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Friday, September 7th.
It was a big day.
First football game of the season; and incidentally the first game in which Dean would be captain.
Ever since his first day on the team as a freshman, he’d known that’s what he wanted to be. That year, it had been the senior Michael Novak, who - after hazing the shit out of him - had taken Dean under his wing like a little brother.
The captains never quite lived up to him (the captain when Dean was a sophomore, Zeke, had been a total hardass, and the next year’s, Gordon, was just a mistake) and Dean hoped to change that streak.
That year’s team was promising: with a bunch of ambitious freshman, confident sophomores, and experienced juniors - not to mention the fact that some of Dean’s best friends would be right next to him on the line of scrimmage, just like they had been for the last four years.
And his boyfriend, Castiel Novak.
He was in Dean’s grade, and had been a shoo-in for the team after his older brother (the aforementioned Michael) had dragged him out on the same day as Dean. They’d been fast friends until a year or so later when something between them changed and… well, the rest was history.
All that mattered to Dean was that, aside from the occasional joke in the locker rooms, nobody cared that they were together. After all, it had been two years and the rest of the school had had ample time to get over themselves.
The only person who had yet to get his head out of his ass and into the twenty-first century was Principal Adler.
Sure, neither of them had directly opposed each other but Dean would have to blind to miss the the dirty looks he sent their way when they walked down hall together or, god forbid, sit next to each other during assemblies. Adler was just waiting, anyone could tell, for the slightest provocation to send both of them to detention (preferably in separate sides of the city) for the rest of their high school careers.
After three years of being a good little soldier, Dean was ready to do something to get himself in trouble, if only so he could see the old man’s face. However, due to the fact that he enjoyed not having detention everyday, he’d held back from being overly affectionate in his line of sight.
Cas had been in and out of suspension enough times that he was on a first name basis with the high school’s “At-Risk Counselor”, Naomi Hatfield, so Dean doubted he’d mind whatever hijinx Dean could think of for their senior year… And Dean had the perfect idea.
Anyway.
It was the night before the first football game and, consequently, the first pep rally (lead by none other than little old “Asshole Adler” himself).
For the majority of the school, the pep rally was just as important as the game. The marching band performed, there was an obstacle course for teachers, the cheer team… cheered, the whole ordeal. It was always held right after lunch and usually took an hour and a half. After years of conspicuously poor attendance afterward, the rest of the school day was cut off.
Burdened with a golden opportunity, some previous seniors started an infamous tradition: get the entire senior class (without a single student from another grade) out on the town, preferably in one place, before collectively returning to the school for the football game. One year, they’d all piled into the local movie theater (taking up two and a half viewing rooms), for another, they all ended up at the Clinton Marina, a local lake.
After extensive planning (social media was a blessing) the word was gotten out that they would all go to Cordley Elementary School and hang around on the play ground. It was juvenile, it was bothersome, it was idiotic. It was perfect.
The entire grade was in on a secret and the results were heady. Every student, every teacher knew they’d be leaving in a group, but not a single one knew where they’d be going. Even after only a couple years, it was a jealously guarded tradition.
The only downside was that Dean still had practice, so his afternoon of fun would get cut short to around two hours. All the years previous, though, the seniors on the team would come back with huge smiles on their faces and a fresh list of jokes and stories.
Along with the planning for the senior half day, the football players and cheer team (exclusively the “varsity” members from their respective groups) had more planning to do.
Every year, the whole team would be on the field, after getting called down by Mr. Adler. He’d say a few words (usually including phrases like “Very promising group of boys”, “My good friend, Coach Bobby Singer”, and “Go Lions” and not much else).
The varsity players would then be positioned in a line for the whole crowd to see, with the cheerleaders gathered in a bunch nearby. They’d blindfold the team and, as Mr. Adler, called off names, one cheerleader would kiss the cheek of a football player, going in order down the line. Then, just to waste more time, they’d have each football player guess who’d kissed them.
The first year he’d seen it, Dean’s first reaction was to lean over to Cas and brag that it’d be him getting kissed by a hot cheerleader in three years. Sophomore year, Dean had nervously looked at his best friend, thinking of how much he’d like to be kissed by the him, hot cheerleader be damned. Junior year, Cas’ hand grazed over his as he leaned in to peck his cheek.
It had left Dean blushing and grinning stupidly for the rest of the rally (which was embarrassing considering they’d done far more blush-worthy things by that point of their relationship).
Long story short, that particular tradition was pretty much as outdated and heteronormative as the football team itself. So, naturally, the cheerleaders and football players had added their own twists to it.
For example, the year Michael was one of the players standing in the line, they’d all guessed famous movie stars. Another year, they’d all guessed teachers. There was a legend that the first year they’d done it, every boy had listed the name of a president.
This year, the consensus was that they’d all say the same girl’s name.
When one cheerleader mentioned they could take it a step further, it was decided that yes, they’d all say the same girl’s name. The name of a girl who, not only wasn’t a cheerleader, but was in a homosexual relationship that was second only to Dean and Cas’ in terms of popularity: Charlie Bradbury.
Dean called her to ask if it was okay and she laughed for five minutes straight before agreeing with the words, “Yes, Jesus Christ, that will make my year. You guys are the best!”
It was eleven on Thursday night and Dean had one more plan to make.
To: jojo
hey i have 1 last favor to ask
From: jojo
what is it? i want to sleEP
To: jojo
just make sure ur the last girl in line ok?
From: jojo
that’s it? jfc winchester
To: jojo
y or n??
From: jojo
fine, yes, just let me sleep
From: jojo
btw u have to tell me why tf this is so important
To: jojo
it’ll make sense i promise
From: jojo
why am i still friends with u
---
Friday morning came around and Dean met up with Cas in the parking lot. Like the rest of the team, they were both wearing their jerseys.
The rest of the morning was full of nervous excitement and Dean couldn’t concentrate on a thing. Luckily, he was able to pass it off as nerves about the game (because there were a fair amount of those too) and no one had an idea of his plan.
Lunch rolled around and the entire senior class was jittery with the feeling of near-freedom.
The school emptied out towards their football field.
The marching band played the school’s fight song, the color guard ran around the field, throwing their flags in the air with a precision that baffled Dean (he’d been training to catch a ball hurtling at fifty miles an hour for four years and he still couldn’t wrap his mind around catching a pole with a piece of fabric attached to the end of it). The cheer team lead the school in a few basic cheers, complete with flips and tricks and not a single girl fell. Teachers were pitted against each other in a race to complete an obstacle course, winners being awarded gift cards to Chipotle. The crowd was loud, the teacher’s were laughing, and Cas’ thigh was pressed against Dean’s.
In short, Dean was on top of the world.
With fifteen minutes left of the pep rally, Mr. Adler started speaking into the microphone, calling teams down to the field. Cross country was first, then volleyball, then swimming, until he got to the football players. He called them down in order of grade and last name.
Which, coincidentally, meant Dean was last.
He got to the field, standing next to his team proudly and they listened to Mr. Adler’s speech, which was the same every year. But, finally, the time came for the junior varsity players to join the rest of the sports’ teams over on the side of the field, leaving the varsity players, cheerleaders, and Mr. Adler alone in front of the crowd (well, as alone as thirty or so people could be).
The boys were lined up and, through a fair amount of jostling, Dean “accidentally” got Cas moved to the back of the line, while he ended up somewhere around the middle. The cheerleaders came to stand behind them and put on the blindfolds and there was a moment of quiet when the girls returned to their own little group.
Mr. Adler called the crowd to quiet down. “Now, I believe these boys are mature enough to have their first little kiss on the cheek, don’t you?” His voice grated on Dean’s nerves, but he didn’t stop smiling. The crowd roared before Mr. Adler started talking again. “I think these boys will need to concentrate, so everyone, please quiet down.”
The crowd was obediently silent.
“Now, the first varsity player to be kissed will be none other than Nick Munroe!”
There was a pause of about ten seconds, Dean figured, before there was another round of applause.
This continued until it got to Dean. “The next varsity player to be kissed is the captain of the team, Dean Winchester!” Dean wondered how Mr. Adler felt, since he had to know that everyone knew. Someone came to stand behind him and her curls spilled over his shoulder when she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
The crowd’s applause was basically nonexistent. The awkwardness was tangible and Dean wished he could see some of the expressions.
“Ohhhkay,” Mr. Adler drew out the word. Dean bet the old man was burning up inside. “Next up will be Gabriel Milton...”
When it finally got down to the last player, Dean was ready to put his plan in action. As Adler introduced Cas, Dean slipped off his blindfold, luckily, the principal was standing with his back to him so only the audience (and cheerleaders and teachers) saw him.
Jo - thank god she’d ended up last and not someone like Ruby - started walking over and Dean jumped in front of her. He held out his hand for something akin to a tag-team high five and she slapped it, loud enough that the whole stadium could hear.
Adler turned around in surprise but he was too late. Dean hurried past the standing players, down to the end of the line, before leaning down and kissing Cas full on the lips.
The crowd exploded.
Adler was making shocked, choking noises into the microphone.
Jo was laughing outrageously.
The rest of the boys looked hilariously confused, heads whipping around, blindfolds still securely intact.
And, in the midst of everything, Cas smiled.
It wasn’t a broad grin, like Dean’s; hell, it probably wasn’t even noticeable to the kids in the front row. It was like a secret: just the slightest, tiniest quirk of his mouth.
Dean rejoined the line (after high fiving Jo again) and repositioned his blindfold feeling like a million bucks.
Adler clearly didn’t know what to prioritize: punishing Dean or quieting the crowd. He settled on the latter by inviting all the boys to remove their blindfolds.
He walked up to the line of boys, gestured to the bunch of cheerleaders and (with a voice that shook with how much anger it was holding back) asked Nick who he thought had kissed him.
“Let’s see, uh… Charlie Bradbury.”
The crowd laughed and Dean swore he could hear Charlie whooping in the middle of it.
Adler frowned and moved onto the next boy (“Charlie - who else would it be?”). And the next (“Charlie, man... it’s just gotta be!”). Every answer was the same: Charlie.
This went on until he got to Dean. “Who do you think kissed you, Winchester?” He asked, shoving the microphone towards Dean’s face. “I’ll give you a hint, it’s not Ms. Bradbury.”
“Man, I’m gonna have to go with Charlie on this one.”
Adler moved on without another word.
Gabe’s answer was predictably hilarious (“I don’t know, Sir, it really smelled like Charlie!”) and the crowd laughed appropriately.
He got to Cas and Dean watched with interest (as did the crowd: it was completely silent). He saw the man’s step stutter momentarily before he asked, in the mildest voice possible, who Cas thought had kissed him. His hand hesitated when he lowered the mic to Cas’ mouth.
Dean was pretty sure the old man had come to terms with the worst possible thing that could come out of Cas’ mouth, but he had still vastly underestimated it.
Cas leaned into the microphone, gravelly voice amplified in the loudspeakers set up around the stadium. “I’m guessing it’d be frowned upon to ask him to homecoming now, wouldn’t it?”
Adler’s face was worth every second they’d (undoubtedly) be stuck in detention.
If the crowd had been loud when Dean kissed Cas, this time, the whole stadium shook. People stood up and hollered; everyone was stomping their feet; the band took its cue to start another round of the fight song.
The rest of the blindfolded boys had finally gotten what had happened and were raving loudly about what Adler’s face must have looked like with the cheerleaders. Dean, Cas, and Jo joined up on their way back to the team (with the intent of blending into the crowd and, hopefully avoiding Adler).
Jo nudged him, “That took some serious balls, Dean,” She said loudly. Everything around them was cacophonous and intoxicating, making Dean want to jump and scream like the rest of the students.
Instead, he just shouted back, “So did asking me to homecoming.”
Cas just looked at Dean, “I assume your answer’s--”
Dean grinned wider (if that was even possible) and found Cas’ hand, linking their fingers and squeezing, as an answer. They were in the middle of the crowd now, and Dean didn’t think Cas would be able to hear him, no matter how loud he got.
The stadium started emptying and the three seniors went along with the crowd, off of the field, past the school, and into the parking lot.
At the front parking lot, it was established that 1) the parking lot of the elementary school was too small to accommodate for all their cars and 2) it was only a couple blocks away.
And that’s why, at 1:30 of September 7th, the entire senior class of Lawrence High School could be found walking from the high school to Cordley Elementary school.
There were far too many of them to fit on the sidewalks, so most found themselves on the street. They parted for cars, but, the majority of the time, they owned the the road. They joked around, laughing as loud as they pleased, and talked to whomever they wanted.
Dean and Cas were congratulated but, honestly, they were old news already and by the time they got to the playground, the recent events may as well have happened the previous year.
Dean preferred it that way. He hadn’t pulled his stunt for attention, he’d pulled it to get on Adler’s nerves; and he’d definitely accomplished that. In his eyes, it was done.
He was ready to relax and enjoy the sun on a garishly colorful jungle gym for the rest of the afternoon.