Road Trip | destiel a.u.

3

On Saturday, I sat on my bed with my laptop on my lap. I was aware of the time and didn't expect Dean to be on time, so I wasn't exactly presentable. I willed myself to get up at 2:50 and change before he showed up.

I pulled on my black pants and a blue argyle vest over a white, long-sleeved button-up shirt. At 3:05, the doorbell rang and I panicked, tugging on a pair of black socks before running to the door as fast as I could. He was twenty five minutes earlier than I thought he might be.

However, my pace slowed when I saw Zeke standing in front of the door, talking to Dean. I walked over slowly, listening to what they both said.

"Are you Cassie's friend?" Zeke asked.

"I wouldn't exactly say we're friends," Dean's voice answered.

"Does he love you? I told him a few days ago that I'd still love him if he loved a boy."

I resumed my hurry to the door.

"Hey Dean," I greeted before he could answer the question, opening it more than the slim crack Zeke needed to fit through, and pushed him out of the way. "I see you've met my youngest brother."

"Yeah," Dean's previously visible smile faded.

"Well, come in," I held the door open wider and stepped aside, watching him as he walked inside. "And excuse the mess, we're still unpacking."

I led him through my house and he looked around curiously as we headed towards my room.

"Your house is really big," he commented when we passed the kitchen.

"It kinda has to be," I explained with a chuckle. "There are a lot of people living here."

"You have a lot of siblings?"

"Six brothers," I confirmed. "I'm the lucky middle child."

"Wow," Dean raised his eyebrows.

We entered my room and he sat on my bed, taking in the view of the lack of decoration and individuality.

"Do you have any dogs?" He asked, seeming nervous.

"No," I shook my head. "Not since Gadreel was born."

"Okay," Dean let out a deep breath.

"Not a dog person?" I smirked, turning away so he wouldn't see.

"I don't hate them, I just... I'm not good with animals," he admitted, looking down at his hands. "So, uh... The project?"

"Right," I sat at my desk and pulled out the rubric. "I was thinking we could do the report option."

"No," he said simply, standing to walk over and take the paper from my hand. He scanned over it before handing it back. "The power point."

"Hell no," I shook my head. "That means presenting and I hate public speaking more than anything."

"I can get you out of it," Dean shrugged.

"If you get only me out of it, that puts both of our grades in your hands and I don't know if I want to do that considering..."

"You don't trust me?" He looked amused.

"No, I just-"

"I'm kidding. But what other options are there?"

"The report," I reminded him. "The only one we won't have to present."

"Five pages about cell organelles?" Dean raised one eyebrow at me. "I don't think that would go down too well between two people."