harder, like Victor just mentioned killing puppies or something.
“Her entire characterization was off,” he says, his voice low but clear. Everyone at the table looks at him in surprise for a second, and then Anna groans.
“Oh God, not another one,” she says; Pam pats her shoulder sympathetically as Victor glares at her.
“So you're an X-Men fan, huh?” Chuck asks Castiel excitedly, and Dean doesn't get another word in edgewise for the rest of the lunch hour. He's not complaining, though, because Castiel becomes more animated and open by the second, relaxing in his chair until it’s like he's always known these people, always been a part of this group.
The power of geekdom, Dean thinks, snorting to himself. If he ever meets Chris Claremont, he's gonna thank him.
~¤¤~
The group scatters at the bell, everyone off to their own classes, but Dean lingers for a few seconds to talk to Castiel in private.
“So, Cas,” he says as Castiel tenses again. He curses inwardly, wondering what the hell it's gonna take to get this guy to relax around him. “I was just wondering if you wanted to do something after school sometime this week? I could show you around town or we could go to the movies or something.”
Wow, that sounded like he's asking Castiel out on a date, didn't it? He's glad that Castiel probably hasn't had the time to hear the school gossip about Dean yet, or he would probably have run screaming.
“I mean, since you're new and all,” he adds anyway.
It's a bigger relief than it should be when Castiel agrees, and before Dean knows it, he's off to his English class with an agreement to meet Castiel in the parking lot after school.
~¤¤~
The rain makes the world outside the classroom windows gray and misty. Water beads on the glass, droplets streaking and forming bigger drops that slide out of view. The weather doesn't affect Dean's mood, though. He likes English, mostly because his teacher, Ms. Harvelle, is the most awesome teacher ever, and he's looking forward to spending some more time with Castiel later. He wonders if he should call his mission Operation: Befriend Cas, or if that would make him as huge a geek as Chuck and Victor.
It feels like it takes no time at all before Dean is making his way across the parking lot to where his car is waiting for him. His hair is wet in an instant, clinging to his head, but his jacket keeps the rest of him mostly dry. The asphalt under his feet is slick, and he makes a mental note to take it easy on the road.
Castiel comes running after him, looking miserable and wet from just a few seconds out in the rain, and Dean suppresses a smile.
“You need to get yourself something a little more water resistant than that jacket, dude,” he says unlocking the car. Castiel doesn't answer, but he slides into the passenger seat willingly enough, so Dean doesn't worry about it. If the guy wants to be wet and miserable until the snow comes and makes him cold and miserable instead, who is Dean to judge?
He turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life, music immediately blasting from the stereo. Dean winces and lowers the volume, shooting Castiel an apologetic look. Castiel is looking at the stereo with approval, though, and then he kind of smiles at Dean.
“Metallica?” he asks, more like he wants to know if Dean likes them than to get a confirmation that it's actually their music.
“Yeah,” Dean says, grinning at him. “You a fan too?”
“Yes,” he says simply, so Dean raises the volume back up a little before he pulls out of the parking lot. This might be easier than he thought.
~¤¤~
They end up at the Hollow Hill Cineplex because there really isn’t all that much else to do in town when it’s raining. Dean briefly considered taking Castiel to the town’s only museum, just because that’s the only thing he could think of that might be interesting to out-of-towners, but Castiel had said he liked the cinema, so here they are.
The only movies showing on a Monday afternoon are some European flick and Captain America, which Castiel has already seen. They end up getting tickets for the latter anyway, because Castiel is a geek and Dean just doesn’t do subtitles.
Dean tries to get Castiel to open up to him while they wait to be let in, but it ends up that Dean is talking and Castiel is eating popcorn with his poker face on. It's weird, but the quieter Castiel gets, the more Dean talks, like he has to fill the silence. Dean's never had a problem with silence before. If Castiel would stop looking at him like he's someone dangerous and boring at the same time, then maybe Dean could relax. As it is, he tells Castiel about Sam, about his parents and what they do, about how Hollow Hill may be dull but Dean kind of loves it anyway. He even lets Castiel know that Dean is the token gay guy at their school.
Not even that gets Castiel's poker face to waver for even a second, and Dean begins to suspect that Castiel is either a robot, or he's messing with him.
“Dude, am I boring you?” he asks, throwing himself down into a seat in the back row.
Castiel follows suit, sitting down much more slowly, like he's not sure the chair won’t break under him.
“Not at all,” he says, carefully transferring some popcorn from the bucket to his mouth.
“No offense, but you've got a hell of a way of showing it,” Dean gripes, grabbing a handful of popcorn for himself.
Castiel is quiet for so long that Dean thinks he isn't going to answer.
“I apologize, Dean,” he says, looking down at his own lap. “I'm not used to... I'm not very good in social situations.”
That's more personal information than Dean's gotten up until now, so he smiles at Castiel and decides to forgive him. Dean's easy like that.
“Hey, don't worry about it. Just try not to look so bored, and I'll try not to be so talkative and we'll be fine.”
Right then, the previews start, drowning everything else out, but Dean could have sworn he heard Castiel say one more thing before the lights went down:
“But I like it when you talk.”
~¤¤~
The movie is enjoyable, the popcorn is great, and Dean can't help but be a little bit too aware of the warm body next to him in the dark. Castiel still hasn't taken off his jacket, and Dean idly wonders if it's glued to his skin or something.
After the movie, Dean drives Castiel to the tiny town library because Castiel tells him he has some homework to do. Dean thinks that if he was the new kid, he'd take a few days to get his bearings before he started on his schoolwork, but he doesn't comment. He lets Castiel climb out of the car, watches him move stiffly as he leans down to poke his head back in.
“Thank you, Dean,” he says formally, and a grin pulls at Dean’s face.
“Hey, no problem,” he says, watching in something like awe as Castiel's lips twitch, as if he wants to smile back. “I'll see you at school tomorrow. Unless you want me to pick you up? It's probably gonna keep raining all week.”
Castiel hesitates, something torn crossing his face, there and gone, and then he shakes his head.
“Thank you, but I enjoy the walk,” he replies, straightening. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Then the door is closed, and Dean is watching Castiel's back as he hurries into the library, his jacket wrapped tightly around him against the rain and wind.
“Bye,” he says into the now empty space in the passenger seat.
~¤¤~
That is the start of Dean's campaign to get Castiel to relax around him, and he keeps at it for the rest of the week. He drags Castiel with him to their lunch table, he sits next to him in the few classes they share, he takes the time to stop and say hi whenever they run into each other in the corridor. He would worry that he's annoying Castiel, except that Dean begins to spot a slight softening that can't be anything but pleasure around Castiel's eyes whenever Dean talks to him. He's even starting to be able to read Castiel's poker face from time to time, and that's no small feat.
It's Pam who finally calls him on it, a week and a half after Dean first dragged Castiel to their table for lunch. They're waiting for Mr. Singer, the notoriously late Woodshop teacher, to show up, and Pam has been giving Dean weird looks all day, so he knows something is coming. To stall, he pretends to be interested in the wall of tools outlined in white to their right, trying to see if he can name them all before she loses patience with him.
He hasn't even gotten halfway through when she speaks.
“So, you and Castiel, huh?” she says, bumping his shoulder with her own.
“Me and Cas what?” he asks, a little taken aback at the question. That was not what he was expecting her to say. He shifts his gaze to her face; her eyes are twinkling like she knows some great secret and hasn't decided if she wants to let him in on it yet. It's a very annoying look.
“Honestly, Dean, I've never seen you go after someone like this before. Trust you to fall for the quiet, nerdy type.”
Dean’s eyebrows climb on his forehead as his heart rate picks up. It's not that Pam's right, but just the thought of it, of Dean and Castiel like that is... Huh. Maybe it's not entirely unappealing.
“I... What?” he manages, his head suddenly filled with thoughts of Castiel, of his eyes and his voice and his lips and Dean can't really concentrate on anything else.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Pam says smugly, her heavily-Kohled eyes sparkling with mirth.
Luckily, Dean is saved from trying to come up with a retort by Mr. Singer finally barreling through the door, loudly asking what the hell they're all doing just standing around like a bunch of idjits. In the resulting scurry to gather around the band saw for a safety demonstration, Dean takes a moment to freak the hell out.
Falling for Castiel was so not the plan.
Part Two
Title: Worn Out Spaces (1/2)
Author: wolfrider89
Recipient: brokentoy85
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 14,400
Warnings: Underage sex (they're both 17), main character getting abused by his parents
Spoilers: None
Summary: The first time Dean meets Castiel, he makes it his mission to befriend him, whether Castiel wants it or not. As time passes, Dean realizes he might be interested in a little more than just friendship; he's not complaining, but there's still so much he doesn't know...
Author notes: Huge thanks, as always, to my beta. She's the best! I really hope you enjoy this, brokentoy85! Merry Christmas!
They meet in a park, of all places. Dean thinks later that that’s probably a good thing, because he would never have spared the guy a second glance if they’d met at school. Castiel is the quiet type who dresses in too-big clothes and avoids your gaze if you meet on the street. Dean is...not.
It’s the beginning of October when they meet. The trees are losing their leaves, brown and yellow and orange covering the wet ground. Dean has mixed feelings about the fall, but it means he can wear his leather jacket without dying of heat stroke, so he’s not gonna whine. It’s raining that day, a light drizzle that creeps under his collar and clings to each hair individually without clumping them together. Sam insisted he wanted to go to the park, though, and Dean can never refuse him. Mom says she’s proud of him for looking after for his baby brother, but really, it’s all down to Sam’s puppy eyes and begging face. Dean just has a soft heart. Don’t tell anyone, though.
So Sam’s running around, his little five-year-old arms and legs carrying him surprisingly fast up the ladder of the slide. Climb up, slide down, climb up, slide down. Dean wonders how it can still be fun after twenty repetitions, but as long as Sam’s happy, he’s not gonna complain. Besides, it leaves Dean time to relax for a bit.
He’s sitting on a park bench as he watches his brother, probably looking like some delinquent teenager about to pull out a packet of cigarettes and pull a swig from an illegally purchased beer can or something. The damp is seeping through his jeans, making them cling to his legs, but it’s not too cold yet; he’ll give Sam another half hour.
That’s when he notices him. He’s sitting on the other side of the playground, a huge tan canvas jacket wrapped around him and making him seem smaller than he probably is. He looks about sixteen, maybe seventeen, thin and bony like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, and his shoulders are hunched like he’s trying to stave off the cold. Dean doesn’t know what makes him notice the guy, except maybe that it's a new face in a town where he's been able to at least recognize everybody since first grade. His eyes are drawn to him, and once he’s looked, he can’t keep his eyes away for long.
His gaze flits like he’s at a tennis match. Sammy, guy, Sammy, guy, back and forth while Sam slides and the guy just sits there, motionless. Dean’s almost convinced himself that he should go talk to him when Sam yells.
“Deeeeeeean,” he hollers, like he can’t understand why Dean isn’t there the second Sam thought of him. Dean tears his eyes away from Park Bench Guy and jogs over to his brother, who seems to have found himself a friend in this almost abandoned playground.
“Hey Sammy, who’s this?” Dean asks, crouching down so Sam doesn’t have to crane his neck to look at him. Sam once told him that one day he’ll be just as tall as Dean, and Dean had silently hoped that day was a long way off. He doesn’t want his baby brother to grow up too fast.
“This is Rachel,” Sam says proudly, presenting her like she's someone famous and important, his smile gap-toothed and so damn adorable Dean has a hard time looking at it sometimes.
“Hi,” Rachel says shyly, tugging at one of her pigtails and hiding behind Sam.
“Hey Rachel, I’m Dean,” Dean says politely, wondering how long it’ll take for her parents to show up and yell at him for talking to their daughter. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again.
“Dean, we want to go on the swings!” Sam proclaims, bouncing where he stands. “Rachel’s sitter can push her and you can push me and we can go really, really high like Mom never lets me!”
Dean blinks.
“Uh, sure, buddy, but maybe you should ask Rachel’s sitter, too, huh?” he says. Rachel nods like she thinks that’s a good idea and runs off, pigtails flapping after her, right over to Park Bench Guy. He smiles at her when she reaches him, and Dean isn’t close enough to be sure, but his smile seems just as sappy as the one Dean has when he talks to Sam. Based on that alone, Dean decides he likes the guy.
Rachel grabs Park Bench Guy’s hand and starts pulling him towards where Dean is crouching, Sam regaling him with the story of how he and Rachel met on the slide. As there are only two other kids at the playground, both involved in some sort of sand eating contest in the sand box, Sam meeting Rachel was pretty much inevitable, but Dean just smiles at Sam and listens, one eye on Rachel and Park Bench Guy as they get closer and the other on Sam and his flailing arms.
“And Rachel says her sitter always pushes her as high as she wants on the swings! I wanna go really, really high, Dean. Can I?” Sam says, his eyes huge and innocently pleading. Dean hopes Sam never discovers what power that look gives him over his big brother.
“Yeah, sure buddy,” he says, hoping their mom won’t somehow find out.
Rachel and Park Bench Guy reach them then, Rachel pulling on the guy’s hand like he’s walking way too slow.
“This is Cas,” she exclaims, her previous shyness forgotten. “Cas, this is my friend Sam and his brother and I want to go on the swings and go real high!”
Dean raises an eyebrow at Rachel’s transformation and gets to his feet. He puts his hand out to the guy-Cas, was it?-and gives him a smile.
“Hey, I’m Dean, the brother,” he says. The guy doesn’t take his hand, just looks at Dean with hard eyes as Rachel and Sam talk excitedly and run off to the swings. “Uh, I hear we’ve been summoned to swing duty,” he tries, wondering if he should take his hand back. What’s this guy’s problem?
“I... Yes,” the guy says, finally reaching out to shake Dean’s hand. His grip is firm, almost too firm, and his hand is cold in Dean’s. Dean wonders how long he’s been sitting on that bench, watching Rachel play. “I’m Castiel. Cas. It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” he says politely, the phrase sounding rehearsed and not at all heartfelt. Dean tries not to take offence, but it’s hard.
“Dean, c’mon!” Sam shouts impatiently. He and Rachel have already each chosen a swing, their short legs just barely touching the ground as they try to gain speed. He grimaces a little; the swings are almost certainly wet.
“Nice to meet you too,” Dean says, smiling at Castiel despite the guy’s closed-off face. “Swing time, I guess.”
They don’t talk more that day, but Dean watches him. He sees how his face lights up when he’s talking to Rachel, how he lets his guard down around both her and Sam but slams it back into place as soon as he looks at Dean. He wonders if Castiel is like this with everyone, or if there’s something about Dean that makes him act this way. Either way, Dean sees it more as a challenge than as a rejection.
He’s gonna make Castiel like him, whether Castiel wants to or not.
~¤¤~
It’s no later than the following Monday that Dean sees Castiel again. It’d rained the entire weekend, the light drizzle of Saturday morning transforming into full-on torrent by noon, so Dean spent most of his time entertaining Sam while his parents worked and went to home owner’s meetings and tried to find suitable Halloween pumpkins two weeks too early. He loves his little brother, he really does, but it’s a bit of a relief to be back at school where he’s allowed to act like a teenager and not a parent.
He’s sitting at his and his friends’ usual lunch table when he spots Castiel again. Anna is entertaining the group with a tale about how she made Mr. Gallagher lose his train of thought no fewer than six times in one class, and Dean is laughing along with everyone else when a movement in the corner of his eye snags his attention.
The cafeteria is noisy, like it always is, people sitting in their chosen groups. They’re talking, shouting, teasing, whining, and, at one table, singing. Dean kind of likes his school, because while there are cliques, there isn’t an all-out war between them like the movie high school cliché. The cheerleaders aren’t all bimbos, the chess club kids can talk civilly to the goths, and it isn’t often that someone gets shoved into a locker. Dean's group is about as mixed as it can get: Victor the overachiever, Anna the class clown, Pam the rock chick, Chuck the comic nerd, and Dean the... Well, people might call him a rebel if they didn't know what a softie he really is.
Castiel is walking in the middle of this cacophony, head held high, face blank, his eyes locked on an empty table in the corner, seemingly unaware of all the people around him noticing the only new kid to grace this school in years. He’s wearing his too-big jacket, even indoors, and his hair is just as mussed as it was when Dean met him on Saturday. His grip on his lunch tray is the only indication that he’s feeling anything at all, his knuckles white from the force of it.
Dean doesn’t remember what excuse he gives, but he’s up from the table and at Castiel’s side in five seconds flat, the smile on his face probably overly friendly for someone he’s only met once.
“Hey, Cas, right?” he says, and Castiel flinches, swirling around to face Dean, holding the tray like a shield between them. His face softens in recognition for a second, but then it's blank again and he straightens, giving Dean a nod.
“Yes. Hello, Dean.”
Dean wonders if he should take it as a victory that the guy remembers his name despite their previous lack of conversation.
“Hi,” he says, deciding to celebrate it later. “I was just wondering if you'd like to sit with us?”
Castiel looks like he's about to refuse; he even opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then he shuts it again and stares at Dean for a second.
“Us?” he finally asks, and there's something a little less hostile about his demeanor.
“Yeah, me and my friends have a table over there,” he says, gesturing over to where Anna is flailing her arms around. She likes to be the center of attention, that girl.
Castiel looks over, seeming to consider it, his brow slightly furrowed and the grip on his tray a little less tight; he nods.
“Alright,” he says, and Dean wants to do some sort of victory dance, but that would probably scare they guy off. Instead, he leads him over to the table, indicating the seat next to his for Castiel.
“Guys, this is Castiel,” he says. “Castiel, this is the guys. Be nice, he's new.”
Everyone greets Castiel, and he nods at each of them as Dean introduces them by name. He's guarded again, and Dean doesn't know whether to feel gratified or concerned that it isn't just around Dean that he acts like that. He files it away for future reference and tries to get Castiel to open up a bit. It's made easier by the fact that Anna has started talking again, giving them the illusion of privacy.
“So, Cas, where you from?” Dean asks, spearing a sorry excuse for a tomato on his fork and eying it suspiciously. Castiel has started eating the cafeteria food like it's the best thing he's had in weeks, and Dean just doesn't get it. Everyone knows cafeteria food is just one step above low-budget army rations and prison food.
“Maine,” Castiel replies after he's swallowed. “ A small town, you probably haven't heard of it.”
“Yeah, well, it's not like a lot of people have heard of Hollow Hill, Washington, either, and yet here you are,” Dean replies, making a grand sweeping gesture with his free hand. “Where the weather is gray and the Starbucks is struggling. How come you moved here, anyway?”
Castiel looks down at his tray, and then up at Anna as she loudly exclaims that Pam is her best friend on the entire planet. Dean wonders if Pam gave her an extra dessert or something, because that's the kind of thing that Anna gets excited about.
“I...” Castiel starts, then looks back at Dean, something confused in his eyes like he can't believe he's actually having a conversation. “My father, he got a new job.”
“In Hollow Hill?”
“No, in Seattle. My mother prefers small towns, though, so he commutes.” Something about the way Castiel says that, some unidentifiable emotion coloring his words, make Dean decide to change the subject.
“So what do you do for fun?” he asks. “I mean, I guess you haven't had all that much time to get acquainted with the town yet, ‘cause I haven't seen you around before last Saturday, but do you have any hobbies?”
“I enjoy going to the cinema,” Castiel concedes, scraping off the last scraps of food from the tray.
“A film buff, huh? That’s cool. We only have two movie theaters in town, but they're pretty good at having films for different tastes. It's not all blockbusters and Michael Bay, I mean.”
“Like there's anything wrong with Michael Bay,” Pam cuts in, apparently deciding that they've had enough time to themselves. “Transformers kicked ass.”
“Transformers sucked ass, you mean,” Anna protests, rolling her eyes. “Way too much focus on Megan Fox's legs and way too little on the robots.”
“Don't knock Megan Fox's legs.” Pam grins, waggling her eyebrows.
“If we're talking about movies that sucked, I think we should mention X-Men 3,” Victor cuts in, and Dean groans. Here we go again.
“That movie is an atrocity!” Chuck exclaims. “I can't believe they went with Brett Ratner to direct when Bryan Singer wanted to make Superman Returns!”
“Right?” Victor says, turning to face Chuck like he's surprised Chuck agrees with him. Like they haven't had similar discussions over every other meal in this cafeteria since they started here.
Dean turns to Castiel to roll his eyes over how geeky Dean's friends are, but he finds that Castiel is watching them intently, his brow furrowed and his face attentive like he doesn't want to miss a second of it.
“I mean, they killed Cyclops,” Chuck continues, and Dean watches Castiel gives a small nod. It makes Dean smile. “It's not something you do. He's Cyclops.”
“And Rogue took the Cure,” Victor continues, and now Castiel is frowning even harder, like Victor just mentioned killing puppies or something.
“Her entire characterization was off,” he says, his voice low but clear. Everyone at the table looks at him in surprise for a second, and then Anna groans.
“Oh God, not another one,” she says; Pam pats her shoulder sympathetically as Victor glares at her.
“So you're an X-Men fan, huh?” Chuck asks Castiel excitedly, and Dean doesn't get another word in edgewise for the rest of the lunch hour. He's not complaining, though, because Castiel becomes more animated and open by the second, relaxing in his chair until it’s like he's always known these people, always been a part of this group.
The power of geekdom, Dean thinks, snorting to himself. If he ever meets Chris Claremont, he's gonna thank him.
~¤¤~
The group scatters at the bell, everyone off to their own classes, but Dean lingers for a few seconds to talk to Castiel in private.
“So, Cas,” he says as Castiel tenses again. He curses inwardly, wondering what the hell it's gonna take to get this guy to relax around him. “I was just wondering if you wanted to do something after school sometime this week? I could show you around town or we could go to the movies or something.”
Wow, that sounded like he's asking Castiel out on a date, didn't it? He's glad that Castiel probably hasn't had the time to hear the school gossip about Dean yet, or he would probably have run screaming.
“I mean, since you're new and all,” he adds anyway.
It's a bigger relief than it should be when Castiel agrees, and before Dean knows it, he's off to his English class with an agreement to meet Castiel in the parking lot after school.
~¤¤~
The rain makes the world outside the classroom windows gray and misty. Water beads on the glass, droplets streaking and forming bigger drops that slide out of view. The weather doesn't affect Dean's mood, though. He likes English, mostly because his teacher, Ms. Harvelle, is the most awesome teacher ever, and he's looking forward to spending some more time with Castiel later. He wonders if he should call his mission Operation: Befriend Cas, or if that would make him as huge a geek as Chuck and Victor.
It feels like it takes no time at all before Dean is making his way across the parking lot to where his car is waiting for him. His hair is wet in an instant, clinging to his head, but his jacket keeps the rest of him mostly dry. The asphalt under his feet is slick, and he makes a mental note to take it easy on the road.
Castiel comes running after him, looking miserable and wet from just a few seconds out in the rain, and Dean suppresses a smile.
“You need to get yourself something a little more water resistant than that jacket, dude,” he says unlocking the car. Castiel doesn't answer, but he slides into the passenger seat willingly enough, so Dean doesn't worry about it. If the guy wants to be wet and miserable until the snow comes and makes him cold and miserable instead, who is Dean to judge?
He turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life, music immediately blasting from the stereo. Dean winces and lowers the volume, shooting Castiel an apologetic look. Castiel is looking at the stereo with approval, though, and then he kind of smiles at Dean.
“Metallica?” he asks, more like he wants to know if Dean likes them than to get a confirmation that it's actually their music.
“Yeah,” Dean says, grinning at him. “You a fan too?”
“Yes,” he says simply, so Dean raises the volume back up a little before he pulls out of the parking lot. This might be easier than he thought.
~¤¤~
They end up at the Hollow Hill Cineplex because there really isn’t all that much else to do in town when it’s raining. Dean briefly considered taking Castiel to the town’s only museum, just because that’s the only thing he could think of that might be interesting to out-of-towners, but Castiel had said he liked the cinema, so here they are.
The only movies showing on a Monday afternoon are some European flick and Captain America, which Castiel has already seen. They end up getting tickets for the latter anyway, because Castiel is a geek and Dean just doesn’t do subtitles.
Dean tries to get Castiel to open up to him while they wait to be let in, but it ends up that Dean is talking and Castiel is eating popcorn with his poker face on. It's weird, but the quieter Castiel gets, the more Dean talks, like he has to fill the silence. Dean's never had a problem with silence before. If Castiel would stop looking at him like he's someone dangerous and boring at the same time, then maybe Dean could relax. As it is, he tells Castiel about Sam, about his parents and what they do, about how Hollow Hill may be dull but Dean kind of loves it anyway. He even lets Castiel know that Dean is the token gay guy at their school.
Not even that gets Castiel's poker face to waver for even a second, and Dean begins to suspect that Castiel is either a robot, or he's messing with him.
“Dude, am I boring you?” he asks, throwing himself down into a seat in the back row.
Castiel follows suit, sitting down much more slowly, like he's not sure the chair won’t break under him.
“Not at all,” he says, carefully transferring some popcorn from the bucket to his mouth.
“No offense, but you've got a hell of a way of showing it,” Dean gripes, grabbing a handful of popcorn for himself.
Castiel is quiet for so long that Dean thinks he isn't going to answer.
“I apologize, Dean,” he says, looking down at his own lap. “I'm not used to... I'm not very good in social situations.”
That's more personal information than Dean's gotten up until now, so he smiles at Castiel and decides to forgive him. Dean's easy like that.
“Hey, don't worry about it. Just try not to look so bored, and I'll try not to be so talkative and we'll be fine.”
Right then, the previews start, drowning everything else out, but Dean could have sworn he heard Castiel say one more thing before the lights went down:
“But I like it when you talk.”
~¤¤~
The movie is enjoyable, the popcorn is great, and Dean can't help but be a little bit too aware of the warm body next to him in the dark. Castiel still hasn't taken off his jacket, and Dean idly wonders if it's glued to his skin or something.
After the movie, Dean drives Castiel to the tiny town library because Castiel tells him he has some homework to do. Dean thinks that if he was the new kid, he'd take a few days to get his bearings before he started on his schoolwork, but he doesn't comment. He lets Castiel climb out of the car, watches him move stiffly as he leans down to poke his head back in.
“Thank you, Dean,” he says formally, and a grin pulls at Dean’s face.
“Hey, no problem,” he says, watching in something like awe as Castiel's lips twitch, as if he wants to smile back. “I'll see you at school tomorrow. Unless you want me to pick you up? It's probably gonna keep raining all week.”
Castiel hesitates, something torn crossing his face, there and gone, and then he shakes his head.
“Thank you, but I enjoy the walk,” he replies, straightening. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Then the door is closed, and Dean is watching Castiel's back as he hurries into the library, his jacket wrapped tightly around him against the rain and wind.
“Bye,” he says into the now empty space in the passenger seat.
~¤¤~
That is the start of Dean's campaign to get Castiel to relax around him, and he keeps at it for the rest of the week. He drags Castiel with him to their lunch table, he sits next to him in the few classes they share, he takes the time to stop and say hi whenever they run into each other in the corridor. He would worry that he's annoying Castiel, except that Dean begins to spot a slight softening that can't be anything but pleasure around Castiel's eyes whenever Dean talks to him. He's even starting to be able to read Castiel's poker face from time to time, and that's no small feat.
It's Pam who finally calls him on it, a week and a half after Dean first dragged Castiel to their table for lunch. They're waiting for Mr. Singer, the notoriously late Woodshop teacher, to show up, and Pam has been giving Dean weird looks all day, so he knows something is coming. To stall, he pretends to be interested in the wall of tools outlined in white to their right, trying to see if he can name them all before she loses patience with him.
He hasn't even gotten halfway through when she speaks.
“So, you and Castiel, huh?” she says, bumping his shoulder with her own.
“Me and Cas what?” he asks, a little taken aback at the question. That was not what he was expecting her to say. He shifts his gaze to her face; her eyes are twinkling like she knows some great secret and hasn't decided if she wants to let him in on it yet. It's a very annoying look.
“Honestly, Dean, I've never seen you go after someone like this before. Trust you to fall for the quiet, nerdy type.”
Dean’s eyebrows climb on his forehead as his heart rate picks up. It's not that Pam's right, but just the thought of it, of Dean and Castiel like that is... Huh. Maybe it's not entirely unappealing.
“I... What?” he manages, his head suddenly filled with thoughts of Castiel, of his eyes and his voice and his lips and Dean can't really concentrate on anything else.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Pam says smugly, her heavily-Kohled eyes sparkling with mirth.
Luckily, Dean is saved from trying to come up with a retort by Mr. Singer finally barreling through the door, loudly asking what the hell they're all doing just standing around like a bunch of idjits. In the resulting scurry to gather around the band saw for a safety demonstration, Dean takes a moment to freak the hell out.
Falling for Castiel was so not the plan.
Part Two