SPN one-shots

Black Coats and Glasses

A/N OKAY I KNOW I DO A LOT OF PUNK!CAS, BUT I LOVE IT SO YE. DEAL.

Castiel was a six-foot-two entity of snarl, attitude, violence, and snark. With blue eyes that Dean could drown in, and undercut black hair that was always a mess, he was known for his black leather trench coat and his attitude. His hands were covered in rings, eight of them, and several chains hung around his neck. His arms were covered in sprawling designs of clockwork, bones, and roses, which spread from one arm, over his collar and shoulders, to his other arm. And a pair of wings was tattooed on his muscled back. Dean knew all of this from having the locker next to Castiel in PE. The punk had no problem with changing in front of people. And fuck he was gorgeous.

Yes, Dean was gay. Probably as gay as they came. Closeted of course, god forbid anyone found out. The guy wasn't popular in the first place, he was little, with a wiry frame and an introverted personality. But if anyone found out he was gay, he couldn't imagine how bad that would be. Not to mention the fact that they lived in a fairly rough neighborhood. He and Cas at least. They rode the same bus and got off at the same road, even if they went different ways.

Dean didn't know what it was that day. It was raining and a long walk home as he got off the bus behind Castiel as usual. Watching the tails of Castiels black leather trench. He was dreading it. But the worst part was the fact that he heard someone, three someones, get off the bus behind them. The hood of his hoodie was pulled up against the rain as he shouldered his bag and kept his head down. Maybe they were Castiels friends? No, he didn't look back for anyone, his black hair was already soaked from the downpour. Which was rolling off of the leather trenchcoat as well. Dean just tried to ignore the other people before someone grabbed him by the bony shoulders and spun him around. Hauling him up by the collar of his hoodie. He was staring straight into the face of Alistair, Crowley and Azazel flanked him, all three wearing matching smirks and letterman jacket. Dean swallowed thickly as Alistair leered at him.

"Hello Dean, how are you?" The blonds tormenter sneered as he hefted Dean easily. The nerd ended up wrapping his hands around Alistairs wrist, lifting himself a bit so he didn't get choked.

"Why are you here Alistair?" Dean asked hoarsely as he kicked his feet a little, he couldn't reach the ground....

"Why, to walk my favorite boy home of course." Alistair smirked as he shook Dean a little.

"How about we go see your little brother too hm?" Azazel cut in as he watched over the ringleaders shoulder. Suddenly a ring-covered hand rested on Alistairs shoulder and a gruff voice cut in.

"Why don't you fight me for him Al, I'm sure you three wouldn't have any trouble witha little skirmish, I win you fuck off, you win and I'll let whatever this is, just happen." It was Castiel, his coat fluttering impressively in the stiff breeze, water dripping from his wet hair and down his jawline from the rain. Holy fuck. Alistair smirked and dropped Dean as the nerd watched in shock.

"Alright, if you can take all three of us then he's yours." Alistair smirked. Castiel nodded a bit, slipping his book bag off of his shoulder and holding it out to Dean.

"Can you hold this for a moment?" The punk asked, his eyes not leaving Alistair. Dean took the heavy bag, shifting his arms around it as he watched Cas crack his neck and eye all three jocks.

"Well?" The punk smirked as he rolled his broad shoulders. Alistair grit his teeth before lunging at Castiel, who sidestepped, bringing his knee up and his elbow down between Alistairs shoulders, sending the jock flying over his knee. Alistair face planted into the mud as the other jocks lunged at him. Within minutes, all of the jocks were covered in mud and lying on the ground. Castiel brushed his hands off, walking over to Dean and taking his stuff back.