Smoke and Burn

Bang Bang.

October 28, 2010

CASTIEL

"C'mon, Cas, just one hint!" The ghost of a smile on my face only eggs Dean on as I read his paper. I press my lips together as he ducks his head, resting his cheek on the table to try and catch my downcast eyes. I glance up—I can't help it—meeting his too green eyes that dance with mischief. "Just a little one?" He puts his finger and thumb up, the gap between them only about an inch wide. "Like, this big?" My heart flutters when he bats his eyelashes, knowing full well that they're almost impossible to resist.

I shake my head though, turning back to the pages in front of me as he huffs. I chew on the end of my pen, blocking out Dean's indignant little sounds and refocussing on the words in front of me.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he says, snatching the pen from my hand.

"Hey!" I reach across the table for it, jumping up and down as he toys with me; bringing it closer only to pull it away from me again. I glower at him, growling in frustration and sitting back down. He thinks he's just so clever. "That's not much of a trade; I already know what you're going as."

"How?" His shock is laughable.

"You wear the same costume every year." I roll my eyes, my heart skipping half a beat when I meet his gaze again. He's just watching me, his smile is warm and his eyes are soft.

He laughs under his breath and shakes his head. "Only you would pay attention to something like that."

"It's fairly difficult to forget the entire Justice League of America stuffing you into lockers and running you up the flagpole, wouldn't you think, Batman?" I say, an edge to my voice that wasn't there before as bitterness creeps in past the playfulness. I take my pen back and redouble my efforts to get through more than a paragraph as a lump rises in my throat. Dean is silent, letting me work for a solid ten minutes.

"What if you went as...I don't know—a cat? That's pretty simple, right? I mean, if you don't already have a costume..." He raises an eyebrow as a small grin tugs at his lips. I go along with it, letting him lighten the mood a little.

"I wasn't aware that I was required to wear one at all." Dean's jaw drops a little and he moves a hand over his heart.

"What kind of person doesn't wear a costume on Halloween? Are you a serial killer? Maybe a psychopath?" He scratches his chin in mock contemplation. "Maybe you can make that a costume; you already have the crazy hair and lunatic glasses." I kick his shin under the table and he laughs.

"Maybe I'll just go as myself. My life is already a joke, so it could work. Or perhaps a trashcan, since I'm as worthless as trash." The smile falls from my face. It was supposed to be funny but the truth of it hits hard. I am worthless. No one would notice if I disappeared. I guess jokes really aren't funny when they're true.

I glance up at Dean and he's mad—the blistering glare on his face reveals as much. "Don't fucking say shit like that," he growls and I shrink away.

"I—"

"I mean it, Cas. You're not nothing...you—" He cuts himself off, running his fingers through his hair before locking his eyes back on mine, imploring me to believe him. "You matter, Cas. You matter to me."

I swallow thickly, trying so hard to believe him—to believe his words are true and that I'm not just a waste of space taking up valuable oxygen—a waste of a human being. I try...

I tear my eyes from him, looking at the paper but not really seeing it. Dean sighs but doesn't push the issue. It's a few minutes before I've gathered myself enough to actually read his essay, going over it line by line and just barely putting them together enough to grasp the meaning. He takes out his phone, focussing intently on whatever's on his screen.