It's In Your Eyes

Stupid, little embarrassment.

Dean's POV -

Shit. Why haven't I moved? Why I'm I still touching his hand? Why the hell can I not look away from his lips?

The last thought shakes me out of my daze, I realise what is happening and feel embarrassed, clearing my throat to break the silence. He literally jumps at my sudden noise and a tiny flash of guilt is pumped through my body, across my chest like a shock.

He let's go of the case, bringing his hand up to his chest and pressing against the wall to let me haul the case past him. It just fits without running over his toes.

Now that I'm ahead again, my back to him, I let my face relax, assessing what has just happened.

I'd felt so calm, so at peace looking into those eyes, like you do when you look out over the clear ocean on a tropical island's beach. He'd just starred back but instead of making me feel uncomfortable, I'd felt safe and honest...

Honest? What a weird word to use... What made me think of that?

I can feel my skin tingling as I reach the top of the staircase and turn down an equally tight corridor, glancing back for just a second to check that he was following me okay. He's just looking down at his shoes, but he seems to be keeping up fine. I should probably break this awkward silence...

He seems like such a kind boy, I'd like to befriend him, so he's not alone and because I don't like very many people in this year... Not really.

But that's the point, isn't it. He's a boy. And the way you felt just there...

It didn't make sense.

Castiel's POV -

You idiot. What are you doing?! That can't happen again, you need him as a friend and you can't go scarring him off, you stupid, little... What does dad call you? Oh, yeah. Stupid, little embarrassment. You need a friend like him, being what you are! A high achieving, nerdy prime target that is... Not the homosexual thing. Not many people know about that...

Not yet.

I shake my head once he's pulled the case past me, his back to me know, and drop my hands to my sides in fists. If he did look back, though, they are hidden in the sleeves of my trenchcoat. He wouldn't notice, unless my nails break the skin on my palms and there's blood, that is.

Don't do this. - I tell myself - He'll just get freaked and not want to be around you.

And I like him too much to let that happen... Again. I want him, as a friend, so I have to ignore this burning in my chest and in my throat. It'll pass. It has to pass. I'd like to be able to say it will but...

How would I know. This is a first.

I follow him along a long, narrow corridor at the top of the stairs after a sharp turn. I watch my feet, glue my eyes to the toes of my converse, scuffed and more brown and grey than white now. My laces are loose as ever, dragging along the ground the frayed bottoms flop forward with every step. It's a miracle I don't trip constantly...

Dean slows in front of me and I have to stop dead so as not to tromp on my bag. I look up and he's stopped by a door with the number 13 on it. He looks my way and I wait, not realising I'm holding my breath. I wait for him to say something to wipe away what happened before.

What happened before doesn't have to be out in the open. It doesn't... I may still have to revisit it in my sleep... Think about, if maybe things were different, how they could be different. Or perhaps just imagine scenarios that are just outright ridiculous. No one will know.

Stop it.

"Here we are, room 13..."