Chapter Text
You know what sucks? Friggin’ crushes. They fucking suck. Dean Winchester is a full grown, manly man. He does not get butterflies in his stomach when certain pretty boy teachers smile at him in a particularly friendly manner. Except he does, and it’s a fucking problem! He couldn’t be blushing in front of his students every time Novak stopped by to borrow a pen, or a copy of the new worksheet, or because apparently his projector broke every week and he just had to have Dean come and fix it for him. His students were starting to notice.
Becky friggin’ Rosen would share this look with Sarah and they’d both burst into a fit of giggles every goddamn time Novak came into the room. The last thing he needed was his students to find out about his stupid little crush. The whole thing was humiliating enough already. So there Dean sat, trying to focus on grading the essays his students had handed in that morning when, of course, Novak walks in.
Dean barely managed not to let out an exasperated groan when he saw him. Because the little shit couldn’t just look like his usual adorable self, he had to go and look fucking hot. In his stupid little tight-fitting vest with his charcoal button down, the sleeves were rolled up to expose sinewy forearms and his dark tie was loose and slightly askew. And god his jeans. They were dark wash and they were fucking tight. ‘Fuck you and your hot bod, Novak!’ He screamed in his mind.
“Hey, are you busy? I can’t seem to figure out the damn copy machine.” He pointed down the hall, where the copy room was and gave a little shrug. Dean sighed and suddenly Novak looked a little nervous. “If you’re busy it’s fine,” he stammered out quickly, looking like he was about to walk out of the room.
“No, no I’m not busy,” he said quickly, then immediately wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. ‘Yes you are!’ He chastised himself. ‘You had a perfect excuse, but now you’re gonna be stuck in a small, hot room, with Mr. Tight Pants.’ Yeah, exactly, he retorted to himself. *Brain slap*. Wait, what? He shook himself, he was tired, he couldn’t be blamed for the strange conversations he had with himself in his head. He got up to join Novak as he led him towards the copy room. “You really seem to be shitty with technology Novak, how the hell do you even function in the twenty first century?”
A faint blush heated Novak’s cheeks and he gave a little shrug. “Good thing I have you to help me.”
Dean let out a little chuckle at that as they entered the copy room. “Yeah, guess so. So what were you trying to copy?”
He handed Dean a worksheet. “I need 50 copies of this, but I can’t figure out which of these buttons to press.” He gave Dean a sheepish smile and there were not certain insect wings fluttering in his stomach at that.
Dean took the worksheet from him and placed it in the copying tray, or whatever it was called. “So you put that there, and then you press this.” He jabbed a button and Novak leaned in closer, like he was being shown how to fly a rocket ship and Dean’s button-pressing was crucial knowledge. “Then you put in the number of copies you need here.” Novak leaned in closer and Dean could feel his heart rate spike. Novak just nodded along, totally oblivious to how flustered Dean was becoming. “And then you press this little green button, there, easy.”
Novak nodded again and Dean prayed his face wasn’t as red as it felt, because Novak still wasn’t taking a goddamn step back. “Thank you, Dean. It always seems so simple when you do it.” He finally tore his wide blue eyes from the copy machine, pinning Dean under his gaze and smiling gratefully, if a little bashfully. And he still wasn’t stepping back.
It seemed Dean had found himself in a strange game of ‘personal space’ chicken, and fuck if he was gonna lose. After all, he wasn’t a Losechester. Oh god, did he really just think that? “Yeah, no problem man.” Novak didn’t respond, but now not only was he not moving, he was friggin’ staring, just gazing at Dean without explanation, and okay, what?! So, of course, Dean was staring right back. Then Novak’s gaze flicked down to his lips, and they lingered for a good five seconds so Dean was sure he wasn’t imagining it before his gaze flicked back up to his eyes. What the hell was happening?!
“Dean.” Castiel’s gravelly voice growling out his name sent a shiver up his spine. Suddenly the room felt about 20 degrees hotter.
“Yeah?” Responded Dean, and fuck, of course it had to come out all breathless.
“Are you free Friday night?” Castiel’s goddamn eyes kept wandering back to his lips and it was more than a little distracting. He licked his lips before sucking his bottom lip briefly into his mouth, it was a nervous tick and Castiel made him fucking nervous. Novak’s breath hitched as he did so and now Dean was just confused. He was the one with crush, not vice versa, right? Castiel’s gaze finally returned to his eyes and Dean didn’t know if that was better or worse. “Dean.”
Oh yeah, Novak had asked him something. “Huh?”
“Are you free Friday night?” He looked a little grumpy about having to repeat himself, and it was friggin’ adorable.
“Um, yeah, why?”
“Would you like to get dinner with me?”
“Yeah -- wait, what?”
Castiel sighed, and looked even more annoyed. “Dean, I’m asking you on a date. I don’t know why you seem so surprised, I haven’t exactly been subtle. How many times has my projector ‘broke’ in the past week? And I mean --” He gestured to the copy machine, that had been done making copies for a bit now. “-- even my grandmother knows how to use a copy machine.”
Castiel had his hands on his hips and was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond. But Dean’s brain was too busy running around in circles and screaming a million things at him and probably setting fire to itself. There was a few ways he could respond. One being the charming Winchester way, or maybe even the suave, adult, way. But no, he responded with, “You like me? Like, like like… me?”
Cas rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the amused smile off his face. “Yes, Dean. Do you like like me? Check one for no, two for yes.”
“Uh, two?” He made a check mark in the air with his finger, smiling nervously. They both let out a laugh at Dean’s ridiculousness, successfully cutting through the fog-like tension in the air. Novak finally stepped back, grabbing his copies and scribbling something onto a sticky note that he stuck firmly to the center of Dean’s forehead.
“You can pick me up at 7.” Then he sauntered out with his copies tucked against his chest, leaving Dean smirking and a little dumbstruck as he watched his ass while he walked away.
He peeled the sticky note off his forehead and glanced down at it. It had an address and a number scrawled on it. At the bottom it read: ‘I’d really like like to have dinner with you...even if you might be a little slow. ;)’ Dean blushed a bit as he read it but couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face as he tucked it into his back pocket and walked back to his classroom with a bit of a skip in his step.