Minutes later Dean met him in the parking lot, where Castiel was seated low in the Impala to avoid being seen. He had already found some paper towels in the back seat and was using them to wipe the mess from his face and neck.

"You didn't go to the principal's office?" Castiel asked, alarmed.

"Fuck, no," Dean said, getting behind the wheel.

Castiel handed him his keys with the miniature guitar dangling from them, and the Impala roared to life. Dean peeled out of the parking lot and was halfway down the road before he turned to look at Castiel.

"God, I thought he knocked you unconscious," Dean said, obviously shaken. "Shit."

"No, thankfully. I believe it has stopped bleeding."

"Why didn't you didn't go to the nurse?"

"I don't want my mother to discover what happened."

"We better get you home and cleaned up before she gets home, then," Dean said, still casting glances in Castiel's direction. "Although the second she sees your face she's gonna know. Are you sure you're all right, man? You scared the hell outta me."

"Based on my reflection," Castiel sighed, "I believe my lip is split."

"We'll get some ice on that as soon as we get to your house. You'll be okay."

"What about you?" Castiel asked, turning to look at him more closely. "Both of your eyes are turning black-and-blue."

Dean leaned over to glance at himself in the rear-view mirror. "Yeah, takin' a shot to the nose'll do that to you. I'm gonna look like hammered shit tomorrow."

Not long afterward they pulled into their apartment complex, where Dean immediately turned off the Impala and jumped out. "Lemme help."

"It's okay, Dean. A split lip isn't the end of the world."

"You talk like this has happened before."

"Freshman year I was pushed down the stairs and severely injured my arm," he said, walking to his front door and unlocking it. "I've had my glasses broken twice from being pushed into lockers. I've had items thrown at me in the halls. I've had a bloody nose from getting purposely hit with a book."

"I know you told me about the bullying, Cas," Dean said as they entered the apartment, "but I had no idea it was this bad."

There was a hint of emotion in Dean's voice when he said that, and Castiel wasn't sure he was upset over the incidents he endured or the fact that Castiel never really told him the whole truth about just how badly he had been victimized.

Castiel tossed his backpack to the floor and sat down at the kitchen table. "It's always been like this," he said. "Alastair is the latest in a long line of bullies that delight in causing pain."

"I'm sorry you've had to go through that," Dean said, sitting beside him.

Castiel merely shrugged.

Dean pulled his chair closer and slid his hand beneath Castiel's chin. "Look at me."

Castiel tilted his head up, meeting Dean's intense gaze. He didn't look away, even as Dean gently rubbed his thumb over Castiel's bottom lip, carefully avoiding the injured area. He let his finger trail to Castiel's top lip, slowly tracing its curve to the hollow just under his nose.

Castiel shivered. He instinctively ran his tongue over the gash.

"Hold on," Dean said, his voice whispery.

He got up, and Castiel could hear the freezer open behind him and the ice cube tray crack. Dean slid Castiel's glasses from his nose and put them on the kitchen table. Then he sat back down with a paper towel-wrapped cube, and brought it up to Castiel's mouth.

"Lemme know if this hurts."

Castiel nodded, and Dean gingerly touched the sweating ice to his lip. Castiel hissed and closed his eyes, and when he didn't protest further, Dean skimmed the cube back and forth. Melted water dribbled over his chin and mixed with the dried blood that had accumulated there, but Dean dabbed with the paper towel to keep the mess from dripping onto the kitchen table.

Dean's left hand drifted up and settled in Castiel's hair, and Castiel could feel a pressure in his chest that made his heart flutter and heat sink into his stomach. His face was throbbing with pain, but Dean's close proximity and the way his hands kept lightly brushing Castiel's neck every time he swept the ice over his lips distracted him.

"Any better?"

Castiel nodded, unsure he could even speak.

"We need to get you cleaned up, and wash out this shirt before the blood sets. Where's the bathroom?"

Castiel finally opened his eyes. "Down the hall to the left."

Dean stood and led Castiel over to the bathroom. He correctly guessed where the linen closet was and grabbed a washcloth and an extra towel. Castiel stood there and watched while he dampened the cloth with cold water and soap.

Dean then pulled at the collar of Castiel's shirt to keep it away from his mouth. "Pick your arms up so you can get your shirt off without it brushin' against your face."

Castiel did so, and Dean pulled the shirt up and over his head, wadding it to prevent the blood from staining the walls or floor.

All Castiel could hear was his blood pulsing in his ears. His heart was hammering loudly inside his chest, and Castiel knew that if he looked over in the mirror he would see the flush that had spread across his cheeks and neck. His legs quivered a bit where he stood.

Dean picked up the washcloth and brushed at the blood under Castiel's chin. He worked slowly, careful not to scrub too hard at the tender area where a bruise was already starting to form. He wrung the cloth out in the sink and wet it again.

The blood hadn't seeped farther than his neck, but Dean dipped the cloth across his chest anyway. Droplets of water stuck to his breastbone then cascaded downward, getting caught in the waistband of his jeans. The water was cold and it made Castiel suck air through his teeth. Dean let the tail of the wet cloth dangle near his navel, and Castiel accidentally let out a whimper.

He could hear Dean's breathing speed up, and Dean stepped forward, closing what little space there was between them in the cramped bathroom.

"Dean." Castiel's voice sounded breathless and needy and foreign to his own ears.

Dean pressed his mouth to Castiel's collarbone, sucking at the beads of water that clung there. He traced upward with his tongue, licking in one smooth arc to Castiel's jaw, which he then fluttered with small kisses. Gently he pressed his lips to Castiel's, kissing above and next to the angry purple bruise blossoming across his bottom lip. He then kissed his eyelids, and nose, and came to rest at his mouth again, probing lightly with his tongue.

Castiel let him explore, tipping his head back and sliding his hand under Dean's shirt. He had never kissed anyone before, but it didn't seem to matter. The sensuous feeling deep in his abdomen, between his legs, and the twitch in Dean's jeans told him he was doing fine. A moment later, they pulled apart.

"I didn't think it'd be like that," Dean breathed.

"Kissing a guy, you mean?"

"No, kissin' you."

"Was my first kiss that obvious?" Castiel asked, slightly worried.

"No...no, Cas, you were fantastic. I meant it was better than I thought it would be." Dean sat down hard on the toilet and ran a hand through his hair. "I...Cas, I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I'm takin' advantage of you or somethin'. Because that isn't what this is. Did I...shit, did I just fuck this all up?"

"No," Castiel said sternly. "I may not have had much experience when it comes to this, but I wouldn't allow someone to impose upon me in that way. I knew precisely what I was doing."

Dean shook his head, struggling with what he wanted to say.

"I don't understand, Dean."

"There's somethin' about you, Cas."

"Good, I hope?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled, and went quiet.

Castiel kneeled down in front of him. "What do you think you fucked up Dean? I still don't understand."

"At first I thought all this was me finally gettin' a chance to have an honest-to-God friend for once," Dean explained. "But then I'd see you and the way you looked at me, or how you laughed at my stupid jokes, or how you were always interested in what I had to say, no matter what it was, and I realized there was somethin'...more between us. Somethin' more than friendship."

"But — "

Dean held up his hand. "I'm not good with words, okay? Me kissin' you just now...I've wanted to do that for a long time."

He was staring now, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment. He looked as nervous as Castiel was feeling himself.

"I know," Castiel said finally.

"You do?"

"Dean, it's okay." Castiel reached out and touched his hand. "I feel the same way."

Dean released a huge breath of air. "Oh man."

"Were you afraid I didn't?"

"Maybe. A little. I dunno...I didn't want to lose what we had if I made the wrong choice. Push you into somethin' you weren't ready for."

"When I'm with you I'm happier than I've been in a long time," Castiel admitted. "I don't anticipate losing that."

"With everything we've said to each other, I guess we weren't very good at actually talkin'," Dean said, placing his hand gently on the back of Castiel's neck.

"I believe you're right."

"Is this okay then?"

"The kissing? Oh yes, it's very enjoyable."

"No," Dean grinned, "us."

Castiel considered it for a moment. "Are we boyfriends?"

"I haven't really thought that far ahead. The kissin' was sorta spur of the moment."

"I'm not versed in how this should transpire, either," Castiel said, frowning. "I suppose we'll take it one day at a time and see where it leads us."

"That sounds good." Dean placed his finger underneath Castiel's jaw and lifted his chin. "We don't want your mom catchin' us like this. I guess...I'd better go."

"You probably should. She'll be home soon."

Dean placed a soft kiss on Castiel's lips, brushed his fingers through his hair, and left the bathroom.