A Streetcar Named Desire
Prompt: Person A and Person B are forced to be lab partners, one of them is the nerd and one of them hates school.
“A Streetcar Named Desire? Are you in Mr. Singer’s lit class, then?”
Dean looks up from the project instruction packet, surprised. It’s the first time Castiel has spoken since they sat down at lab station 1, unlikely partners. Cas wonders, not for the first time, how they ended up together, given that the rankings were supposedly based on the scores from last week’s midterm.
Dean pulls the book from where it’s sticked out of his bag and strokes the pages delicately, a gesture Cas is startled to see from loud, rough-talking Dean Winchester, notorious womanizer and worse — slacker. “Oh, yeah. Well, no. I was in Bobby’s — Mr. Singer’s — class last year, but I love the play. It’s one of my favorites. The whole fantasy versus reality thing…” Dean trails off, looking down at the play as though he could lose himself in it, as though he’s already in the small New Orleans flat.
Cas’s mind, however, has taken a different turn. “Last year? That class isn’t available to sophomores.”
“Well, I took sophomore lit freshman year, so they let me in,” Dean explains, and returns to the packet on the chemistry project they’re supposed to be doing together. “Mr. Shurley wasn’t kidding when he said our project was ‘a bit’ tougher than what we’ve been doing. This shit looks like it might actually be fun.”
Dean’s eyes sparkle at this, and Cas blinks. How can anyone have eyes that perfectly green and mesmerizing and… Cas groans. This is not the time to be staring at — admittedly — pretty boys. Pretty, slacker boys, he reminds himself, even though that argument is growing increasingly thin. Dean must have gotten a high score on that midterm, too. Anna’s score had only been a point lower than Castiel’s, and she was at lab station two, after all — and Castiel had not done poorly. Castiel has never done poorly on an examination in his life, unless you count the singing tests they had to do in middle school choir.
“Cas?” Dean’s — horribly attractive — voice breaks his stupor. “Did you hear me? I was saying, you think we could work on this over the weekend? The report’s gonna take a while, and we need to do all the calculations do get the amounts right…”
“Uh…” Castiel can only stutter. Castiel never, ever stutters — he prides himself on speaking eloquently, unlike most of the students at school. “Yes, I can. My house would probably be appropriate. We have a large kitchen with plenty of workspace.”
The only indication Dean gives of noticing the subtle shift in Castiel’s tone is a small glance and crease of the eyebrows. “Great,” he says, his tone light and carefree. “Saturday at two, then? I’ve gotta bring Sammy to soccer practice at 1:30, but I should be good afterwards. If we don’t finish in time, Ellen can always pick him up.”
Cas offers a tight smile in return, before casting his eyes downward at the packet. He doesn’t think he can stand looking at Dean for much longer, not with his pretty lips moving so smoothly and not when he can feel the blush on his neck and not when he can’t stop thinking of the way Dean’s voice sounded when he said “Cas.”
Castiel, why must you always fall for the ones that are more likely to call you a faggot than look at you twice? he scolds himself, but it’s too late. All it took was a dreamy look, A Streetcar Named Desire, and two minutes’ conversation.