hey jude // destiel

3

*Deans POV*

I woke up, a bright light radiating through my window. I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "Rise and shine!" Sam said, holding a tray of pancakes, and a slice of pie. I looked up at him and smiled, rubbing my eyes. "You are officially my favorite brother." I said, taking the tray and eating the slice of pie. He nodded and handed me a bottle of beer.

"So, school. How has that been?" Sam asked, smiling. I stopped eating and looked at him. "What do you want?" I sighed, setting the fork down. "Nothing, Dean. Can I not just appreciate my brother without being questioned?" "No, you can't. Now throw this crap away, you probably put like laxatives in it or something."

"Not the pancakes." Sam said, smirking. I looked at him, and he took off into a sprint. "SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled, running to the bathroom.

*Castiel's POV*

I sat down in class, and doodled on a piece of scratch paper. Eventually, everyone was in their seats and the bell rung. Well, everyone except Dean. I wondered about his whereabouts, but quickly discarded the thoughts when he walked in.

"Ask Sam." He said to the teacher, who simply nodded and jotted something down on a notepad. I stared at the board, thinking about The Beatles. And Hey Jude. I almost started humming, but remembered that we were in class.

As time passed, I became more and more distracted from whatever the teacher was teaching, and more focused on Dean. The little things he does, like resting the eraser of his pencil on his bottom lip, or rubbing his nose when someone asks him a question, are what amaze me.

It amazes me how such small things can make a person so irresistible. Or maybe it isn't the small things, maybe it's the big things. But the small things are like bonus features on a movie. They're nice, but nothing could live up to the whole movie.

I slipped off my hoodie, and tied it to my backpack. This caused the teacher to look in my direction. "Okay, Castiel? How about you? Do you have any big plans for your future?" I shrugged, glancing over at Dean, who was looking down at his desk.

"I want to make a difference. I'm okay with the thought of death, as long as I can be remembered when I'm gone. So, no, I guess I don't have any big plans, unless death counts." I shrugged again, slouching.

"Well, you usually don't plan death. It just happens. So, you might wanna start becoming a legacy pretty soon." Dean interjected. This caught me by surprise.

"Not if it's suicide." I said, smirking. "And if there's anything here that most people don't plan, it's becoming a legacy." "Alright, boys. Great conversation topic!" I stopped listening again, and started doodling again.

The bell rang, and everyone stood up and rushed out. Including me. I walked to my locker, and opened it. There was a folded up piece of notebook paper inside, with writing on it. "You don't plan suicide, suicide plans itself. Like right here, right now, do you want to kill yourself? 118."

I furrow my eyebrows. "118?" I whisper to myself. "Oh. Locker number." I mumble. I write my response on the other side of the paper.

"Yeah. It's a pretty normal occurrence for me. I find ways to kill myself in class when I'm bored. Staplers? Scissors? Tape? You'd be surprised at how many kinds of violent suicides those three can cause."

I read over it and put it in my pocket, then turned and ran face first into someone's shoulder. I backed up and looked up at them. "Sorry about that." I apologized. "Uh, no problem... Castiel." He said, scratching his neck. I did a double take, and realized that I ran into Dean.

"Oh, hey. Dean. Here's the note." I said, handing it to him. "How did you know that I wrote it?" He asked, unfolding it. "Lucky guess?"

He unfolded the paper, and read over it. Then he looked down at me. "Why?" He asked, genuine concern in his eyes. "Do reasons really matter?" I smirked, walking past him and towards class.