A/N: I wrote this at 3am oh my god. Loosely based on tumblr tags by dirtyovercoats. I wanna write but I have 0 ideas so if anyone has a prompt, please send it my way! I'm in all the major fandoms. Thanks again to Nicki (ForeverShippingJohnlock) you are an A+ human being. Okay, enjoy! (please) (ily)

Personal Space

Ever since he can remember, Castiel has always hated school.

It might be the amount of times he sighs in every Physics class when he has to correct something.

It might be the amount of times he sighs as, every Music class, a girl requests Gangnam Style on the piano.

It might be the amount of times he sighs when someone in English boasts about how they don't read.

Or it might be that he doesn't have any friends.

Every lunch, every single damn one, he has a whole table to himself.

"Take it as a compliment," his brother, Michael, always says. "They're respecting your personal space." Personal space? What personal space? Cas always thinks. I don't want any.

He eats his sandwich and his apple and reads a book, every lunch, every single fucking one, from age God-knows to age seventeen, always alone. He'd like to say that's how he likes it. But his father taught him not to lie.

That's why one lunch, as Cas moves to sit at his table, when he sees a boy with dark blonde hair sitting there first, Cas stops and says, "Are you lost?"

The boy looks up from his sandwich and meets Cas's eye. His shoulders and jaw scream hostile. Cas's breath catches in his throat as his eyes trace constellations in the boy's freckles.

"What was that?" the boy asks him, holding his food in front of him as if he's on pause.

"I just – are you lost?" Cas repeats, his face beginning to flush. There are no pre-prepared conversation pieces that are appropriate.

"The hell'dyou say thatfor?" The boy raises his eyebrows. Cas shrugs vaguely.

"Yeah, I suppose," the boy mutters after a while, chuckling, his muscles relaxing slightly. "But aren't we all?"

Cas rolls his eyes before he's realises he's doing it. Then he's sat down opposite the boy without knowing why.

"I've never seen you here before," Cas says, fumbling with his lunch, praying to God he doesn't drop anything.

"I'm new." The boy narrows his eyes. "They announced me in the whole school assembly this morning."

Cas squints, trying to remember. "Oh, right. I was reading, I don't think I caught it."

The boy laughs, throwing his head back a little. Cas rather thinks he's just a bit beautiful. "Good for you, man. Well, my name's Dean." He holds out his hand over the table.

Wiping his hand on his pants first, Cas takes Dean's hand, remembering to be firm, but not toofirm. Dean's hand is big and warm and rough. "Castiel."

Dean nods slightly in recognition of the fact. They take their hands back and sit quietly for a few moments, eating.

"So..." Cas shifts uncomfortable in the hard seat. "Where did you transfer from?"

Dean appears to ignore him, chewing slowly and thoughtfully and looking into the distance. Suddenly his eyes wander into Cas's and he seems to decide something as his frown lifts a little.

He drops his sandwich onto the table. "This food sucks ass."

Cas blinks. "I, uh, I like it."

"God, really? You think this is good, you haven't lived." He pushes his chair back from his table and stands up slowly. His plaid shirt flutters lightly around his waist.

"What are you –"

"C'mon." He picks up his leather jacket, folding it carefully over his arm with something that seems like respect, and starts to walk away. After a few strides, he realises Cas isn't following him, and turns back to look. "What?"

"What are you doing?" Cas asks.

"I'm takin' you to get some real food, what does it look like." He motions for Cas to come with him.

Cas hesitates.

Dean sighs. "We'll be back before last period. We're not breaking any rules. It's just food."

Cas looks around himself in his indecision and is surprised to find that many other students are looking their way. But not at him. At Dean, the husky loner in the leather jacket and the greenest eyes Cas has ever seen.

His insecurity flares up again, the sudden urge to be alone. "Don't you want to go on your own?" he says, not looking away from the crowds.

Dean frowns, following Cas's gaze. A few girls wave, a few more giggle and turn away. Dean sighs heavily and mutters "damnit" under his breath.

"Cas, buddy," he says, stepping a little closer to him, "you can either stay here -" he shoots the table a glare "-or you can come with me to get a quality burger and not talk about our feelings."

Their eyes meet again. A smile sneaks onto Cas's face and he says, "I'm a vegetarian."

Dean snorts so loudly a teacher turns to look at him. "Are you serious? Fuck, that's tragic. Alright, well, the pizza's good, too." He points a finger. "Don't tell me you're lactose intolerant." Cas shakes his head, and Dean moves his hand to run through his hair and rub the back of his neck slowly. "Well, there's that, at least."

The apple and sandwich he leaves on the table, but the book he picks up and slips into the pocket of his trenchcoat, which he folds repeatedly and holds in one broad hand. Cas follows Dean out of the hall.

As they make their way towards the parking lot, Dean turns his head slightly towards Cas when he says, "So what about you?"

"Huh?"

"Are you lost?"

"Yes," Cas replies immediately, before turning his head away and stammering, "I mean I – I don't know, what – what are you –" In the end he just stops talking. He figures it's for the best.

"Well, Cas," says Dean eventually, placing a solid hand on Cas's shoulder. "Nothin' wrong with eating your feelings."

Cas eats a little more than usual that lunch.