Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Track- Laugh, I Nearly Died by The Rolling Stones
He’s got his head buried under the hood of a ‘69 Ford Mustang; a sad looking thing covered in rust and banged up worse than a NASCAR racer after 1960 Daytona. His clingy black t-shirt hugs his torso, grease stained jeans riding low on his hips, and that ass could make a nun fall to her knees in worship. All of these things combine to render Castiel unable to force his tongue to work properly, so he stands there gaping like a washed up fish. The ancient radio seated next to the man chokes out what sounds like Led Zeppelin, and he softly hums the lyrics under his breath while he wrenches the engine free from the car. Hearing “Houses of the Holy” stirs up memories Castiel would rather not deal with at the moment, stranded in the middle of who-the-hell-knows-where. Forcing himself out of his reminiscent state, Castiel clears his throat, hesitant to bother the man while he’s working. Bent over. Exposing his lower back. Shit shit shit he’s turning around stop staring you creeper.
The man turns around, and Castiel’s heart stops. It’s him. It’s impossible, but it’s him.
Dean seems to be just as frozen as Castiel is. His mouth drops open, and a single, beautiful sound falls from his lips.
“Cas?”
{----}
“Cas? You with us?” Dean’s face swims disconcertingly in Castiel’s vision; mouth turned down and concern smudging his eyes. For a moment, Castiel has no clue where his is or why he’s on a cold, hard floor. Then it comes back to him. Oh yes, they were dissecting frogs and he fainted. Now he’s flat on his back with the man he has been secretly crushing on for the past 2 years hovering over him. Castiel groans internally. This would surely fail to win him charisma points. Deans seems unperturbed, one hand gripping Castiel’s and the other bracing his upper back, guiding him into a sitting position. As soon as the world stops spinning wildly, Castiel allows himself to be pulled to his feet. A few other students are staring at him, but most of have turned back to their own tables. Mr. Crowley is seated behind his desk with his feet up, smirking at Castiel.
Dean still has his hand on Cas’s upper back, and the touch is sending electric shivers along his spine.
“I apologize, Dean. I was not aware I would be so affected by a simple dissection. I would understand if you’d like to request a new lab partner. One with perhaps a stronger stomach.” At this point, all Castiel wants to do is sink through the cracks in the floor and be soaked up into the earth’s mantle. But Dean just laughs.
“Nah man, it’s cool. Everyone’s allowed to be skeeved out by one thing or another. I’ll finish this up and you can start on the report, okay?” Dean’s gentleness and playful tone warms Castiel, causing a small smile to touch the corner of his mouth. He nods.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Dean grins and hands Castiel the lab report paper and a pencil, then shifts his footing, effectively blocking Cas from seeing the unfortunate toad’s mangled corpse. Dean Winchester, heroically saving fellow students from deceased amphibians. Oh yes, Castiel was smitten.
{----}
“Cas, is that really you?” Dean’s gruff voice pulls Castiel out of his reverie. His eyes are wide with surprise, and his voice is tight with emotion. Castiel swallows down the lump that caught in his throat at the sound of his old nickname.
“Hello Dean. It’s good to see you again.”
Dean seems to have gotten over his initial surprise, because before he’s aware of Dean’s movements, he’s being swept into a bone crushing hug. Hesitantly, he brings his arms up to rest on Dean’s back. This feels too close, too intimate. It’s bringing up urges he’s repressed since high school. Finally, Dean gives him a pat on the back and breaks contact. Taking a step back, he eyes Castiel up and down.
“You’re looking good.” He states approvingly.
Castiel pushes down the cluster of butterflies that surge up at the unexpected compliment.
“Thank you, Dean. You look good as well.” They both stare at one another for a moment longer, unsure of what to do next. Then Castiel’s memory kicks in, and he recalls the problem that led him to this auto shop in the first place.
“My car broke down about a mile back, just as I was coming into town. I actually have no idea where I am, and your shop was the first place I came across.” Castiel fidgets nervously, feeling like a self-conscious sixteen year old again. On a reflex left over from his days trying to impress people in school, he reaches up to pat down his perpetually messy hair. Dean smiles at the gesture, but doesn’t comment.
“Well Cas, you’re in Lawrence, Kansas.” Kansas? Somehow, Castiel can’t remember crossing any state lines. He must have been far more distracted than he thought. Dean can see the shock colouring his face. “Did you not know you were in Kansas?” When Cas shakes his head, Dean’s eyebrows climb. “Can I ask how you ended up here, then?”
“Roadtrip,” Castiel replies quickly. After a pause, he tilts his head and considers for a moment. “Actually, maybe not. A roadtrip implies that I have an end destination in mind, when in fact my plan was to drive until I couldn’t anymore. Which, it seems, is now.”
Dean blinks. “Wow Cas. That sounds an awful lot like you’re running away from something.” When Castiel doesn’t say anything, Dean rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, returning to the business at hand.
“So you said your car’s about a mile down the road?” Cas nods. “I’ll have to call Bobby to bring out the tow truck, but we should be able to get her in to take a look within an hour. You’re welcome to wait here, since you don’t really have anywhere else to go.”
Cas nods again, looks around for a seat, then settles down on an upturned bucket Dean brings out for him. Dean explains that he’s in the process of rebuilding the auto shop, hence the lack of a waiting and reception area. “I’m going to make this place my own, from the ground up.” Dean proudly declares, grinning over at Cas while he’s tinkering with the inside of the mustang. Castiel gets caught in those brilliant green eyes, and suddenly he’s reliving that night again.
{----}
The bass is too loud, the room is too hot, and the bodies pressing in around him are too close. But Castiel hardly cares, because Dean’s just walked in. Trust him to be late to his own graduation party. Girls crowd around him, flirting unabashedly, their tongues loosened by alcohol and minds clouded from the joint someone’s been passing around. Sam is nowhere to be seen, probably skittered away when he realized he’d lost control over his guests.
Castiel begins to pick his way through the mass of people, slowly moving in Dean’s direction. His heart is beating a frantic pace, threatening to bust out through his chest. When he finally makes it to Dean’s side, he taps his shoulder rather than attempting to be heard over the absurdly amplified music and the buzzing of carefree voices. Dean glances over his shoulder and grins broadly when he sees Castiel. There’s a half drunk plastic cup of beer in his hand, and he takes a hearty swallow before addressing Castiel.
“Hey Cas! I’m glad you stuck around, I know the party scene isn’t really your thing.” Castiel pulls his mouth into what he hopes is a charming smile. Dean’s right, he usually isn’t into parties. But tonight he is.
“It is an excellent party, Dean. Sam did a wonderful job. I don’t wish to take you away from your guests, but I would like to have a word with you in private, if you don’t mind.” Castiel rushes through the pleasantries before he loses his nerve.
Dean looks vaguely confused, but follows Castiel nonetheless with a quick “S’cuse me girls, I’m required elsewhere.” Castiel leads Dean up the stairs of the house. It belongs to Bella, a rich friend of Sam’s who agreed to play host to a hundred wild graduates. In exchange for what, Castiel would rather not know. Having already made himself familiar with the layout of the upstairs, he leads Dean to the last door on the right, a large but empty bedroom with a queen sized bed directly in the middle. Dean raises his eyebrows at the sight, though he still does not say a word. Castiel chooses to take this as a good sign. His heart is still racing a mile a minute, but now that he’s this far into his plan, he’s not about to back out. Closing the door behind Dean, he turns the lock before focusing his attention on Dean.
“Dean,” Cas begins, taking the plastic cup from Dean’s hands and setting it on a nearby table, “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first moment I saw you, but I was always too afraid. I’m not going to be afraid anymore.”
There’s a split second where Castiel stops, thinking he can’t go through with it. He sees a mixture of emotions within Dean’s eyes, from surprise to confusion, and something else. Something heated, and hungry. Before he can change his mind, he’s gripping Dean’s face in his hands and slamming their mouths together.
Castiel had heard people describing some kisses as bringing about fireworks. But for Castiel, kissing Dean is like feeling a million lightning bolts striking throughout his body, setting off a roaring blaze that leaves him lightheaded. He moves his lips along Dean’s, biting and tugging, hardly daring to wait and see if Dean will respond in kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. After a moment, he feels the tension easing out of Dean’s shoulders. Barely a second later, a tongue is licking its way into Castiel’s mouth, searching and tasting. Hands grip his hips and pull his body tighter against Dean’s. He moves his own hands from Dean’s face to his hair, tugging roughly. Dean groans low into his mouth, sliding his lips ever more passionately against Castiel’s. What feels like hours later, they pull away from each other, breathing heavily. Dean’s eyes are blown wide with lust, and Castiel begins to lean in again, longing to get another taste. But before he can close the distance, Dean’s pushing himself away.
“Wait, Cas…you’re drunk. Or I’m drunk. Or….you’re Sammy’s best friend for Christ’s sake! I can’t…this isn’t a good idea. I’m sorry; I….I’m going to go. I’m sorry Cas.” Dean practically falls over his own feet trying to scramble away. Castiel can’t move, head spinning as he tries to process this sudden change in events. Dean shoots him one last frantic, pleading look with those magnificent green eyes, before yanking the bedroom door open and rushing out. Cas is still for a moment, tears and sobs catching in his throat, before he follows Dean out. He only makes it a few feet before he’s throwing himself into the closest bathroom and spewing his guts out into the toilet, effectively erasing the taste of Dean, but not the memory. Never the memory.