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Earlier that morning

Dean laughed, perhaps a little overexcitedly, at the shy boy in front of him, who hadn't even said anything remotely funny. Or at least the boy himself couldn't tell he had- though he wasn't great at deciphering much.

"You're laughing." A frown set his olive-skinned expression, confusion in his arctic blue eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, Cas, you didn't..." Dean sighed relaxedly, shaking his head and smiling at the wall opposite them, which was tracked with dirty soccer ball stains, like round scars along the white paint. His meadowy eyes then flickered back to Castiel, who was shifting in his spot.

"You're confusing me, Dean." He intoned.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're actually pretty hot?" The Winchester smirked, a wolfish action that frightened Cas quite a lot.

"Excuse me?"

"You. You're hot."

Castiel shook his head, looking down at his knees, a blush threatening to creep up to his surface. He had some understanding about that compliment, but he wasn't 100 percent on what it meant. So he decided to go for an inquisitive answer. "...I think you'll find I maintain my body's core temperature at at regular level of 98 degrees, as do many other humans..."

Dean chuckled at that, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "Talk nerdy to me, Cas. I meant that I think you look nice."

"...Oh...Well...Thank you, I believe..."

It was then that a ball smacked into the brickwork directly beside Cas, and thanks to Dean spotting it before it struck and tugging Cas out of the way by the short sleeve of his sports uniform, it didn't do any worse than just startling him.

"Hey, Novak! Winchester! Get off your asses, this is gym class, not speed dating!" The voice of their coach was loud and demanding enough for the walls to hear and repeat about the extensive cavity that was the school gym hall, and Dean shrugged, Cas however bolting upright almost mechanically.

"Why is your coach such a tight-ass all the time?" Dean grumbled.

"He's also my brother, so I can assure you he is not always like that."

Dean gave Cas' tiny, almost feminine and tanned body a once over, picking out key features such as his deep black hair and blue eyes, before turning to the pale, blonde coach and attempting to make a comparison. "That guy is your brother?"

"Regretfully, yes." Cas frowned. "His real name's Lucifer, but I'm not supposed to tell you that."

"Lucifer." Dean repeated, looking down his nose at Castiel, who didn't seem to have a problem with his brother being named after Satan. "Who the hell names their kid Lucifer?"

A pattering of dodge balls flew across the room as the next match was put into play, and Cas flinched a little, unnerved by the harsh slaps the balls made upon hitting the linoleum. "My parents felt it would be fitting to name us after angels. Hence Castiel."

"Right... Lucifer isn't an angel, though, is he?"

Castiel turned and gave Dean a disbelieving look. "Have you never invested in a Bible?"

Dean shrugged. "Never really had the time."

Cas sat himself back down on the bench, his knees pressed together delicately in a way that contradicted to how Dean's were spread as far apart as possible. Dean was messy, Cas was neat. "Lucifer was an archangel when God built creation. He refused to bow down to Man, just as the Lord requested of him, and so Michael banished him from Heaven unto to the depths of Hell. After that he became the Devil. He fell for disobeying his father."

Dean blinked. "I thought all the angels were fluffy and carried around harps?"

"They're warriors of God, Dean."

"Yeah... you can say that again... So, what about ol' Cassie, then? Is he as cute as you are? I dont know anything about religion."

"I should think not, he led a garrison." Castiel replied, a smile threatening on his lips. It didnt take much decoding to understand that compliment.

Dean chuckled at that, and the bare skin of his right leg skirted against Castiel's, causing the both of them to immediately retract. A pinkness appeared in Cas' ears, and he looked out at the players in front of him distractedly.

"Do you have any brothers?" He then asked, fiddling with the dark hem of his own tracksuit shorts, which had the school badge emblazoned on the lower rim of his left leg.

Dean looked up from where he had been scuffing the floor with his trainers. "Ah, yeah, just one. His name's Sam, and he's a dork."

"I see. How old is he?"

"Sixteen this year. Time flies, right?"

"If he is attending here, he'll be at league with my brother Gabriel."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Samandriel, Zachariah, Uriel, Raphael, Lucifer, Gabriel. I also have a sister called Anna."

Dean scoffed. "Sounds like Mom and Dad are busy people."

"We're adopted."

"Ah." Dean nodded. That explained the appearance differentials.