Chapter Text
First, it started off with pretty much staring at the back of Deans head the whole of class. His hair always looked liked it felt good underneath his fingers- flecks of light brown, blonde and hazel that trailed down to a point at his neck, fluffed up at the forehead and spiked slightly, seemingly defying gravity. Cas had tried to do that one night but it had gone wrong and... Gabriel walked in and laughed at him....Cas Remembered running to his room and slamming the door, trying to furiously wipe the tears away from his face. He thought about running his fingers through the hair, and watched when Dean ruffled it occasionally. And Cas swore he had his own smell - leather and car oil, a really gritty smell of garages and old cars. Cas wondered if he had a smell.
Of course, Cas only wanted to be his friend. He didn't have many friends. Any friends. And Dean looked nice to his eyes. That was what friendship felt like, wasn't it? Wanting to be with them? All the time? Every day Cas went home and looked at himself in the mirror. His body was something he had become used to, and not once thought about. But every day he came home and noticed new imperfections. How could Dean want to be friends with someone with lips like his? They were too big. Repulsive. And no matter how much he shaved, he always looked scruffy. Like a tramp or something. Dean probably thought he was homeless. He and his friends probably laughed at him behind his back. But yet, every day, Cas got into class early and put all his folders neatly on his desk and made sure his pencil was in the little notch at the top of the desk straight, and averted his eyes when Dean sat down on the chair in front.
If he hadn't turned away, he would have noticed Dean smiling at him before realizing he wasn't looking and glancing away again.