Chapter Text
This is all Sammy’s fucking fault.
Sammy had to go and join the spring musical which means that Dean has to kill two hours after school before rounding back to the middle school to pick up his brother from rehearsal. If it were last year, Dean probably would have spent the two hours just tooling around under Baby’s hood. But things changed, Dean has friends now -- mostly thanks to Cas. Inexplicable, amazing Cas who imprinted on Dean or something and wouldn’t leave him alone and where there is Cas, there is usually Meg and where there is Meg, there is often Jo. Which is weird because Jo and Dean were friends when they were kids and then kinda grew apart (likely because Dean started kissing girls who weren’t Jo and Jo apparently took those marriage vows they pledged on the dodgeball field back in second grade pretty seriously).
But anyway, Dean has friends. After school, he and Cas usually end up at Jo’s family’s diner and sit at a table in a corner splitting a plate of fries and drinking milkshakes until Jo and Meg wander in from field hockey practice, still in long shorts and wielding sticks. And when Dean shoves back from the table and announces that he has to go pick the kid up, they all rise with him and insist on coming. Which is ridiculous but he guesses that’s what having friends means. So they all trail out to Dean’s Impala and make for the middle school, Meg slurping loudly at her milkshake to go. It’s an incongruous pastel pink and when Dean made fun of her for that, she merely countered, “I have layers, Deano. Like an onion.”
So they’re parked in the lot at the back entrance to the school, where the theatre empties out to, waiting for Dean’s puppy of a baby brother when Meg whips out her phone and declares that they’re doing a TikTok challenge.
And, look, okay, Dean loves TikTok. He’s good at TikTok, but he’s a purist. TikTok is for videos of him working under Baby’s hood and absolutely crushing a lip synch to Eye of the Tiger. Dean is a purist. Not like Meg who explains that they’re playing some game where they all point at one another in turn while some stupid, synthy dance-house song plays in the background and whoever is pointed at when “the boom comes” has to call their crush and confess their feelings.
Because Meg is a demon and only uses TikTok for these stupid kinds of memes or to post videos of her doing her make-up. Jo mostly posted highlights from her field hockey games, or up-close shots of bloody noses she had gotten during field hockey games. Cas doesn’t have a TikTok, but if he did, Dean would imagine it would just be videos of, like, bees and flowers, with Led Zeppelin playing in the background.
Either way, Dean would much rather give himself a bloody nose and film it than do Meg’s bidding but when he suggested that, Cas had brokered him a stern look and then Meg had told him that he didn’t get a vote anyway because, quote “It’s your moose of a brother we’re waiting for, Deano.”
Meg sets her phone up on the dash to record and Jo plays the stupid, synthy dance-house music on her phone and they’re all pointing at each other in succession.
Dean looks to Cas, hoping he could still argue his point and end this but, like, Cas is smiling and his blue eyes are shining in the late April sun coming through Baby’s dash, and Dean is only so strong, okay?
Dean doesn’t know the song so he doesn’t necessarily know when “the boom” will come, he just points over his shoulder to Meg whenever Cas points across to him. It’s not long before Jo’s pointing comes a little faster, more frantic, her eyes going wide, so Dean assumes that the trigger must be coming up. In the rearview, he can see that Meg is still aloofly pointing to Jo, unconcerned, sipping from her milkshake. Then again, he wouldn’t be surprised if Meg landed as the victim and just cooly declared that she didn’t have a crush.
Dean cants his eyes to the right. Cas has a determined look on his face, something studious, like this stupid fucking meme is the most important thing in his life and deserves every ounce of his attention. Who would he call? Dean wonders. Cas is his best friend, but they don’t necessarily talk about things like that, like feelings or crushes or whatever. Maybe that senior, what’s-her-name, Nora. Or maybe even -- Dean glances back to the rearview, to Meg. Their friendship is weird, Meg and Cas. And yeah, okay, maybe Dean is jealous of it. Because Cas is Dean’s best friend but Dean isn’t always sure that Meg isn’t Cas’s best friend. They have these little huddles at lunch and inside jokes and for some reason Meg calls Cas Clarence and every time Dean asks for the story behind it Meg just rolls her eyes and says, deadpan, “You kinda had to be there, buster.”
He’s so caught up in all his thinking and brooding that he almost doesn’t realize when the boom does, in fact, come and Cas’s finger has only just pointed at him. The poor guy almost looks apologetic. Dean briefly covers his face and Jo and Meg crow happily at his misfortune.
“Saddle up, cowboy!” Jo shouts, bright brown eyes locked on Dean. Something in Dean’s heart lilts a little because once upon a time he might have been dialing Jo as his crush. He wonders for a split second if that’s not an option, but it feels cruel immediately.
“This is stupid,” Dean mutters brattily as Meg leans over to get her phone and fiddle with the controls. “I’m not gonna-- Like, who’s gonna make me? Besides I don’t even have a crush on anyone right now.”
Before any of the others can protest, there’s a rap against Dean’s window and he almost leaps out of his seat. Sammy is standing there, all lanky idiocy and floppy hair and Dean has never been so happy to see his brother. Saved by the Sasquatch. “And Sammy’s here, so we’re done. We can go home now.”
“No, we can’t,” Meg protests. She rolls down her window and leans out. “Give us a minute, Bullwinkle. We did a TikTok dare and Dean lost so he has to call his crush.”
“Oh, okay,”
“Sammy!” Dean shouts, eyes flashing. Sam’s a traitor. Dean is never going to forgive him. Sam doesn’t look concerned that he’s just incurred Dean’s eternal wrath, though. He’s grinning all wide and making pointed eyebrows at Cas and rocking back on his heels to wait.
Because, yeah. Yeah, if he’s being honest, Dean should be dialing Cas’s number. Fuck all if he’s going to do that, though.
Meg vaults back over the front bench and repositions her camera. “Waiting on you, stud,” she says to Dean and sucks noisily from her cup. There’s nothing but dregs left, so she’s only doing it to be a dick.
Heaving a sigh, Dean pulls his phone from his pocket. “Fine. Friggin’ fine.” Whatever. He’ll just call, like, Lisa, or Robin. Or fuck it, even Carmen. Carmen would be good -- she was definitely over him, had basically forgotten he existed. Calling Robin or Lisa and telling either of them that he liked them… Well, they might believe him and he didn’t want to do that. Like with Jo, it would be cruel. And it would mean pretending more and...
He’s scrolling absently up his contact list, back toward Carmen, and the knot in his stomach is pulling tighter and tighter and when he looks up through his lashes Cas is staring at him. And yeah, that’s nothing new and there’s this intensity to it and yeah, that’s nothing new either, really.
“You don’t actually have to, Dean,” he says, voice all low and quiet, like it’s just the two of them. Like it’s the other night, when Cas called Dean at 1 AM to babble about some meteor something or other and so Dean snuck out and picked him up and they drove out to this clearing on the other side of town and just sat on the hood of Baby, barely half a foot from each other, not saying anything. They had their chins tipped to the sky but Dean kept sneaking looks to Cas, watching the way his lashes fanned darker shadows against his cheeks in the night, the awed part to his mouth, the way the stupid fucking scarf that Jo knitted for him, yellow and black, was crooked and shifted in the slight breeze.
Dean clears his throat, says, “It’s fine,” and dials.
He has his screen tilted away from them all just enough so they can’t see the name on it. The call rings out twice and he tips his eyes to the camera on Meg’s phone briefly but then Castiel is shuffling in his seat, pulling his phone from his pocket and squinting at the screen.
“Dean,” he says, brow furrowed. “You’ve misdialed; you’re calling me.”
Dean doesn’t respond for a moment, eyes locked on his phone that’s declaring “CAS” in bold letters. “Didn’t misdial,” he says, voice wrecked and shaking.
He looks up and there’s Cas, looking back. He can faintly hear his phone still ringing beneath the buzzing in his ears. Cas looks from him, to his phone in his hand, and then back again.
“Dean?” he asks and Dean has never heard his voice like that. Breathy and hitching and turned up at the end.
He vaguely registers Meg’s eyes ticking up in interest, Jo gripping the back of Castiel’s seat so hard Baby’s leather creaks against her fingernails, Sam practically pressing his nose to the window.
“Not kidding,” Dean says around a swallow. He barely has time to get the words out before Cas is leaping for him, across the bench, putting his hands at Dean’s cheeks and kissing him. He can hear Jo shouting behind him, Meg laughing, and then he doesn’t hear anything because holy fuck.
Cas is kissing him.
Cas likes him back.
Dean’s dumb, useless one-sided crush is...not one-sided. He laughs against Cas’s lips and curls his arms over his shoulders and pulls him further into the kiss. He’s not sure how long they’re caught up like that, lips pressed together, foreheads pressed together, chests pressed together. Long enough for Jo to start swatting at Cas’s head and Meg to clear her throat pointedly.
“Gigantor looks like he’s about to explode,” she says dully before opening the door and scooting closer to Jo so Sam can slide into the backseat.
“So,” Sam says and he’s brimming with eager delight. “Who did Dean end up calling?”
“Shaddup,” Dean replies and leans in to kiss Cas again. He only gets a second into it though before he pulls back and turns to Meg, pointing at her strictly. “You’re not posting that.”
Meg grins and wiggles her phone and says, “Too late,” because she’s a demon.
“I’ll make her take it down,” Cas says on an exhale, their noses still bumping. Dean lifts his chin a little, let’s their noses drag together and he has made fun of couples for doing this exact thing. Just that winter he had mimed vomiting when he saw a couple doing this at the park, when they had all gone ice-skating. But Cas is so close that Dean can count his eyelashes and if that means they’re friggin’ doing butterfly kisses so be it.
“Whatever,” Dean replies and he leans in for another kiss until the backseat heckles him about having homework and dinner plans and can’t they make-out on their own time.
So okay, maybe TikTok challenges weren’t so stupid and maybe it wasn’t all Sammy’s fault after all.