Horror High: Chapter Four

[vanimadin]

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit (in future chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Just. So much fluff. ALL THE FLUFF. Not that anyone is reading this, but whatever. Can also be read HERE ON AO3. New chapter next Friday! :)

HORROR HIGH
Chapter Four
By Senashenta

[Dean’s birthday is soon. I just thought you should know.]

Cas wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the text he received from Sam on Friday night after school. He let it sit for a bit while he tidied his room and pondered it. He knew Dean’s birthday was in January, but he didn’t know what day, and he wasn’t sure why Sam was… telling him this.

He was halfway through actually making his bed (for once) when he made a soft frustrated noise and tossed the blankets down, heading over to pick up his phone again:

[What day?]

But Sam wasn’t going to answer that particular question. When he replied a few minutes later it was with:

[He wouldn’t want me to tell you. He doesn’t like to talk about his birthday. But you of all people should know it’s coming up, right?]

Cas frowned:

[He told me before that it’s this month.]

Sam seemed surprised by that:

[Really? He never tells anybody. I knew you two are close, but…]

Cas paused, considering, and chewed on his lip as he typed out his reply:

[Sam, do you think I could get him something? A birthday gift?]

There was a long, long pause between that and Sam’s next response:

[I don’t know. He could get mad. But you wouldn’t know unless you try.]

That was… foreboding. Cas didn’t want to do anything to make Dean angry. But he also didn’t want to ignore his boyfriend’s birthday, that seemed like an important thing. He frowned to himself again, fingers tapping at the side of his phone restlessly as he considered his options. Then:

[I think I might give it a shot.]

Sam’s reply was quick this time:

[It’s your funeral.]

Cas hummed over that:

[I’ll chance it. Thanks, Sam.]

Setting his phone on his desk, he dropped down into the chair with a huff. This was… well. Not really a conundrum. Cas knew he wanted to do something for Dean for his birthday, even though the older boy apparently didn’t celebrate it and he didn’t even know what actual day it was.

Not a party, obviously. That would be way too over-the-top, and besides which who would he invite? Maybe just something with the two of them? That might work. They could just spend a day together and he would wish Dean a Happy Birthday at the end of it. Or something else…

Blue eyes skimmed around the room as he thought before landing on Charlie’s business card that was pinned to the bulletin board above his desk and oh. That was an idea. Cas turned in his seat and opened his laptop, quickly pulling up Charlie’s Etsy store and beginning to click through it, browsing idly.

Yeah.

That was definitely an idea.

--
--

“You want to commission something?”

This was Monday, after a weekend of hanging out with the Winchesters, watching movies, doing research, and plotting privately to himself, and Charlie was blinking at him in surprise while Cas just stared back at her and nodded earnestly. “Yes.”

“Well… what do you want to commission?” Charlie asked with a tilt of her head.

“A bracelet. Or, I mean, a leather cuff.” Cas explained, then added in a softer tone, “it’s for Dean’s birthday.”

“Aw. You two are adorable.” Charlie gave him a little smile and propped her elbow on his desk, resting her chin in her hand. She regarded him almost fondly. “You want a cuff, like one of the ones I braid? I don’t really do a lot of leather work. Have you looked at my site?”

Cas nodded again. “Mn, I looked at your site. You make really nice products. And I was looking at the section with the braided leather bracelets and cuffs—you know, the ones for guys—and I just thought…” Trailing off, he glanced down, then back up again before asking, “does it sound like a stupid idea?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, Cas, I’m making money out of the deal.” Charlie pointed out. After that, though, she smiled again and added, “but no, it doesn’t sound like a stupid idea at all.”

“I don’t even really know what I want, I… can you just use your best judgement and make something? I’ll pay for whatever.”

“Oooh boy, you’re playing with fire, there, Cas.” Jody piped up. “Just giving her free reign like that.”

“Charlie doesn’t have ‘best judgement’.” Garth added with a snicker.

“I do too!” Charlie protested with a pout. She glared at Jody, then at Garth, before returning her attention to Cas. “I can make something nice for him, Cas.” She assured him, “I’ll make a braided leather cuff, just for him. With silver snap fasteners. What color do you think he’d like?”

“Black, I think, if you can.” Cas smiled, expression fond, “or dark brown.”

Charlie reached with her free hand to poke his cheek, the gesture affectionate. “Consider it done!”

--
--

At lunch that day, Cas didn’t say anything about Dean’s birthday or planning a gift for him, he just sat with his boyfriend and enjoyed his company, the same as always, although feeling mildly nervous because of all the plotting. He privately hoped Sam would be wrong about Dean’s reaction to everything.

“So, I was thinking,” He said as he handed Dean his lunch, “if you think Sam will be okay, do you want to come over after school today?”

Dean had started unwrapping his sandwich but paused to give Cas a surprised look. “Like just to hang out, or…?”

Cas had to smile at that, chuckling softly. “Just to hang out.”

“What about your Dad?” Dean wondered aloud. He continued unwrapping his lunch and took a bite, expression curious.

“Father knows you’re my friend, now, and he likes you.” Cas shrugged, working at opening his own sandwich and starting to eat. After a minute and a couple of bites, he swallowed and continued, “he won’t question you coming over to hang out.”

“Are you sure?” Dean hedged, “I mean not that I don’t want to, but…”

But Cas just nodded, continuing to eat. “I’m sure. You’re being paranoid.”

“It comes with the Hunter territory.” Dean replied dryly.

Well… yeah. Okay. Cas supposed that was probably fair. He held out the fruit cup he always brought for Dean to take, and smiled when his boyfriend plucked it from his fingers with a thanks mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. “I promise it’ll be fine. I just want to spend time with you, that’s all.” Then, after a brief pause, “I always want to spend time with you, you know?”

Dean paused halfway to a bite, hesitated, then admitted softly, “yeah, me too.”

That made Cas smile, just soft and fond, and he glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye before shifting sideways to lean into the other boy a little. He didn’t say anything more, at least for the moment, just went back to eating, and they existed quietly like that for a while.

It was actually a little bit funny, the way things under the bleachers could be so radically different day by day. Some days, like this one, they just sat together and enjoyed each other’s company. Others they talked and laughed about nothing in particular—or Cas asked endless questions about life on the road, about monsters and Hunting. Still others they made out, deep and warm and wanting.

And Cas couldn’t pick a favorite kind of day. He rather liked them all, personally.

But today was good. Pleasant and warm. Especially when Dean finished off his lunch and then casually tossed an arm around Cas’s shoulders. Cas smiled to himself as he finished his own sandwich.

“Anyway, I can give you a tour of the house, and then we can hang out in my bedroom.” Cas looked up at Dean, still smiling. “It’s a nice house.”

“Is it a nice bedroom?” Dean teased.

“I like it.” Cas replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you will, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” The older teen grinned.

Cas elbowed him lightly. “Terrible.” He accused fondly.

--
--

They met up after school the same as always, exchanging a few little kisses before heading off down the street toward Cas’s house. When they got there, Cas had to unlock the door to let them in, which meant his father was out, but that was fine with him. It gave them more privacy.

Shoes off in the entryway, of course, and a cursory tour of the house, and then they headed up to Cas’s bedroom, Cas leading the way and ushering Dean inside. Then he crossed over to dump his backpack by his desk—and turned to watch Dean inspect the room.

Cas’s bedroom was sparsely decorated, not that that fact was surprising to Dean. There was a wardrobe directly to the left of the door. His desk was on the righthand wall and had his laptop, a couple of notebooks and a mug full of pens and pencils, along with several spools of thread, a package of needles and a couple of patches he obviously hadn’t gotten around to sewing to his backpack yet. The bulletin board above the desk had various notes pinned to it, along with a leaflet with dates and locations for his father’s upcoming seminars. Nothing mind-blowing.

The door beside his desk led to, he was told, a small bathroom, so Cas didn’t have to share with his father, which sounded really nice. (Dean would kill not to have to share a bathroom with his dad and Sam all the time.)

Cas’s bookshelves, on the other side of the desk, were very interesting, containing books about religions from all corners of the world, as well as books about folklore, mythology and an entire section of new age, along with medical and psychological textbooks on various subjects. And then, inexplicably, near the bottom, almost an entire shelf of Neil Gaiman books. Dean snorted. “Why Neil Gaiman?”

Cas shrugged. “I feel like he understands me.”

Dean just looked at him searchingly for a moment before going back to his inspection. Cas had a couple of little trinkets on his shelves as well, religious wards or good luck symbols from varying sources, all of which Dean obviously recognized. One little soapstone carved seal—the animal—which Dean found curious but didn’t ask about in the moment. (Later he found out that Cas had taken an online quiz to find out what his Inuit totem animal would be and had come up with the seal, so had bought the little guy when he’d come across it a while later.)

Along the opposite wall was a stand holding a probably fifty-gallon aquarium full of goldfish in every imaginable color pattern. Beside that was a nondescript dresser with a clearly disused TV on top of it, next to a small terrarium that contained—well. When Dean looked inside, he saw nothing. “Cas?”

“That’s Itsy.”

“Itsy?”

“Tarantula.”

“Cool.” Dean grinned.

The bed—a respectable queen size—was pushed up so that the headboard was right against the large picture window at the end of the room. About ten off-white, opaline stones the size of a golf ball but in gnarled shapes and wrapped in twine were strung up around the window—and a large multicolor dreamcatcher hung dead center in the middle of them.

Dean considered all this for a moment, then just shrugged and flopped onto his back on the (unmade, why was he not surprised?) bed. When Cas wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, he reached up and grabbed at the other boy, dragging him down too, and they shuffled around until they were both comfortable with Cas tucked into his side and Dean’s arm flung around him, holding him close.

Green eyes stared up at the ceiling, which was absolutely covered in glow-in-the-dark stars, an entire starfield inside one little bedroom. A little smile quirked at Dean’s lips. Then his gaze shifted to the twine-wrapped stones dangling above them.

“So, what’s with the chalcedony?”

Cas hummed, his head on Dean’s shoulder and fingers tracing abstract patterns on his chest. “Trying to keep the nightmares away.”

“I know what it’s for.” Dean clarified. The arm tucked around Cas shifted so he could rub at the back of the younger’s neck; “what kind of nightmares?”

Cas hesitated, his fingers pausing and his hand smoothing over Dean’s chest absently, then blew out a breath and turned his head to bury his face in Dean’s shirt. “It probably sounds stupid, makes no sense. It’s like flashes from another universe, another life,” his voice came out muffled, “but… I’m a soldier, in some never-ending celestial war, just fighting, following orders, for my whole existence. Or… I’m being made to kill the same man, over and over again, and I can’t see his face, but I know I know him, and I know I care about him, and I know I don’t want to kill him, but someone is forcing me anyway, against my will. Or I’m strapped to a chair and being experimented on, there are drills and other tools and my eyes are bleeding… or…” Trailing off, he swallowed slightly and managed; “I’m saying goodbye to the one I love. A final goodbye. I’m going away to somewhere dark and never coming back, and I’m never going to see them again, and I’m telling them how much I love them, maybe for the first time ever, but also for the last time ever, and—”

“Hey, hey…” Shaking his head, Dean tightened his hold on Cas and continued rubbing at his neck and shoulders while he took a few breaths; “Cas I… I am so sorry. That all sounds terrible, I… but they’re just dreams, right?”

Cas scoffed softly and re-adjusted so he was resting against Dean properly again. He was quiet while he collected himself and his hand picked up where it had left off, fingers tracing absently against Dean’s chest. “You don’t believe that. You’re a Hunter. You know better.”

He had a point.

“Anyway,” Cas continued, closing his eyes, “I bought a dreamcatcher, and did some research, and chalcedony is considered by the ancients, the Celts, to foster balance and healing, to protect against bad dreams and encourage positive ones. Or that’s the theory, anyway.”

“It doesn’t work for you?”

“Not really. I still have the nightmares almost every night. Have as long as I can remember.”

“I have nightmares, too.” Dean offered softly, “about Hunts I’ve been on, and monsters I’ve faced. Of Sam or Dad getting hurt. Or of fire. I dream about fire a lot.” He shifted, considering for a moment that it was the first time he’d talked about this sort of thing with anyone, before continuing; “I could never tell Sam or Dad that, they’d think I was weak. But sometimes it all just gets to me, you know?”

“You’re human, Dean, with the things you’ve seen… a few nightmares are to be expected.” Making a quiet noise in his throat, Cas pulled away, pushing up and getting onto his knees, then stretching to pull one of his chalcedony stones down. He held it for Dean to take. “Here. Maybe it’ll work better for you than it does for me.”

Dean just looked at him for a moment, clearly astonished, then took the stone and stuffed it in his pocket before grabbing at Cas and tumbling him back down into the bed. He followed that by rolling over until he was on top of the other boy. When Cas blinked up at him, bewildered, Dean just leaned down to kiss him, enjoying the moment, the emotional closeness, the softness of the covers around them—rather than the shitty motel linens he was used to—and the feel of Cas under him.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured a moment later when they broke apart for air. “I feel… spoiled. Around you, Cas. Happy. Cared for.”

“Because I care for you.” Cas responded logically with a little tilt of his head.

Dean smiled and ducked to kiss him again. “I just keep waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me, because something this good can’t last forever. Not for me.”

“Mm-mm.” A quiet, disapproving hum and Cas lifted one hand to stroke through Dean’s hair, toying with the soft strands gently. Dean leaned into his touch. “I’m sure there are Hunters who have good lives, too. Haven’t you ever felt cared for before? Your Dad? Sam?”

Green eyes closed over, and Dean slowly lowered himself down to rest half-overtop of Cas, then ducked his head to bury his face in the other boy’s neck, “Dad cares in his own way, but he doesn’t like to show it. And Sam’s just a kid…” He trailed off for a moment then, hesitating before continuing to speak. Cas just kept playing with his hair carefully. “My Mom, when I was really little… I remember love, then, and warmth. She used to always make sure I was in a sweater when it was cold, or a raincoat when it was wet out and she baked the best pie. But she…” Another hesitation and Dean huffed a sigh, turning his head to rest against Cas’s shoulder, eyes opening a little. “She died. A long time ago. So.”

Cas made a soft, almost wounded sound in the back of his throat. “Dean...”

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Dean pushed himself up to sit, “my life isn’t so shitty, I just—”

But Cas frowned and grabbed a hold of the older boy, dragging him back down and wrapping him up in his arms, determination in his eyes even when Dean uttered a squawked protest. “But you feel cared for now, right?”

“Cas—” Dean huffed but didn’t struggle, instead settling easily and flopping his head down heavily on Cas’s chest. “Yeah, I do. Because of you.”

Cas made a little oof noise but otherwise didn’t complain. He was quiet for a moment before announcing, “so then I just have to stick around.”

“Cas. You don’t get it. After this whole thing at the school, I’m leaving, and I’ll probably never be back!”

“No, I understand that, Dean.” Cas sighed, “but there are such things as cell phones and computers. You just need to get a phone that’s capable of text and a laptop that doesn’t belong to your brother.” It seemed simple enough to him, but Dean and his technophobia were clearly struggling with the concept. Cas loosened his hold on him and brought a hand up to stroke through his hair again, “we can talk, and text, and video chat. And I’m sure you could come back to visit once in a while, when you’re in Florida or close by, or we could meet up somewhere else. My Father probably won’t like me taking off for random weekends, but I’d do it for you anyway. People have made relationships work on less.”

Dean grumbled but leaned into the hand in his hair. “Stop making sense.”

Cas actually grinned at him. “Make me.”

--
--

This wasn’t the first time lunch hour behind the bleachers had turned into a make-out session, but they weren’t usually this… intense. Mostly because they weren’t always the only ones who ate lunch in the gym, and they could both behave reasonably when the situation called for it.

Today had started off with Dean angling for a couple of kisses and the next thing Cas knew their lunches were discarded and he was straddling Dean’s lap, both hands buried in the older boy’s hair and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe, until they were pressed flush together, rutting against each other, and Dean’s hands were under his shirt and Cas was pretty sure he was on the verge of ruining his boxers but he was surprisingly okay with that, actually.

And then Dean stopped. His hands moved down to grab at Cas’s hips, stilling him as well, and he muttered a quiet apology when Cas dropped his forehead down onto Dean’s shoulder and groaned in protest.

“Damn it, Dean…” Cas grumbled under his breath.

“I know, but quiet.” Dean had his eyes closed and when Cas glanced up, he was obviously listening for something. One of his hands moved off Cas’s hip and down to the floor, palm down against the polished wood. “There’s something moving around below us. I can feel it in the floor.” After a long couple of minutes, he opened his eyes again and returned his hand to Cas’s hip. When Cas straightened up with a heaved sigh, his own hands sliding to grab at Dean’s shoulders absently, Dean looked at him and asked, “what’s under the gym?”

Cas’s brows drew together, and he swallowed slightly. “I don’t know. You’ve been here longer than I have. Basement?”

“I—” Dean ran a hand over his face and then carefully maneuvered Cas out of his lap. “I am so sorry, Cas, but I have to go find the door to the basement right now.”

Cas slumped back against the wall and thumped his head back on the brick lightly, just once, but then nodded. “…I understand, Dean.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Dean promised, even as he was climbing out from under the bleachers.

Another nod, and a half-smile; “I’m going to hold you to that.” For now, he just watched Dean hurry off—and willed his hard-on to go the hell away before he had to go back to class.

--
--

At the end of the day when Dean emerged from Caspar High into the Jacksonville heat and humidity, he was surprised to find Cas waiting by the steps for him, the same as always. He had honestly figured that leaving the other boy high-and-dry the way he had would put him in the doghouse, but no, Cas perked when he spotted him and gave him a welcoming smile, which Dean gratefully returned.

So, Cas just slung his backpack over his shoulder, and they set out walking to his house, as usual. Dean walked him home, they said their goodbyes on the doorstep, and then he returned to the motel to make sure Sam was alright, even though all he really wanted to do was go inside and up to Cas’s room to cuddle up in bed with him.

The way he felt about Cas… he had never felt that way about anyone before in his young life. He felt lighter, warmer, happier when Cas was around. And it was true, Cas made him feel cared for. The younger boy gave him affection freely and without asking anything in return, something Dean had only ever experienced with his mom when he was a toddler. It was intoxicating.

And he knew what he was feeling, truly, but he couldn’t allow himself to admit it, not even privately, never mind out loud, never mind to Cas.

So, he just continued to bask in Cas’s sunshine while he could, soaking it in, and maybe it was selfish, but he knew his time with Cas was limited. It was all he could do. That, and return the affection as best he could—and he wasn’t very good at that, he thought, but he was trying, and he hoped Cas understood that, somehow.

“Did you find the basement?” Cas asked, interrupting Dean’s rumination.

Dean blinked and glanced sideways at him. “Huh? Oh. I found the door. It’s down at the end of the tech hall. But it’s locked.”

“Can’t you pick a lock?”

Dean scoffed, “of course I can. Just not during school hours when there are a ton of people around. I’m gonna go back tonight.”

Cas’s lips quirked. “Breaking and entering is a crime, you know.”

“Please tell me we’re not about to go over my rap sheet because that could take a while.”

“My boyfriend is a criminal,” Cas sighed. “What will my Father say?”

Dean grinned, “we’re keeping this thing from both our Dads, remember?”

“We are,” Cas agreed. He was quiet for a moment, then, before asking, “how are you going to make it up to me?”

Dean looked at him blankly for a second before his mind supplied him with memories of dry humping behind the bleachers. He swallowed at the thought and resisted the urge to adjust himself. That had been… well. They had never gotten that heavy, before, and Dean was surprised by how hot it had been. He was learning all kinds of things from his first relationship with another boy. First real relationship at all.

“Well,” He began slowly, “maybe we can pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Cas gave him a little, fondly amused look. “You liked it as much as I did.” He accused.

“Maybe. So what if I did?” Dean sniffed, face flushing red. Then he cleared his throat and muttered, “how could I not? You’re hot, okay? There, I said it.” Cas actually stopped walking at that, and it took a few steps for Dean to realize the other boy wasn’t beside him anymore. When he turned around, Cas was looking at him with a positively bewildered expression on his face. Dean crossed the distance between them and waved a hand in front of his face to catch his attention. “Hey… you okay? I didn’t mean… I mean. I meant it, I just didn’t mean to break your brain with it, so…”

But Cas just frowned slightly and looked at him, clearly confused, “but I’m not… hot. I’m… weird.”

Dean blinked—then gave him a fond look and reached to take hold of Cas’s hand and squeeze gently. “You can be both. And there’s nothing wrong with being weird, Cas.”

Blue eyes closed over as Cas considered that, his hand tightening in Dean’s, and when he opened his eyes once more, he smiled a little, “okay,” and just started walking again, leaving Dean to hurry to keep up. The rest of the walk to Cas’s house was made in companionable silence, a small smile on Cas’s face the entire time.

Admittedly, Dean’s first-and-only boyfriend was a bit of a puzzle at times, but that was part of what made him so appealing. He wasn’t part of the brainwashed masses. He was unique. And if he wanted to call himself “weird” that was fine, Dean could embrace that. What he’d said was true: there was nothing wrong with being weird. He was pretty weird himself, after all, so he couldn’t talk. “Weird” encompassed the life of a Hunter.

When they reached Cas’s house, they climbed the steps to the porch and paused there. Cas smiled at him. “This is me. Thanks for walking me.”

“I wish I could come in.” God did he wish he could go in. “But you know how it is. Gotta check on Sammy. Make sure he hasn’t burned the motel down.”

A small laugh, “tell Sam I said hi.”

Dean smiled and stepped closer, reaching to rest a hand by Cas’s waist and tugging him forward at the same time. “Will do.” He promised, even as he leaned in for a kiss.

Cas hummed a pleased noise against Dean’s lips and kissed back slowly, deeply, then drew Dean into another series of kisses, full of want—but not like the ones in the gym earlier in the day. Warmer and with more longing. Dean’s arms slid around him, and Cas leaned into his chest—

And the front door opened.

Cas and Dean jerked apart, Cas whirling to face the doorway where his father was standing, staring at them flatly, red all the way to his ears and already stammering; “I—uh—Father, this is—that is—we were just—”

“I think it’s pretty obvious what we were just.” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Castiel, go inside.” Chuck told his floundering son firmly, “Dean and I need to have a talk.”

Cas winced a little, but ducked past his father and into the house, casting a worried glance back. Dean waved one hand, just a subtle gesture, and he finally closed the door behind himself, leaving his boyfriend and his father alone outside. He didn’t go far, though, standing just in the entryway, listening for raised voices with a pinched expression on his face, just in case he had to go back outside and intervene.

On the porch, Dean and Chuck faced each other silently for a long moment. Dean had never felt the need to cower in front of anyone before, but the urge the hunch his shoulders and look down at that exact moment was real. He forced himself to stand straight and look Chuck in the eye regardless.

“Dean.” Chuck said finally.

“Chuck.” Dean acknowledged.

“Mr. Shurley.” Chuck corrected, privately not really meaning it. He just needed to be the Protective Father for now. Still, Dean didn’t know that and winced internally. He muttered a quiet, “sorry”, even as Chuck stepped down onto the porch proper and looked him up and down. “You know Castiel is… sensitive. Right?”

Dean nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s never been in a relationship before, to my knowledge.”

“No, sir, I—I’m the first.”

“Right. So.” Chuck lifted a hand and jabbed one finger into Dean’s chest firmly. “Don’t fuck it up, kid.”

“I would never—” Dean hesitated and took a breath before finishing, “I would never intentionally do anything to hurt Cas, sir. I… care about him. A lot.” More than he should. More than was safe. But he didn’t say that out loud. After a moment he added, almost embarrassedly; “and if it makes you feel any better, he’s my first relationship, too.”

That made Chuck blink. “Seriously? You? Jesus, I had you pegged all wrong.”

A little mutter. “I don’t advertise it.”

Chuck regarded him with amusement for a long moment and then reached for the door. “Come inside, Dean. I’m sure Cas is worried sick.”

“I—yeah, but just for a second. I have to get, uh, home. To check on my brother.”

When Chuck opened the door, he basically smacked Cas in the face with it, the boy was standing so close by. Dean winced, then eased past Chuck to check on his boyfriend who, once he saw Dean was alive and well and allowed inside the house, perked up considerably.

Dean just smoothed his fingers over the tiny red spot on Cas’s forehead where the door had bonked into him and gave him a quick kiss. “I can’t stay. Sam, right? But I think your Dad is gonna be okay with us, so you can stop worrying about that.”

Cas blinked at him. “Really?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah. I’m not totally useless with parents, you know.”

“I’m still right here, guys.” Chuck commented as he passed them and headed farther into the house.

Dean laughed and kissed Cas again, in full view of Chuck, just because he could. “I have to go. See you at school tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Cas gave him a genuine, blatantly happy smile, the kind he rarely shared; “see you then.”

--
--

It was nearly eleven o’clock at night when Dean picked the lock to the back doors of Caspar High and slipped inside, a flashlight in one hand, a sawed-off shotgun under his arm, and his buck knife tucked safely in the back of his jeans as usual. Sam had packed extra ammo into his jacket pockets, both buckshot and rock salt (just in case.)

The school employed precisely one nighttime security guard due to vandalism problems in the past, so Dean knew he had to tread carefully on his way through to the tech hall where the door to the basement was located. And Caspar was, indeed, a maze, but Dean had been mapping it in his head since Day One, so he had a pretty good idea of where he was going, even in the dark.

Now, he just closed the door softly behind himself and started down the hallway at a quick but quiet pace.

The back doors lead to a little lobby, which split off two ways: the first was a door that went to the hall the main gym was in, along with the special education classrooms, which then branched off to the geography and art corridors, and the second was a set of stairs climbing up to the math hall on the second floor. The math hall lead to the music hall and the computer sciences hall, but that didn’t matter because he wasn’t going upstairs anyway.

He carefully pushed the door to the main gym hall open and eased through, closing it behind him just as quietly as the first one. He had no idea where the security guard was, so he wasn’t taking any chances. Everything as quickly and silently as possible.

Making his way past the gymnasium made him think fleetingly of Cas, but he quickly reined himself in before he could go too far down that rabbit hole. He was on a mission, he needed to focus.

Past the gym were the hallways that lead to the art and science wings, and Dean not only didn’t get art (most of the time), or take art class, this time he avoided that corridor all together, skirting around the corner to the geography hall instead.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard footsteps coming from ahead of him.

Shit. Dean quickly flicked his flashlight off and backtracked, ducking around the corner into the art hall, pressing close to the wall and waiting, listening.

The footsteps echoed poignantly in the empty building, walking slowly and steadily down the geography wing toward him—and then pausing at the end of the hall. Silence for a long, long few breaths—followed by footsteps again, turning and heading down toward the gym.

Dean eased back around the corner and quickly made his way in the opposite direction, down the geography hall until he could step around the corner at the other end.

This part of the school was a sort of lobby area off the library. If you went right it took you up a short set of stairs and down the hall to the main entrance, main office, teacher’s lounge and guidance councillor’s office. If you went left, you were heading to either the science and math corridor, or the almost comically long tech hall.

It was the tech hall he wanted; the door to the basement was at the end of it, next to the comm tech room, assuming it hadn’t magically moved since he’d located it earlier.

More footsteps, heading his direction. Dean got moving again, turning to the left and hurrying as much as he could while still remaining quiet, flashlight still off, just in case. His quick steps took him around the corner to the tech hall and he paused to listen again—but the footsteps were still coming. He cursed under his breath and took off down the hall, running. He could be surprisingly light on his feet when he wanted to be, and now was a time he wanted to be.

He just had to make it down the stupidly long corridor, pick the lock to the basement door, and get inside before the security guard came around the corner and caught him. He would be expelled for sure if he was found there at midnight carrying a bevy of weapons—probably arrested—and that wouldn’t be good for the Hunt. …not to mention Cas.

Dean hit the basement door at a dead run and skidded to a stop, setting his shotgun down on the ground and pulling out his lockpick tools again, quickly getting to work on the lock. It was stubborn, but he was good. He had it open in seconds, and snatched his shotgun off the ground, disappearing into the basement just before the security guard turned the corner.

Standing at the top of the basement stairs, Dean paused to catch his breath and listened as the guard passed by the door without a pause in his footsteps. Safe. (Ish.) He turned his flashlight back on and peered down the steps in front of him, but nothing jumped out at him immediately, so after only a brief hesitation he headed down.

Nest was a word he usually reserved for vampires, but he thought what he found at the bottom of the stairs definitely qualified; the entire ceiling was covered in strands of webbing, thick in some places and thinner in others. Some of the webs had strands that connected down to the floor, or to the walls. And there were cocoons. Several of them, webbed up in the nest, likely full of desiccated corpses, the same as the others had been.

It seemed like nobody was home, he probably would have been attacked already if the creature was there, but Dean held his sawed-off at the ready just in case as he slowly walked a circle around the basement, flashlight illuminating everything around him.

And then he tripped over something, almost falling on his face. He had been so focused on looking up that he hadn’t been watching his footing. Now he shone his flashlight beam down, and—

What the hell was that?

Crouching down, Dean picked up the object he had tripped on and brought it up to inspect it: it was about a foot long and as big around as his forearm, hard like bone but light as a feather. Covered in short, coarse hair. Obviously broken off of something larger. The in-tact end came to a rounded point and sported a pair of nasty looking claws, while the broken end was ragged and showed it was hollow inside.

Dean honestly had no idea what he was holding in his hand at that moment.

He just tucked it into his jacket to take back to the motel with him and stood again, beaming his flashlight around for another minute or two before heading back for the staircase again. Now he just had to make it back out past the security guard as well, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Hopefully.

And now they had something more to go on—and something new to tell their dad when he called next, other than about more freaking cocoons.

--
--

The next day it was raining, so lunch time soccer practice was moved inside the gym. This meant that Cas and Dean were far from the only people there, which meant that a repeat performance of the day before probably wasn’t a great idea. Damn it. It also meant that Dean couldn’t feel for any more vibrations in the floorboards since, well, the whole floor was vibrating from all the running people. Double damn it.

Still, they weren’t too phased, just a little disappointed, and they could pick it up later in a more reasonable place and at a more reasonable time if they wanted to. It probably wasn’t a good idea to screw around in the gym where anyone could catch them anyway, Cas reminded himself.

So, they ate in companionable silence for a while, then briefly discussed the piece of whatever it was that Dean had found in the basement the night before, until Dean finished his sandwich and began picking at the edge of his fruit cup without actually opening it.

“Hey Cas,” He spoke up after a moment, then; “can I… ask you something?”

Cas looked sideways at him. “Mm?”

Dean continued to fidget with his fruit cup before asking, “have you always, uh… known. That you were into guys?”

Cas blinked. “I’m not.”

Dean blinked right back at him. “Come again?”

“Well, I am, obviously.” Gesturing between himself and Dean with one hand, Cas finished off the last bite of his own sandwich and then continued; “Dean, I like people, not genders.” He offered Dean a smile. “I don’t like you because you’re a boy, I like you because you’re you. Gender has nothing to do with it.”

That seemed to stump Dean, who looked at him in obvious confusion before glancing down, turning away a little.

Cas watched him for a few seconds, then sighed and set the rest of his lunch aside, scooting over to climb into Dean’s lap despite the older boy’s muttered, half-hearted protests. Once he was settled, Cas leaned his head down against Dean’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…” Dean hesitated. He was very specifically not touching Cas, and Cas finally made a quiet frustrated noise and reached to wrap Dean’s arms around himself. Dean heaved a sigh but allowed it. “I’m not a good person, Cas. I know you think I am, but I’m not, I’ve done so many terrible things, I’ve hurt people, and it won’t stop for the rest of my life, I’m going to keep doing bad things, keep hurting people, I—how can you just like me for me when that’s who I am?”

“You do good things, too.” Cas pointed out softly, “and I think they outweigh the bad. You are a good person, Dean.” Shifting a bit, he brought one hand up to rest over where Dean’s heart was beating in his chest, “I can feel it in here. You care about everyone; you care about me. You protect people, at the cost of your own safety. You’re strong, but you’re also gentle and loving and—” Breaking off, Cas ducked his head closer to nuzzle into the crook of Dean’s neck. “You’re good, Dean Winchester. I am very sure of that fact.”

Another long, drawn-out silence before, “…Cas?”

“Mm?”

“Come up here.”

Cas sat up properly again, hand still resting against Dean’s chest, fingers rubbing there absently, and looked at him quizzically. Dean brought one hand up to cup Cas’s face, thumb brushing along his cheek lightly and making him smile. He leaned into the touch. Then Dean leaned forward to kiss him, just gently, leaving Cas to kiss back in kind, sinking into Dean’s chest with a pleased hum.

The thing about it was that when it came to this topic Cas was an utter hypocrite. Dean was constantly telling him how incredible he was, how amazing he was, and he could never believe it, just like Dean couldn’t believe that he was a good person. Neither of them had the best self-esteem in the world, it would seem, though probably for radically different reasons.

Another few long, warm kisses, and Dean sighed out, “you shouldn’t have so much faith in me, I’m not—”

“You are.” Cas interrupted—and Dean grunted softly, but that was his only protest this time and then they were kissing again, just deep, slow, full-bodied kisses that easily conveyed the emotions that neither of them were willing (or able) to express out loud yet. And then—

“Well at least you guys’ve still got your pants on, I mean sheesh!”

They practically jerked apart at the new voice, cheerful and female, that interrupted their little sanctuary. When Cas looked over, a head of red hair was poking around the corner—and he sighed, smiling a little. “Hi, Charlie.”

Dean let his head fall back against the wall and echoed, “hi, Charlie,”—despite the fact that he didn’t even know Charlie.

Cas laughed softly, even as Charlie scooted in behind the bleachers a little and informed them, “if you’d had your dicks out I’d’ve had to have left immediately.”

“You could still do that.” Dean pointed out dryly.

Charlie stuck her tongue out at him, then reached to drop a little blue organza bag into Cas’s lap. “You owe me fifty bucks!” She chirped before waving a hand toward them and making her exit, “you guys go back to… whatever you were or weren’t doing! See you in class, Cas!”

Cas’s smile widened considerable as he picked up the bag. “Thanks Charlie!”

“Bye, Charlie!” Dean called after her—then turned his attention back to Cas, “did you tell her where we eat?”

“I… did. A while ago.” Cas admitted, “please don’t be mad? Charlie’s kind of my best friend. Besides you.”

A soft laugh and Dean shook his head. “Looks like she was delivering something?”

Cas toyed with the organza bag for a moment before clearing his throat. “Um,” he began, already wincing a little, “so I was talking to Sam, and he told me your birthday is coming up. He wouldn’t tell me which day because he said you’d be mad, but he said soon and—”

“Why are you in communication with my brother, Cas.” Dean deadpanned.

“Stop.” Cas smacked a hand into his arm, “Sam’s a good kid. I like him.”

A sigh. “Go on.”

“Sam said you don’t celebrate your birthday,” He continued, “but that seemed kind of wrong, and I wanted to—I—so—here.” Unable to find the right words, Cas just wound up shoving the little parcel at his boyfriend, avoiding his eyes the entire time. “Happy Birthday. Whenever it is.”

“I already told you it was in January, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but not what day, so…”

Dean stared at him hard for a long minute before taking the package and opening it, pulling out the contents—eight thin but strong strips of black leather, all braided together into a Celtic-style bracelet with what appeared to be actual silver snap closings. Thick and obviously made for a man. Cas made a quiet pleased noise to himself when he saw it for the first time, then carefully peered at Dean, looking for a reaction.

“Uh,” When Dean didn’t say anything immediately, Cas shifted in his lap and offered; “Charlie is in my calculus class, and she’s really nice. Funny. I think you’d like her. She makes these things, and other jewelry,,, for her Etsy, I guess.”

“What’s an Etsy?” Dean seemed to have found his voice again. He was turning the bracelet over in his hands, running his fingers over it, green eyes focused on it intently.

Cas smiled, amused, “a store on the Internet.” He clarified. “I had to ask, too. Anyway, I asked her to make this for you, it’s… nothing special. Really. But I thought it would go with your style, and it’s minimal so it won’t get in the way while you’re on Hunts. If… you don’t like it, you can just say so, I’m sure I can give it back to Charlie and she can sell it online or something instead, I just—”

“Cas,”

“—wanted to get you something… for your birthday… so…” Trailing off, Cas swallowed slightly. “Yes, Dean?”

“Shut up.” Dean told him gently, even as he was fiddling with the bracelet to get it on his right wrist. He smiled once it was in place, just a little, fond quirk of his lips, and then leaned forward to bump his forehead into Cas’s and look into his eyes. “Thank you.” He said sincerely, “only Sammy’s ever gotten me something like this. It means a lot to me.”

Cas smiled a little and reached up to tug at Dean’s pendant gently. “I was afraid you’d be angry,” He admitted softly, “Sam said you really don’t like to celebrate your birthday. Or talk about it. Or… anything.”

“I have vague memories of my last birthday before Mom died,” Dean leaned back again, arms coming up around Cas to pull him along, “it’s painful to think about, with how my life is now. So, I tend to avoid it. But this is… special. It’s from you, so it means something. It’s just as amazing as you are. How could I be mad?”

Cas leaned into him, quiet for a long moment, and just listened to the sounds of soccer practice winding down for the day. Finally, he said, “you should celebrate your birthday, Dean. And Christmas. And all the other holidays. It’s important to make new memories during those times, too. Celebrate them with Sam and your Dad.” Though it didn’t sound like his dad was really one for celebrating things.

“And with you?” Dean asked softly.

“Mm.” The younger boy agreed with a smile, “and with me.”

“For as long as I can, anyway.” Dean dipped his head to give Cas a gentle kiss. “Thank you, Cas.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. I’m glad you like it.”

“Sam is never going to let me live this down, you know.” Then, “hey, when’s your birthday?”

“July tenth.” Cas settled against him again with a sigh, “you’ll be long gone by then.”

“Yeah.” Dean sounded disappointed. “But maybe we can meet up somewhere around then, like you said. Spend a weekend together.”

Cas closed his eyes, smiling. “That actually sounds perfect, we should definitely do that.” When the warning bell for classes rang at that moment, he sighed and gave Dean a smile. “But later. Classes now.”

“Killjoy.” Dean accused with a little grin.

“That’s me.” Cas agreed, even as he climbed out of Dean’s lap and started shoving the remans of his lunch back into his backpack. Once he had tidied up, he slung the bag over one shoulder and went to scoot out from under the bleachers—but then changed him mind just long enough to lean over and drop a kiss against Dean’s cheek. “See you after school.”

“Yeah.” Dean waved him off with a soft smile, making no move to exit the bleachers himself, “see you after school.” Then, when Cas was just about to duck out of sight; “January twenty-fourth!”

Cas’s head poked back around the corner. “January twenty-fourth?”

“My birthday.” Dean clarified. “It’s January twenty-fourth.”

The other boy smiled fondly and resisted the urge to climb back under the bleachers again. “See you later, Dean.”

Dean offered a smile of his own. “See you.”