Chapter Text
Dean dreaded today. It was Tuesday, the day in biology when lab partners are picked by the students and then, if no one has a partner, chosen by the teacher.
Dean has always worked alone in that class, thankfully, to the odd number of students. He never picked anyone and no one picked him, and that’s just how he liked it. But all that changed when they got a new student last week.
He looked like a total punk drop out, to Dean. His black, swirly hair on the top of his head did nothing to hide the tattoos of birds behind his ears, and his piercings showed that he didn’t care about how he appeared to anyone but himself, and yeah ok he was kind of hot.
One thing did catch Dean’s attention, though: his piercing blue eyes. Dean couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes; how they looked right at him on the first day and narrowed when he felt himself blush.
The boy’s lip piercing was made shinier, somehow, by him licking his lips. Dean only turned redder. Feeling his face heat up made him quickly looked down at his book, embarrassed at the way the boy was making him feel just by looking at him.
Dean immediately marked him as a bad influence and tried to steer clear from him, no matter how many times he was tempted to look back and stare in awe. What was worse, though, was that he didn’t even know his name.
Now it was Tuesday, and Dean sat alone, like always, but was soon joined by someone plopping into the chair next to him. He heard the boy next to him let out a long, exaggerated sigh. He glanced over at the boy. He instantly recognized that jawline and lip piercing and just as quickly snapped back to his phone.
His tumblr was open and, thankfully, his dash was filled with only open roads and scenic areas, rather than the smutty fanfiction he read and almost-naked gifs of boys he fascinated himself with.
Mr. Turner approached them and laid his hands flat on the table, leaning in. “Mr. Winchester, thanks to Mr. Novak here, you now have a partner. I’m sure this won’t be too hard for either of you, since you both have fantastic grades in here. You will be doing the anatomy of a cat and dissecting one when the lab is over with as your final,” he said, studying them back and forth.
Dean could feel his face go pale at the thought of him and the boy staying after school, spending countless hours together – most likely alone – and unable to get the knot out of his stomach to come loose. He stared back at Mr. Turner’s twitchy gaze until he stood up right once more and walked away.
Dean sneaked a glance over at the boy once more and saw that he was staring. He quickly looked back at his phone, feeling the blood slowly rush to his cheeks. When he didn’t feel the stare break from him, he turned off his phone and returned a hard gaze. “What?” he tried to ask defensively, but it came out more as a harsh whisper.
The boy’s mouth curled into a smirk, and he looked back at the board where the teacher was writing down the due dates and requirements of the assignment for the students to copy down. He drummed his pen against the table to whatever song was in his head.
Whatever it was, it must’ve been great because he eventually closed his eyes and began bobbing his head in time with his pen, as if he was listening to it aloud.
Dean took out a piece of paper and copied the board. He wrote his name in sloppy letters at the top of the paper and slid it over to the kid next to him. The boy felt the shift and opened his eyes to look down at the paper. Almost as quickly, he hunched over the table and scribbled down something at the top before leaning back into his chair and continuing to bob his head, as if he was never interrupted.
Dean took the paper back and looked over the neat hand writing that read “Castiel Novak”. He wanted to trace his thumb over the pen marks but resisted the urge. He could almost hear Charlie’s taunts and teases. Mr. Turner clapped his hands loudly enough to get everyone’s attention; everyone’s but Castiel’s.
“School ends in two weeks, which does not give you an excuse to slack off and not work. This project counts as a major grade. If the work is not done by the end of the year you will fail, got it?”
There was a pitiful roar of “yes sir” and some lazy nods of heads before it became quiet once more. Dean looked over at Castiel and furrowed his brow. The boy’s rhythm had changed to some new song and his pen slowly made its way back to the desk’s surface, beating to the sound in his head.
“Mr. Novak,” Mr. Turner barked. Castiel didn’t falter one muscle and continued to tap.
“Mr. Novak,” he raised his voice. Dean began to feel eyes wander towards his table and lightly shoved Castiel’s shoulder to knock him out of his trance.
He gave Dean an offended look. His big blue eyes did nothing short of making Dean catch his breath and just stare back, green eyes about to pop out of their sockets. He quickly glanced at the board towards Mr. Turner and Castiel got the message.
“Sir?” he replied almost innocently.
“I’m not sure how they did it back at your old school or in your other classes, but in here we do not have ourselves a little jam session when I’m up here talking. Do you understand?”
Castiel shrugged. “Sorry sir, but it seemed like nothing important to me. My partner here was going to run it by me when we were at study group today.”
“Are you giving me lip?”
“Sir?”
“I want you out of my classroom for 15 seconds.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a disruption to the class and for talking back to me.”
Castiel shot out of his seat. “I was just pleading my case, sir.”
“Do you want to make it 5 minutes?”
“Sir, I believe that in a democracy we should have a vote if people want-”
“Son, this is no democracy; this is a dictatorship. Now get out of my class or I’m calling the principle.”
Castiel grabbed his stuff, looked down at Dean, and smirked. “And I thought this was America.” He strode to the door and, before turning the handle, asked, “How long?” Mr. Turner blew hot air out of his nose and tried his best not to yell. “As long as I damn well please!”
Dean has never heard Mr. Turner get so angry before, but he guessed that Castiel was the exception. He seemed like the exception to a lot of things…
5 minutes later, Dean wanted to ask Mr. Turner if he should let him in, but was a little intimidated by the scene that had played out minutes before. So he sat in his chair like the coward he was and scrolled through Tumblr. Gifs of Doctor Who and scenery blurred by Dean’s fast moving fingers.
When the bell rang for everyone to go to their next class, Castiel didn’t come back in. Mr. Turner didn’t seem surprised, but Dean felt a little disappointed.
He didn’t see Castiel for the rest of the day, but that didn’t mean he stopped thinking about him – it was like he couldn’t get him out of his mind. He took out the paper he had scribbled the instructions on and traced his thumb over it in math class.
Castiel, he repeated in his head. Castiel. Castiel Novak. Cas… “Mr. Winchester” Dean heard an irritated voice break through his daydream of him and Castiel taking a ride to nowhere-in-particular and (terribly) singing along to his mix tapes.
“Ma’am?” he replied, sitting up a bit straighter.
“Would you like to tell me what is so interesting enough that has you daydreaming during my lesson?”
“No ma’am. I-I mean there’s nothing…”
“Am I boring you?”
“No! It’s just I haven’t been feeling well today. It won’t happen again,” he promised.
She let out a long huff. “Well, this is your first time of not paying attention; just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Dean wanted to roll his eyes because he just said he wouldn’t do it again, but he nodded and said “yes ma’am” instead.
When the bell rang for the day’s dismissal, Dean wasn’t sure where to go. Should he go to the library and wait to see if Castiel shows up? Or just get in the Impala and pick up Sammy from school?
He made a beeline to the parking lot.
As he bent over to unlock the door, he heard someone whistle behind him. He turned around and saw Castiel in a black leather jacket, despite the 80 degree weather, scanning the Impala. “Nice wheels, Winchester,” he said.
He walked dangerously close to Dean. Dean could feel his heart skip a beat when Castiel smiled at him, blue eyes teasing. “But not as nice as mine.” He twirled around and walked in front of the car to the other side to reveal a shining Harley Davidson©.
Dean gapped. The bike was a single rider with chrome handles and wheels and was completely black with a single dark red stripe across the sides. It was beautiful.
“That’s yours?” Dean said, astonished. He had imagined Castiel owning some kind of badass vehicle, but he had never thought it would be a shining, in-mint-condition 1940’s Harley. Castiel beamed.
“Yep.”
With that Castiel mounted the motorbike, put on his helmet, and smiled before saying “See ya later, Winchester” and flipping down his visor and taking off. Dean climbed in his car, throat closed up and eyes focused on the disappearing figure of Castiel on his bike. His thick rimmed glasses fogged when he realized he was staring.
When he was gone, Dean shook his head and returned his focus to his baby. He put the keys in the ignition, turned up the player, and drove off with ACDC blaring into his ears.
He got Sam and turned down the music when he climbed into the car. He smiled and Dean smiled back and asked his routine question: “How was school?”
Sam drabbled on about an upcoming science fair that is required of them and how he had some ideas and if Dean could think of any. “Dean?” Sam asked. “Dean!”
“What?” Dean broke his trance from the road. “Were you even listening?” Sam gave him what Dean called one of his bitch-faces. Dean laughed a little and muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Science fair, ideas, no partners, I heard you.”
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?” Sam whined.
“I’ve had a long day, Sammy. I’m just not entirely there right now that’s all.”
“Well you can tell me about it.”
“It’s nothing to worry about. I’m just…tired.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me Sammy. I’m not 8 anymore, Dean. It’s Sam.” Dean smiled and glanced over at his little brother. “Tell you what, once you’re out of high school and with some pretty woman wrapped around your waist with a ring on her finger, I’ll stop calling you Sammy. Until then…”
Dean reached to his right and started poking his little brother’s sides. “Stop it,” Sam said between giggles. “Stop it!” Sam burst out into full out laughter. Dean smiled and glanced between Sam and the road, making sure not to run into the other lane or over mailboxes and to not poke Sam’s eye when finally stopping to ruffle his hair and pull away.
Sam was eventually able to breathe again once the giggles had come to a slow halt. The tape played in the background, both of them smiling and trying to keep the laughter from bursting out of their chests.
Sam leaned over to the dash, crinkling his nose and saying, “I hate this song.” It was ACDC’s Thunderstruck, and it was one of Dean’s favorite driving songs. He smacked Sam’s hand away.
“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”
Sam rolled his eyes, but sat back in his seat and let the people who sounded like distant chainsaws play on.
When they got home, Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and whipped out the key. He carefully opened the door and peered inside to see if his dad was anywhere near; he had seen the truck outside.
Sam peeked his head in and Dean motioned him to follow. Dean looked over into the living room and saw beer bottles and cans and even some Jack Daniels strewn about. A man laid passed out in an armchair, TV flickering colored shadows on the wall and dancing in the bottles’ reflection.
“Dad?” Dean asked softly.
No response.
“Dad?” he said a little louder.
He shuffled a bit.
“Dad!” he practically yelled.
Blurry eyes forced themselves open and peered up at the boy before them. “Mm,” the man grunted.
“We’re home,” Dean said bitterly.
The man closed his heavy eyes shut once more and Sam ran up the stairs, book bag bouncing on his back with just one strap hanging on for dear life (the other one had broken within the first 2 months of school, and now this one was repaired with only duct tape and thread thanks to Dean).
Dean followed him up and shut the door to his room behind him. He immediately opened up his lap top and got on tumblr. He scrolled by some things he had already seen earlier and some interesting photos of boys his age (maybe a little older) naked and covered in nothing but tattoos.
He then sighed, unable to get the image of Castiel out of his head; him smiling at Dean like there was a secret he only knew about and was considering telling Dean. Him putting on that helmet and mounting the bike so easily, straddling his hips and sticking out his ass a bit to where he was sort of leaning into the vehicle. Him sitting back up and putting down his visor after talking to Dean.
Dean laid back in his bed, feet touching the floor and arms spread. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath,
Dad
Drinking
Sammy
Stuck
Alone
Broken
School
Cas
Unknown
Feelings
and let it all go.