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"Dean," Castiel called from across the room.
"Mm?" Dean groaned, slowly drifting into consciousness.
Dean felt Castiel walk over to him. Castiel grabbed a pillow and hit him with it. "Wake up, it's 4 o'clock. You promised you'd help me memorize my script before dinner."
Dean sleepily opened his eyes and looked at the boy standing in front of him. He smiled. He was wearing a slightly oversized blue sweater and khakis. Typical Castiel fashion on a rainy day.
Dean looked over to the window and saw that though it was still raining, there was light outside. He shifted his attention back to his blue-eyed angel.
"Oh yeah," Dean mumbled, propping his elbows on the couch to lift himself up. "Sorry. I thought I'd take a nap before helping you out."
Castiel smiled and ruffled Dean's hair. "Don't worry about it. I thought I'd let you sleep."
Dean yawned. His life was a white picket fence at the moment. He and Castiel were about to graduate college, and both had pretty stable jobs. When Castiel would be rehearsing in the local theatre group, Dean would spend time with his brother at the gym or some other place. Life was good for him and Cas; He could get used to domesticity.
Dean sat up and let Castiel sit next to him. "Thank you for helping me," Castiel told him, planting a kiss on his cheek.
Dean smiled and gave him a short, sweet kiss on the lips. "Julius Caesar, right?"
"Yeah," Castiel sighed. "Normally we wouldn't do Shakespearean plays, but the high school kids are taking up Julius Caesar. One of our actors is a literature teacher, and she suggested we'd do it for her students."
Dean chuckled. "Man, this will be a pain in the ass then."
"Not really. I've already memorized half of it. I just need Act III down," he assured him, and Dean smiled.
"Wow," he said, stealing another kiss, "I've got a cool boyfriend."
Castiel rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the grin forming on his face. "Whatever. I'm going to get the script. I'll be right back."
Castiel stood up and walked in the direction towards their bedroom. Dean smirked as he watched him walk away. He had to take the opportunity.
"Nice ass," Dean called out.
"Fuck off," Cas replied, and Dean laughed.
After a minutes, Castiel came back out with a script in hand, earning a groan from Dean. It wasn't that Dean didn't want to help him, but he knew Castiel gets frustrated easily when he messes up. At least the boy practically has photographic memory.
“Fun fact: Julius Caesar is the shortest play Shakespeare wrote,” Cas told him as he walked.
“Oh? Nice,” Dean commented.
"Alright," Cas said, sitting back down next to Dean. "I'm playing Marc Antony, okay? Shall we start?"
"Yeah, let's," Dean agreed.
Thirty minutes in, and Castiel is lying his head against Dean's lap, angrily glaring at the green-eyed Winchester.
"Don't tell me the fucking line or I swear to God, I will murder you in your sleep," Cas threatened, and Dean raised his hands up in surrender. It's surprising how vulgar Castiel could get given that he rarely ever does. There are only ever two times where Dean gets the opportunity to hear him curse: when he's memorizing lines and... well, let's just say at night, if you know what that means.
Dean opened his mouth, but Castiel raised his hand and covered his mouth.
"Shut up," he told him, and Dean rolled his eyes and pried his hand off of his face. "'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent..."
"Mmhmm," Dean signaled him to continue.
Castiel stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to remember the line. "That day he overcame..."
"The Nervii," Dean finished for him.
Castiel groaned. "I told you to shut up!"
Dean squinted at him. "Well, we've been saying this line over and over again for 5 minutes, and it's driving me crazy."
"I had it, and you ruined it," he complained, and Dean sighed.
"Can we just continue?" he asked.
Castiel took a deep breath. "'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, that day he overcame the Nervii," he gave Dean his signature side eyes. "Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through. See what a... fuck."
Dean shook his head. "Nope, I don't think that's the line. Unless you made corrections, then..."
"Screw you," Castiel said sadly. "I hate Shakespeare."
"See what a rent the envious Casca made," Dean told him.
"See what a rent the envious Casca made," Cas repeated. "'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, that day he overcame the Nervii. Look, in this- fuck!"
Dean sighed and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "You're doing great, Cas."
"You sound like I'm pregnant and giving birth," Castiel said sarcastically.
"Hey, that's offensive," Dean warned, and Cas rolled his eyes.
"Can we take a break?" Cas begged.
Dean pursed his lips. "But we've only been doing this for half an hour."
Castiel nuzzled his face on Dean's stomach. "Please..."
Dean pushed him off and laughed. "Fine, but don't do any of that chick-flick bullcrap."
"Don't complain. You secretly like it," Castiel said, poking Dean's chest as he sat up.
Dean gave him a small bitch face before leaning into kiss him. Castiel kissed him back, sighing in content. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, and he felt arms snaking around his neck. After a while, he pulled away and rested his forehead against Cas'.
"I love you, Dean," Cas told him. "Thank you for helping me. And putting up with my shit."
Dean laughed at the profanity. "Love you too, you dork."
"Nerd," he shot back, and Dean shook his head as he grinned.
"Shall we continue?" Dean suggested.
Castiel thought about it. "I'm hungry."
Dean laughed. "It's only 4:30, dude."
"Then let's eat a snack. I'm an adult, Winchester. I can do what I want," he replied, standing up and walking over to the kitchen. "Et tu, Brute? - Then fall Caesar!"
"Wrong person, Antony. That isn't your line," Dean called out.
"I'm an adult!" Dean heard him yell from the kitchen, and he smiled.