Blah Blah I am bad with deadlines. Sorry to all the people at the Dean/Cas Valentines challenge.
With that out of the way. Here is an awesome fic!
Title: Mission: Valentine’s day
Rating: Pg 13
Warnings: Some bullying and name calling
6:45 am The Mission: Should You Choose to Accept
Screeching and ear splitting; Castiel’s hand shoot out from under the covers and clicked the alarm off. His eyes barely needed rubbing as he sat himself up, and he didn’t even stretch as he moved himself to the edge of his bed. He took a deep breath, his eyes falling on the date on his calendar, and then moving to the unnatural mess on his desk. Strips of lace and crepe paper littered and stuck to the surface. It was the battlefield, more or less, that had taken him weeks to beat into perfection. He couldn’t say he was pleased, but he couldn’t do much else anymore because today was Valentine’s Day.
The mission he chose to accept, after his brother’s constant mocking, is this: to get a Valentine’s card into his crush’s locker. Simple enough. He wasn’t worried because his plan could be executed before the last bell for first period even rang. If anything he was just a little nervous. He looked over his hand made card looking at the space he had left for his signature. He hadn’t signed it yet, and to be honest he wasn’t sure if he would. He knew the point of sending the card was to alert the recipient of your feelings, but it wasn’t that easy. Not when the crush in question was a straight boy. Castiel sighed retreating into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. His reflection didn’t look well rested or happy. Even his hair would not cooperate with him this morning. He stuck his head under the faucet looking all the more raggedy in his un-ironed khakis and dark-blue and white striped sweater. He patted his hair down against his skull, but when he was done brushing his teeth he could already see it begin to defy orders.
Walking back to his room he saw the lights had been turned on. His brother, Gabriel, stood by his desk, the pink card in his hand, while the other one was clamped over his mouth in an attempt not to laugh.
“I hope you are having fun at my expense,” he said, crossing his arms, but feeling the heat begin to rise in his cheeks. Gabriel turned around letting out a cackle, and said, “You’re really going to tell him?”
“I’m going to make my feelings known, yes.”
“You’re going to go right up to Dean Winchester and just hand him this?” He whipped the card around and smiled like the Cheshire cat, making Castiel feel even more uncomfortable.
“I’m going to put it in his locker,” he said going to reach for the card, but Gabriel moved it out of reach.
“You little coward,” he said, narrowing his even more cat-like eyes.
“I will not make a fool of myself for your entertainment,” Castiel said, swallowing a heavy amount of bile.
“I am not trying to make a fool out of you, little brother. You do enough of that on your own.” He quipped. “I want to help you. If you don’t start letting people know how you feel you’re going to wind up being alone for the rest of your life.”
“Maybe I like being alone.” Castiel murmured.
“Oh! Really?” Gabe said. “Well then we can just throw this away.” He started curling his hand into a fist the card crinkling in protest. Castiel’s eyes widened, and he jumped for the card.
“Stop it Gabriel!”
“Why? You want to be left alone. No need to draw attention to yourself,” he said pushing Castiel away with an arm that had, with a nifty growth spurt, lengthened much to Castiel’s dismay. At a year older, a sophomore, Gabriel was quickly growing into himself leaving Castiel far below on the ground. Lucky for Castiel, his sister strode into their fight, easily pulling the card from Gabriel’s grubby hands.
“Get dressed you little Neanderthal!” Gabriel gave her a dirty look, but the clock was against him and he would be left behind if he didn’t retreat now. Anna smoothed out the card, giving it a warm smile as she passed it back.
“Valentine’s day, huh?” She said reaching out and running a hand through the unruly black hair. Castiel just stared at the card unable to tear his eyes away. “You gonna be ok, kiddo?”
“Gabriel does not have the desired effect he wishes to have.” He responded as he sat at his desk, glue gun in hand and trying to repair the card back to its previous condition.
“All right, well you should eat something before Gabriel gets a chance to destroy breakfast.”
“I am not hungry,” he said, and Anna had to cross her arms, acting like the adult that they all needed.
“You need to eat something Castiel.”
“But I am not hungry,” he repeated almost sounding annoyed as he worked at some lace, trying to keep the glue as concealed as possible.
“Now,” she said unplugging the glue gun. Castiel put the tool down, and exited the room without another word. His sister had made waffles, and he sat pushing pieces around in syrup thinking through his plan for the hundredth time. He wouldn’t fail he thought with a small smile on his lips. He had worked too hard for it not to work. And the look on his face would be worth it all.
8:30 am Phase One: Locate the Target
The first time he really noticed Dean Winchester was halfway through the first semester. His view of every classroom had always been the same. He was a ‘kiss ass’ as his classmates sometimes referred to him, because he liked to sit up at the front. Always. If the front row was full he would politely ask someone to move, and his intense blue stare would usually provide the ammunition to scare the poor sap away. He didn’t care for his classmates much, and they didn’t care for him so it was a nice relationship where they left each other alone. Of course in a classroom that couldn’t always be the case and Castiel usually found himself partnered up; as was his English teacher’s delight to do with her little antisocial, straight-A, student. But it always came down to the kids snatching each other up in an effort not to be paired up with the weird one. When they were reading “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest” though the teacher put her foot down and paired them up with the tried method of ‘eeny meeny miny mo’.
“Castiel with….” Rebecca Shurley began, her pencil pouncing on the roll sheet, a pink tongue sticking out like it usually did when she was thinking of something inappropriate she couldn’t say in the classroom. “Ah! Dean.” There were audible moans from several people somewhere beyond Castiel’s frame of reference, mainly everything behind him, so he turned to see the back of the class for the first time since school had started. He remembered thinking that he liked the back of the classroom (with witty posters and a window that overlooked the rather white football field), and wouldn’t mind sitting farther back if his seat was ever taken again. When his eyes finally swept over a scruffy boy in the farthest seat from the teacher, he had to narrow his eyes and tilt his head curiously. Dean saluted him as a greeting, while the teacher droned on, pairing up other odd couples. Castiel couldn’t really say what it was, but that first moment was stark in his mind. Not that it was some sort of love at first sight. That’s ridiculous. No, it was more of a niggling idea in the back of his mind. Later the boy proved himself to be more than just a pair of pretty eyes.
Castiel raced ahead of his siblings knowing he had to score the best vantage point in the cafeteria for his plan to start off without a hitch. You could graph the arrival of students to the school exponentially until the bell rang and, if Castiel was correct, thirty minutes before the bell, he would be able to acquire the ‘best seat in the house’ for his plan. His table was perfectly located to give him a view of the two entrances to the cafeteria. He knew his target would not arrive any earlier than eight thirty because his parents had to drop off the youngest Winchester off at his middle school, and as he turned the corner he validated his inflated ego, the table was empty. Confidently he inadvertently strutted across the cafeteria, head held high. He went to sit down, but was nastily pushed out of the way.
“Sorry, taken.” From Castiel’s spot on the floor the kid’s pudgy face loomed over him. Some other kids dressed as darkly, and gothic-ly as he was, took up the rest of the empty seats. Castiel was disappointed, but it wasn’t too devastating so he picked himself up, going for some things that had spilled out of his back pack. His heart stopped. Under the kid’s Converse was the frilly and pink creped card. He reached for it, but the kid’s foot would not budge.
“Excuse me,” he asked, but the kid just gave him a sharp eyebrow. The boy pulled the card out from under his foot, staring at it looking a little bewildered. His friends snickered at the sight, but Castiel was unfazed. He tried again. “May I have that back, please?”
“To Dean?” He said another sharp eyebrow coming to rest with its brother. The group reacted like any teenagers would, and Castiel couldn’t help turning red at that, but he pressed on. “Please return it to me.” The boy’s smile was almost maniacal, but he handed it back. Castiel’s heart fell as he spotted the giant foot print across the soft pink. He frowned, knowing he would not have any more time to work on it. The boy spoke up again to Castiel’s surprise. He had almost forgotten this gang had even been grouped in front of him.
“I think you’re forgetting something, love. You’re name isn’t on there.”
“I am quite aware of that fact, thank you.” He ended the conversation turning back to the cafeteria and in the five minutes that had passed the crowd had expanded. He was sure he hadn’t missed Dean, but having lost his vantage spot he was forced to stand out even more as he stood looking out into the crowd. There was hissing sounds that he had successfully drowned out, until the boy broke his concentration once more.
“Do you need something else?” He said now sounding more annoyed than condescending. Castiel did not spare him a glance anymore, his glance on something far more important, but he answered the boy’s question.
The kids starting snickering once again, and there was a dismissal that Castiel would not focus on because it was an insult he couldn’t deal with at the moment. He moved a little away from the table scanning the area, with the card still in his hand. His finger rubbed at the blemished surface, hoping he could rub it away. He knew that was stupid and illogical, but something compelled him to do it anyway. It was getting hard to tell people apart, and he was finding it harder to think his plan was all that full proof. He bolted. Changing his plan was better than standing there like an idiot. He pushed into the crowd, holding the card against his heart. He needed to get to the exit leading to the lockers. If the teachers would allow them to leave the cafeteria before the bell he wouldn’t have a problem, but they didn’t like the teenagers roaming the halls with nothing to do for long periods of time. The crowd was becoming restless as it got closer to the first bell of the day, and the elbowing was becoming bothersome. His polite ‘excuse me’ was not enough and they ignored him like they were accustomed to. Trying to push past a rather tall young man, who saw it as a confrontation and pushed back, Castiel landed hard onto the floor. He didn’t like this trend of ending up on his back, but he tried to get himself up before they trampled him to death. Images of that poor soul trying to get a ‘tickle me Elmo’ for Christmas running through his head. He was almost kneed in the face, and he shielded his face bracing for the blow. Instead he heard the rather deep voice of a fifteen year old.
“You need to learn to stay on your feet. Cass?” Only one person called him Cass. He looked up through his hands, one of them still holding the alarmingly pink Valentine’s Day card. He hid it behind his back, his other hand coming up to hold on to Dean’s outstretched one. Firm, strong, and callused, Dean’s hand wanted to rub Castiel’s raw. “You okay?”
“I am fine,” he responded.
10:29 A.M. Phase Two: Class Period Change of Plan
After they had been paired up for the project, things had transpired as per usual with anybody who ended up paired up with Castiel. He would take on the assignment mostly by himself, and the other kid would shrug his shoulders, and go on his way. Castiel would, of course, put both their names on the assignment and turn it in. Nobody complained, but they didn’t quite appreciate it all that much either. They all sort of accepted it as another strange thing he did. The last thing any of them ever did was go and talk to him, they all knew what was the status quo and ran with it.
Dean, as Castiel had began to notice, did not do status quo. He was in the library one afternoon, a couple of books spread out in front of him, his hand penning away at a mesh of ideas that flowed from his hand. It would take another week for them to coalesce into the paper. Heavy footfalls alerted him to someone approaching, but it was Dean’s even heavier voice that finally broke his concentration.
“Damn, you’re a hard kid to locate,” he said. “You just disappeared after class. What’s up with that?” Castiel wasn’t even sure why anybody would talk to him, much less this loudly in the library. So many things were wrong in this scenario he didn’t even know where to begin.
“Lower your voice,” he finally said, looking down to finish a thought that had been left unfinished on the page. “Also, please refrain from cursing.”
“Oh,” the teenager said, obviously confused as to why Castiel had not responded to his question. Instead of leaving like most kids would, he pulled up a chair. Castiel had to force himself not to stare wide eyed at the prolonged attention from a peer, instead he cocked his head at a slight angle and knitted his brows closely together.
“What is it that you desire?” He asked, putting the pencil down. Dean’s nose wrinkled first, pulling at the slight freckles that dusted his tanned face. His mouth puckered, obviously confused. “We’re working on a project together dude?”
“My name is Castiel.” He said.
“Right, Castle…. Castel… Cass.” He smiled a toothy grin, to make up for his mistakes, and Castiel suddenly felt too warm in his usual sweater. Not sure how to respond he just nodded, “Yes, Castiel,” and looked down to avoid everything that was making him uncomfortable.
“So we’re partners. We should do partner stuff, no?” He asked, and Castiel really couldn’t argue with that primitive logic. But he answered truthfully. “Forgive me, but people usually don’t like to do ‘partner’ stuff’ with me?” It sounded awkward, but Dean seemed to get the gist.
“Well I’m not going to leave my grade in someone else’s hands.” Castiel frowned prompting him to add, “No offense.”
“I have yet to fail an exam,” he stated, and Dean scoffed.
“There’s a first time for everything, dude.” Castiel narrowed his eyes, and Dean amended with a sly smile, “Cass”.
Locating Dean had been in an effort to get to the boy’s locker before him. That hadn’t worked out quite the way he had liked. When the bell rang he was stuck inadvertently walking him to his locker, and then having to bolt before he was late for class. The worst part was that Dean had asked about the card. Castiel awkwardly changed the subject, making the boy smile knowingly, nudging him with winks, and innuendo’s making Cass blush harder than he could ever remember blushing before.
So he was stuck in History rewriting his plan. Three more periods and lunch was all he had left. Not that he would need that much time. He sighed looking up at the clock, seconds left for his class to be over. The bell was like a shot for a race to begin, and he was out of his chair like lightning. Something held him in place though and comically he was yanked back by his sweater.
“Whoa there,” Mr. Singer held him in place. “Let me have a few words with you Castiel.” He anxiously bounced on his heels looking at the door like it was his only salvation. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we have a new student in the school. A transfer student named Edward Crowley.” Castiel cocked his head, remembering the boy from earlier. “Yes, sir.”
“The freshman teacher’s thought it would be a good idea to pair him up with another student to make sure his transition goes as smoothly as possible. Would you mind being his buddy?” Mr. Singer smiled like teachers usually did when they thought they had said something clever. Castiel didn’t have a good reason to decline other than he had immediately disliked the boy, but that was not right, so he nodded. “Good boy. Now run along you’re going to be late for your next class.” He was shot back into the present, with less than five minutes to get to Dean’s locker, and then to his gym class. He bolted from the classroom.
The hallways had been garishly decorated red. As he ran the blur of the walls looked like they were bleeding, or oozing jam, or both. Castiel dodged kids left and right, knocking into boys presenting their sweet-heart’s flowers or candy. There were shouts of distress and anger, but he really didn’t have time for it all until he hit an immovable object.
“Well well well; what do we have here?” They called him Alistair. It was after a Satanist and he was a demon by all accounts of the word, Castiel thought staring at the senior in his path. “Little fish needs to look where he’s going.” Castiel nodded barely able to get a word out, and somehow he managed an apology. “I am sorry.”
“I bet you are,” he responded, his eyes darting to the pink card in Castiel’s hand. “What’s this?” He went for it, but Castiel would not let it out of his grasp again, so he pulled it behind his back.
“It is nothing.”
“It looked like a nice little Valentine’s card. I want it.”
“It’s not for you.” Alastair pushed him by the shoulders with a bang into the lockers. He pinned an arm against his neck, asking with a snarl, “What was that little fish?”
“Not…for you.” He choked out, and that was the wrong response because Alastair punched him. He slumped down against the lockers his face burning with pain, but the card clutched tightly in his fingers. Alastair reared back for another shot but stopped. Castiel opened his good eye staring up against the glare of fluorescents at what looked like an angel. The principal, Zachariah, had the boy by the wrist. “Again, Alastair? Fighting?”
“He started it!” The boy resisted as he was pulled along against his will and so Castiel picked himself off the floor. He wasn’t sure why the ground dipped so harshly, but it landed him on the floor once again.
“Someone get that boy to the nurse.” The principle shouted from afar before Castiel dipped out of consciousness. He felt an arm wrap around his waist, but he was lost to the world.
2:30 pm Phase Three: Black ops? More like Black out!
Dean was the first person to have ever lent him a hand after a nasty push landed him on his butt. Most people just seemed to pass by with a nasty smile on their lips, or without a second glance. Then again they weren’t his friend. That was another first. Castiel did not make friends easily, some would say not at all. Dean was the first person to acknowledge that they were more than just acquaintances, or classmates. They were actually friends.
“Jerk!” Dean yelled after the person who knocked Castiel down, before fixing him with a stern look. “You okay?” He asked with a hand outstretched. Castiel wasn’t sure what that hand was even there for at first glance. Taking hold, he was easily whisked up off the ground. He almost overstepped, but he balanced out never letting go of Dean’s hand. After a strange couple of seconds, the boy awkwardly slipped his hand out of Castiel’s grasp rubbing it against his pants leg, making Castiel tilt that head of his.
“You need to fight back or something Cass, because that ain’t right.”
“No I guess it isn’t right, but I don’t think they all do it on purpose. I am very small.” He concluded to which Dean made a face.
“You are one weird dude. If anybody did that to me I would curse them out. They do that to my little brother I would sock’em in their smug faces.”
“Samuel is very lucky.” Cass nodded trying hard not to feel a little jealous.
“Well, what about your brothers and sisters,” he asked with a side glance as they moved on down the hall.
“Gabriel is usually the one doing the pushing,” Castiel said a mixture of fondness and annoyance on his face. If anybody had a right to push him it was his brother Gabriel he guessed. “Anna would certainly ‘sock’ someone, but I’d rather she not get into trouble over me. It really doesn’t bother me Dean. It happens.”
“Hmph!” Dean exhaled crossing his arms. “You’re stupid.” Castiel had all but gotten accustomed to being insulted by Dean who, unlike other kids, rarely meant it in a truly hurtful way. “If no one is going to look after you you’re going to end up dead before your senior year!” He exclaimed and Castiel had to laugh. Dean smiled, shaking his head and nudging Castiel to a stop in front of his locker. “Well then I promise you this: when I’m around I’ll be there to make sure no one messes with you.” Castiel cocked his head, a quirk he seemed to not be able to control.
“Why?” He asked. They hadn’t known each other for more than a month or two and if that was supposed to mean something Castiel wasn’t sure of what that was. He never was in the case of relationships, so when Dean looked taken aback, Castiel felt even more awkward than usual. “Don’t be a dick, Cass!” He almost yelled. “I’m your friend and that’s what friends do, stupid.” Castiel didn’t know how to respond to that because his first thought was to hug the boy, but Dean turned to his locker and Cass went on his way a confusing, happy buzz humming in his head.
When he came to in the Nurse’s office the pleasant buzz of memories seemed to persist even in his reality. He sat up a pain throbbing in his temple.
“Easy now,” a thick accent warned from the side of his bed. “Edward?” Castiel asked holding his head in his hands trying to stop the awful thumping.
“Just call me Crowley.”
“My name is Cass.” He stopped, and amended, “Castiel.”
“Yes, you’re my American ‘buddy’,” he said with much less enthusiasm than his tone indicated.
“I must apologize I do not usually involve myself in school fights,” Castiel said, a pinprick in the back of his mind itching at him.
“Oh, don’t ruin the fun. I was hoping you wouldn’t be a complete stick in the mud.” Castiel managed to open his eyes, one more fully than the other which had already closed up painfully.
“What time is it?”
“Third period is almost over, so I would say like two thirty.” He almost jumped out of the bed, but Crowley’s hand kept him in a sitting position.
“I need to go. I need to tell Coach Pamela where I have been. I need to turn in my report. I need to deliver something!” He rambled on, and Crowley waved something pink in front of the boy’s face. The card now had a missing piece at the top of it. “This?” Crowley asked and Castiel’s voice almost disappeared beneath the despair. “Why did you tear it up?”
“I didn’t. I tried to pull it out of your iron clad grasp, but you wouldn’t let go.” He explained, looking over the raggedy thing with mild disgust. Castiel looked down at his clenched hands. They hurt from having been like that for over an hour, so he relaxed his muscles, finding the missing Valentine piece in his hand. He looked back at Crowley.
“Are you a little retarded?” Crowley asked his eyes inspecting Castiel closely.
“No,” he said, a throbbing beginning in his head. Crowley’s voice was making it worse he noticed, but the boy continued. “Well this isn’t normal behavior. You wrote him a poem, and hand made this flimsy little card. You don’t think it would be easier to just tell him? Save us all the stupidity,” he concluded as he put dirty shoes on the white sheets of the patient bed. Castiel didn’t speak. At first, because he wasn’t quite sure there was a reason why he was going to such great lengths. He finally came to something he was willing to say out loud. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”
It looked like Crowley was going to be sick, but Castiel felt that answer clearly conveyed why he was doing all of this. “You are hopeless.” The boy finally said, the bell ringing over their heads. Third period was over and their last class of the day was starting. If he couldn’t get the card in Dean’s locker in fourth period it would be impossible to do it.