For the next week Castiel shared his lunch with Dean, during which he learned more than he ever wanted to know about '70s-era rock bands, why classic cars never went out of style, and why he needed to learn to appreciate the Star Wars films. Dean, in turn, got free sandwiches, an attentive ear, and someone who relished the act of simply having a conversation. On those afternoons Castiel would sit and sketch, trying to capture Dean's animated features as he opened up about his life and the things he loved.

They even had a discussion on the romantic poets, because Dean didn't really want to memorize "lame-ass love stuff," as Dean put it. Castiel had his hands full trying to open Dean's eyes to the talents of Shelley, Byron, Whitman, and others. He put as much effort into that as Dean did into teaching him about music. Castiel had given him Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass and told him it would be good for him to take a look at. Dean, in turn, had given him Led Zeppelin's hefty Complete Studio Recordings and told him the same thing.

By Tuesday of the second week of sharing lunch — Dean's music appreciation lessons had naturally moved past the week of '70s rock and into mid-'80s hair bands — Castiel realized that he was impatient for his morning classes to finish just so he could spend time alone with Dean. By the time English was over he was already starting to miss him. It never bothered him before, but suddenly he hated having the last lunch period of the day.

What he found even more interesting was the fact that the odd little flip his stomach made each time Dean laughed had now turned into a low, hot, sinking feeling that cascaded from his chest deep into his abdomen. His heart raced and his mouth got dry every time he saw Dean, too.

He began to find excuses to strike up conversations in homeroom and English, to create ways to linger before having to leave class and Dean. Auto shop wasn't nearly as excruciating with Dean sitting beside him offering tips on how to properly tighten a lug nut, or quietly reminding him to loosen the oil cap before unscrewing the drain bolt when changing oil.

He was never able to clearly explain to Dean how much that meant to him — the simple act of having someone look out for him and, if Castiel was interpreting it correctly, care about him as well. It was an entirely new feeling knowing he had someone to confide in for the first time in his life. He began to tell Dean things he had never admitted to another living soul, like his anguish over the years of bullying, the joys that his artwork brought him, and even intensely personal admissions, like what he believed the afterlife was like. He couldn't bring himself to talk about Michael, though. Castiel could never find the proper moment to talk about something so painful. It was just about the only thing he hadn't talked about.

On a Thursday of their third week of having lunch together, Dean was loudly sucking the filling from a Twinkie and humming along to Metallica on his CD player when the bell signaling the end of lunch sounded.

"It's time already?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Forty-five minutes do go by far too quickly."

"Yeah."

"We could spend a little more time together. What about dinner?" Castiel asked.

Dean playfully tossed a pine cone at him. "Is this the one you were afraid to invite me to three weeks ago?"

"The very same. Except now I think I can manage a dinner conversation."

"Does your mom know you're invitin' me?"

"She won't mind. It was her idea, as you recall."

"I'll be on my best behavior, I promise," Dean said, drawing an imaginary X over his heart. "When?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"No, I don't have any other plans."

"Excellent. I'll talk my mother into getting a pizza, in order to dissuade her from serving anything healthy...like broccoli."

"Ugh, thank you. Now c'mon, we're gonna be late." Dean stepped to the edge of the trees and pointed. "I can see the auto shop garage bay door open. We can cut through and get to class faster."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Everyone will see us together."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"I didn't want to cause you problems by being seen with me."

"I've been with you every day for the past three weeks," Dean said, confused.

"But no one knows we're out here, and the only time we're together is in the classroom. Walking with me, choosing to be with me...alone...that's entirely different."

"Cas." Dean frowned. "You shouldn't say shit like that."

"I — " Castiel didn't know how to respond. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, man. Be angry. Don't let those assholes make you think less of yourself! You're smart, you're talented, and you have a great sense of humor. Why can't you see that?"

"I don't know."

Dean placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "You're a great guy. Look, I know this might sound weird or whatever, but you're the first person I've felt comfortable with...well, in a really long time. I like hangin' out with you. I don't care what anyone else thinks."

Dean's hand felt comforting, like he was trying to soothe away Castiel's fears and self-doubt. Castiel leaned into the touch, unconsciously seeking reassurance from Dean, a boy he knew could have been the most popular junior in Flour Bluff High based on looks and charisma alone, but instead chose to spend his time with him. In Castiel's perspective, the universe seemed tilted somehow. Having someone stand by him for the first time felt a little overwhelming.

He knew he'd been experiencing things he'd never felt before when he was around Dean. His stomach would quiver, his heart would pound...it was confusing yet exhilarating at the same time. He also knew what he was feeling was more than simple friendship. As socially awkward and isolated as he was, there was no mistaking that rush that descended into his abdomen whenever Dean laughed, or the way his chest constricted when it was time for them to say goodbye.

"It'll be fine, Cas. I'm right here with you," Dean said, almost as if he could hear what Castiel was thinking. "Trust me."

Castiel took a deep breath, and then sighed. It had taken him all this time to admit what was really happening, but in that moment, he knew.

He was falling in love with Dean Winchester.