A/N: Wow it's been so long since I've written something? Like. Months. Whoops. Hope you like this though XD

Honestly, Castiel had expected this. I mean, Meg asked him to prom as a dare, the second she said she'd meet him there instead of him picking her up, he had known she wouldn't show. Well, not really, but he kept telling himself that just to make him feel better for standing outside for almost an hour. He waved his ticket at the people at the front doors, the second feeling too heavy in his pocket, and made his way inside. He was here already, already bought the ticket and everything, he might as well see what the hype was about prom. It was so romantic apparently. Castiel had yet to see the appeal.

There were people all around; Castiel held his hands close to his sides and tried to move around the crowd with little touching as possible. The music was deafeningly loud and the bass was turned up to an antagonizing amplitude. He could feel it in his bones. One more thing to add to the list of reasons why he shouldn't have come.

Castiel slid in a seat outside the dancefloor. He silently watched everyone laugh and stumble in an attempt to dance. There were the people who actually knew what they were doing, people who thought they knew what they were doing, and people who didn't give a shit and flailed their arms in every direction. Castiel shuffled his feet under the chair and rubbed his thumb over his palm in his lap.

Someone suddenly sat down next to him, despite the entire rows of empty chairs on either side of them. It was a guy, Castiel realized through the dim lighting. He was starting to think the loud music was affecting his eyesight. He squinted. The man was slumped back with a lazy almost-smile on his lips when he turned his head to face Castiel.

"You, too, huh?" his lips moved.

"What?" Castiel shouted and leaned closer.

"I said," the corners of his lips were tugged upwards, "You, too, huh? Got a hot date that decided you weren't hot enough?"

Castiel pressed his lips together, feeling a bit offended. "That isn't any of your business. Besides I don't know you."

"Down, boy," the man laughed; he laughed with his body rather than his voice. "Just making conversation. Lisa went off to get drinks two hours ago."

Watchful eyes dragged over the stranger's eyes and flushed, freckled cheeks. The music started to quiet as the song ended, but before Castiel could express gratitude for the silence the music was blaring again. He glared at the DJ, eyebrows furrowed.

The man was laughing again, "Their music sucks, don't it?"

"Understatement."

The man laughed again, and Castiel looked at him bewilderedly. "You're a funny one."

"I must say I've never been called funny before," He said a little too softly to be heard over the music. He could tell by the way the stranger leaned forward and his eyes were blank. He seemed to pretend he knew what he said, though, because he nodded. Castiel felt himself smiling.
"Hey, you wanna dance?" The man jerked his head towards the dance floor.

Castiel was skeptical about how they'd fit somewhere in that sea of students, but did not voice his concern. Instead, he said, "I don't know your name."

"It's Dean," and Dean added as an afterthought his last name, "Winchester. Is that a yes, mister..?"

"Castiel Novak," he stood, "It's a yes."

Dean grinned wide and toothy and stood as well, he grabbed Castiel's wrist in a failed attempt for his hand, and tugged him towards the dancefloor. Castiel stumbled after him and felt himself laughing. Part of Castiel started to say that there was too much laughter this evening, and another countered that there wasn't enough. The music didn't bother him too much, and neither did the people that brushed his shoulder every other second. He was clumsy with his hands; he didn't know where to put them. He didn't know how to dance, not really, he hadn't been planning on it. His eyes were wide and interlocked with Dean's.

"I'm not sure how to dance," he admitted.

"You're doin' jus' fine to me," Dean responded.

No one was really dancing around them, just sort of hopping or stepping around to the music, (really awful music,) so Castiel supposed he fit in just a little. Dean would lead him, seeming to know what he was doing, or at least Castiel would think it was leading. He was really out of the loop when it came to dancing. Dean stepped forward, forcing Castiel to step back, and then pulled his hand to have him move a different way. The music was upbeat, pop-music, so it wasn't like someone could really dance to it other than awkward high-schooler dancing.

But Castiel really enjoyed himself. After ten minutes of awkwardly stepping around each other someone started a conga line and Dean insisted Castiel and he get in line, so Castiel ended up trying to keep up with crazy kids stuttering in step through the dancefloor with Dean's hands on his shoulders. Someone else had gotten behind him and behind that person and another and another. And when Dean soon grew bored of that, he tugged Castiel's arm away from the mass of people and pulled him to where the drinks were.

The music dulled the farther they got from it. There was a little seating area outside by the drinks, but it was near deserted since the music started. Castiel reached for a cup.

"Do you drink?" Dean asked him. His voice sounded much lovelier sans boisterous music.

"I think I'd have to to be alive," Castiel deadpanned, blinking uncomprehendingly.

There it was again: Dean laughed. "Yeah, no, I meant alcohol."

"I'm eighteen," Castiel stated as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, I assumed."

A break of silence came between them like water vapor.

"So do you?"

"It's illegal for individuals under twenty-one to drink alcohol."

Castiel almost thought Dean was going to laugh again, but he just grinned really big. "So you're that type of person."

Castiel tilted his head to the side as if it would help him decode the mystery behind Dean's words or perhaps Dean himself. Before he could pull the ladle from the punch bowl to his cup, Dean's hand rested atop his wrist.

"I'd avoid the punch, then," his words danced on the edge of his lips, "No doubt some kid spiked it."

Despite being unclear on what Dean meant by "spike," he put the cup back down. They migrated to the seating area. There were four round tables with cheap chairs around them, and Dean and he sat beside each other rather than across. Castiel felt himself gravitating towards the man. They went to the same school, Castiel assumed, he wondered why he'd never seen him around before.

"So," Dean started, "Who ditched someone as great as you?"

Castiel tried not to smile, but he failed, "Meg Masters. She asked me here as a dare though, so I'm not too surprised."

Dean scoffed and looked away, jaw resting on a closed fist. "Idiot move, really," he mumbled.

Castiel leaned towards him, "Well I'd say the same," he said, "I mean it's not like the girl who left you alone can find anyone more attractive."

Dean was looking at him again, a silly, toothy grin stretched across his face, "Attractive, huh?"

"It's not like it's a secret," Castiel insisted.

Laughter. Again. Who was this man? "Yeah?"

"Lisa Braeden?" Castiel asked, breaking the soft atmosphere. "That's the girl who left you?"

Dean's eyebrows pushed together in confusion, "Yeah, you know 'er?"

"She's coming this way."

"What?"

Castiel nodded past Dean's shoulder. A girl with long, pretty hair was walking with another man's arm around her neck, painting a smile on her face much better than Dean had before. She was too busy giggling with the guy to notice Dean or Castiel yet.

"Shit," he mumbled, and for the first time that night, Castiel saw his features dampened.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but a lot of ideas are like that. For instance, jumping into a freshly-thawed-out lake after winter seemed like fun until you were shivering and stuck with blue lips and chattering teeth. Castiel had one of those ideas. Lisa was getting closer and closer and she'd eventually notice them, so Castiel pressed a finger to Dean's jaw, drawing him away from his ex-date and towards him, and kissed him.

Castiel wasn't that great of a kisser if he may say so himself. The only person he'd ever kissed was a little girl in second grade when two other kids told them to. Dean was certainly not a girl and not little, not shy or inexperienced, I mean shit. Castiel only meant to make them look like a couple so Dean didn't look so miserable when Lisa appeared with a new boytoy, like just press their lips together or something. He half expected Dean to push him off. Despite the initial shock, Dean was an all in or nothing type of guy, and he was all in. Like, hands in his hair, with tongue, I-can-feel-your-heartbeat-through-your-shirt type all in. Castiel gasped, angling his face upwards so that he might get a little bit of oxygen (yeah, being alive is so boring, he knows,) without tearing away from Dean, and then Dean goes for his fucking jaw instead. Castiel will ask again: Who was this man?

"Dean?" a bemused, dainty voice put a metaphorical hand on Dean's shoulder and pulled him off of Castiel. Castiel would really like to his this woman right, and he'd never wanted to hit anyone, ever. Maybe something less drastic like pull away and handcuff to the door of a different room? Yeah, that'd work, too.

"U-Uh, yeah?" Dean's eyes were dazed and misdirected as if he were searching for the source of the new voice.

"Oh, it is you," Lisa's voice was stilted and confused. "I didn't know you were…"

"Stupidly attractive and a great guy?" Castiel offered, and he didn't know where it comes from really, probably from the high Dean just sent him on.

"I was gonna go with 'gay.'"

"Bisexual, sweetheart," Dean drawled, "Now amscray, I got me a cute guy to make out with."