Gym class was not something Castiel Novak was rather fond of. 

The boy's legs were neither long nor thick enough to play basketball, his pale arms were useless in volleyball; his feet weren't fast enough for soccer, his build not broad enough for rugby.  

And his reflexes? Pah! 

His rain-dyed eyes automatically squeezed themselves shut like the car doors of a Cadillac as if to protect his brain from seeing his bones crack. His hearing was drowned out by the sound of his own gentle yelp, his hands and one feeble leg raising up to guard himself as efficiently as possible. 

None of these things helped.

What good was evolution if it didn't protect you from a baseball? 

"Cas! Look out!!"

Speaking of baseball. 

Whack -- !! 

_

It was probably a Thursday when the fifth grader found the kid with the Crayola markers. 

It was the day the coaches decided it would be a fun idea to force tired children to play together in the scorching Kansas heat, children who pretty much hated each other and the fact that they're still at school. Basically they dumped a few jump ropes and hula hoops out on the basketball court with an assortment of dodge balls and basketballs and let the class go nuts. No one ever went nuts.

Mirages could be seen in the distance.

Castiel really tried to pass the time for a while. He wasn't very good at jump roping, he always landed too hard and was practically stomping out short earthquakes. Hula hooping was out of the question, it was too embarrassing now that he was a whopping eleven years old. The only basketballs left to play with were flat.

Maybe they wouldn't notice if he just...hid somewhere.

He couldn't sneak back into the school, they would see him. He certainly couldn't hide in the bathroom the rest of the period or else the other kids would make fun of him for "taking so long." If he faked an illness, the nurse would send him off with an ice pack and a crumby hand print on the back of his shirt.

That's when he spotted the shed.

Sublime. 

All Castiel had to do was slide behind it...

Casually, his eyes constantly on the coaches, he tiptoed to the front of the shed. When he was absolutely certain no one was watching, he darted in behind it. 

Safety!

"Aye pal, if someone friggin' saw you and you spoiled my hiding spot, I swear to god I'm gonna gank your ass."

Castiel turned his head to see the infamous Dean Winchester crouched with his back against the shed.

His hair was a matte sort of blonde, like he stuffed his gelled spikes into a dust bunny fortress. He looked to be about the same size as Castiel, but he also looked like he could handle himself. His knees were scraped, like Castiel's, but something about the scrapes seemed different. Castiel got his ouchies from being shoved down on accident by some jerk who really wanted to get to recess. This other kid looked like he got his from climbing or doing something really cool and manly.

Dean was a pretty quiet kid, kept to himself, but always looked so darn mean. 

Castiel shook his head. "Wait wait wait -- gank? Did you really just say gank?"

Dean blushed. "Sh-shut up. You gonna sit down or what??" 

Castiel slid down the wall and sat arms around his knees next to Dean. He introduced himself, receiving a scoff in return. The boys sat in comfortable silence, mainly because Castiel was just enjoying the shade and Dean was too busy with...whatever he was doing.

What was he doing, exactly?

Upon closer inspection, Castiel saw the pink and green scribbles all over his thighs. Tiny flowers peppered his freckled skin, along with ogres and vampires and leaves and all sorts of cute little trees. 

The tough Dean Winchester would rather color on himself than throw dodge balls at unsuspecting girls. 

Castiel smiled slightly, then giggled. He could see Dean blushing a bit more now, reading Castiel's thoughts. "Shut up," Dean spat. 

"No no, hand me one of those markers." Dean, who was currently using the pink, rolled the green one over to Castiel, who in turn scooched a little closer to the other boy. The lid came off with a satisfying pop, and Castiel drew a big neon heart on Dean's shin, where everyone would see it, and then another one identical on his own. Dean flinched and stared in horror.

"Gosh, Cas, why'd you do that, are you gay or something??"

Cas (he liked the new nickname) shrugged. "I don't know. Are you?"

Dean's gaze faltered. He seemed to think for a moment, then lowered his chartreuse eyes to the concrete. "I like girls."

"But do you like boys, too?"

"I mean..."

Cas scooted even closer to Dean so that they were touching shoulders. 

"That's okay," Cas reassured. "You don't have to answer that right now."