Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     “You’re writing all of this down, aren’t you?” the director asked, leaning too far into Castiel’s space for comfort.

     “Yes, sir,” Cas sighed, rolling his eyes. Mr. Metatron, while a surprisingly decent director, was an annoying dick. And don’t even get Cas started on his teaching skills…but he was the only theatre teacher Lawrence High had.

     And what did Metatron think this was, Castiel’s first rodeo? He’d been in every school production since second semester his sophomore year. It may have been his first time as stage manager, but he knew how the gig worked.

     “We’ll run through the song from the girl’s perspective one more time, then the guys are up,” Metatron said to the group.

     Castiel twisted in his seat to see where the boys were sitting, immediately making eye contact with Dean Winchester. The boy gave him a grin and a thumbs up, the former of which Cas weakly returned. Then Dean nodded at the back of Metatron’s head and made a face, pulling a more genuine smile from his friend’s lips.

     Cas turned back to the front, still smiling to himself.

     It was Castiel’s senior year, and this was the spring musical. The last performance he would ever be a part of. Fortunately, they were putting on one of his favorites: Grease. Granted, Cas wasn’t a fan of the story. It was laden with misogyny and effimiphobia, and what was with the message? It’s perfectly okay to give up your standards for a boy?

     Buuut…greasers. Danny Zuko did something to Cas. He couldn’t help it. (He was trying really hard not to think about the fact that he would soon see Dean in costume as Danny…he was positive that would be the death of him). Plus, the music was awesome. And the costumes. And generally everything 50’s.

     He smiled at the stage wistfully. They were in the school theatre (auditorium, technically, but whatever), working choreography. The choreographer was taking the girls through “Summer Nights” a final time. The first time was atrocious. Girls were falling over each other, going in opposite directions, just standing on stage looking confused…now they looked almost uniform. It would never be perfect, but hey, it was a high school performance. And for having learned it just thirty minutes ago, well…Cas was impressed.

     The choreography itself was fun and easy enough for untrained high schoolers without looking cheesy. Castiel was excited to see the guys' part—the choreographer thought it would be easiest to go through the song working with the girls first, then the guys, rather than trying to handle both at once. They were nowhere near combining vocals and choreography yet, so for now they just used one of the generic tracks from the cd that came with the script. So far, they’d only had one music practice—and that was spent sightreading through every piece once and getting out early. They had another one next Monday, but—Cas checked the schedule—yeah. Dean wasn’t going to be there because he had a baseball game. Something Metatron wasn’t very happy about.

     When the girls were finished, the guys took their place on the stage. Cas watched Dean run and jump onto the stage, forsaking the stairs. Castiel lifted a hand to cover his smile when Metatron yelled at him. Dean had to know that was going to happen. Metatron had a lot of pet peeves, but that was one of the biggest. Cas was so busy watching the exchange that he almost didn’t notice someone plop into the seat next to him.

     “I can’t believe you talked me into this, Clarence,” she said grumpily.

     “Ms. Masters,” Metatron scolded from the other side of Castiel, “how many times do I have to tell you? The front row is reserved for the director and the stage manager only.”

     “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave when the choreographer actually starts working. She’s just introducing herself,” Meg gestured toward the stage.

     Metatron huffed. “Fine.” Cas suspected Metatron only allowed it because he was secretly terrified of the leather-clad senior.

     “I don’t see why you’re complaining about this, Meg,” Cas said. “You don’t even have to act. You literally are Rizzo.”

     “What can I say? I’m just very in-tune with my character,” Meg shrugged. She leaned close to whisper in Castiel’s ear, “Quit checking out Winchester’s ass, Clarence. You’re about as subtle as a brick wall.”

     Cas jumped and tore his eyes away from Dean. “I wasn’t. I was looking at the choreographer—“

     “Right,” Meg grinned.

     “I believe she’s starting, Ms. Masters.”

     Meg scoffed and joined the other cast members in the seats.

     Cas watched the choreographer slowly take the boys through the song, trying (and failing) to hold in a laugh. He thought the girls were bad, but this was a disaster. The boys’ dance was much easier than the girls', too, but you would have thought the choreographer was asking for the moon. Chuck managed to step on everybody’s toes at least once, poor Sam actually fell flat on his butt when trying to spin on his heels, Balthazar—Cas suspected—was intentionally messing everyone else up, and Dean’s cheeks were redder than tomatoes. To the extent where Castiel actually worried for his safety. Garth was…well, Garth was frighteningly good, truth be told.

     They were about halfway through the song when the choreographer introduced a new kind of move, something Dean and the others would be doing “a lot of,” according to the choreographer.

     It was not good. Well, there wasn’t specifically anything wrong with it, but Castiel was one hundred percent positive that this was going to be what ended up killing him, before he even got a chance to see Dean dressed as a greaser. He looked away from the stage, unable to handle watching Dean doing anything with his pelvis that could be classified as a “wiggle,” a “twist,” or, God forbid, a “thrust.”

     From the day he saw the cast posting, Cas knew it was going to be a long three months. We’ve already established Cas has a thing for greasers. He also has a thing for guys that can sing. And dance. And of course, he has a thing for Dean.

     Who wouldn’t? Dean was gorgeous: all bright smile, smattering of freckles, and luminescent green eyes. He was fit, too—both captain and star of the school’s baseball team, and popular and charming, and on top of that, loving, kind, and gentle. He was a total geek, at the same time. He knew what he loved and refused to be embarrassed by it, whether it was his obsession with the original Star Wars trilogy or the fact that he was president of Theatre Guild.

     And for some insane, unfathomable reason, he was Castiel’s best friend.

     Of course Castiel was in love with him.

     The guys went through the song several times, then the choreographer decided to try everyone at once.It  was…interesting. But Cas couldn’t stop grinning because there was definitely potential.

     “Hey, Cas,” Dean came up to him after practice, “Need a ride home again?”

     “I have to stay back a little while,” Cas said, moving to shut off the auditorium lights, “Metatron said I could handle closing everything up.”

     “Bastard’s just lazy.” Dean followed Cas. “How long is this gonna take?”

     Cas stopped, tilting his head to one side. “You don’t have to—twenty minutes?”

     “And with my help?” Dean grinned.

     “Less,” Cas smiled, “But what about Sam? Is he going to want to wait for me?” Cas asked, moving again.

     “Eh, he’s going to Jess’ place to ‘study.’”

     "Why the air quotes around ‘study?’” Cas asked.

     Dean gave Cas a look, as if Castiel should just know. Cas gave him a blank look.

     “Cas,” Dean sighed, “it’s just like when I invite you over to study. We never actually study. It’s an excuse to spend more time with each other. Sam just really likes Jess and is too chicken shit to ask her out, so he settles with ‘studying.’”

     Dean seemed to realize he said something he didn't mean to and his mouth clamped shut. Castiel debating asking about it, but decided against it.

     “Speaking of which,” Dean began after a minute, smiling again, “wanna come over to study tonight?”

     “And by study, you mean…?”

     “Indiana Jones marathon, of course.”

     Cas laughed. “Sure. No sleepover, though. Gabriel’s back from college, and I promised I’d have breakfast with him tomorrow.”

     “Whaat,” Dean whined. “But it’s the perfect weekend for a sleepover! Mom’s visiting the grandparents this weekend, and Dad’s working a job. It’ll just be me, you, and Sammy. I can drive you back home in the morning.”

     “You say that every time, and then come morning, you’re too tired to get up.”

     “I’ll wake up this time, promise,” Dean said, giving Cas his best pout. And damned if Cas could ever refuse that look.

     “Dean Winchester, if you don’t get up tomorrow morning, I will turn into the stage manager from hell and make the duration of this musical a living nightmare for you.”

     Dean laughed. “There’s that scary stage manager voice. I promise I’ll drive you home bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Chapter Text

     It was their last music rehearsal. Starting tomorrow, according to Metatron’s schedule, they were going to officially start combining everything. The blocking was perfect, bar a few scenes, the choreography was coming along…and the singing and acting were as good as a rag-tag high school cast was going to get. Better than most, Cas thought. But he was prejudiced.

     Castiel loved the music rehearsals. They took place in the choir room, and were led by the high school’s new choir director Ms. Milton, who everybody just called Anna. She was sweet and talented, fresh out of college, and unlike Metatron, she didn’t treat Castiel like her personal slave. He wasn’t even required to attend her rehearsals at all, actually. He liked watching the progress, though.

     (And of course, there was the added bonus of listening to Dean sing. His voice was like...it was like the human embodiment of caramel. It was sort of...gritty? But also delicious and addicting and like sex in your mouth...it wasn't a perfect metaphor...)

     “I thought I might find you here,” someone behind him said.

     He turned from his physics book to see Charlie, one of the show’s techies, standing behind him. He put a finger to his lips.

     “I know,” Charlie whispered, hiking her backpack further up her shoulder and sitting next to Cas. They were sitting at a table behind the risers in the choir room, the cast running through “Beauty School Dropout,” in front of them. Anna glanced up from the piano and Charlie gave her a bright smile and made what Castiel guessed was supposed to be a seductive look.

     “Is something wrong with your neck?” Cas asked her in an amused whisper.

     Charlie’s smile fell. “No, asshole, it’s my ‘come hither’ look.”

     “She’s a teacher. And way older than you.”

     "Only a couple years. And it’s February. We graduate in four months,” she smiled.

     “I think she’s straight.”

     “So is spaghetti, until it gets wet,” Charlie smirked.

     Cas snorted, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth. Becky Rosen, an eccentric sophomore Metatron only cast as Sandy’s understudy so she’d stop complaining about her role as a chorus member, turned to give Castiel a nasty look.

     “That’s your problem, Cas,” Charlie continued quietly when Becky turned back toward the piano, “you see straight people everywhere. Hardly anyone’s 100% straight if you look closely enough, especially in the arts. I can think of a few prime examples…” she winked.

     “I don’t know who you’re implying, but he’s definitely straight.” Cas returned to his physics homework.

     Charlie laughed quietly. “So why do you come to these rehearsals, anyways? You know they’re like, your only days off. And don’t tell me it’s to check out the hot red-headed choir director. That's my excuse.”

     “I’m stage manager, and this is my last high school show. I want to see it through—and that involves witnessing every aspect of production.”

     “Sure. That, and you like stalking a certain green-eyed, baseball playing male lead, am I right?”

     “No,” Cas said, his blush betraying the lie.

     “Will you please just fuck him already?” Charlie groaned, a little louder than necessary. Loud enough for several cast members within range to hear.

     “Will you be quiet?” Cas hissed, sure his face couldn’t get any redder.

     “I’m going to get you both drunk,” she mused, thankfully at a lower volume, “and then I’m going to lock you in a room with each other.”

     “That wouldn’t do anything, Charlie,” Cas sighed, rolling his eyes, “we’re friends. That’s it.”

     “You don’t think so, and neither does he. Sam would help me…he agrees.”

     “You talked to Sam about this?!” Cas asked, eyes finding the younger Winchester among the stands. Which was a mistake, because Dean sat next to him looking like sex incarnate.

     “Yeah, and like I said, he agrees with me. Everyone does, except for you. And while I haven’t explicitly talked to him about it, I’m almost positive that ‘everyone’ includes Dean, and…and you’re not paying any attention to me, are you?”

     “Hmmm?” Cas asked, not taking his eyes off of Dean.

     “You’re ridiculous.”

     “He’s so hot,” Cas sighed, slamming his head down onto the table. “Quiet, Charlie,” he said, even though he was the one to make noise. “Ms. Milton will yet at us.”

     “She couldn’t yell at a fly. Hey, since we’re both sitting here, do you wanna do physics together?”

     At the end of rehearsal, Dean jumped off the risers and headed toward Cas and Charlie, closely followed by Lisa Braedon, the cast's Sandra Dee.

     “Hey Cas, Charles,” Dean teased, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “Hey, listen—“

     “Everybody’s headed to my place to hang out. You guys wanna come?” Lisa asked with a genuine smile. Dean grinned down at her.

     “Um,” Cas said, frowning at them both, “I would, but I promised Charlie I’d help her with her physics.”

     Charlie turned to gape at Cas.

     “You guys are such nerds,” Dean snorted, reaching over to shut Castiel’s book. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”

     “Thank you, Dean, Lisa, but we’ll have to pass,” Cas said. He kicked Charlie under the table.

     “Yeah. I really do need some serious help,” Charlie shrugged. “What’re you gonna do.”

     Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas, studying him. Cas tried to appear innocent as possible. Eventually Dean shrugged and turned to Lisa with a wicked grin. “Guess I’m all yours for the evening, Lis.”

     “Great,” Lisa beamed, pulling Dean away by the sleeve.

     “I need help with physics? Me?” Charlie asked when they were gone. “You’re kidding, right? What was that about?”

     “I’ll explain later.”

     “You’re right. You will. You know I don’t like lying…so I at least deserve to know why I’m doing it. And since I now know you don’t have any real plans, wanna hang?”

     Cas wanted nothing more than to be alone, but that would mean jealous pining. “Sure, for a little while,” he found himself saying.

     “Awesome. Give me a second, though,” she said, walking away.

     Cas’ mouth fell open when he saw her walk straight up to Anna. Anna looked as surprised as Cas felt.

     “Hi,” Charlie started shyly, flipping her hair, “I'm Charlie Bradbury.”

     “What can I do for you, Ms. Bradbury?” Anna asked, looking amused. Cas didn't miss the way her eyes dropped down to take in all of Charlie.

     “I just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful singing voice. I wish I could sing like you, Ms. Milton.”

     “Call me Anna,” the teacher smiled. When she smiled, it became more obvious that the two women really only were a few years apart. “And you could start by joining choir.”

     “Oh, I couldn’t,” Charlie said, looking down at her feet. “I sound a little like the Nazgul when I sing, I’m afraid.”

     Anna's face lit up at the reference and she laughed. “I’m sure that’s not true. Or possible.”

     “I don’t suppose you give private lessons, Anna?” Charlie asked. She dropped all pretense of shyness, changing it into...something else. Something Cas didn't want to think too hard about.

     Anna looked a little bit like a startled rabbit. “I don’t usually, but, um…” she stammered. “If you’re really passionate about learning to sing…”

     Charlie beamed. “Great. Since you're being so generous by doing this, it's only fair if I buy you dinner or something first, right? How about Friday at eight? I’d love to hear what other beautiful sounds could come out of that mouth.”

     Anna tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes wide. Charlie reached out to touch a strand that she missed, twining the red strand between her fingers. Charlie turned her shyness back on, looking up at Anna from between her lashes. “You and I would be enough to start a fire.”

     Anna's jaw dropped. She coughed and took a step back, remembering her place. “You’re a senior?” she asked coolly.

     Charlie’s confidence seemed to falter at the sudden change in tone. “Uh…yes?”

     Anna nodded once, glancing over at Cas before looking back at Charlie. “Ask me again in a few months,” she said with a slight smirk, starting to turn back toward the piano.

     "So is that a guaranteed yes if I do?" Charlie asked, eyes wide.

     "I can't legally confirm that, but your chances are pretty good," Anna said, giving Charlie a sweet smile before turning back to her work.

     Charlie gaped at the teacher’s back, and Castiel gaped at Charlie. Eventually she squeaked out a quiet “till then, I guess?” and dragged the shocked Castiel out of the choir room with her.

     The next five minutes consisted of Charlie jumping up and down and squealing excitedly. They were at Castiel's locker, and occasionally a student or two would pass by, eyeing Charlie warily.

     “See?” Charlie asked with a nervous laugh when she could finally speak, “It’s all about confidence.”

     “No. That was magic. There is no other explanation for what I just witnessed,” Cas said, shaking his head.

     Charlie squeaked, jumping up and down hysterically again. “Oh my God! I was not expecting a yes! I mean, that wasn’t technically a yes, but close enough! Score!”

     “I can’t believe it.” Cas trailed after her in a daze.

     “Thanks a lot," Charlie said dryly. Her enthusiasm was back seconds later, though. "See? You just have to do something like that with Dean!”

     Castiel turned to gape at her. “What, use a line like ‘we’re enough to start a fire?’ Where the hell did that even come from?”

     “That was great, right? Anna’s hot. I’ve been thinking about what I’d say to her if I had the chance since she was hired. But seriously. I could think of something clever for you to say to Dean. If I think of something for you, would you say it?”

     “Absolutely not.”

     Charlie groaned. “Ugh. At least tell me what the whole physics homework thing was all about.”

     “I have to watch Dean and Lisa flirt enough during rehearsal, I don’t need to see it in a private setting where I’ll inevitably be the third wheel.”

     "You do realize they have to flirt, right? Their characters are kind of love interests, if you hadn't noticed."

     Cas rolled his eyes, not acknowledging that with a response.

     “Okay, first of all, you can’t be a third wheel where you have plenty of other friends. Second, you wouldn’t be the third wheel, Lisa would. I won’t deny that that girl flirts with Dean all the time, but he doesn’t really flirt back.”

     "So earlier, that wasn’t flirting?” Cas asked skeptically.

     “Ugh. If you think Dean flirting with Lisa is bad, you have no idea how annoying it is to the rest of us watching him flirt with you.”

     Deciding to ignore that last part, Cas scowled. "Why couldn't she be ugly? Or mean? If she was mean, at least I could justifiably hate her. But she's nice. And gorgeous. And a triple threat, too-- she can sing, and act, and--"

     "If you say Lisa Braedon can dance, then I'm taking you to the nurse's office right now. You may be suffering from some serious brain damage."

     "I was going to replace the third threat with 'yoga,'" Cas smiled. 

     "Mmm, yoga girls are hot," Charlie agreed. "But don't distract me. Novak, I am going to make you see sense one of these days, you hear me?"

Chapter Text

     It was eighth period, which was technically their theatre production class, but the closer they got to opening night, the more frequently Metatron declared the class period to be used as a study hall.

     Which essentially meant free reign over the entire theatre wing of the high school—the auditorium, the dressing rooms, the shop, and the classroom itself.

     Cas sat in the classroom along with a couple others-- Sam, Meg, Chuck. Some of the cast members were down in the dressing rooms trying on costumes, a couple of students were in the shop working on putting the final set pieces together, and others had brought homework into the auditorium with them.

     Metatron was in his office the next room over, probably working on his screenplay or something.

     “Hey, Cas, whataya think?”

     Cas turned at the sound of Dean’s voice. It was probably comical looking, how far his jar dropped when he saw his best friend. Dean stood in the doorway of the classroom, leaning against the door frame.

     Castiel’s eyes slowly dropped to Dean's white t-shirt, which he was wearing underneath a black leather jacket, and then even lower to the obscenely tight jeans, rolled up once or twice at the bottom to expose black converse high tops.

     Dean squirmed a little under Cas’ stare. “Cas?” he asked, approaching the speechless stage manager.

     When he was close enough, Dean reached out and put a finger under Castiel's chin, forcing his mouth shut. “Is, uh, open-mouthed gaping good or bad?”

     “Um,” Cas said, a blush spreading to his cheeks. “Good?”

     “It’s a question? You don’t know?” Dean asked, eyebrows drawing together and a pout pulling at his lips.

     “No. I mean, it’s good. Definitely good. Turn around.”

     Dean smirked and raised an eyebrow, but did as Cas said. The leather jacket had the T birds logo stitched into the back. Cas smiled and traced the logo. “I like it.”

     Dean turned back around, beaming at Cas. God, why did he have to be so beautiful.

     Castiel remembered Charlie and her move with Anna. Confidence was key. It was like magic. 

     Cas looked at Dean's hair, spiked up in Dean's usual style. In a rare surge of bravery, Cas lifted his hand to touch the brown locks. He hesitated at first, just running a few fingers through the very tips of Dean's hair. When Dean didn't immediately pull away, Cas figured he was already well past being nonchalant-- might as well go all in,=.

     “Your hair’s still not right, though,” he mumbled, taking a step closer. Dean’s eyes widened and Cas heard his breath hitch. Cas pretended not to notice, because if acknowledged Dean then he’d realize fully what he was doing and start freaking out, which would probably end with him running from the room screaming.

     He combed his entire hand through Dean's hair, trying to push it back so it lay flat. It wasn't cooperating, so Cas brought his other hand up to help the process.

     “Do you use product?” Castiel asked, head tilting to the side.

     “Uh. A little,” Dean said, voice rougher than usual.

     "It's soft," he observed. "Softer than I expected." He giggled a little. "And fluffy."

     “You’re gonna mess it up,” he grumbled half-heartedly.

    Cas chuckled and met Dean’s eyes, realizing that Cas was more or less feeling Dean up and Dean hadn’t pulled away yet. He tilted his head to the side again, one hand still buried in Dean’s hair. Of course, upon making eye contact with Dean, Cas froze like a deer in the headlights.

     “Sorry,” he said after an excruciatingly long pause, pulling his hand away like he’d been stung.

     “S’okay,” Dean said, blinking a few times at the loss of contact.

     “Uh,” Sam said from across the room, “You guys realize you’re in a populated classroom, right?”

     Both Dean and Cas jumped and turned toward Sam, Cas looking guilty and Dean looking offended.

     “Sorry to interrupt?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at them.

     “Shut up, Sammy,” Dean huffed, taking the smallest fraction of a step away from Castiel. “Anyways, Cas, if you’re done caressing me—“

     “—That was not—“ Cas scoffed.

     “—I meant to ask you something. Some of the cast’s sleeping over at Garth’s tonight. Including you. And you’re not ‘helping Charlie with her physics’ this time, cuz I asked, and she’s coming.”

     Cas narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't sound like you're giving me much of a choice."

     “None whatsoever.”

     “Well in that case, I suppose I might as well go," Cas smiled.

     "'Atta boy," Dean grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go change. This jacket's really freaking hot."

Chapter Text

     “A toast,” Meg shouted, standing on the old couch and raising her beer, “to the world’s greatest stage manager!”

      Cas rolled his eyes, laughing when Charlie poked him in the side.

     “Meg,” Garth said, “Parents. Sleeping. Upstairs. Shush.”

     “Whatever, Garth Fitzgerald IV,” Meg snorted. Just like she could never call Cas by his real name, she couldn’t leave off just calling Garth by his first name. “But seriously, Clarence, without you, one of us definitely would have killed Metatron by now. You keep us sane.”

     “Hear, hear!” Sam said, raising his drink as well.

     Cas squirmed uncomfortably under the attention. “Thank you, Meg.”

     “Don’t get used to it, Clarence,” Meg grinned, hopping off the couch to ruffle his hair. “Don’t want you getting a big head.”

     They were all in Garth’s basement, which was surprisingly cozy. Most of Garth’s house was massive and posh (he was rich, who knew), but the basement was sort of Garth’s realm. It had a weird, ‘80’s bachelor pad’ sort of feel—massive shag carpet, old couches, fake wood paneling.

     The group was all sitting in a circle on the carpet: Cas, Charlie, Garth, Meg, Sam, Jo, Balthazar, Lisa, and Dean (in that order).

     Dean, Cas, and Charlie were all sitting with their backs against the couch Meg had just been jumping on.

     “Okay, we all know the dirty games are going to start sooner or later, so I say it’s time we get the party started, no?” Balthazar said. “I’d say we’re all reasonably tipsy.”

     Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Dirty games?”

     “I know you’re new to the theatre scene, Lisa, but you’ll soon learn that we’re all pretty perverted sons of bitches here,” Jo laughed. “For example. Lisa—fuck, marry, kill: Charlie, Dean, and Balthazar.”

     “Oh,” Lisa said, looking startled, “Kill Balthazar, of course—“

     “Hey!”

     “—Marry Charlie, I guess?”

     “Sweet,” Charlie laughed.

     “So I guess that leaves Dean—“

     “Ow ow,” Charlie whistled, “Dean’s turn. Fuck, marry, kill. Cas, Lisa, and Sam.”

     Dean laughed. “I think I’d marry Sam even though it’s weird, because he’s actually like a really good cook, so that’d be cool. I’d kill Lisa—no offense, Lis, it’s nothing personal, but I obviously couldn’t kill Cas. So I guess I’d fuck him,” Dean finished, winking at his best friend.

     “Gee, thanks, Dean. You really know how to flatter a guy,” Cas rolled his eyes.

     “Don’t be like that, baby,” Dean teased, leaning over and planting a kiss on Castiel’s cheek. Cas made a show of wiping his cheek and trying to look offended, ignoring the way his stomach twisted into knots at the feel of Dean's lips on his cheek.

     Garth pulled out Cards Against Humanity, which they ended up playing for a while.

     “I’m sick of this game,” Balthazar groaned an hour later, falling back onto the carpet. “Can we do something else? And Jo, if you suggest truth or dare again, I’m going to hit you on the head.”

     “Honey if you love me?” Sam suggested, shrugging.

     Balthazar shot up. “Hands on rules?” he beamed.

     “What’s honey if you love me?” Lisa asked.

     “There’s a person in the middle,” Dean explained, “and they pick someone in the circle and say ‘Honey, if you love me, will you please, please smile?’ to them and then the person they picked has to respond with ‘Honey, I love you but I just can’t smile.’ Without smiling. If they smile, they’re in the middle. If not, the person who’s it has to go find someone else.”

     “And hands on rules mean you can do anything to get them to smile. Any sort of touch is allowed,” Balthazar added, waggling his eyebrows. “Lisa, since you’re new, you’re in the middle first.”

     Lisa started in the middle, looking for an easy target. She made eye contact with Cas and grinned. Kneeling in the space between Cas and Dean, she reached out and took his hand. Cas raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react.

     Everybody else fought to hold in their laughter, knowing how this would go before it even began.

     “Honey, if you love me, will you please, please smile?” Lisa asked, giving Cas her sweetest smile.

     “Honey, I love you, but I just can’t smile.” Cas answered in a deadpan.

     “Okay, lesson number one?” Charlie asked when Cas finished, finally laughing. “Do not ask Cas. He is like, the champion of this game. Some people are obviously better than others. Hint,” she nodded her head toward Garth.

     Lisa got Garth to crack in 0.2 seconds, who then went around to everybody in the circle until Charlie took pity on him. Charlie managed to be creepy enough to make Balthazar laugh, who then targeted Meg, running his hands up and down her waist while saying the words. 

     "You just wanted to play this so you'd have an excuse to feel someone up," Meg laughed when she couldn't make it through the phrase.

     "I'm offended you would think that, Megara."

     "It's Megan, dumbass."

     It was all too easy for Meg to crack Jo.

     Jo went straight for Sam, running her hands through his hair and twirling it around her finger.

     “Honey,” she began, batting her eyelashes and pouting, “if you love me, will you please, please smile?”

     “Honey, I love you—“ he broke off, laughing. “Nope, I can’t do it. I give, just stop touching me.”

     Jo sat back in her spot, beaming.

     Sam walked over to sit in front of Dean. Dean’s lips twitched up, obviously fighting off a smile before Sam could even begin.

     “Honey, if you love me—“ Sam reached up and put a finger under Dean’s chin, tickling it. Dean broke down into hysterics almost immediately, shoving Sam away.

     “Get away from me, sicko,” he laughed.

     “You’re the one who said you wanted to marry me,” Sam teased back.

     When Dean got into the middle, he immediately honed in on Cas. “Hey, Cas,” he said, approaching with a mischievous smile.

     “That’s not a part of the script, Dean,” Cas said, lines around his eyes deepening as he fought off a smile. Dean was the only one who could get him to laugh during this game, and Dean knew it.

     Cas subtly drew his arms around his sides to protect them, knowing Dean knew how ticklish he was there. The green-eyed boy had used that to his advantage during this game one too many times.

     Dean noticed the movement and winked.

     “Honey,” Dean began, scooting closer to Cas, so their faces were only inches apart. “if you love me,” he put a finger under Castiel’s chin, like Sam had done to him, and forced Cas to look up at him, “will you please, please smile?”

     “Honey,” Cas said, having to stop to clear his throat when his voice came out rougher than usual. He took a breath, fighting down the urge to smile. “I love you, but I just can’t smile.”

     "What?” Dean whined, shocked and offended that Cas didn’t smile. “You always smile for me. I demand a redo.”

     “That’s not allowed,” Cas smirked.

     “You can go try someone else and then go back to Cas, you just can’t do Cas two times in a row,” Garth supplied from the other end of the circle.

     “What? That’s not in the rules!” Cas protested.

     "You’re outvoted, Cas,” Dean said. He looked at Charlie. “Charlie, if you love me will you please, please smile?” he asked in a rush, not actually trying.

     “Honey, I love you, but I just can’t smile.”

     Dean turned back to Cas, eyes narrowing in determination.

     Cas frowned, just as determined not to let Dean win.

     “Honey, if you love me, will you please, please smile?” Dean asked, going straight for Cas’ ticklish spot.

     Cas pursed his lips and squirmed, batting Dean’s hands away. “Honey, I love you, but I just can’t smile.”

     “What the hell, Cas?” Dean whined. "You always smile when it's my turn."

     Cas shrugged, smirking triumphantly.

     “Balthazar,” Dean said, twisting to face the blonde boy, “Honey, if you love me will you please, please smile?”

     Balthazar looked amused, but he didn’t smile. “Honey, I love you, but I just can’t smile.”

     Dean turned his predatory gaze back on Cas. Everyone groaned.

     “You’re not going to win, Dean,” Jo laughed. “Just ask Garth already.”

     “No,” Dean growled. He climbed over Cas’ legs to straddle his lap and leaned into the blue-eyed boy’s space. Dean’s position change didn’t have the intended effect—smiling was the last thing on Castiel’s mind when Dean was so close. “Honey—my darling, beloved, Cas— if you love me, will you please, pretty please smile?”

     On ‘smile,’ Dean reached up to play with Castiel’s cheeks, pushing them up into a semblance of a smile.

     Before he could even start to reply, Cas gave in and grinned. More to get Dean off of him than anything else, because if he had to deal with this proximity for much longer, they would probably be in a very uncomfortable situation.

     “Hooray!” Charlie cheered. “The king has been vanquished!”

     Dean grinned, pumping a fist into the air. He still didn’t get off Cas.

     “I think the downfall of our stoic champion is as good a time as any to switch games?” Balthazar suggested.

     “Truth or dare!” Jo screeched.

     Reluctantly, Dean climbed off Cas and returned to his seat between Cas and Lisa.

     “I’m cool with it,” Meg shrugged. “I haven’t played in years.”

     “You know…” Lisa began hesitantly, “There’s a phone app? Dirty truth or dare? It's pretty, um, inventive.”

     “I like the way you think, sweetheart,” Meg smirked, pointing at Lisa. “I think we'll keep you. Who’s up for dirty truth or dare?”

     Cas and Dean made brief eye contact, both looking away immediately.

     Jo downloaded the app and declared herself the proctor (playing was her idea after all). They started with Cas, who picked truth.

     “What’s your favorite thing in the opposite sex?” Jo read off the screen.

     “When they’re not the opposite sex at all?” Cas asked sarcastically. Cas smiled when Dean let out a loud snort next to him.

     “Okay, that was an easy one. Charlie: truth or dare?”

     “Dare. Obvi.”

     “Lick the hand of the player on your right until it’s entirely wet,” Jo laughed.

     Cas pulled his hand away when Charlie reached for it. “What did I do to deserve this?” he asked, aghast. “Absolutely not.”

     “I’ll hold him down while you lick him,” Dean offered, grinning.

     "Do it.”

     Garth had to “switch the clothing item of his choice with the person across the circle from him.” He was so skinny Lisa’s sweater actually fit him, though there were several inches of exposed wrists where the sleeves were too short.

     Meg had to make sex noises for fifteen seconds, Sam had to tell everyone what celebrity he fantasizes about (Sarah Michelle Gellar, apparently, which Dean vowed never to stop teasing him about), Jo had to list her fetishes, Balthazar had to spend the next three rounds on Lisa’s lap (which she wasn’t thrilled about).

      Lisa then got a dare saying she had to “breathe and nibble seductively on the ear of the closest person next to her,” and while she insisted it was Dean, everybody else said that Balthazar was technically the closest person to her, much to Castiel’s relief.

     Dean surprisingly picked truth, and got the question, “Have you been teased and liked it?”

     “Yes,” he said immediately, not even having to think.

     “Dish,” Charlie ordered.

     “That’s not part of the question,” he sneered at her. “Sorry.”

     “What?? No way! It’s implied!” Jo shouted. “As proctor I say so!”

     Dean shook his head.

     “Okay, at least answer…how was this person teasing you? Or when?”

     “Playing with my hair. And I plead the fifth on the second question.”

     Cas watched Dean, tilting his head curiously. He looked over to catch Sam smirking at him.

     “Cas! Your turn!”

     “Truth,” he answered, looking from Dean to Jo.

     Everyone groaned.

     “Lame.”

     “What’s your most secret turn on?” Jo asked after Meg threw a crumpled up wrapper at Cas.

     Charlie started wiggling excitedly. “I know what it is! Can I answer for you, Cas?”

     Cas widened his eyes. “No!”

     "I'll allow it," Jo said thoughtfully.

     “Greasers,” Charlie said, winking at Dean, “Cas has a 50’s fetish.”

     “Do not!”

     "Oh really? Tell me, Castiel, what is your opinion on John Travolta in the Grease movie?"

     Cas pouted, avoiding Dean's questioning gaze.

     They went around again. They skipped over Garth, who was passed out and cradling his single empty beer bottle.

     “Too much for the kid,” Balthazar grinned, still sitting on Lisa’s lap.

     Dean chose truth again, and had to admit to having sex in the Impala, which made both Sam and Cas freak. (“Cas and I sit in the backseat, Dean!”)

     Cas scowled at the group and picked Dare this time. Jo read over the dare on her own before reading it out loud and squealed loudly. “Oh my God! Sam. Sam read it. Holy shit.”

     Sam leaned over Jo’s shoulder and read it, a huge smile spreading across his face.

     So much for getting an easy one, Cas thought.

     “Read it out loud!” Charlie squeaked, Jo and Sam’s enthusiasm catching on.

     Jo looked up at Cas, then at Dean, then back at Cas.

     Oh no.

     “While blindfolded, have your hand guided over the body of whoever is to your right.”

     All the blood drained from Castiel’s face and he looked at Dean with wide eyes. Dean, for his part, looked like he was going to be sick.

     “I changed my mind. Truth.”

     “Too late!” Charlie chirped, unraveling her scarf and holding it over Castiel’s eyes. “Can you see?”

     Cas shook his head. “Sorry, Dean,” he mumbled.

     Cas, now blindfolded, didn’t see Dean shrug. He also didn’t see Dean’s eyes rake over his body, or the blush that decorated Dean’s cheeks.

     Charlie turned Cas so he was facing Dean, and sat next to him.

     Cas felt her bring his hand up to cup Dean’s cheek (a part of his brain that he was trying to get to shut up observed how soft Dean's cheek was), and then she made him move his thumb so it was scraping across Dean’s lower lip (and if he thought Dean's skin was soft...). He shifted uncomfortably, tempted to snatch his hand back.

     He didn’t like that everyone in the room could see what was happening except him. And he didn’t like the circumstances. Of course he’d dreamt of touching Dean’s lips, of feeling the warm breath that ghosted across his hand, but he never thought it would be among other people. When he couldn’t even see.

     Charlie started dragging his hand lower, so it brushed against the skin of Dean’s neck. She let his hand linger there, giggling to herself. Cas felt the muscles in Dean's neck work as he swallowed. He also caught a trace of Dean’s pulse-- which was frantic and erratic. His eyebrows drew together, and Dean leaned away slightly, as if he knew what Castiel was feeling.

     "No moving, Dean," Charlie said. 

     Charlie moved Cas’ hand lower, to Dean’s chest.

     “I feel like I’m a part of an incredibly gay threeway.”

     "Imagine how we feel watching it,” Meg grumbled.

     "But it’s not gay if it’s in a threeway,” Balthazar laughed.

     “It is if the only female is a lesbian and both of the guys are—”

     Cas scowled in Charlie’s general direction and he nudged her with his shoulder. To retaliate, she quickly brought Castiel’s hand much lower.

     "Woah!” Dean squeaked, worming away from Charlie and Castiel’s reach. “Not there!”

     “Dean—“ Charlie whined.

     “Nope. That was good enough. We're moving on.”

     Cas, more than happy to oblige, yanked the blindfold off and grimaced at Dean apologetically.

     They played a few more rounds, but Cas didn’t pick Dare again. He got fairly easy questions, too—he suspected Jo was going easy on him. He got two “have you ever” questions, which, thankfully, he could just answer with a no.

     On the last round, they ended with Dean, who dejectedly sighed “Dare.” Until then he had stuck with truths as well.

     Reading the screen, Jo grinned. “Choose someone to give you a hickey on the neck.”

     “Ugh, seriously?” Dean groaned.

     Cas shook his head. “Metatron would kill him. Then he would kill me.”

     “Who says Dean would choose you?" Meg asked, smirking.

     "Everyone," Sam laughed.

     Cas sighed. “I mean, he would kill me for letting Dean get a hickey. Because he’s irrational and it’s apparently my job to keep the actors in line.”

     “Thank you, Cas. You make a very good point,” Dean smirked at Jo. “Pick a new one.”

     “Play one round in your underwear.”

     “It’s the last round, though.”

     “Fine.” Jo sighed.

     “French kiss every player for ten seconds.”

     “Um, no.” Sam said, horrified.

     “Why is this so difficult? Geez. Okay, if this one doesn't work...Kiss the first guy/girl of the same gender on your left for 30 seconds (on the lips) and the group will count down out loud.” Jo looked up from her phone, grinning.

     “Goddammit.” Cas shook his head, exasperated. “I’m never sitting next to you again, Dean.”

     “Fair enough,” Dean laughed, giving Cas a calculating look.

     Before Cas could suggest he chose a different Dare, Dean put a hand on either side of his face and yanked him in for a kiss. Castiel's eyes flew open for a moment before fluttering shut as he leaned into the kiss.

     “Oh,” Jo squeaked, “They're actually doing it. Uh...30? 29, 28, 27…”

     The rest of the group joined in counting excitedly, Charlie’s voice the loudest and most enthusiastic.

     The first ten seconds or so were awkward, their lips barely touching. They were both tense, Dean's grip on Cas' face tentative. But around the 20 second mark, something seemed to snap in both of them. Dean moved his hand, threading it into Castiel’s dark brown hair. Cas gasped.

     At the sound, Dean scooted closer and changed the angle of the kiss, licking into Cas’ mouth. Cas willingly let him, pressing back just as enthusiastically.

     Cas, to his horror and embarrassment, actually moaned. He grabbed Dean’s shirt, twisting it and using it to hold his best friend close.

     “Five, four, three, two, ONE!” The group cheered.

     Dean didn’t pull away. If anything, he pulled Cas impossibly closer, so they were actually pressed flush against each other. Any closer and Cas would be on his lap.

     "Negative one, negative two…” Charlie continued cheerily.

     Dean hummed into Castiel's mouth, twisting his fingers in Cas' hair.

     “Oi! If you’re going to keep going, do it somewhere else!” Balthazar scolded, but he was smiling.

     Balthazar seemed to pull Dean back to reality, and he tore away from Cas, leaving the other boy reeling.

     “Wow, twenty-three seconds longer than necessary,” Charlie said.

     "Nah, it was at least thirty," Jo corrected, grinning at the boys brightly. "There was that bit at the beginning where we were all too shocked to count."

     Dean scowled at her and scooted away from Cas, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said, not looking at Cas.

     “’S okay,” Cas croaked.

     “Well,” Meg began, “You’re right, Jo. That game was fun.”

Chapter Text

     Dean and Castiel reached an unspoken agreement not to talk about what happened.

     It was still arguably the greatest moment of Castiel’s entire existence, even better than the dress rehearsal a week later where he got to watch Dean dance and sing in full costume, but that kiss was an isolated moment, that was it. They'd been drinking. A little. And everybody else in the group had done things just as bad. It was all part of the game, right? Right? 

     But Cas couldn't get it out of his head. And he didn't see any reason Dean would have to keep kissing him after the thirty seconds were over. Maybe he just forgot who he was kissing? 

     Castiel hadn't been able to sleep a wink that night. After the game, they turned on a movie. The rest of the group was asleep within minutes- even Dean. But Cas just lay there, all night, staring at the ceiling. He'd been terrified the kiss would change things between him and Dean.

     Weirdly enough, he was wrong.

     Granted, Castiel had been in a state of perpetual anxiety (more so than usual) around Dean since the party, and Dean had stopped the casual touches he used to adorn Cas with, but other than that, everything between them went right back to normal.

     So on one hand, it didn't seem like anything changed, but on the other hand, he'd kissed Dean. Of course everything was different.

     Castiel just wished he knew what was going on.

     Opening night finally arrived. It was a Friday night in early March, and unfortunately, one of the longest winters in several years. So everything was still snowy and cold, not exactly ideal for a spring musical.

     “Has anyone seen Dean?” Cas asked frantically, barging into the boys’ dressing room.

     Garth squeaked and held up a shirt to cover his bare torso, relaxing when he saw it was just Cas. “You don’t know where he is?”

     “No,” Cas groaned, running his hands through his hair. At least being stage manager meant no audience would see the mess he’d made of his unruly locks. “It’s twenty minutes till the doors open, and Charlie needs to test Dean’s microphone before then, but no one knows where he is. He was here, his costume is gone, but I can't find him. I’ve looked everywhere.”

     “Oh,” Chuck said, straightening up from tying his Converse. Unsurprisingly, Chuck and Garth dressed as greasers didn’t exactly have the same effect on Cas as Dean did. “He got a phone call or something. He said he was going to go outside. Maybe to smoke a cigarette or something?”

     “Are you mixing up Dean with Danny again, Chuck?” Cas sighed, addressing the scatterbrained junior. “Dean doesn’t smoke.”

     “Maybe he didn’t say the last part, then.” Chuck shrugged.

     “Outside?” Cas asked skeptically.

     “Outside.”

     “If he’s not there, I’m coming for you,” Cas said, pointing at Chuck. Before Chuck could respond, Cas was out the door.

 .

     Cas was shocked to actually find Dean outside.

     Dean turned when the door opened, giving Cas a small smile. “Look at you, all 'Mr. Official-Stage-Manager-y.'”

     He nodded at Cas’ getup—the big headset around his neck, the entirely black outfit. Dean smiled at the two black lines Charlie painted under Castiel’s eyes.

     “Stage fright?” Cas asked, approaching Dean.

     He frowned up at the sky. Light flakes of snow were falling from the dusky blue haze, already catching and collecting on the grass and the edge of the sidewalk. He turned to look at Dean, taking in the sight of his best friend.

     Dean was in costume, hair greased back and everything. It wasn’t his clothing that Cas was looking at, though. It was the tension between Dean’s shoulders, the way his arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, the way he was chewing nervously on his bottom lip and watching Cas with wide eyes.

     “Not exactly.”

     “What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

     “Dad’s coming tonight, apparently.”

     Castiel’s eye brows shot up. He and Dean had been best friends since sixth grade, and he could count on both hands the number of times he’d met John Winchester.

     “Yeah,” Dean muttered darkly at Cas’ surprised expression, “He’s never been to anything of mine. Wait, no- he went to one baseball game freshman year, but he left halfway through because he got a call from work. He missed me score a home run,” Dean said, shaking his head. “So why the hell does he have to come now? Just when I get used to not expecting him, the bastard has to show up and throw me for a loop..."

     Cas pulled Dean into an unexpected hug. Dean hugged him back immediately, burying his face in Castiel’s neck.

     “Who gives a fuck if he’s here or not?” Cas asked when he pulled away. Dean’s mouth fell open. “You’re not performing for him. You’re performing for yourself.”

     “And for at least five hundred people,” Dean mumbled.

     “And for me,” Cas said, reaching out and taking Dean's hand.

     Dean met his eyes, giving him a more genuine smile. “You and your greaser fetish."

     Cas laughed, letting go of Dean's hand to hit him on the arm.

     "It's okay, man. After all, you know all about my doctor fetish."

     Cas tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

     Dean shrugged, "What can I say? I just have a thing for sexy doctors in cowboy boots."

     "Doctor Sexy? But I thought you were--?"

     "What, you think I watch the show for the plot? You're kidding, right?"

      "I did think it was a rather strange lapse in judgment," Cas said, a huge smile lighting up his face. Dean smiled back, worries forgotten. “You’re going to do great, Dean. Don’t worry about your Dad.”

     “Okay,” Dean whispered. A large snowflake landed on his cheek, and Cas reached up and wiped it away with his thumb without thinking. Dean laughed breathily. “Could you be any cheesier, dude?”

     “Yes,” Cas answered seriously. Like he’d hoped, it drew another laugh out of Dean. “Charlie needs to test your microphone before the doors open,” he said, remembering why he went looking for Dean in the first place.

     Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Way to ruin the moment, Cas.”

     “We were having a moment?” Cas asked, lips quirking up into a smile.

     “Shut up,” Dean grinned, bumping Cas’ shoulder with his own.

     Thankfully, it was getting just a little too dark for Dean to see Castiel’s blush. “Get inside, Winchester,” he scolded, trying to look severe. Dean just laughed at him. When he made no attempt to move, Cas rolled his eyes and started toward the door, knowing Dean would follow in his own time.

     “No good luck kiss, then?” Dean mumbled behind him.

     Cas froze, turning back to face Dean.

     Dean’s eyes widened. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he stuttered.

     Cas studied Dean’s face, carefully keeping his own blank while the snow started falling heavier around them. Dean clearly grew more terrified by the second. “I didn’t—“

     “Shut up, Dean,” Cas growled. Before he could change his mind, he closed the distance between them and pulled Dean into a kiss. To draw them closer, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck.

     Dean squeaked, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and returning the kiss.

     Shortly after it started, Cas pulled away. “Break a leg,” he breathed against Dean’s lips.

     With that, he untangled himself from Dean’s arms and started heading back toward the door.

     “Wait!” Dean called, running after him. He caught Cas’ arm and pulled the stage manager back to him. “Tease,” he growled. He twisted one hand into Cas' hair and placed the other one firmly at the small of his back, effectively trapping Cas against his body.

     “Dean,” Cas laughed, “Fifteen minutes till the doors open. Go get your microphone tested.”

     “Then more of this?” Dean asked, kissing a line down Castiel’s neck.

     “Of course. If that’s what you want.”

     “Damn right it is,” Dean growled. "Jesus, Cas. This is what I've wanted since seventh fucking grade."

     "Good," Cas said, giving Dean a light kiss.

     “You better be there when Charlie’s done with me,” Dean threatened, grabbing Cas’ hand and dragging him toward the door.

     “Metatron might have work for me,” Cas admitted, “but I’ll come find you,” Cas beamed up at Dean, their hands still entwined.

     Dean hummed, pulling Cas in for another quick kiss before heading into the auditorium. He paused with his hand on the door and turned back to Cas. "Hey, Cas?"

     "Yes, Dean?"

      "Wanna go out with me after the show?"

     "Like a date?"

     "Or we could study," Dean suggested, grin growing even wider.

     Cas laughed. "Okay."

     "Cas?" 

     "What, Dean?" 

     Dean laughed. "I was just gonna say, you and me? We go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong."

     "Oh my God," Cas groaned, slapping a hand over his face. "Go find Charlie, Dean."

     Dean gave him a grin and a salute. "Yes, sir."