Chapter Text
There was a back-to-school excitement thrumming through the halls of Lawrence Free State High that Dean had never learned to understand. He longed for endless summers, sticky as they were, where he and his best friend Charlie could stay up all night watching every episode of Star Trek known to man and devouring as much junk food as their stomachs could possibly hold. And sure, they had spent the most recent summer doing just that, but it hadn’t been long enough. Not for Dean.
As the last day of summer had ebbed into night, Dean had stared out his window at the inky Kansas sky and sighed, willing the sun not to return. With the sun would come school, and school meant grades and teachers and curfews and homework, none of which were on Dean’s “Things That Are Awesome” list.
But despite Dean's efforts to wish away the Monday that would bring the first day back to school, it was inevitable, and so, there he was, backpack slung over one shoulder, Charlie jabbering away at his side, and swarms of his peers congregating in groups around him.
“I think today’s meeting, aside from welcoming all of our new members and tipping our hats to the old ones, should include a strict set of rules that must be followed,” Charlie said as she and Dean approached their lockers.
“Such as?”
“Well, for starters, we should discuss the reduction of LARPing in the hallways. After what happened with Andy last year, Principal Colt said he’d dispel our club immediately if we weren’t more careful. I tried to explain to him it's not our fault Andy actually thought he had Jedi Mind Powers, but he wouldn’t listen.” Charlie already had her locker open and was hanging pictures of her and Dean, her favorite comic book characters, and images of her Hunter Heroici character, Codex, to the slick metal walls. Dean scowled at the photo of him in an extravagant crown sitting crooked on his head that had been taken during the LARPing championships the year prior but didn’t ask her to remove it.
"Andy's a nut job," Dean commented with a smirk reminiscing on what the Fandom Club now fondly referred to as 'the incident.’
"Andy's on a Buffy kick as of late; he’s got the hots for Sarah Michelle Gellar, which I can’t say I blame him for, but hopefully he doesn't start thinking he's the Master and try to suck someone's blood," Charlie looked over at Dean for a response but found his gaze trained on a locker down the way from them as he watched Castiel Milton shove a huge stack of thick course books into the small locker space. It was only the first day of school, but Castiel was notorious for cramming all summer and then showing up the first day of school having already studied for the first month of classes. When Castiel shouldered his obviously lighter messenger bag and hurried off in the direction of the auditorium for the junior orientation meeting, Dean turned his attention back to Charlie, glowering at the look of pity on her face.
"Don't." he said closing his locker with a definitive click. "Not one word."
Charlie shouldered her book bag, schooling her face into a mask of innocence. "What," she shrugged.
"Don't gimmie that crap, Bradbury, I know that look." He followed her across the shiny linoleum, falling into step with the other juniors.
"What look?"
"It's the same look you gave me when you used Jigglypuff to kick my ass in Super Smash."
"A) That one time? Dean, please. And B) All I was going to say is: some people never change. I mean, it's been what - over five years and he still shows no remorse for ditching you? Dick move."
Inside the auditorium the walls were draped with the school colors and mascot and Dean was so not prepared for the cringe-worthy level of school spirit the orientation was bound to require.
Shouldering her way through their co-eds Charlie dragged Dean into a nearly empty row somewhere in the middle of it all and pushed him into a plush theater seat.
"He didn't ditch me," Dean countered, "he just-" But Charlie turned a quirked brow at him, daring him to defend Castiel, and he stopped. "He didn't ditch me," Dean grumbled quietly.
Waiting for her chastising rebuttal, Dean was surprised when Charlie simply sighed and looped an arm through his murmuring a simple, "It's starting."
Orientation was boring. No one understood why the school even offered a junior orientation in the first place. It wasn’t as if they were new to school or about to graduate. As far as they were concerned, it'd be another verse same as the first. Nonetheless, there they all were, listening to the junior class president, Balthazar Roché, ramble on in his better-than-you British accent about how excited he was to be back and what a great year it was going to be.
Slumping in his seat Dean leaned in close to Charlie. "Ten bucks says Junkless next to me is an alien."
"You're on."
Looking around to confirm no teachers had their eye on him, Dean reached into his backpack and pulled out the paranormal meter he had made while he and Charlie had been deeply enthralled in the X-Files a few months back. When he turned to the student next to him, Uriel Wisdom, and scanned the other boy's arm, the meter roared to life, a shrill whine sounding through the air. Uriel turned and fixed his cold, unforgiving eyes on Dean, his expression un-amused.
"It's a sexy meter," Dean improvised harboring a laugh. "Your reading is off the charts."
Next to him, Charlie covered her mouth with the handouts they had been given and sank deep into her seat, trying to suppress the giggles that were bubbling in her throat. Dean nudged her in the side with a smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Castiel a few seats down from Uriel, his blue gaze focused fiercely on Balthazar, almost as if he was doing everything in his power to ignore Dean and his antics, as usual. Dean didn't realize he was staring again until Charlie jabbed him in the ribs.
"Quit pining," she hissed.
"I'm not pining," he pulled his eyes away from the other boy. "I'm just... observing."
Charlie shook her head but didn't push the issue.
At lunch, the Fandom Club, which had been co-founded by Dean and Charlie two years prior, regrouped to the auditorium for their first meeting of the year.
As students clambered in from the halls, some returning from last year, others new to the club, Charlie made it her duty as president to greet and speak to every single one. Dean on the other hand sat near the back of the auditorium with his iPod on and his feet dangling over the seat in front of him, his scuffed Converse tapping in time to Back in Black. He wasn’t paying much attention to the students filing in for the meeting until Castiel walked in. At the sight of the boy's tell-tale sweater vest and smart black oxfords, Dean nearly leapt from his seat, yanking the earbuds out of his ears.
"Hey-a, Cas," he blurted, walking up to his fellow class mate against his better judgement. Castiel, who was looking around with a slight look of irritated confusion on his face, turned his gaze to Dean.
"It's Castiel," he stated cooly. "You know that." And for some reason, even though the two had known each other for years, Castiel still insisted on acting like they hardly knew each other, as if they hadn't been living down the street from one another for most of their lives.
"Okay, Castiel," Dean corrected sarcastically. "You here for the meeting, or-?"
"No. I'm here to interview some of the members. I'm writing a piece for the school newspaper on the different clubs being offered this year," he explained. "But it's amusing you thought I was here for the meeting."
"Amusing how?"
"Just that you thought I'd be interested in this sort of thing," Castiel stated, waving his hand in the air at the students talking animatedly about aliens and lycanthropes and D&D strategies.
Dean's eyes narrowed, and his temper flared. He'd spent years willing himself to forget about Castiel Milton and his stupid blue eyes and perpetually messy hair and move on. But he'd had a soft spot for the guy from day one and because of the masochistic optimist that he was Dean clung to the hope they'd move past their differences someday - whatever the hell those differences were - and work things out. Apparently Castiel did not share that hope. "Y'know I remember us spending an entire summer doing 'this sort of thing' every day." Dean pointed out. "What I don't remember is you being such a dick about it."
There was a brief moment where Castiel's eyes shrouded with a sadness before glazing over in disinterest once again.
"Yes, well, I was younger then. You on the other hand appear to be exactly the same. Useless priorities and all."
Dean's chest inflated with righteous fury and he opened his mouth to put Castiel in his place, but all that came out was, "Your priorities are useless." And yes it sounded lame, but deeper than the irritation that came with not being able to drum up a decent comeback was the sadness he felt that Castiel still seemed so set on pushing Dean away he'd use any range of hurtful words to do so.
"Dean," Castiel countered, sighing. "You can't possibly tell me you think this club is important. It doesn't mean anything. What do you get out of discussing non-existent character's relationships and acting out fictitious wars in ridiculous costumes? This club will get you nowhere in life. You can't obtain a scholarship for participating in such frivolous activities, and unless you plan to attend the local community college, it might do you well to think more about what will benefit your future."
"Not everything is about scholarships and college, man."
"No, only the important things are," Castiel retorted, and then he was spinning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction from which he came. Dean slumped back over to his seat and seethed as he watched Castiel ask Ronald and Jo what had made them want to be a part of the Fandom Club. He barely made eye contact with them in exchange for writing down their quotes, but Dean doubted Ronald or Jo noticed. When he felt the seat next to him shift under someone's weight he turned to find Charlie, her eyes heavy with sympathy.
"Still an ass, huh?" she questioned.
Dean huffed, "The assiest."
:::
After his run in with Dean at lunch, Castiel was in a foul mood. He always was after talking to Dean, which is why he avoided him as completely as possible. He hated the twist in his stomach he got whenever Dean was in close vicinity and how nearly impossible it was not to get distracted by Dean’s thick eyelashes and infectious smile.
As he headed out of the auditorium, paying no attention to where he was going, he ran smack dab into a wiry, solid frame.
"I apologize," Castiel said looking up. When he saw Balthazar's ever-smirking blue eyes looking down at him, he relaxed.
"What's the matter, Cassie? You look like you've had your feathers ruffled."
"I'm fine," Castiel grumbled. "Other than the fact that I just spent my lunch hour listening to people ramble on about something called a TARDIS and debating whether or not Ewoks, which are apparently some form of small warrior bears, would make good pets."
Balthazar side-eyed him with a questioning glance as they headed down the hall to their next classes.
"I was interviewing members of the Fandom Club," Castiel supplied.
"And that's what's making you so pleasant?" Balthazar questioned with a knowing air in his tone. He and Castiel had been close friends for a long time; not much got past him anymore. "Dean's a member isn't he? Did you speak to him?" he asked casually.
There was a pause before Castiel responded, "Unfortunately."
"And?"
"And nothing, Balthazar," Castiel replied, tone clipped. "You know how much he irritates me; I would prefer not to discuss him."
Balthazar threw his hands up in a receding gesture. "Just asking."
Castiel shook his head at him, "You're never 'just asking.'"
* * *
Summers in Kansas were always hot and sticky. That's why Dean usually opted to stay inside and veg out in front of video games and the Sci-Fi channel rather than run around with a bunch of sweaty dudes and a ball like Dad urged him to do.
During a typical summer, Dean and Charlie could spend hours exercising demons or hunting down shape shifters on Hunter Heroici, the online role playing game they played, or talk other friends into playing Risk with them and then ganging up on them and destroying all their armies. But, this was not a typical summer. Charlie's parents had decided to vacation in Delaware, and Sam was at their grandparent's for the weekend, so Dean was left aberrantly alone.
“I'm bored," Dean said, sprawling himself dramatically over Mary's kitchen counter. The smell of chocolate chip cookies had brought Dean down from his bedroom, but he was disappointed to find them still in the oven upon arrival.
"Why don't you go outside? Get some fresh air?" Mary asked, pulling the cookie sheet from the oven much to Dean's delight.
"Too hot," Dean mumbled, half his face was squished against the cool marble surface beneath him.
Mary scooped several gooey cookies off the sheet and onto a plate before covering them with some plastic wrap. "Do you think you could bear the heat to walk these down to the new neighbors? I think they have a boy your age, maybe you can make a new friend," Mary set the plate down in front of Dean. Steam was clinging to the plastic wrap, fogging the inside.
"I don't need new friends. I have Charlie and Sam."
"Maybe he needs a new friend," Mary pointed out. "And maybe there will be some fresh cookies for you when you get back."
"Fine," Dean grumbled as he lifted himself off the counter and picked up the plate. Mary ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head before he scampered outside. Dean headed down the street to where the new neighbors had just moved in. The house had been empty for years, but Dean figured someone new had moved in when he'd seen the upstairs bedroom light on from his own bedroom a few nights ago.
Approaching the new family's home, Dean saw a boy around his age, maybe a year older, with dark hair bent over the trunk of a sleek, taupe Audi, rummaging through boxes. He stood up and looked at the boxes forlornly, eyebrows pulled together in deep thought.
"Don't think too hard, your forehead will end up lookin' like Yoda if you do."
The boy spun around, startled by Dean's comment, and looked at Dean, his bright blue eyes taking Dean a little by surprise. "I've misplaced something," the boy explained, surveying Dean and eyeing the plate of cookies in his hands.
"What'd you lose?"
"A book."
"Which book?"
"The Odyssey."
Dean raised his eyebrows, "The Odyssey? What are you doing reading that?"
"I enjoy Greek poetry," the boy said as if reading advanced poetry was normal eleven-year-old behavior. "I finished The Iliad last week, and I'd like to continue the story."
Dean nodded his head slowly, eyeing the boy carefully. "Well, my mom sent me over with cookies to welcome you guys to the neighborhood. I live in that house," Dean pointed out his house. He handed the cookies to the other boy.
"Please express our gratitude to your mother," the boy said, and Dean laughed because who was this kid?
"Sure." Neither of them made a move to return to their respective afternoons but instead stood staring at one another.
Finally, it was Dean who broke the silence. "I could help you look for your book," he offered. Originally he’d had every intention of dropping off the cookies and running right back to the confines of his own home, but honestly, the kid looked lonely and Dean was itching to find out what he was all about. When Castiel tilted his head at him, Dean spluttered out, "I mean, if you want. Help- that is. If you want help. I could help you."
"Okay," the boy responded slowly, sizing Dean up as if trying to decide whether to trust him or not.
"I'm Dean, by the way," Dean said, realizing neither of them knew the other's name.
"Castiel," the other boy introduced quietly. Dean's face brightened, a smile breaking across his mouth.
"That's a badass name," he said. Castiel positively beamed at him.