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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 6 years

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FROM DARE, TO LOVE (A Destiel Fanfiction)

CHAPTER TEN: “Together, we could’ve kicked his ass six ways to Sunday!”

“Hey, Anna, stop being mean,” Benny immediately retorted. He turned a slightly-taken-aback Castiel towards himself. “Listen, man, Anna is not always that bad. But,” he lowered his voice. “She’s always hostile to Dean’s gi- boyfriends. Dean kinda slept with her last year after a party, but it meant more to her than to him.” Castiel scrunched his nose into a deeper frown. “He did..what?”

“He was drunk.” Benny shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Castiel turned back to Anna, who was still regarding him skeptically as if she disapproved of him, even while conversing with a black-haired guy to her right, whom Castiel didn’t recognise.

It was at this moment, that Dean returned, carrying a tray. He landed it in front of Castiel. “Food, for the gentleman!” He announced, lifting an invisible cover from over his plate in a dramatic flourish. He flashed Castiel an easy, casual grin, as he sat down next to him, their legs brushing against each other. Castiel felt something go through him, but sat tight, smiling at Jo who was in front of them. And begun eating in silence.

“Anyways,” Bela broke the silence, but standing up and picking up her tray, like it were her purse and she were in a five-star restaurant. “I’ve got to go-”

“Yeah.” Dean snorted. “Go makeout with Nick so that he does your homework for you. We all know you, Bela.”

“He didn’t.” Bela gestured at Castiel, with a smile surprisingly good-natured for having been called a slut indirectly. “And you needn’t sound so jealous, Dean. I gave you your chance to tap it, you backed out of it. So, I’ll see you guys later.”

Castiel turned back to Dean, and was about to say something about the burger, when he felt fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, almost provocatively. He looked up surprisingly, to see no one, and notice Bela walk away, swinging her hips. Confused at this inappropriate gesture, he turned back to his plate.

“That’s normal.” Dean whispered, leaning towards him. Castiel turned to him, surprised. He smiled a little. “You’re hot stuff, and she’s a whore. It’s pretty anticipated behavior from her.”

“She’s your friend.” Castiel reminded Dean, with a disapproving look.

“Not really.” Dean grinned cheekily. “She’s just a really handy person to keep close.”

Castiel frowned deeper, and returned to his burger.

“Oh, come on.” Dean cooed, leaning in closer. “Don’t get mad at me for-”

“Why do you hangout with her if you don’t like her?” Castiel muttered back.

“Look at you, trying to change my lifestyle on the very first day.” Dean winked. “A man after my own heart!” He stage-whispered, dramatically. Then, frowned. “Did I use that correctly?”

Castiel shook his head.

Dean appeared to be giving it thought, but then shrugged it off. “Whatever. I just mean, I hangout with a lot of people whom I don’t like. It doesn’t matter.”

“Just because they’re popular?” Castiel bit his lip.

“No,” Dean begun to reason.

“Oh,” Castiel allowed himself to smile at Dean a little bit. “I get it. They all must be ‘handy persons to keep close’.” Dean grinned at him broadly.

“You already know me so wel-”

“Would you look at these two!?” Jo almost yelled out, snapping Dean and Castiel out of their little conversation. “We’ve been discussing them since the last five minutes, but they can’t seem to have enough of each other in the 36 hours everyday they spend together!” She grinned cheekily.

“What were you discussing about us?” Dean asked, with a bright grin, ignoring the latter part.

“Oh, nothing really,” Benny grinned. “Just the sex.”

“Aw, without me, you guys!” Dean laughed out loud, as Castiel reddened embarrassedly. “C'mon, I’ll solve your doubts. And give you the juicy details.”

“Dea-” Castiel begun, but was cut off by Sam, who landed next to Castiel, on the seat which Bela had left, from the far end of the table.

“Let them gross perverts be,” Sam grinned, as if it were very usual to discuss Dean’s sex life - which in this case, was not applicable, they had not had sex; all they’d had was an 'almost’ kiss - on the lunch table. “You remember the L.O.T.R. head cannon I was telling you about…”

And the next few minutes passed pleasantly enough; talking to Sam, with various inputs from Dean’s friends, and and several knee-brushes from Dean, as he had his own conversation on the other side of the table. For a few moments, it was not as if he was sitting amongst the people on the highest rung of the social ladder; but among friends.

But just when Castiel begun to feel as if it all might not be as scary and bad as Castiel suspected, everything he had feared happened.

Sam stood up, with a glance at the clock, and excused himself; proceeding to walk away amidst hoots. Dean explained that Sam was leaving early, and did so everyday almost, to attend the practise of the Dance Club. To watch Jess, Dean added with a smirk. Castiel remembered Gabriel played the Casio for their practise - he’d told Castiel so sometime - and spent a moment wondering what Gabriel would say to him being at Dean’s table. It would not please him, he was sure.

And that’s when, Crowley came and sat down next to Castiel. “Hi, Novak!” Crowley sneered.

Castiel turned, and tried to swallow his instant nervousness. “Hello, Crowley.” He murmured, not good at all with confrontations of any kind.

“I see you here today,” Crowley continued in a low voice. “And I wonder if it’s because being with Winchester gave you the feeling that you deserve to be here.” He almost growled out. “Just reminding you, Novak, you’ll be out of here in no time, and Dean will have moved on to someone new. And you’ll be left in the sea of nobodies where weird-ass nerds like you belong.”

Castiel listened, and didn’t know how to react. It was all true, what use speaking against it? But he knew one thing, he didn’t want Dean coming to know about this. “Okay, alright.” He replied, weakly, wondering why he never knew the correct comebacks, like some people - Dean Winchester - did.

“I’m actually surprised Dean even stuck with you for this long.” Crowley shrugged. “I mean, with you being all…Novak-y and weird, how does he even put up with you?” Crowley scoffed out.

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped back, in a sudden burst of anger. Fortunately, Dean didn’t hear him over the noise from the other side. He lowered his voice. “Crowley, look, don’t do this right now-”

“Why? You don’t want to look like a pathetic pussy in front of your boyfriend?” Crowley smirked, cruelly. “Well, you can’t help if you are one, Novak.” Castiel decided the best way was to ignore him, and he turned to his food. “You chicken out, already?” Crowley mocked. “I mean, if it was after a few blows, it was still acceptable from any normal guy, you know…”

And Castiel took it. Without reacting, knowing Crowley wouldn’t be able to implement any of what he said then and there. Too many people. People like him, cornered people like him in corners, and alone.

And thus followed about the ten worst minutes of Castiel’s life. Crowley murmuring shit in Castiel’s ear, about him being weird, not good enough for Dean, and just another playmate, and Ketch - who, not to be left behind - had taken the seat opposite Dean’s, vacated by Jo, and was engaging Dean in conversation about football stuff, Castiel was clueless of. Then he shifted conversation to Dean’s conquests, as if to particularly barb Castiel - which it did, but he would never admit - and finally to Junior Prom, and to whom he’d take with: Lisa, Anna, or Jo. Castiel felt inexpressibly weirdly about these, almost as bad he’d feel about Crowley talking crap about his family - He didn’t know jack about Castiel’s family or background.

And then, suddenly, he felt a hard hit at his shin. His eyes widened, as a gasp left his mouth, and he turned to find Crowley smiling innocently. He had no idea why the black-haired british-accented guy who walked around wearing black like he was in mourning had any problems with Castiel; just that he did, and he went out of his way to make Castiel’s life hell.

Just when he had begun to feel as if being on the popular table might not be so bad after all.

Castiel worried on how Dean would react if he somehow came to know of what his 'friends’ were treating Castiel like - and not about himself, he was used to it - when he came to find out exactly the answer to that.

Ketch’s kick missed it’s mark, and hit Dean instead. And then, as Castiel watched, all hell broke loose.

Dean glared at Ketch, somehow knowing exactly who the kick had been directed from. “What’s your problem?”

“I didn’t mean to-” Ketch begun falteringly, his eyes betraying, as they flickered to Castiel. Dean somehow deciphered exactly what he meant by that, and his eyes darkened more.

“Castiel?” He hissed at Ketch. “You were kicking Castiel? Because that sure as hell wasn’t a footsie!” He almost growled, his voice dangerously low-pitched, and Castiel slammed his hand to his forehead. He’d really wanted for this to not be out. He didn’t want any drama. “Dean..” He begun, his voice trailing off, as Dean glared at Ketch murderously.

He pursed his lips together, as Ketch hesitated. “Look, Dean…”

“God help you,” Dean cursed under his breath, his rage building up suddenly, and - to Castiel - surprisingly. He’d not expected such a violent reaction. “If you were aiming it at Castiel, you jackass!”

Ketch gave up his defensive stance, and crossed his arms across his chest. “Well, so what if I was!?” He yelled back.

Dean stood up, his chair falling back; it’s back hitting the ground. “You-”

“So what, Dean?” Crowley rejoined, cutting Dean off at a moment when he should not have been cut off. “So what? It’s Castiel Novak! The weird-ass nerd! How does it even matter if we kick him, or hit him, or beat the shit out of him!?”

Dean positively glowered now. “You, son of a bitch!” his voice rose with every syllable. “It matters, because it does! How fucking dare you?”

Crowley appeared a bit taken aback. But he recovered quickly. “Dean, are you actually gonna yell at me for him!?”

“Yes!” Dean shouted back. “To you, and to all the other bastards who do any sort of crap to hi-” he stopped mid-sentence, and turned to Castiel, who was silently observing the bricks tumble off a haphazardly made wall which was Dean’s friendship with these guys, and not thinking about it - a skill he’d mastered by staying with Dean. “Did they do anything, Castiel!?”

Castiel stared at Dean, almost helplessly. He didn’t wanna complain in front of everyone that Crowley had been harassing him. He didn’t wanna lie either.

But Crowley butt in. “Yeah, Castiel!” Crowley sneered. “Whine to Dean like losers do, and he’ll solve all your-”

“Crowley, I fucking swear to-” Dean pursed his lips, trying to compose himself, and not curse further. “Apologise to Castiel, you son of a bitch.” He spoke, in a much more quiet tone a moment later.

Crowley almost laughed out. “Are you kidding me?” He tossed his head. “What is this, kindergarten?! I’m not apologising to anyone!”

“Well, then, I’m gonna kick your fucking a-” Dean threatened, pausing mid-sentence to carry out his treat, and stepping out of where he was standing; walking towards Crowley daringly, and pulling him up to his height, by his collar. His eyes were so dark, that they could’ve been black. Castiel was witnessing proper Dean-Winchester-fury for the first time, and for him? Dean would get that furious for his sake? Why?

“You’d fight me!?” Crowley choked out. “For him?” Castiel agreed. For him? “What’s he even doing here, Dean!? On our table!?”

“Eating, amongst assholes like you.” Dean snapped, still holding Crowley by his collar.

By this time, Benny, Gordon, and Ketch were on their feet too. So were a few girls, and a lot of people in the entire Lunch hall. Benny was close to Dean, as if to be a restraining influence if at all, Dean flew at Crowley. Castiel, thoughtlessly, sat, and saw things happen like a fool; incapable of movement, somehow.

“Assholes like me?” Crowley repeated, with a sneer. “And what’s he? An angel with his holier-than-thou attitude?”

Dean made a sound that deeply resembled, “Fuck you.”

“I’ll see to that for myself,” Crowley called out, his smirk still in place. “Why don’t you worry about yourself and that weird-ass fagg-” In a millisecond, Crowley was on the ground. Dean’s fist had made contact with his face - nose, Castiel assumed - and bleeding from his nose and the corner of his lip, he scrambled back to his feet, his eyes just as angry as Dean, if not as dangerous. Dean looked fearful, his chest heaving with intense breathing, his gaze fixed on Crowley.

Crowley, not stood up, came towards Dean in anger, and Dean held him off, without much efforts, with a hand on his collar once again, and the other pinning his right arm to his back. His jaw was clenched, and eyes almost challenging. He raised his hand to aim a punch again, but a strong pair of hands held him back, while Ketch got engaged in disentangling Crowley from Dean.

“Sit down, Crowley!” Benny ushered, stepping in, just when he guessed his best friend would lose control completely. “Just, sit your fucking ass down, alright?”

Crowley muttered a curse of his own, before sitting down. Benny was back to Dean’s side in a second.

“Dean listen, brother, sit down, alright? You don’t wanna fight Crowley,” he spoke gently, knowing exactly what to say. “He’s Crowley. He’s a dick! You know that! So don’t fight in the school campus!” Benny’s words seemed to have a negligible effect on Dean, but an effect nonetheless. “You’ll get suspended, man! I’ll personally help you kick his ass outside. I will, he asked for it.” He promised. That seemed to have some effect, and Dean’s breathing became more levelled, his chest heaving lesser.

“Sit down,” Benny repeated, and Dean, picked up his chair pushed away in disregard with a hand, and sat down one of his hands aggressively grasping Castiel’s. Not the time for this, Castiel thought to himself, as he felt a wave of electricity go past him. “Good. Now, calm down.”

“Look, Crowley,” Dean spoke up, after a long minute of awkward silence. “You say jackshit about Castiel, and I’m gonna rip you apart.” He declared. Then paused for another moment. “He’s with me! You’ll be good to him, or I will personally hunt you down, and-”

“Yeah, one time’s enough for me to understand.” Crowley scoffed, surprisingly calmed-down for having been on the floor a few minutes ago. “Alright, Dean, I won’t do a thing to your boyfriend. I’ll ignore him altogether,” he offered, and added in a low voice. “Like he is supposed to be.”

Dean ignored it. He faced Ketch headfirst now. “You too-”

“Yeah, alright.” Ketch backed down instantly. No one wanted Dean Winchester as their enemy, not even Ketch and Crowley. He was dangerous. Castiel observed this, in dumb silence.

Dean looked around the table. “I’ve got a good mind to leave this table with Castiel and sit on a different one altogether.” He frowned bitterly. “But that would mean you jackasses winning. So Castiel, my boyfriend, will sit right here with me, and if anyone has a problem with it, you will come to me first. Or walk away.”

“Dean,” Castiel spoke, after almost an eternity, when all were in silence. “That was,” he searched his brain for a word. “Unnecessary.” Wrong word, he knew instantly.

“Shut up, idiot.” Dean’s frown wore away a bit. “It was of utmost importance that I drill that into these Stultus’s minds.”

Castiel smiled a bit at their inside joke. “You were prepared for a fight. That’s bad. Crowley is your-”

“Don’t say 'friend’, Castiel,” Dean smiled, bitterly. “Your definition of 'friend’ is not the same as mine.”

“Your definition of 'friend’ is wrong.” Castiel smiled gently, the commotion from a few minutes died away in almost a terrific anticlimax.

“Gee, how open-minded of you,” Dean shrugged sarcastically. By this time, Castiel had noticed, at a single glance, that very few people remained on their table. Crowley and Ketch had disappeared; Benny was engaged in conversation with Andrea, and only a few more people were scattered around.

“It’s the truth, Dean.” Castiel repeated. “And, I didn’t need you to defend me.”

“Yeah, you would’ve done perfectly well in listening to all of his crap and not saying anything in return,” Dean countered. “Why do that, Castiel? You don’t look intimidated by him!” Castiel shook his head. “Then, why not, 'fight for your honour’?” Dean drew air-quotes.

“Fight for my honour?” Castiel repeated.

“In a medieval-times-speak, yes!”

“Well, I guess I’m so used to it by now, that I don’t even care.”

“That’s all wrong.” Dean waved his hand in the air, to dismiss his point. “You ought to. And because you didn’t, I did. Not because you couldn’t, but because they were my friends.”

“Not-”

“Fine.” Dean corrected himself. “Not friends.” A moment passed. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel smiled instinctively, but his eyes were forlorn. “I just, kind of sat there like a spineless guy, you know.” He admitted, wondering how he was speaking so openly. How unlike him. “With you 'defending my honour’ and everything, and me sitting there gaping at everything. Like some kind of a wimp.”

“You’re not a wimp! You could’ve joined in.” Dean grinned cheerily. “I could’ve kicked his ass alone, but together,” the look on Dean’s face was almost excited. “Together, we could’ve kicked his ass six ways to Sunday.”

“Yeah.” Castiel nodded, picturing it for a moment, but being pulled out of his reverie before he could form an image in his head.

“By the way,” Dean suddenly beamed, and Castiel was almost surprised at how instantly his anger wore off. He liked to think he’d had something to do with it. “Castie-” he paused in the middle of his name. “Castiel,” he repeated, more slowly.

“Are you revising?” Castiel smiled.

“No.” Dean grinned again. “Wait a second.” He pursed his lips, then pronounced out, “Cherry-pie” slowly. Then repeated it. Then grinned directly at Castiel again. “You know what?”

“I have no idea.” Castiel replied, his eyes squinting, interestedly.

Dean smiled childishly. “Your name is too long! I mean, I never noticed, but it’s so long! We need a new name for you! A shortened version of your name, if you’d like.”

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