Notes/Warning: AU, Destiel, third in what I have now termed the Alliterative Bubblegum 'verse. I was driving home and listening to See You Again by Miley Cyrus, and then Speak Now by Taylor Swift came on, and then The One That Got Away by Katy Perry, and that was the point at which I decided my iPod ships Destiel, too. Despite the depressing summary, I promise, more fluffy fluff-fluff.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just pee in it frequently.
Records, Running, and Redemption
Chapter One: Teenage Dream
Castiel Davids was rushing across the parking lot, trying to avoid the assholes from the football team who just couldn't seem to get enough of shoving him into walls and calling him a faggot.
"Dude, your shoelace is untied!" yelled a deep male voice, and Cas whipped around, angered that anyone thought he was stupid enough to fall for such an idiotic prank. He opened his mouth to unleash the wrath of heaven on Dean Winchester, the jerk-off in question, and abruptly tripped over his untied shoelace.
Cas lay a moment, stunned, feeling the asphalt hot against his face, and wishing he could just sink into it, and be done with all of the shit, forever. It was bad enough that he had had crush on Dean since grade school, and that Dean basically had no idea he existed, without embarrassing himself in front of Dean being their first real interaction.
"Dude, I'm so sorry, I didn't-" Dean was standing over him now, reaching out a hand.
Cas balefully pushed himself up, refusing the help, and growled, "Forget it."
"Hey, man, chill out. It was a mistake. What's your problem?" Dean grabbed his shoulder, halting his escape. Cas felt a shiver run though his body at the contact, and desperately wished he was anywhere else at all.
"I don't have a problem. Thanks for the warning." He yanked his shoulder out of Dean's grasp, and took a few steps away.
"Cas!" The nickname stopped him dead in his tracks. The way Dean said it went straight through Cas, affectionate and chiding at the same time, like he had been saying it for years, his voice sounding after-sex roughened. He said it like Cas was something special.
"Are you walking home?"
Cas heard the words, but it took him a moment to process them, utterly confused as to why Dean Winchester was still talking to him, and weirder yet, asking him a question.
"Yes, I am. Why?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
""Just… Uh… Do you want a ride home?" Dean looked extremely uncomfortable, fidgeting.
Why is he uncomfortable? What does he want? Does he feel guilty because I tripped? That must be it. Cas looked into Dean's beautiful, concerned, green eyes, and thought for a moment he could spend the rest of his life staring into them.
Finally, he said, "Yeah, all right."
Dean kept talking to him, after that. He wouldn't stop, actually, and eventually, Cas had no choice but to talk back. Dean found him, every lunch period, no matter where Cas went to eat, and always plopped down next to him, sticking his fingers into Cas's food, stealing his fries, flipping through his iPod, or punching him lightly in the arm.
"Cas, I know two things for sure. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, Taylor Swift sucks." Dean said, upon discovering that Cas had both of her albums.
"First off, Taylor Swift is a legitimate musician. She writes her own songs, manages her own staff, and plays an instrument. Her songs are catchy and capture the essence of high school romance beautifully. So go fuck yourself, you don't have to listen to her if you don't care for it," Cas shot an annoyed glance at Dean, and reclaimed his iPod, "Second, Bert and Ernie aren't gay, they're Muppets. Muppets have no genitalia."
"Muppets are junkless?" Dean snaked one of Cas's cookies, and took an enthusiastic bite.
"Yes. And don't ever mention Sesame Street to me again. That is what's wrong with America," Cas sniffed.
"Sesame Street is what's wrong with America?" Dean raised an eyebrow, smiling.
"Dude, explain yourself."
"Think about it. It brainwashes children to accept commercial programming. There's a 'plot' broken up by advertisements. It gives children short attention spans, and teaches them to be okay with commercials and destroys their ability to focus."
Dean laughed until he had to wipe tears from his eyes.
"Fuck, Cas, you're awesome. Insane, but awesome."
Cas smiled, feeling fuzzy inside.
Cas went into the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror after Dean left.
Wow, he thought to himself.
Dean had come up behind him in the kitchen, and gently wiped the eyeliner from Cas's face, and Cas had been so confused by the tenderness, and the odd look in Dean's eyes, and then Dean called him pretty, leaned down and kissed him.
That fucking kiss. Cas smiled, touching his lips at the memory. Dean's mouth was wide and kind, and covered Cas's perfectly, like it had been created just to fit against his. Cas had hesitantly reached his arms around Dean, moving closer, and let his lips part, allowing Dean's tongue in, feeling fireworks shoot down his spine. It had been so different than kissing Raphael, it was intense, intimate and earth shaking.
Cas had groaned, and Dean had pushed him back roughly, the kiss becoming hungry, like Dean was trying to swallow everything that Cas was and claim him as his own. Cas had felt Dean cup his ass, pulling him even closer, and when Cas moaned again, he'd felt the finger slide around to the front. It was suddenly too much, too fast, and Cas had freaked out a little, but Dean had said all the right things, and Cas couldn't believe that it been so perfect, that Dean was so good and patient with him.
His blue eyes looked back at him from the mirror, and Cas wondered what Dean saw in them, under the makeup and the marijuana reddened whites, that made Dean think he was pretty, and amazing.
"Just so you know, I'm not going to be messing around with anyone else," Dean had said on his way out the door.
Does that mean he's my boyfriend? Cas wondered, I think it does.
He was so fuckin' happy, he didn't need to drink himself to sleep that night.
It was the beginning of Christmas break, and Dean had stolen a bottle of Jack Daniels from his parents. They climbed up onto the roof, bundled in winter clothes, and sat on a blanket, looking up at the stars.
Dean had realized quickly that Cas could drink him under the table, but that he would eventually hit a magical point of way-the-fuck-too-drunk and get ridiculous, so he always placed himself in charge of doling out shots, no more than two for Cas to each one of his own.
"I made a playlist for you." Cas said.
"It better not have Taylor Swift on it." Dean winked.
"Oh, every hit single, and extra Katy Perry. The bonus track is Miley Cyrus." Cas grinned, and flipped it on the iPod, holding out an earbud to Dean. Dean took the iPod and scrolled through it, muttering running commentary, half to himself.
"Ballad of a Teenage Queen, nice. Johnny Cash is okay. I like that one too, Help Me Make It Through the Night. Ha, Radiohead. Fuck Thom Yorke. Oooh, I do like Karma Police, though, that's good stuff. Ok Computer was a great album. Nice Zep picks. Thank You and Rain Song are fuckin' pretty shit. Of course you put Waits on there- Okay, I do like Hold On and I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You. And Black Wings. Black Wings always makes me think of you, for some reason. Oh, more Zep. Fuck yeah, Tangerine… oh now, it's getting dirty. Black Dog and Lemon Song. I know what you're getting at." Dean put down the iPod on the blanket between them, and kissed Cas lightly. "If it weren't for all these damn layers."
"Eventually, we'll be too drunk to notice the cold." Cas observed, and they sat, listening as 'I Love You Because' played.
"The future is brighter, you know," Cas said as it ended.
"I never… before, I was just getting through each day, to get wasted at the end and stop hurting for a few hours."
"It's different now?"
"Do you think about me in your future?"
"Well, yeah." Cas poked Dean in the ribs, "Of course. Do you?"
"Yeah. A lot, actually. After we graduate, I wanna go on a road trip to Vegas, and I was meaning to ask you, if you'd be down with that."
"Hell yes. I salivate at the thought of seeing Cirque du Soleil."
"And, after that, we could maybe get a place. You know, together. I wanna go to school, I dunno what for yet, but I know that I wanna do something with my life, something to help people."
'I'd like that." Cas said, and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder.
They were down to the last few inches of liquor, and Cas had smoked more than a few spliffs when the shenanigans turned sour.
'I'm the motherfucking king of the motherfucking world!" Cas shrieked, balancing on the peak of the roof as Dean watched nervously.
"Cas, I'd really be more comfortable if you'd slowly come back down here," Dean said in a calm voice, moving slowly towards his drunken boyfriend.
"Fuck that, bitch!" Cas turned suddenly, gave him the finger, and lost his balance, disappearing with a horrible thud over the other side of the roof.
Cas was in the hospital for a week with a mild concussion and a sprained wrist. Dean came to see him every day. On New Year's Eve, the day he came home, they had their first fight.
"I want you to cut back on the pot, man, and the alcohol. I think it shuts off parts of your brain that you need, and the roof-"
"I'm fine, Dean, the roof was a one time thing. I won't drink that high up again."
"I'm serious, Cas. You know that future we were talking about? That future vanishes if you keep that shit up."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, it's not something I want to be around for the rest of my life. If you're gonna always be stoned out of your gourd, or if I have to spend my time worrying that you're not coming home because you crashed your car, or jumped off a higher roof, I can't deal with that. Cut back, or one day, I'm gone. I want to be enough for you, I don't want you to need to be fucked up all the time."
"Well, fuck you. How the fuck would you know what my life is like? What the hell do you think got me through, kept me going? And you want me to just throw that shit away because we're high on hormones instead? Fuck you!"
Dean learned to play guitar over the month and a half that they were apart- he'd owned an acoustic for a long time, but never got past basic chords. His strategy rested on only learning 'Love Story' and practicing until he wanted to tear his own eardrums out just to remove the possibility of ever hearing Taylor Swift again.
It terrified him to be up on stage, in front of the school, because not only was he a terrible musician, he was coming out to everyone he knew and had no guarantee that Cas would forgive him.
None of that mattered, though, because he knew that if he didn't try, he would never forgive himself. He had to try, that was the Winchester Way.
It was over so much faster than he thought it would be, and he looked right at Cas as he said "Yeah, so… Dude, I'm really sorry. I fucked up. Please forgive me, and uh, be my valentine?"
He was elated when he saw Cas nod and rise, wobbling down the bleachers towards him, and he started towards him, too, a little voice in the back of his head pointing out, this is the king of all chick flick moments, you little bitch. He ignored it, because Cas was worth it, ignored whatever douche was yelling, "Gay!"
Then Cas was in his arms, and they were kissing, and Dean couldn't hear or think or feel anything that wasn't Cas's mouth pressed against his.
They drove straight to Cas's house after school, kissing every few steps, backing through the bedroom door, and collapsing onto the bed in a pile of wriggling, ecstatic male.
Dean pulled Cas on top of him, one hand massaging Cas's perfect ass, the other running up his back, pulling his torso down, refusing to stop kissing him until they were both breathless.
Cas was flushed, and uninhibited. He'd never let things get past heated making out, but now, he wasn't stopping, thrusting against Dean, moaning his name, clutching Dean's shirt in his hands. He reached under the shirt, laying his hands flat against Dean's chest, and lifted his head.
"You're so warm," he breathed into Dean's neck, chasing the words with a light nip on his pulse point.
"You are, too." Dean felt Cas's hardness pressing against his through their jeans, and wanted so badly to unzip them, to take Cas's cock out and make him lose all fucking control, but he didn't, knew he couldn't be the one to push it.
It was like Cas read his mind, though, because he was unzipping Dean's pants, and Dean lifted his hips so Cas could pull them down, stroked Cas's back as Cas undid his own pants, and Dean grinned ear to ear when he realized Cas wasn't wearing underwear. Then he forgot to make any particular facial expression, because Cas was thrusting against him again, hot and hard, writhing and the friction was unlike anything Dean had ever known could happen to his dick. The orgasm was burning, uncontrolled, dragging both of them along, powerless to do anything but gasp and pray that it didn't destroy them.
After, they lay holding each other, indulging in absolutely girly cuddling and sweet talk.
"Dean, I have to tell you something."
"Is it bad? If it's bad, I don't wanna know."
"No, it's good. Really good. I quit smoking pot. A month ago. I decided it didn't matter if I was with you or not, you were right. It does make me numb, and if I want to be an adult, I need to know how to feel. I want to be able to feel, because if I felt that good when I was with you, I could only imagine how much better it would be if I wasn't turning off my brain."
"Is it better?"
"It's better than better. It's perfect."