In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Dare Elsewhere

Freckles

Castiel grabbed his backpack and dug around for the cans of Coke he had placed at the bottom. In doing so, Dean caught sight of a CD case.

"What CD is that?"

"I bought it when we went to Wal-Mart to get my new backpack. I know technically the album came out last year, but it's really popular and I wanted — "

Dean grabbed it from him. "Hootie & the Blowfish? You gotta be kiddin' me."

"What?"

"Really, Cas? These douchebags?"

"I prefer to listen to music during which I can understand the words," Castiel blithely responded.

"I need to school you on the good shit, man! Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Black Sabbath...now those are bands."

"I'm sure they are, Dean, but if I remember my music history correctly, all of those bands were popular in the '70s, were they not?"

"Well...but..." Dean made a face. "Yeah."

Castiel surprised himself at how comfortable he was by laughing out loud at the look on Dean's face. He laughed so hard he lost his breath and clutched his sides, gasping for air.

At first Dean seemed as shocked as Castiel was, and then he joined in.

"Forgive me," Castiel finally said, when he could speak again. "I don't know why that struck me funny."

"You should do that more often."

"What?"

"Laugh like that."

Castiel felt himself blush. He stared down at his sandwich, concentrating on picking off an edge of crust.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you, I — "

Castiel looked back up at him. Dean seemed to be studying his face, and Castiel was doing likewise, noticing a splash of freckles across his nose, the light stubble on his cheeks, and his intense, green eyes.

Now it was Dean's turn to glance away. "Sorry."

Castiel touched Dean's arm to get his attention, and when he did, Castiel handed him a Coke. "You'll be pleased to know I have an eclectic taste in music. You can bring your CDs tomorrow if you'd like. Shall I assume you like bologna?"

"I do. Does this mean we're goin' to have to meet every day for lunch so I can teach you the secrets of classic rock?"

"I suppose it does."

"Is that an official invitation?" Dean asked, smirking.

"Dean — "

"No, you're not gettin' outta this easy, Cas. Go on."

Castiel made a show of rolling his eyes. "Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow, Dean?"

"And for the rest of the week in order to work up to the '80s?"

"And for the rest of the week to work up to the '80s."

"Why then yes, Mr. Agnus," Dean said with an affected air, "I certainly would like to have lunch with you. I sure do enjoy your company."

Castiel grinned shyly. "You actually pronounced my name right."

"I pay attention sometimes," Dean replied, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"When you're in English class for example? Hardly."

"When I think it's important."

Castiel tried not to make it obvious how pleased he was that Dean had made an effort to get his name right. Hearing that Dean considered it important made his stomach do that strange little flip again. But he didn't feel nervous anymore around Dean. He was easier to talk to than he expected, and without him knowing it, they had settled into an easy-going conversation. Castiel felt that Dean's personality had a lot do with it; he was outgoing, self-assured, and prepossessing.

Castiel sipped at his Coke and took his sketchbook out of his bag. Opening it in his lap, he grabbed his sandwich with one hand and a pencil with the other. His eyes flicked between Dean and the page in front of him.

Dean leaned back against the tree with his sandwich and chips to watch him.

"Don't move," Castiel said.

"Leave my freckles out," Dean said, correctly guessing that Castiel was sketching him. "They make me look ugly."

"We've already discussed this," Castiel said. "You're far from ugly."

"They make it look like my nose was smeared with somethin'."

"They frame your cheekbones and highlight the color of your eyes," Castiel said matter-of-factly.

"I see I'm not the only one payin' attention around here."

Castiel paused from his sketch to look up, expecting to see Dean smiling at him, but instead he had a serious look on his face. Castiel cleared his throat and went back to drawing.

"I'm sure the girls love them regardless of what you think," Castiel said. "No doubt you've had many girlfriends."

"A few, I guess. Nothin' too serious."

"How do you mean?"

"I'd go out on dates with girls and whatever, but I never had a real girlfriend."

"Was that because you thought you might have to move again?" Castiel asked.

"Nah, I just never connected with anybody. I never had a problem gettin' a girl to go out with me. Most of the time I wasn't even doin' the askin'. But as nice or as pretty as a girl was, it never...I dunno...it never clicked. I always seemed to find somethin' wrong and I'd never see her again. Or, y'know, maybe I'm really sucky boyfriend material."

"I'm sure you were simply worried about losing a potential girlfriend when it came time to leave yet another school."

Dean shrugged. "I guess."

He couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for Dean, a boy who seemed very honest and open and funny but who couldn't hold onto anyone in his life because he kept getting shuffled around from place to place.

"I'm positive you're excellent boyfriend material, Dean. You simply have to find the right person."

Dean chuckled and winked at him. "Probably."

Castiel didn't say anything more and let the rest of the conversation hang as he continued to sketch. He finished up his sandwich and the chips, closed his sketchbook, and tossed Dean the Ziploc bag of cookies.

"Lunch is almost over," Castiel said.

"We better get back."

"Yes."

"What do you think goes better with bologna," Dean asked, "Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath?"

Castiel smiled at him. "I'll leave it in your capable hands."

"Awesome. Same time tomorrow?"

"See you then."