Hell For You

Pretty Old Friends

Dean Friggn' Winchester (Castiel's POV)

I woke up this morning, for the first time in a while, to my alarm clock. I think I actually forgot how to use the damn thing because the monotonous harsh beep continued for several minutes. I just sighed and left, knowing my neat-freak sister would come across the machine eventually.

Walking to my dresser, I wonder what to wear, technically, I have a lip ring and several tattoos and my hair has blue tips but I don't really know what to wear. I honestly could actually care less, but today was the day of first impressions.

I slipped on a button down white shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans and sand collared converse. I guess I could fix the outfit, but glancing at the clock changed my mind. I jogged to the bathroom, sighed, and was about to comb my untidy locks when Anna screamed;

"Cas! Get your ass down here I'm going to be late! Remember you dick, your driving!" I rolled my eyes as I raced down stairs, grabbed my old long trench coat, my car keys, and a muffin. Slipping into my quote unquote "Pimp car" I watched as Anna took another 5 minutes (5 precious minutes I would have gladly used) and slide into the passenger seat.

I don't talk, like normal, and also in complete normality, Anna goes on a long ramble. I honestly don't listen. I don't know why he insists talking. So I sit in constant noise, it's so constant it's silent, and I enjoy silence. I enjoy silence so much that by the time I parked in the schools parking lot, and opened the car door, the flood of noise instantly wrecked my mood.

Anna ran off, excited to discover the new halls and rooms. I, however, was on my last year here. I think this is the least excited I've been for a school year. I am excited yes, but excited to go to college and start my own life.

On that happy note I walked to the schedule- pickup table for seniors at the front entrance. I ignored everyone, and pushed myself to the front of the line. Demanding my schedule, picking it and seeing the following:

1 Creative Writing
2 Personal Finance
3 Photography 4
4 German 2
(Lunch)
5 Studio Art
6 Advanced Drama 3

I almost ran to Creative Writing from there seating my ass right in the back of the class. One other person sits in the room. I think he's a he, not sure though. Their hair is light blonde and they're  wearing a strangely familiar leather jacket.

Looking at them gives me a strange sense of de jà vū , so I decided to do something I never really expected to do, I sat next to, as it turns out, this boy. He instantly looked up, and the first thing I saw were the greenest eyes.

Green as an anole in grass surrounded by spring green crayola crayons. And then pink lips and holy hell am I gay.

Which isn't a surprise, but before this, I had a fling with a boy named Uriel, and when I first met him I thought I was straight, but several months later I can tell you that I'm certainly not, but every now and then the intensity of this forces me too remember fully and completely how utterly not-straight I am.

Anyways, the second thought I had after that general examination of his beautiful face was that I really really REALLY need to get his number then fuck him senseless. Like, honestly, I'm getting turned on just staring at this face. Then, I realize who this face belongs too.

Who this person I've decided is the most attractive human alive is, and it makes me blush, and blush hard. I blush because of these thoughts I've just had, well not because of THEM, but because of who they were about and I blush because I can't breathe because of who this is and what this means.

I blush because my face is inches from Dean Frigging Winchester's.

Holy Hell, Castiel (Dean POV)

  I got to creative writing early, I got there early because I didn't want to be there. I took easy classes so I could focus on Football. I took easy classes because there was no fucking way I was getting to college on an academic scholarship, and there was no way in hell I was getting into college without a scholarship.

And I needed to go to college. Sam, and sometimes my friends ask me why I stare into space, why I sometimes go off on random, invisible tangents. Here, and now, this is the most common one. Worrying about my future, and the fact that I needed to get a good job so I wouldn't have to always rely on whatever Bobby could do. I mean, don't get me wrong, Bobby is great, but he's never here. Always "hunting", like my father, but at least he never forces us to come with him, because my father, fuck, well that's a story.

At this exact moment a strange emo boy sits down in front of me. Way to close for comfort, I looked up, ready to yell at him to get his fucking face out of mine when blue. Just blinding blue. His eyes were so blue it was like drowning in the Caribbean.

And I knew that blue. I used to love, well, wait, I used to love them as a friend. These eyes belonged to Castiel Novak. And all I could do was whisper under my breath;

"Holy hell, Castiel."

He sat up, stunned, because, I'm assuming, he had recognized me. And he was blushing.

And then he spoke.

"Dean. Hello." Just two words and he looks so different and his voice is so deep and God help me, hot.

He's hot and cute and I'm completely straight. Never mind that flimsy fact, but he's probably straight. 100% totally a girl fucker, as am I. 100%.

I still haven't responded, and he tilts his head, the gesture I remember, I find it just as adorable, in the friend way, and I actually notice his lip ring. He has a fucking lip ring and oh! I can see a tattoo snaking its way up his neck, it looks like a dragon or an angel or something snake like with wings.

I am so deep into my thoughts I barely realize I haven't said anything. But my eyes travel to his hair. It's as messed as ever. Just like it always was when we were kids, and that brings memories.

Us, playing together in the front lawn and me not talking to anyone as Bobby brought us too our old house in Lawrence. Me not talking because I couldn't talk, and Cas saying goodbye to me without my participation.

"Ok then." Cas shrugged and started to get up, not obviously hurt, but I could guess he was probably hurt. Maybe.

This new Cas is about as transparent as a piece of marble. I watched him walk a couple of paces before I leapt  up and grabbed his arm.

He turned around, and I think his eyes were a bit wet, and our noses were almost touching. I couldn't help it I blushed. He kept his cool, and I quickly whispered,

"Can you come over today?"