It was the first day of school again. Dean sighed, pulling on his clothes, wondering how the kids were going to be this year. He was going to miss last year's class, obviously, but perhaps the classroom would be a little bit more peaceful without Danny. Who was he kidding? There would always be a kid like Danny. Dean walked out into the warm summer air. He furrowed his eyebrows a little, glancing around. Summer air. The fact that they left school in the summer, and came back that same summer didn't settle right with Dean. He slid into the driver's seat of the Impala.
He pulled up to the front of the school, looking into the playground area that the kids would wait in on the first day of school. Dean did a double take as he saw a shorter man in a tan trench coat and a nice suit. Dean didn't recognize him, and he was way overdressed for an elementary school. For God's sake, he was wearing a suit. Dean parked his car and walked over to the playground. A slew of the older kids (Well Dean said older, but really they were all still elementary school kids) recognized Dean and were saying hello to him. He slowed down to talk to one of the other teachers, Garth Fitzgerald (The fourth apparently).
"Who's tan trench coat dude?" Dean asked, and Garth looked over at Dean and broke into a grin. "Dean!" He gave him a hug in typical Garth-ian fashion. Dean sighed and patted Garth on the back. Dean leaned back and looked to Garth inquisitively. "So? Trench coat?"
"Oh! Yeah, him. He's Castiel Novak. He's the new recess and lunch supervisor." Garth answered. Dean raised an eyebrow. "New recess and lunch supervisor? What happened to Ellen?"
"You didn't hear? Her husband died, and she decided to take the Roadhouse on full time."
"Really? I mean I'd heard about her husband, I went to the funeral, but I didn't realize that she'd decided to take on the Roadhouse full time." Dean sounded shocked. Garth nodded solemnly. Dean nodded back as a goodbye gesture, and continued walking towards 'Castiel' if Garth could be trusted (Which, Dean told himself, was stupid that he even had that thought that, when did Garth ever lie?)
"Hey. I'm Dean Winchester. One of the Kindergarten teachers here." He held out his hand, for Castiel to shake it.
"Castiel Novak. I'm the new recess and lunch supervisor. Just call me Cas. I doubt the kids would be able to remember a name like Castiel. Castiel is the Angel of Thursday, if you were wondering. That's where the name comes from." Cas said this all in one breath, and wiped his hand on his pants, getting the cookie crumbs off before shaking Dean's hand. "Oatmeal Raisin. They're my favorite. My mom made these, you know, as a whole 'Congrats Cas you actually got a job' thing. I don't know, she's like that. Unfortunately, she just headed off to Australia for some vacation sort of thing- not that she needs it mind you- and she won't be making me anymore cookies for a good what, year that she's spending there? I have no clue, she's staying with an old friend, and who knows when she's actually coming back. Sorry. I'm going on too much, aren't I? Just, nervous I guess. First job." He still said this all in one breath. Dean nodded, "Nah, its fine. When I first started teaching here, I nearly embarrassed the life out of me in front of the teacher over there, Garth Fitzgerald- the fourth or something?- and, I swear, if you ever need, like, a hug, or somebody who will listen to your problems and comfort you and sh- stuff like that, Garth is the person to talk to." Dean stopped himself from swearing. Cas laughed, "I did seem to get that impression off of-" Cas trailed off, looking over Dean's shoulder, "Hey, you, blue shirt, stop pulling her hair!" Dean looked over. "Danny!" He shouted. The kid looked up. Dean put on a disappointed face, "Danny, just because you're in first grade now doesn't mean that you can pull Teresa's hair, and I can still get you in trouble." Danny pouted, but let go of Teresa's hair. He got over it fairly quickly, and ran off to go talk some of his friends that he hadn't seen in months. Dean sighed, "You know, I'd have hoped that the summer matured him just a little, but, he's still a little kid I suppose." Cas nodded, polishing off the last bit of cookie in his hand. He looked a little bit sad. "That was the last cookie. Ah, well. I suppose I can always get cookies from the store, but, not quite the same as a mother's cookie, you understand?" Dean laughed heartily. "Oh! I know exactly what you're talking about. My mother's pie." He got a distant look in his eyes, "We know her recipe, but we can never quite seem to get it right." Cas peered at him. "I'm sorry." Apparently Cas picked up on the 'late' part of his mother that Dean hadn't quite added.
"It's fine, nothing to do with you. She died when I was just a kid. I've had time to adjust." Dean smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Cas was still looking at him. Dean shook his head, "I've gotta go, head to my classroom. So that when the kids get there, they aren't gonna be completely left alone. That'd be a complete disaster. Kindergartners."
When Dean got home at the end of the day, he crashed on his couch, flicking the television on. He vaguely watched the news, but really he wasn't even remotely thinking about the budgie that somebody had apparently taught how to water ski. His mind still lingered on the strange new recess and lunch supervisor. With a new sort of brand of determination, Dean stood up and grabbed his landline, punching in a number he'd memorized the day that the owner had gotten it, and he hadn't forgotten it since.
"Sammy, bro." He flopped back down onto his couch, propping his legs up onto the armrest.
"Hey, Dean. I was just going to call you later. How did the first day go this time? Anyone who you would think could become the Danny?" Sam's voice crackled out from the phone. Dean beamed at his brother's support. "Yeah, it's all fine, but, uh, this is gonna sound a little weird, but do you know if Mom had any recipes for oatmeal raisin cookies?" There was silence for a couple seconds on the other end, and then there was some papers rustling. A few minutes later, and Sam came back on the phone, "Yeah. Why? You don't even like raisins. Or oatmeal. Why do you want a recipe for a cookie that you don't even like?"
"It's, uh. It's for a friend."
"A friend, huh?" Dean could hear his little brother smirking on the other side of the phone. "Yeah, Sammy, a friend. Just a friend."
"Uh-huh. And what's this friend's name?"
"Mm-hmm. Alright. I'll send you a picture of the recipe. Bye Dean, talk later."
"Jerk." Sam disconnected, and just a few seconds later, Dean got a text of a picture from Sam. The recipe. Dean looked at it, and the sight of it filled him with determination. He was going to make these cookies.
Cas and him had gotten to talking to each other during lunch and recess, and they were already bonding over the strangest things. Apparently, they both really liked AC/DC. To Dean's great surprise. Cas didn't really seem like the AC/DC type. They'd then stood there, and (not so) quietly sang Back in Black until recess ended. They'd gotten a few strange looks from other teachers. The kids didn't really seem to notice.
Dean sent the picture to the computer, and printed it out quickly. He glanced down the list of ingredients. He pulled out a sheet of paper to make a list of things that he needed to buy before he could actually make the cookies. He was a little bit taken aback, however, when he realized that he had everything he needed. (Why did he even have a cup of raisins in the first place? Dean didn't like raisins. He didn't particularly love grapes, and drying them out was absolutely disgusting).
¾ cups soft butter
¾ cups white sugar
¾ cups packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon salt
2 ¾ cups rolled oats
1 cup raisins
Dean nodded, pulling things from his cupboards. Glancing down at the recipe again, he preheated the oven to 350°, wondering to himself if he really knew what he was doing.
He didn't. He burnt his fingers twice, and burnt one batch of cookies. But he came out with some decent-ish cookies in the end. It was the thought that counted right? Damn. This was… bad. What the hell did Dean even think he was doing? Seriously, Dean had hardly ever cooked, and he'd certainly never made cookies before. Nonetheless, he wrapped the warm cookies with a paper plate and some plastic wrap. Dean still had no idea what the hell he was doing.
He arrived at school the next day, with the plate of oatmeal raisin cookies. He stood around the recess area, and as he saw his new friend walking across the yard. Dean grinned sloppily. As Cas approached, Dean could see him tilting his head in confusion. When he got close enough for Dean to hear, he asked what was on the plate. The backs of Dean's ears went slightly red. "They're, uh, cookies." He explained feebly. Cas tilted his head again, and squinted his eyes.
"Oatmeal raisin cookies. You said that they were your favorite, and that you'd finished yours yesterday. I dunno, my mom had a recipe, and you mentioned that mother's cookies were always better. I was trying to be nice to the new guy, but now this is just starting to sound kinda creepy." Dean said it all in a rush, as if he'd recited something in his head, but gone completely and horribly off script. Cas started laughing heartily, "Thanks, Dean. That's great. It's…" He trailed off, still laughing. He took the plate of cookies from Dean, and started to peel back the plastic wrap.
"If they're absolutely horrible, I won't be offended if you just throw them away." Dean told him quickly, before Cas could eat a cookie. Cas looked up at him skeptically. "No. Don't worry, I have an awful addiction to these things, I swear I could be eating bad oatmeal raisin cookies three years stale, and I'd still eat all of them. So believe me, these'd have to be some pretty bad cookies for me to throw them away." Dean smiled nervously, because he really wasn't that sure that they weren't some pretty bad cookies. He'd tried them, sure, but he hadn't liked them anymore than he usually did. Cas nibbled on the edge of a cookie (He'd read into Dean's expression, and while he was pretty sure that they were fine, one couldn't be too sure). "Hmm." He hummed thoughtfully. "They're a little… Chewy. And a little burntish, but I think they're fine." Dean breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Dean. It was a nice thought." Cas smiled at him, and Dean smiled back.
Dean would make another batch of cookies each time that Cas ran out. He was starting to just double everything and make a larger batch, so that he wasn't making a batch of cookies every two weeks. So, every month, on the first, Dean would bake another batch of oatmeal raisin cookies. Dean was definitely better at making cookies now. Cas had told him that his baking was now better than the grocery store's cookies. Dean was very proud of himself. Of course, then it got cold. And standing outside in the cold in Lawrence is a bitc- It sucks. (Dean was still trying to refrain from swearing because of Kindergarten kids). Dean started buying coffee. For himself. And for Cas… He'd discovered that Cas's favorite coffee was decaf hazelnut with one cream and three sugars. It was a little strange, but Dean honestly didn't care. He was just glad that the man was warm. So, came the last day of January, and Dean started making his sixth or so batch of cookies. He was beginning to like the oatmeal raisin cookies. Perhaps they were an acquired taste.
Dean hummed as he baked, wearing the apron that Cas had gotten him. It was just plain white, with a picture of an oatmeal raisin cookie on it. Cas had given it to him on his birthday (January 24th), so Dean was just wearing it now for the first time. Dean was suddenly very grateful to have it as he mistakenly spilled a good third of the batter from the bowl onto the apron. (Not that he wasn't grateful before). And of course, just before he could grab a paper towel, the doorbell dinged from the front door. Dean threw his hands in the air, catching himself before he swore. He ran out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the non-battery parts of his apron before answering the door. It was Sam, who stared at him for a moment, looking down at Dean's apron. He snickered, "So, Dean, still cooking oatmeal raisin cookies?" Dean blushed deep red, and started stuttering his explanation. Sam just laughed at him. "Anyway Dean, I was wanting to visit for a while, and I was given some time off… but maybe this wasn't the best time…" Sam trailed off, amused, still glancing down every so often at Dean's apron. Dean sighed in surrender, and allowed Sam into the house. "Listen, Sam, just… could you not?" Dean was referring to the obvious teasing that he was going to get from Sam. Sam raised his eyebrows, "No chance, baker boy." Dean glared at Sam, walking to the kitchen sink to wash the batter off of his apron. He eventually realized it was just a lost cause, and took it off and crumpled it into a ball, only half listening to his brother talking about his life as a lawyer in Montana. He threw the apron into his laundry hamper.
"Hmm?" Dean turned around to look at Sam.
"Dean, are you even listening to me? I asked you a question."
"Oh. Yes?" Dean guessed. Sam's face lit up, "Really, since when?"
"Huh?" Now Dean was confused. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried to answer a question that he didn't actually hear.
"I asked if you and Cas were actually together yet." Dean's whole face flushed deep red, and his eyes went wide, "I- I- no- we're not together- nothing- we're- I'm not- Sammy! What the hell! You knew that I wasn't listening and you knew that I'd try to pretend that I was! I- just- shut up, Sam." Dean trailed off, and looked down uncomfortably. Sam smirked at him.
Suddenly there was pounding at the door. Dean jumped up, and walked quickly over to the door.
"Hello, Dean." Cas said in his deep baritone voice. He had little bits of snow in his hair (Which wasn't at all attractive), and his cheeks were red where the cold had gotten to them (Which, again, wasn't attractive in the slightest).
"Dean, you left your laptop at the school. I saw it, and I decided to drop it by. You know, it being Friday. You might need it." Cas smiled, "And I smell cookie batter." Sam burst out laughing, and Dean shot a furtive glare at his brother.
"Oh, uh, about that…" Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I kinda spilled half of the batter on that apron that you gave me, and then Sammy came over, and I haven't had any time to make another batch." Dean smiled weakly, "Sorry if the cookies are a little bit late." Cas laughed, and Dean took the laptop bag from Cas's hands. When Cas laughed, his whole face lit up, and his shocking, absolutely beautiful (Really, Dean? Beautiful?) cerulean eyes started shining. Dean smiled genuinely, and stared deep into those eyes. Dean was suddenly overcome with the urge to touch Cas's face. He looked away, coughing lightly, and the backs of his ears went red. Sam started smirking again.
"Hey, uh, come in, it's freezing outside. Lemme get you some coffee." Dean's ears were still red as he headed into the kitchen. Sam turned after him, "Hey, Dean, how come you don't offer me coffee!"
"Shut up, Sam!" Cas raised an eyebrow, amused. "You must be Sam, then. Dean's told me all about you. I'm Cas." Something clicked in Sam's eyes. "Oh. Oh! So you're Cas. Okay." Sam was now grinning from ear to ear, and had the mischievous 'I can REALLY tease my brother now' look in his eyes. Dean came back in, and stop cold, seeing that look in his brother's eyes. He decided to ignore it for now, and just get back to it later.
"Here you go Cas, decaf hazelnut one cream and three sugars. Should warm you up a bit." Cas nodded, and smiled his thank you, while Sam snickered in the background. The red behind Dean's ears were starting to sneak around to the front of his ears and his cheeks.
They got to talking, and the red blush eventually receded back to just behind Dean's ears (while Sam and Cas were still in the same room, there was no 'not blushing' option). Cas stayed for a little while, before he told them that he had to leave, and Dean sent him off with another coffee, to go.
"Sam, if you're gonna spend the entire time teasing me- which, by the way, is completely out of line, because there is absolutely nothing that should make you think that anything is going on between Cas and I- but if you're going to spend all day teasing me about… that, then just leave." Dean glared defensively. Sam raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. And, I don't want to turn this into a debate, but I kinda do think that I have grounds to think that something is happening. I mean, Dean, come on, the staring thing? That's just sad."
Sam stayed for the weekend, he had to leave late on Sunday, but he and Dean did genuinely enjoy catching up, and, obviously, endlessly teasing each other about absolutely everything. So, understandably, when Dean came to school that Monday (The third of February), he came balancing three cups of coffee. Cas just laughed at him trying to make sure that he didn't drop any of the cups. Then he took his coffee, because he was a good friend and he also didn't really want Dean to drop his coffee.
"Late night?" Cas inquired, sipping his decaf hazelnut. Dean half sighed half laughed, "Had to drop Sam at the airport last night, and the traffic was absolutely wretched coming back."
"I'd offer you my own coffee, but, I doubt that I'd really help, being decaf and all. Plus I like my coffee and I don't really want to give it to anyone. And I'd be scared for your health. Three cups of coffee would not be good for you." Cas playfully teased Dean. Dean smiled, content with his own coffee.
All of the girls in Dean's classroom were starting to talk about Valentine's Day, and flowers, and love. Dean smiled. It was cute, really. Tiny little kindergartners, that didn't really know what love was like, babbling on in what Dean sometimes thought was their own language that nobody but they could understand. It was cute yes, but something deep down in Dean's heart was just a tiny bit irritated. Because they didn't understand. They just didn't get it. But it was cute. And Dean knew that all next week would just be taken up by making cards for everyone in their class (people in other classes, if they wanted) and parents and relatives. Dean always had the kids make their own cards, he didn't want the parents have to go out and buy cards or candy. Dean, of course, would have to go out and buy candy for his own class. Probably those vomit-inducing little conversation hearts that you could hardly read, and were occasionally borderline inappropriate. Every year Dean convinced himself that he'd splurge and get something better than those conversation hearts. But then, every year, Dean would get incredibly lazy and go out and, instead of actually figuring out what people in his class was allergic to, and getting things that might taste good, he got conversation hearts. Nobody that he'd run across so far in his years of teaching had ever been allergic to conversation hearts. But Dean didn't want to get something else to give to anybody who might potentially be allergic to the disgusting things, because that would absolute chaos. He could imagine the conversation.
'But she got M&M's, why can't I get M&M's?'
'Well,' Dean would then say, 'Would you like M&M's instead of conversation hearts?'
'No, I want the hearts, but why can't I get the M&M's?!'
Then why would you even ask why you can't get M&M's in the first place!? See, chaos. And Dean would have none of it. His main goal was to keep the class as calm as he could get, and adding making a choice like M&M's versus conversation hearts would be too much for Dean.
And Dean made it through that week, and he came to the dreaded week of the tenth through the fourteenth of February. The week of the glitter and glue and paper hearts, and the one of the biggest messes that Dean would have to clean up all year.
"So." Dean clasped his hands together, "Who knows what's happening on Friday?" Two people raised their hands, one was a sweet girl with curly blonde hair called Rainy, and another girl who, while she raised her hand, she called out the answer. Everybody else shouted the answer as loud as they could.
"Rainy?" Dean called out, pointing to the girl, really hoping that the rest of the class would finally one day learn that he wouldn't pay any attention to anyone who called out the answer without Dean calling on them.
"Valentine's Day!" She cheeped out quietly, grinning from ear to ear. Everybody loved Valentine's Day at that age, until they finally learned that being single on Valentine's Day sucked. Dean smiled at her, "Of course. And who want to make cards for everyone in the class?" Everyone in the class cheered gleefully. Dean smiled again, and started handing out a sheet of paper with everybody's name on it, so that they'd spell names correctly. Of course, knowing what he knew from his other classes, several would completely ignore the list, and half of the class's names would be spelled completely wrong. Dean tried to explain to the class what the paper was for, and he already knew which kids would be complained about come Friday when the cards would be passed out. At one point, a small boy called Austin turned to him, "Mr. Winchester?"
"Yeah, Austin?" Dean bent down to talk to him face to face.
"Are you going to make Valentine's too?" Dean smiled at the cute little boy, "I'll make all of mine on Thursday, okay?" Austin nodded happily, and went back to chatting with Rainy about cats. Dean continued wandering around the classroom, making sure that everyone was doing everything that they needed to be doing, and they weren't doing anything that Dean would disapprove of.
This went on for another two days, and came Thursday where all of the slackers were suddenly scrambling to get everything done, and Dean had just come home from the grocery store last night with… Conversation hearts. Sigh. Now Dean was sitting at his desk, and signing his name on the most solid color part of the conversation hearts, then taking a Valentine's theme pencil (there was only one choice of pencil, things would get war-like with the Kindergartners if there were multiple styles of pencil), and taping the pencil to the other side of the box.
There was a slight tap on his elbow, and Dean startled to look over at the child who'd poked him. It was Rainy.
"Yes, Rainy? Do you need anything?" Dean inquired kindly.
"Are you going to do your Valentine's?" She squeaked.
"Of course. In fact, I'm making them right now."
"Are you going to make one for Mr. Novak?" She asked innocently. Dean was not expecting this, "What?"
"Because you like him, right?" She tilted her head slightly, but it was enough to remind Dean of Cas himself. Something twinged deep in Dean's chest. Dean started stammering, and the blush was appearing on the backs of his ears again. "No, i-i-it's not like that." By now a couple other of the girls in the class had come up, and Austin followed along, trying to figure out what Rainy was doing. A couple of them started chanting at him to make a Valentine for Mr. Novak, because you had to make a Valentine for everyone, so no one feels left out. Dean was a little bit hurt that they were using his own rules against him.
"Yeah, yeah fine, fine… I'll make one for Ca- Mr. Novak. Alright. I'll make it tonight." There was a miniature uproar between the tiny kids.
"No!" A kid, Sophie, nearly shrieked, "You should make it now. We'll help you!" Everyone nodded quickly. Dean sighed and raised his hands in surrender. Hopefully by the time that the next day (the fourteenth) had come around, the kids would forget about giving Cas the card, because it was sure to have glitter, hearts and a bunch of sappy notes that would embarrass Dean to no end.
He was right. For the most part. He was able to get away with not having the sappy notes (Thank God for that). By the time the kids were done 'helping' Dean make his card, it was absolutely drowning in glitter, about four times bigger than a card that Dean would've actually done on his own (maybe), which would've been a small card. There were multicolored hearts pasted onto the card itself (with way too much Elmer's glue), and Dean wrote a small note in a corner where he'd made sure the kids didn't glue hearts, or glue glitter. It was for writing on, Dean told them. They agreed, but nearly killed the rest of the card. Dean was in the middle of washing the glue and glitter off of his hands when something horrible occurred to him. Dean was dealing with Kindergartners. It was before lunch. Before recess specifically. Kindergartners couldn't keep secrets (Or, whatever the card was). If they told Cas, then there'd be no chance of them forgetting (or, for that matter, if they told Cas, Cas wasn't going to forget about it either) by the next day. Valentine's Day. Dean tried to convince himself that it didn't really matter. The kids didn't understand, and he could explain that to Cas, couldn't he? It was just his adorable little class noticing that they'd become close friends, and taking Dean's rule that everyone has to give everyone a Valentine into account. That was it, right?
Dean walked out of the building after lunch to see Cas carefully scribbling something onto a small scrap of paper. Cas looked up, smiled, and shoved the paper into an envelope. Dean walked over.
"So, tomorrow's Valentine's Day. You got any plans?" Cas smiled vaguely, if not nervously, "Hopefully."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, teasing slightly.
"It really depends."
"On what?" Dean pushed.
"On, uh, on whether he says yes or not." There was definitely a quaver of nervousness in Cas's voice. Dean's whole insides did a double take, and then a flip. Dean nodded, trying not to focus on the 'he' part of the statement.
"I am." Cas said defiantly, staring straight ahead of him.
"Gay." Cas still didn't look at Dean, as if afraid of what his reaction would be.
"Mm. Bi." Dean barely squeaked out.
"Hmm?" Now it was Cas to turn to the other in confusion. Cas looked rather hurt, thinking that Dean had said 'Mm. Bye.'
"Me." Dean corrected quickly, realizing his mistake. "Me. I'm bi."
"Oh." Cas sounded relieved that it wasn't really what he'd thought previously. And a little too nonchalant.
Dean got ready the next morning, pulling on a nice red button down shirt and khakis. He picked up the Walmart bag of those da- those dumb conversation hearts that he'd (inevitably) gotten for his class.
The whole thing ran just as smoothly as Dean had really expected it to have gone. Only three people complained that someone else had spelled their name wrong. Dean had thought that he'd actually gotten away with not having to give the glitter card to Cas, until, just before lunch, Rainy came up to him and tugged softly on his sleeve.
"But Mr. Winchester. Aren't you going to get Mr. Novak's card?" Dean was just about to tell the girl that he would give it to Mr. Novak later in the day (and then not give it to him at all) until he looked down at her and saw the adorable innocent look in her eyes. "Of course I am, Rainy. Thank you." He trudged over to the cabinet that he'd left it to dry in, pulling it out. It wasn't so bad now that it wasn't soggy. But... He grabbed it and walked to the door, and started leading the class to lunch.
Recess time came, and if Dean was being completely honest, he was absolutely delaying as much as he could, giving the class a little bit more lunch time than he should've, and walking just a bit slower than he normally did. But eventually he couldn't really procrastinate any more. A group of kids surrounded Dean, pushing him towards where Cas was standing. (It was Rainy, Sophie, Austin, Ryan, Gerald, Ashley, and Emily). Cas had a strangely inquisitive expression. Somewhat amused. Dean was blushing furiously at this point, and he sheepishly handed over the card. Cas looked at it, inspecting it closely. Ryan pulled on Cas's sleeve. "Don't you have a card for Mr. Winchester? Don't you like him back?" Dean only blushed harder at that. He tried silently communicating with Cas, mouthing, 'It's okay' over and over, hoping he'd understand at least once. Cas had a strange expression. Dean felt something painful in his chest, and really, he knew what it was. It was the same feeling he'd felt when Lisa had left him. It was heartbreak. But Dean didn't want to admit what he actually felt for his friend. He was beginning to feel slightly sick, and immediately started to try to move backwards, get away from the whole situation.
Cas reached into his pocket, and pulled out a plain white envelope. There wasn't any writing on it. Dean took it, slightly quelling the sick feeling in his stomach. As Dean opened it, he begun to realize that he remembered watching Cas write it. Yesterday, at recess, he'd walked out and Cas had been sitting there, writing the letter. Inside, as Dean had remembered, was just a small scrap of paper.
'I like other food besides cookies. Want to get diner with me sometime?'
There was a small heart drawn next to it. Dean looked up, and Cas was positively beaming. Dean just knew that there was a stupid, goofy grin spreading across his own face, and he knew that if Sam was there, he would probably be laughing at him. And filming it with his phone. But Dean couldn't care any less. Dean leans forward slightly (the children had pushed him far enough), and kissed Cas lightly.
"I'd love to get dinner." The children were squealing, and they ran off, giggling. Dean could hear one of them, "Eww! That's gross!"
"The thing is, Castiel, you haven't told me anything about food preferences, accepting oatmeal raisin cookies, and decaf hazelnut coffee with one cream and three sugars." Dean smiled, raising an eyebrow.
"I know this nice restaurant, Italian. The only thing wrong with it is that it's run by my brother." Cas shrugged, "I don't really know if you like Italian."
"Really? Do you really think that I don't like Italian?" Dean looked at Cas mock-skeptically. His face softened considerably when Cas looked worried. "Cas, I would love it. Anything you want." Cas smiled widely, all bit of nervousness was gone. Dean slipped his hand into Cas's, leaned into him and turned to watch his class for the rest of the recess period. He didn't let go of his hand until he reached his classroom.