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Out of Step

Summary:

Dean and Castiel started off on the right foot, so it's no wonder they have such disdain for each other. Because in marching band, it's the left foot that's the correct foot to start with.

Notes:

Written for the Fandom Writing Challenge [March 2017]
Theme: Sports Leisure
Prompt: Marching Band

Thank you, as always, to my precious bean for beta-ing ♥

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Everyone reset back to set one. Come on, move with purpose! We haven’t got all day!” Crowley bellows into his megaphone from the top of the scaffolding tower.

Jesus Christ.

Every year, Dean hides that stupid thing but Crowley always seems to find it. Looks like he’ll just have to go for the batteries.

“Dean, can you please take one for the team and ask for a water break?” Jo pants beside him as they hustle back to set one.

“Yeah, we’re dying here, Winchester,” Charlie agrees as she jogs up beside them.

Dean sighs dramatically. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because Crowley has a soft spot for you,” Jo says with a smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“Sorry brother, but it is,” Benny calls, already in position on his dot about five yards from them. Dean groans, scrubbing a hand down his face where droplets of sweat are beading on the surface.

“Fine.”

Jo and Charlie share a conspiring smile before racing ahead to their dots. Dean slows down, hovering around the fifty yard line where The Tower is set up. It stands twelve feet tall, with Crowley barely adding any height on the highest platform. Chuck sits silently, as usual, on the lower platform which is just above head level. Maybe Dean can get away with asking Chuck instead.

“Uh, hey Chuck? It’s been about two hours since our last water break. Think we can take five minutes after this run?”

Chuck glances down at Dean, looking frantic at the question. God, after four years of being in this band, Dean still has no idea how this guy is even the director.

“Winchester!”

Fuck.

Dean cranes his head back, hand cupping over his eyes to see Crowley through the harsh glare of the sun. “Yeah?”

“I thought I said to get to set one.”

“I know, but we need a water break. Unless you want a bunch of kids passing out on this field, we need at least ten minutes to sit and cool off.” Dean feels like he’s flirting with death by demanding instead of asking, but how else is he supposed to convince Crowley to give them a break?

Crowley glares down at him and for once, the whole field is silent. Dean heard a few gasps at the way he spoke to their assistant director, but now everyone’s holding their breath.

“Fine. We run this one more time you all get your precious water break,” Crowley spits out.

Dean nods, hiding his smile until his back is turned. People whisper their gratitude as he passes them on his way to his dot, and it lifts him up a little. Even if it means putting his neck out there, he’ll do anything he can to help out his bandmates.

They run the first five sets, and it’s far from being perfect, but it’s not a complete disaster. As soon as Crowley’s done lecturing them about terrible marching techniques and some forgetting their dots all together, everyone clears the practice field to fill the front sideline where all their water and belongings sit.

Dean collapses next to Sam, who’s busy guzzling down water. “So Sammy, how’s day one of band camp?”

Sam takes a few more gulps before answering him. “Hell. That Crowley guy is a jerk. Why did you put up with this all four years?”

“Because believe it or not, it’s a lot of fun,” Charlie says as she flops down beside them, Jo, and Benny right behind her. Dean nods, pulling his water bottle from Charlie’s cooler and taking a big gulp.

“The first couple o‘ days are always rough,” Benny offers empathetically.

Sam looks down at his watch and groans. “It’s only eleven?”

“Hey, only an hour until lunch!” Jo says excitedly, which everyone chimes in with. Dean laughs at his brother’s confused reaction. He remembers his first year of band camp. Being in the thick heat, thirsty and exhausted, an hour seems like eternity. But now that he’s gone through it three previous times, an hour is the homestretch.

Sam gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go sit by Barry. See you at lunch?”

Dean reaches up to ruffle his hair but Sam bats his hand away before he can, causing him to huff. “Yeah, bitch, see ya.”

Sam grumbles out a ‘Jerk’ before walking a ways down the sideline.

“Oh god – here they come,” Charlie singsongs. Dean doesn’t need to glance over to know who she’s talking about.

Color guard.

Dean’s always happy when the guard girls join the band. He’s kinda got a reputation with them. He turns his head to watch them make their way closer, but is pulled up short when he sees a new face.

“Since when did we get a guard guy?” he wonders aloud, sitting up to get a better look. Not that color guard is strictly for girls, but it’s always a special sighting to see a guy in guard. Dean would’ve definitely known if a guy joined guard, especially if he looks as good as this one.

“Must be the new guy. I think he’s brothers with the new drum major too,” Benny answers. That’s right, there was actually some drama around that. People thought it was unfair for this Gabriel guy to come in as a senior and get chosen for drum major, but he must be that good. There was talk he had a brother – half-brother? – but Dean never heard anything more about it.

“Huh,” is all Dean can manage to say because holy fuck, the guy is seriously hot. His shorts are slung low around his hips, practically teasing Dean with the little bit of exposed tanned skin that his ratty looking T-shirt isn’t covering.

“Dean, please don’t scare him on his first day,” Jo sighs.

“What? I didn’t even do anything.”

“Oh please, you’ve got that look,” Charlie crows. “Besides, you’ve basically run Kali’s patience nonexistent. She doesn’t want you anywhere near the guard.”

Well, he can’t exactly deny that. Kali hates him for ‘causing distractions’ to her girls. No doubt she’ll hate him even more if he makes any advances towards the new guy. In the past, she couldn’t do anything about it. Except now that she’s been graduated a year and is now the guard instructor, she actually has power to keep him away. Which only means he has to be a little more careful.

“I don’t have any look. I’m just gonna be polite and introduce myself.” He gets to his feet, ignoring the warnings his friends call after him. The closer he gets, the harder his heart beats in his chest and he feels eyes burning into him as he approaches. Man, is he actually nervous to talk to this guy? That’s… weird. Before he knows it, he’s standing behind the guy, who’s staring down at the set book hanging on a string tied around his waist. Shit, that glistening skin is even better close up…

He’s about to turn around and jump ship when the guy looks up, glancing over his shoulder and pinning Dean in place with a pair of vibrant blue eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Um, hello.” Damn, that voice too. All deep and gravely, and...

“Hi. Um, I’m Dean. Dean –“
“Winchester,” the guy finishes for him. It’s probably safe to say the guard girls warned him about the infamous Dean Winchester.

Dean laughs uneasily. “Yeah, that’s me. Heard you’re new, thought I’d come introduce myself.”

The new guy quirks an eyebrow. “And that is the extent of your intentions with this conversation?”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “Uh –“

“Because if so, it’s nice to meet you, Dean. However, if what I’ve been told is true, I want to make it clear I’m not interested in any advances you may be planning. You can save your breath, my time won’t be wasted, and we can both be on our way.”

Dean’s mouth drops open, absolutely speechless. What the fuck? He doesn’t even know the guy’s name and barely got a sentence out before the immediate rejection. Dean can’t exactly blame him for saying what he said, given Dean’s track record, but still. Now Dean’s a little peeved, his confidence stinging.

“That’s some ego you have, buddy,” he replies coolly. “Just thought I’d be a nice guy and welcome you to the band. But whatever.”

New Guy shrugs. “I just wanted to make myself clear. I’m not interested in having any relations with you.”

Ouch.

Dean scoffs. “Wasn’t planning on pursuing,” A terrible, terrible lie, “But hey, if it makes you feel better to think so.” He spins around and stalks away, ignoring the low whistles and taunts being thrown after him. He basically got rejected in front of the whole band because everyone’s stopped to watch on their way back to the field.

“Told you to stay away,” Jo tuts when he passes by.

“Get to your set, Jo,” he orders, using his section leader voice. He realizes he’s being an ass and he’ll apologize later for it, but he doesn’t need salt rubbed in his wounds right now.

He spends the next hour silently seething as he focuses on learning drill and thanking the universe that New Guy’s dot is on the opposite end of the field so Dean doesn’t have to see him. When lunch comes around, the food and air conditioning calms him a bit, but he’s still grumpy. No one dares tease him about what happened.

When the band stays inside to learn music, Dean takes the drumline to the field house to practice their music in peace. He typically runs his sectionals more relaxed, but he needs to forget about what happened earlier, so today there’s no goofing off. Even Victor, his co-section leader who’s usually the bad cop between the two of them, isn’t happy with the way Dean’s running their sectional. When the guard comes in to claim the field house, Dean brushes past them without a second look, calling for his section to grab their shit and hustle to the practice field.

The last two hours of their eight hour day is spent trying to pair music to the drill they learned today. It’s pretty disastrous, but Crowley does call a compliment to the drumline for ‘sounding the least horrible’. So that’s what happens when they actually work in sectionals.

When four o’clock rolls around and the band is dismissed to go home, Dean calls his section together.

“Listen guys, I know I was kinda an ass today –“

“We all have our off days, Dean,” Garth offers sympathetically. He can’t help but smile at that.

“But you all did good work. We even got a half-assed compliment from Crowley. Rest up for tomorrow.” He claps each of them on the shoulder before gathering their stuff from the front sideline and walking back towards the school. Dean’s about to follow before someone calls his name. When he turns, he’s met with a shorter guy with bronze hair and golden eyes, lips twisted into a smirk.

“Can I help you?”

“Heard my brother burned you good today.”

And there goes his relatively okay mood. Dean scowls.

“He’s a real peach.”

The guy laughs, throwing his head back and Dean rolls his eyes. “That’s Cassie for you. Name’s Gabriel, by the way. I’m the new drum major.”

Dean glances at his outreached hand and shakes it begrudgingly. “Guess you know who I am.”

Gabriel motions for them to start walking back to the school. “Sure do. Cassie told me all about it at lunch.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “His name’s Cassie?”

“Nickname. Castiel would probably kill you if you called him that though.”

Dean licks his lips, tempted to try the unique name out for himself but withholds. No, he’s not going to find anything interesting about the guy because he’s an asshole.

“Well, you can tell him to relax. I have no interest in egotistical dicks,” Dean says, sounding more bitter than he intended to.

“He’s actually a nice guy. Castiel can be blunt sometimes, but you can’t say he isn’t honest.”

“The dude can say and do what he wants, I don’t care,” Dean grunts, wanting to be done with this conversation already.

Gabriel grins. “Right. You don’t care. Anyway, just thought I’d personally introduce myself before I’d have to reject you in front of the whole band too. See ya bright and early tomorrow, Bucko!”

Dean stops in his tracks, watching Gabriel laugh to himself while he saunters ahead. He’s not sure who the bigger dick is between the two of them. It doesn’t matter. Dean’s got better things to do than sulk and seethe over the two of them.

*****

The second day of band camp is better than the first. Dean decided he’s not about to show Castiel how bruised his ego is after yesterday. Screw that guy. Instead, he focuses on Crowley ordering them through basics block the first half of the morning and learning drill the second half. When lunch comes around, he doesn’t even think to seek Castiel out. He laughs with his friends and beats Benny in a competition of who can shove the most grapes in their mouth. Which, of course, earns him a few suggestive comments from Jo and Charlie. He even gets in some good natured teasing when Sam decides to go talk to Jess, one of the freshmen guard girls. Sam isn’t amused, but Dean still smiles proudly after him as he goes. This is the band camp he’s come to love after four years.

Like all good things though, his mood comes to a crashing halt after lunch.

While the band rehearses the show music in the band room, it’s time for the drumline to part for the hour to work on their stuff. Dean brings them to the field house, the spot they always claim, but when he walks through the doors, he stops in his tracks when his eyes rest on Castiel. He’s not alone though. From a quick scan, it seems maybe all the freshmen are with him because Dean recognizes Jess among the baby faced girls.

“Hate to interrupt, but we claimed this space,” he announces from across the room, voice echoing in the large space between them. Castiel glances over at him, the eye roll visible even from where Dean’s standing.

“Kali said it was fine we work here.”

Dean saunters closer, trying to keep up his air of confidence despite the fact that his heart is racing in his chest. “Did she now? Last I checked, the guard practices in the grassy area outside the band room.”

Castiel holds his gaze steadily. “We needed space to spread out. The freshmen require further help and it was too hectic with me trying to teach them while Kali works with the others.”

“And since when are you section leader? Where’s Anna? Or Rachel?” Dean challenges, crossing his arms.

Castiel scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your concern how our section runs, but they asked me to help out. I may be new here, Dean, but I’m not incompetent.”

Dean just smirks. “Well, since you’re new, I’ll be the one to tell you that the fieldhouse belongs to drumline after lunch.”

“Dean, it’s fine. This is a large enough space for everyone,” Victor says, stepping up beside him. Dean shoots him a look, because he definitely doesn’t want to share anything with Castiel, let alone be in the same room.

“Yeah man, we don’t mind,” Ash chimes in.

Castiel nods gratefully. “Thank you. We’d prefer not to have to waste more time finding a new spot.”

Victor simply nods and leads the way to the other side of the fieldhouse, but Dean’s still standing in front of Castiel, glaring at him. He expects Castiel to give him a dirty look and turn away, but the bastard stands his ground, staring right back at Dean.

“Alright, alright. Put the rulers away, boys,” Jo says, nudging Dean to move.

Dean snickers under his breath as he turns away. “Hope you have a strong voice because it gets pretty loud in here.”

Dean keeps true to his promise. The snare drum can already be a loud sound, but he may or may not kick it up a notch just to make Castiel’s sectional that much closer to hell. He glances over at him every so often just to see if he’s getting under Castiel’s skin, but if he is, the guy doesn’t show it. Okay, maybe Dean’s also sneaking peeks at the way graceful way Castiel works his flag. The way he stops to help if any of the girls are struggling and the way he offers them encouraging smiles along the way.

God, he hates this guy so much.

Sectionals couldn’t end soon enough – or far too soon? Regardless, it’s back out into the sweltering afternoon heat to join the rest of the band on the practice field. Guard never shows up though, which is more than fine with Dean.

*****

The days start to blur together. After the first couple days, band camp is pretty routine.

Wake up at seven. Get him and Sammy to school by 7:45 because in band, early is on time and on time is late. Spend just about an hour in basics block. Spend the remaining time learning new drill. Guard joins them occasionally. Lunch at twelve. Sectionals at one. Then for the last two-ish hours, they review the drill learned in the morning with instruments, even if they don’t play. Guard always joins them.

Just as it’s guaranteed for Crowley to yell and push everyone to a near breaking point every day, the same goes for Dean and Castiel sassing each other. If Dean’s standing bored on his dot with his snare while Crowley’s focused on a different section of the field and his friends are too far away to goof off with, he’ll lazily twirl his sticks or toss them in the air. He completely blames the heat for when one fumbles out of his hand and with a groan, he has to either awkwardly crouch to pick it up or duck out of his harness, which he’s almost always too lazy to do. Somehow, Castiel is always nearby when it happens. The bastard is never shy to point out when Dean drops something. What’s even more annoying is that Dean’s never seen Cas drop his flag to return the sentiment.

The way Dean gets his jabs in is when Cas misses his dot and nearly collides with someone or screws up the form of the set. These include but aren’t limited to: “Hey, at least you’re only one yard line off of your dot. Hopefully you’ll get it by the end of the season”, or “I don’t know man, I think you forgot to point your toes that time”, plus countless others. They both get creative with their jabs.

No one seems to know what to make of their quips at each other, but they’re smart enough not to get in the middle of it. Michael, the head drum major, was the only one who stepped in to tell them to shut up when they started getting especially spirited with each other.

Dean thinks there’s no way he can hate Castiel any more than he already does until he’s proven wrong on day five.

It’s unbearably hot today, the weather supposedly spiking to mid-90s. The heat never stops Crowley from keeping them outside though. Given that the outside is practically an oven slowly baking them all to their deaths, some of the girls are marching in sports bras while guys are bare chested all together. Dean’s tempted to follow suit, but he’s not one to flaunt his body. Instead, he spends the next water break pouring one of his extra water bottles over his head, the cold drops rolling down his back before getting soaked up by his shirt. It’s actually better because the fabric clings to his body and it’ll take longer for the sun to suck away his chilled relief. It especially feels nice when he runs his fingers through his hair, the cool droplets finding their way to his scalp and cooling where the sun’s been beating down all day.

“Looks like you got an audience, Chief,” Benny murmurs to him. Dean furrows his eyebrows, following Benny’s subtle eye flicker until he reaches the source, which happen to be blue eyes that instantly dart away. Dean’s heart stutters because what the hell? Was Cas just staring at him?

Dean scoffs. “Please. Cas thinks he’s too good to even look my way.”

Benny raises an eyebrow. “Cas, huh?”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying not to blush. “Castiel, whatever. That’s not the point.”

Benny snickers under his breath and goes back to talking about their plans tonight to gather their friends and head to The Roadhouse, which is the bar run by Jo’s mother, Ellen. They’re obviously not allowed to drink, but nothing can beat Ellen’s burgers and milkshakes. Dean’s having a little trouble paying attention to the conversation though, which Charlie, Jo, Sam and Kevin have chimed in to. His focus keeps slipping away to peek over at Cas – Castiel.

Looks like some of the guard, mostly upperclassmen, brought out their rifles today. Like the rest of the band, they’re all lounging on the sideline, drinking water and chatting with each other. All except Castiel and Meg, a senior who Dean’s never been too fond of. Her favorite pastime seems to be getting under his skin and flirting with him just because she knows it annoys him. But he’s noticed her taking quite a liking to Cas.

They’re both standing, Meg doing lazy drop spins while Cas does some small tosses; singles and doubles. Meg is talking to Cas while he does it, sometimes resulting in a smile or a roll of his eyes. He keeps using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face in between tosses before he finally sheds the thing, which has Dean nearly choking on the breath he inhales. Thankfully, Jo’s too busy teasing Kevin about being in pit and not having to march while Charlie and Benny are butting heads on whose freshmen are better; the flutes or the trombones. And it seems Jess snuck over to occupy Sam’s attention. No one notices the way Dean has to cough a few times to regain his breath because holy shit, Cas’ body is fucking toned.

Dean’s seen how Cas’ muscles move and shift under his clothes when he stretches and practices his flag work, but there’s no way he could’ve imagined the sight in front of him now. And god, those loose shorts are laying all sorts of low on his hips and it has Dean already half hard in his ‘booty’ shorts, as Sam so kindly referred to them this morning.

To make matters worse, Meg pauses her drop spins to sidle up to him, leaning in close to whisper in Cas’ ear. Castiel looks confused at whatever she says, but a small spark ignites in his expression and he nods. Stepping back, Cas quickly stretches out his arms and rolls his shoulders, taking a few deep breaths.

And so begins the tosses.

He starts off with a single. Then a double. Followed by a triple. Meanwhile, Meg is calling out the numbers, attracting the attention of everyone else. She keeps counting, others starting to join in as Cas tosses a four, a five. Six. Fucking seven. And the fucker nails them all flawlessly! He catches with a strong grip, the strap of the rifle slapping all too appealing between his steady hand and the solid, taped up wood.

“Come on, Clarence. Show us the eight,” Meg crows, arms crossed over her chest with that typical smirk set on her lips. Dean may not be in guard, but he’s dated enough guard girls to know that being able to throw an eight is an impressive accomplishment. Castiel grins, and for a fleeting second, Dean thinks their eyes meet before Cas is bending his knees, pointing the nose of the rifle downwards before letting it sail into the air. It’s as if the whole band stops to hold its breath as they silently count the spins against the glaring sun. All too quickly, the weapon lands solid in Castiel’s waiting hands. Not even a fucking stumble.

Cheers and whistles break out from the group, Charlie being one of the louder ones which is irritating. So much for loyalty. Dean rips his gaze away, his skin getting hot with annoyance and okay, how can anyone not get hot and bothered by that? But the fact that he’s so turned on makes him hate Castiel Novak that much more.

“Fucking show off,” Dean mumbles under his breath before downing more of his water. Benny catches the comment and gives him a look but Dean ignores it. He’s never been so happy to hear Crowley’s grating voice yell for everyone to get set.

*****

The weekend goes by way too quick. The last two days of band camp are always the worst because now’s the point where it gets old standing out in the sun for nearly eight hours a day. Everyone is exhausted. Everyone is sunburned. Everyone is tired of listening to Crowley’s stupid voice demean and order them around.

Dean was able to push Cas’ little stunt from his mind over the weekend, but that all goes away when he sees him again on Monday. He finds himself getting more distracted when guard joins them on the practice field. Well, only by one guard member in particular. Dean only gets more pissed off when it causes him to miss his dot or, being the lead snare, fuck up the tempo because his eyes aren’t on any of the four drum majors. Gabriel teases him for the musical disaster, but Michael, Luke and Raphael are less than pleased. Not to mention Crowley and even Chuck is looking annoyed at his fuck ups. As a result, Dean catches himself taking out his anger by launching harsher jabs at Cas in their usual back and forth exchanges that even Cas starts to look pissed.

Tuesday, the last day, Dean spends fighting hard to stay focused and decides to ignore Cas all together. It works out well for him, actually. He has a good time with his friends, most of whom are seniors like him, and is able to call the last day a success. In fact, Dean’s really bummed about it being his last day of band camp. As much as he hates it sometimes, he loves it. He met his friends here. He made memories here.

To hold onto it just a little bit longer, he offers to cart the drum major’s podiums inside and help pit wheel in the percussion instruments. He promises his friends that he’ll catch up with them to celebrate their last day after he’s done and allows Sam to drive home with Jess and her mom. By the time Dean’s done putting away all the equipment and organizing the drums, nearly everyone is gone.

Dean takes a moment to smile at the empty band room, officially saying his goodbyes to band camp before heading out the door. He stops when he sees Cas a little ways down the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, body tensed and his tone doesn’t sound too happy.

“I’ve been waiting an hour. I need you to pick me up –No, Gabriel can’t he – So what am I supposed to do? Walk home?”

Dean hesitates, unable to help tuning into the conversation. Does Cas not have a ride? Where’s Gabriel? He’s the one that always drove them to and from band camp. He snaps out of his wonderings when Cas sighs loudly.

“You know what? Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ll figure it out myself.” With that, he hangs up and throws the phone onto his duffle bag, hand shaking as he runs it through his dark hair.

Fuck, this is Dean’s cue, isn’t it? Goddammit.

“Uh hey,” he begins, not wanting to startle him.

Cas doesn’t turn. “I’m not in the mood, Dean.”

Dean looks skyward. What cruel god is punishing him right now? Taking a small breath he looks back to Cas and approaches him slowly until he’s beside him, still keeping a fair amount of space between them.

“Do you, um, need a ride?”

Castiel finally looks at him, a scowl on his face. “Why? So you can hold this over my head? So you can tell everyone my father could care less if I’m stranded here? Just please, go away.”

Dean frowns. “Cas, I’m not-“

“I don’t want your help. Now just… just leave me alone.” Cas bends over, shoving his phone in the pocket of his duffle bag before slinging it over his shoulder, reaching down again for his rifle and flag. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Would you stop being a stubborn ass and let me drive you home?” Castiel hesitates although not without a glare, so Dean takes the opportunity to continue. “You’re exhausted and I bet that bag isn’t light by any means. The flag and rifle’s gonna get heavy real quick too. Not to mention your shoulders are burned and you’re probably dehydrated. So why don’t you put aside your pride for five seconds and accept the damn ride.”

Cas’ eyes soften for a moment, though he still doesn’t look happy, and gives a resigned nod.

“Fine.”

Dean nods back.

“Fine.”

When he reaches to for the flag to help carry some of the equipment, Cas brushes past him and towards the parking lot. Dean huffs but follows after, pointing out his car even though Cas already seemed like he knew which one it was. Well, it is kinda hard to miss Baby.

“Careful in shoving your crap in her. I better not find any dents or scratches,” Dean warns, to which Cas mutters something under his breath that he doesn’t catch.

Once they’re both in the Impala, Dean starts her up and pulls out of the school parking lot in the direction Cas said his neighborhood was. They sit in tense silence for several minutes before Dean can’t take it anymore.

“So where’s Gabriel?”

Cas keeps his eyes trained out the window. “He’s had a thing going on with Kali. She finally said yes to let him take her out for ice cream and he didn’t want me ‘cramping his style’.”

Dean can’t help but chuckle, oddly amused at hearing such a phrase come out of Cas’ mouth. The air quotes are more than apparent in his tone.

“I thought I saw Gabe trying to get with Kali. Didn’t know the guy would actually pull it off though. Kali has no tolerance for men. I would know.”

Castiel doesn’t respond and they’re plunged once again into tension and awkwardness. Dean’s about ready to throw himself out of the car if it didn’t mean Baby would get damaged in the process.

“Thank you.”

The two words take him off guard, Cas’ soft voice loud in the silence between them. Dean glances over, but Cas still isn’t looking at him.

“For what?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You know for what.”

Huh, guess that should’ve been obvious. “Oh. It’s no problem. You’re on the way home, actually.”

“Still. I know we don’t exactly get along well, so I appreciate you doing this.”

Dean snorts. “I’m not that much of a dick.”

Finally Cas looks over at him, eyes sparkling. “Would’ve had me fooled.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re not exactly a picnic either, Cas,” Dean fires back, but unlike the other times they’ve teased each other, it lacks any real heat. Castiel furrows his brows, eyes turning curious and Dean can tell there’s a question perched on those chapped lips, but it’s never asked.

“I apologize for the way we met. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about your intentions,” he says, looking down at his hands. “It’s just that I heard all about Dean Winchester from the girls and they were all so sure you’d try your flirtations on me. I shouldn’t have assumed anything before judging you myself.”

Dean blushes because, well, Cas isn’t wrong. He had every intention of going over there to flirt and he just got pissy for being called out and rejected. “No, it’s okay. To be honest, they were right.” He can see the way Cas’ gaze snaps back to him, but Dean keeps his eyes on the road. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, though. I’m not interested,” he adds quickly, a lump forming in his throat as the voice in his head screams at him for being a damn liar. But he’s not about to take a second rejection from Cas, especially now that it feels more personal between them.

“Oh.” Cas looks away, slumping a little against the seat. Probably out of relief. “That’s… good.”

Dean forces himself not to look over as he turns onto Cas’ street. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For the way I acted.”

“I forgive you,” Cas tells him quietly before pointing ahead. “It’s up there – the third house before the stop sign.”

Dean nods and pulls into the driveway, a question gnawing at his stomach. He’s not sure where he and Cas stand. Sure, they apologized, but this doesn’t exactly make them friends. Hell, they could show up at the next band rehearsal and act like this whole conversation never happened. Maybe even revert back to their old ways. Dean would hate for that to happen because whether he’s happy with it or not, he likes Cas. He’d much rather get to know the guy rather than fight with him.

When Dean parks the car, Cas thanks him one last time before moving to get out.

“Cas, wait.” Damn his traitorous mouth.

Castiel looks over his shoulder, tongue ghosting out to lick his lips before answering. “Yes?”

“I, um…” Fuck, why did he do this? “A group of us are heading to The Roadhouse tonight to celebrate the seniors’ last day of band camp. I know you’re still new to the band, but you’re a senior too. You’re welcome to join us. And if you need a ride…”

The question hangs in the air, and there are conflicting emotions flickering across Cas’ face that are sending Dean’s heart into a frantic tantrum. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

“I appreciate the offer, Dean, but I don’t want your pity.”

Dean feels like the air gets punched out of him. “This isn’t a pity invite, Cas. Not at all.”

Cas still looks unsure but smiles nonetheless. “Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline this time.”

Disappointment is bitter in Dean’s stomach. “Okay. You know where we’ll be if you change your mind.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Dean almost thinks Cas will say yes right then before he pushes the door open, getting out to grab his things from the back seat. When he passes by rolled down passenger window, Cas pauses to make eye contact with Dean.

“Goodbye, Dean. And thank you again for the ride.”

Dean nods, giving him a small wave. “See ya, Cas.”

With that, Castiel makes his way up the driveway and into his house. Dean waits until he’s inside before backing out and heading home.

God, he’s completely and utterly fucked. All because of Castiel Novak.