#sharing haircut with his brother ended up beeing a bad idea

[hadesmorrisonandrei]

I haven't done anything I have artblock

[imperfectcourt]

Oh, you mean this one, @quidditchfrogs? >:3c

Yes I can do that

[Edit: WONG LEVER KRONK correct link now below]

The other day I wrote a story that involved a list that Neil tries to write as he struggles with his sense of self after years of pretending to be anyone else. At the end of the story, Andrew forces Neil to talk about his negative feelings because Neil is very good at talking and very bad at feelings. Andrew’s motivation is unclear because the story is from Neil’s POV but if Andrew believes in one thing it is that Neil needs therapy. And he knows and accepts that it is not his job to be a therapist but he can at least get Neil to acknowledge it and work through it on his own.

What Neil doesn’t know is that Andrew has his own list. It is not written down because he does not need to write it down (and refuses to leave evidence to be found). It goes a little something like this

Perspective

Change

Joy

Routine

Emulation

Andrew’s list is something he has been curating since he got off his meds. Before the medication, he did not have the therapist he needed and did not know trust understand any techniques he was told to try. It is a list for apathy and he runs through it and picks one thing to do every day from this list.

But he also will run through it and pick one as needed for others. Apathy is often linked to depression and both fucking suck and Andrew will do what is necessary to make sure the lives of his family members do not suck. To an extent. In his own way. He’s still Andrew about it. 

1. Perspective

Andrew is not lazy. He is not lazy or boring or unmotivated. In fact, I think that him going to see Bee every week by choice shows how motivated he actually is. How he feels is a temporary state of being. Sometimes he needs to remind himself of this. Some days it’s harder than others. It is an internal process (though on bad days he texts Bee)

2. Change

What are the causes? Can they be changed? Andrew can’t control how strangers speak to his brother but he can sneak into his and Matt’s room and pour all of the shitty beer down the drain so that Aaron never has to smell it ever again and relive things that are better left forgotten. (The first time, he has Neil replace it with a quality IPA. The second time, he does not. The third time, he cuts the cans and leaves slivers of sharp aluminum in Matt’s bed. There is not a fourth time.)

3. Joy

What has caused joy in the past? Does it still? Sometimes, Nicky will get a surprise call on bad nights even though it is 4 a.m. in Germany. He swears that Erik is his soulmate and has some sort of sixth sense.

4. Routine

Routines can be positive. Sometimes. After a bad game is a bad week and another bad week. Practice class eat practice practice class eat practice practice class eat practice. Andrew refuses to drive Kevin to night practice one time and does not let Neil do it either. Instead, he forces Kevin into bed early and wakes him up at 3 to go to the court. Kevin punches the wall but after a few hours with an exy stick he meets the other foxes at breakfast with brighter eyes and fresh ideas.

5. Emulation

The people around you can have a profound effect on you. Sometimes, Neil will go down the hall to return a book to Matt that he doesn’t remember borrowing. Oh, what’s that? Matt found some extra fruit salad in the back of the fridge? Does it have oranges? Duh, bro, I was about to come share it with you. Hey, did you know that this movie is on? Dude, I promise you’ll actually like this one, they totally get the exy right. Hey man, is that a new haircut? Hey, bro, check this out. Dude, look at this. Oh, my guy you are in for a treat. (Neil may come back with a “bro” on the tip of his tongue but also with relaxed shoulders and a smile).

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

High school au: sassy gay cas and jock dean

This turned into nerd!Cas more than anything, but I hope you still like it! (also on ao3!)

If the text had come from virtually anyone else, Dean would have immediately thought it was a come-on.

But seeing as it was from none other than Cas, the potentially suggestive statement was mollified into a matter of fact announcement. My siblings will all be out of the house this afternoon. You can come by around four o'clock.

Even knowing who it was from and the exact intent behind the words, Dean couldn't help but let his mind wander to the more provocative side of the message. He was a horny bisexual teenager for God's sake, who could blame him?

Especially since Cas was practically the epitome of sex. He had the dark, tousled hair of someone who had just been thoroughly fucked, the kind of perpetual five o'clock shadow that called to mind some kind of male model.

His eyes, big and bright and impossibly blue, would piercing and analytical. Dean wondered what they would look like when softened by pleasure, the light irises overtaken by his dilated pupils.

His lips were obscenely pink, plump and perfect and unbelievably enticing. They looked slightly chapped, constantly making Dean wonder if they would be rough if he kissed them. Among other things.

Essentially, Cas was like an angel come to Earth, gorgeous and ethereal and hot like burning. The only problem with that was that Cas actually acted like a little angel.

While Dean was a jock in every sense save for the stereotypical stupidity, captain of the football team and a proud grease monkey on the weekends, Cas was the embodiment of a nerd.

He was valedictorian of their class to the surprise of absolutely no one, not even people who deemed themselves too cool to care about class rankings. Dean wasn't sure what exactly Cas' GPA was but he had suspicions that it was near 5.0, if not surpassing it.

Needless to say, Cas was ridiculously smart. Mind-blowingly. Astonishingly. Sometimes overwhelmingly.

He knew about everything from ancient theological theories about the Bible to the most recent breakthroughs in the realm of astrophysics. And boy could he talk about anything and everything in between.

While usually soft-spoken and awkwardly taciturn, enough for people to have mistakenly presumed that he was mute, Cas could talk for hours on end. He just needed someone to spark the conversation.

That was part of the reason why the poor guy had a reputation for being painfully awkward. Of course, it was true and half the time Cas seemed a zebra amongst horses but it still provided fodder for all kinds of nasty rumors.

His heavy involvement in a whole score of school-sponsored clubs deemed nerdy by his peers didn't help, either. In true nerd form, Cas was on the debate team, chess team, and the quiz bowl team.

Hell, Cas even dressed like a nerd. He may not have worn glasses but he constantly showed up to school in button-ups and slacks and shined shoes. He was even known to wear a tie occasionally, sweater vests too.

But none of that mattered to Dean. Well, it did, but it took a backseat to the more important fact that Cas was amazing and Dean had it bad for him.

Which is why, when he received the perfectly innocent text from the dorky little guy, his mind took the expressway straight to a daydream full of depravity and wistful lust. His head immediately filled with all kinds of ideas about what two people could do in a big, empty house.

And not one of those things he imagined had anything to do with studying or tutoring. The latter of which was the only reason Cas was inviting him over in the first place.

While Dean was usually a rather good student himself — he was smart despite what many people expected from him, more than a pretty face who could play football ― he had wound up falling a little behind in English. He had been too busy practicing for the big homecoming game to study for his first big English exam of the school year.

In his defense, football might get him a scholarship that would actually let him go to college while knowing just what exactly Hamlet's tragic flaw was wouldn't. (It was his  inability to act, Cas had informed him.)

Because his grades had started to slip, his uncle Bobby had inquired with the school about getting Dean a tutor. Dean's English teacher had been all too happy to comply, immediately looking into the available student tutors.

Dean had dreaded it, at first. He had been sure that he was going to wind up with some asshole who treated him like dirt just because he wasn't in all honors classes.

But instead, he had been paired up with Cas.

Cas, who was patient and never faulted Dean for occasionally struggling with some of the more difficult aspects of their English curriculum. Cas, who was sweet and quiet and listened to Dean's stories about football despite admitting that he didn't care for sports.

Cas, who somehow managed to make boring plays and mind-numbing poems more interesting than the most recent storylines on Dr. Sexy. Cas, who took time out of his own day to help Dean with his projects even though the school only required him to tutor Dean eight hours a week.

Cas, who shared Dean's secret love of Star Wars and Vonnegut, who vehemently agreed with Dean that Batman was most certainly a superhero. Cas, whose smile had quickly become the most beautiful thing that Dean had ever seen.

Cas, who Dean had completely fallen for.

Which is why Dean had been unexpectedly ecstatic when his English teacher announced that they were adding a project to the curriculum. Because that meant he had another reason to see Cas.

He had already decided on the topic and, with the help from his buddy Charlie, the most computer savvy person he knew, he had already finished the presentation portion.  He just needed to finish the actual paper which gave him the perfect excuse to ask Cas for help.

He had messaged Cas about needing someone to proofread his paper and had, in turn, received Cas' unintentionally innuendo-laden reply.

He had a few hours to kill before four o'clock rolled around, giving him enough time to get some things in order before heading over to Cas' place.

He threw together a couple burgers for lunch, calling Sam down from his room before the little nerd got too engrossed in studying to remember to eat. It was a little disturbing just how similar Cas and Sam were.

Speaking of his tutor, Dean informed his little brother that he would be stopping by Cas' to work on his English problem. With their dad out of town, Dean wasn't too keen on leaving Sam home alone, claiming he would drop Sam off at Bobby's heading to Cas'.

Sam hadn't raised any complaints. He would probably have a blast at Bobby's where he could read all the books in their uncle's makeshift library.

So, after finishing lunch and making sure Sam had everything he would need to spend a few hours at Bobby's, Dean hopped in the shower. He scrubbed off all the dirt and grime from his day, making sure he used the fancy shampoo that Cas had offhandedly mentioned was his favorite.

After drying off, Dean had thrown on some faded jeans and a black t-shirt. And, because he may or may not have had a bit of a kink for the whole jock/nerd thing, he decided to throw on his varsity jacket.

Sam had rolled his eyes at him as they loaded into the Impala, muttering something under his breath about Dean being a horndog. Dean had gotten him back by teasing Sam about the cute new girl in his history class, Jess.

It was a short drive to Bobby's place, the salvage yard only a few blocks away from their house. Bobby and Ellen were there to greet them, Bobby busy working on the engine of his Chevelle.

After promising to pick Sam up before seven and complimenting Ellen's new haircut, Dean started towards Cas' house on the other side of town. It was nestled on the outskirts of the richie rich part of town where assholes like Dick Roman and Crowley lived.

A huge white colonial, the house was big enough to accommodate Cas' scores of siblings and then some. There was a willow tree in the spacious backyard by a wooden bench, a swing hanging from one of the thicker branches.

The street in front of the house was clear, Cas' siblings' cars gone as he had implied they would be. The only vehicle in sight was Cas' ridiculous pimpmobile that was parked in the driveway.

Dean rolled his eyes as he parked in front of the house, putting his baby in park. Grabbing his bookbag and pocketing his keys, Dean climbed out of the Impala and jogged up the stone walkway to the front door.

"Give me a moment, please!" Cas called when Dean knocked on the door, sounding a little flustered. It was kind of adorable. And by kind of, he meant it was beyond adorable and he was seconds away from swooning like a nurse on Dr. Sexy.

When Cas opened the door a minute later, he looked flustered, too. His hair was mussed and his cheeks were slightly flushed, tinged a light shade of pink.

Like the nerd he was, he was wearing a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a light gray and blue argyle sweater vest. It was Saturday and he looked runway ready. Fucking typical.

He greeted Dean with a polite smile, moving aside to let him into the foyer. Closing the door behind him, Cas asked, "You need me to proofread your paper, yes?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," Dean confirmed, following Cas into the living room where they usually studied. The TV was on, the opening credits of some nature documentary about bees playing.

"It's no problem at all," Cas assured him, taking a seat on the couch. He gestured for Dean to do the same as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table. Handing it to Dean, he explained, "Feel free to watch something while I read through your paper."

"No problem, man," Dean replied, already digging through his bag for the rough draft of his paper. He presented it to Cas with a bright smile, disproportionately proud of it.

Pulling a red pen out of his pocket, Cas leaned back against a gray throw pillow, taking the essay from Dean's hands. Crossing his legs, he started reading, absentmindedly chewing on the end of the pen.

Just as absentmindedly, Dean flicked through the channels without even glancing at the screen. His attention was fixated on Cas, from the curve of his slightly stubbled jaw to the soft blue of his pretty eyes.

That was usually how their study sessions went. Cas would look over Dean's work, eyes peeled for any glaring mistakes, while Dean gazed at him dreamily.

Yes, it was pathetic and yes, it was a cliche, but that was the way it was. And it wasn't going to end anytime soon. Especially not if Cas continued to look that freaking good in a sweater vest.

Cas hummed occasionally, nodding his head as he squinted down at the paper, not for the first time making Dean wonder if he needed glasses. He circled a few things with his red pen, probably tiny grammatical errors that would get Dean a few points deducted.

Dean kept staring at him, captivated by every little thing about him. The way he chewed on the end of the pen, the way he smiled softly while reading through Dean's paper, the way he absently swung his foot back and forth in the air.

He was yanked out of his reverie when Cas cleared his throat.

"This is very good, Dean," he announced, flashing Dean a bright smile. Recapping the pen, he tucked it behind his ear and continued, "You make some very good points about Shakespeare. There are a few grammatical errors but they can easily be remedied."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck. There was something about being the sole focus of Cas' bright blue gaze that never failed to make him flustered.

"Yes," Cas confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. "I don't think you needed me to look over it all. I suppose you no longer need me to tutor you."

"We can still hang out though, right?" Dean squeaked, not even caring how desperate and pathetic he probably sounded.

Cas blinked in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He looked adorably confused as he announced, "Of course. But I'm surprised that you want to."

"What? Why?" Dean questioned, tipping his head to the side, a mimicry of Cas' habit.

It was Cas' turn to get flustered, his eyes widening as his cheeks flushed. He turned his head, lowering his eyes to the coffee table that was suddenly fascinating. Scratching his neck, he explained, "Because I'm me and you're you."

"Uh, yeah. That's kinda how life works, dude," Dean replied, beyond baffled.

Cas rolled his eyes before meeting Dean's gaze again. With a self-deprecating laugh, he clarified, "You're a quarterback, Dean. A jock. A 'cool kid'―" Dean tried not to laugh at Cas' air quotes "―I'm just a nerd. A weirdo."

"You're a lot more than that, Cas," Dean argued, feeling rather indignant on Cas' behalf. Someone had to be.

"Then what am I?" Cas inquired with a beleaguered sigh. He looked and sounded exasperated, resigned to his fate.

Sounding more confident than he felt, Dean puffed out his chest and boldly declared, "Well, if you want, you could be my boyfriend."

The result of Dean's words was instantaneous. Cas' jaw actually dropped, his face flushing a deep red. His voice was barely audible as he shakily warbled, "Really?"

"Of course, dude," Dean said, beaming widely. He shifted his hand to lay it over Cas', giving a reassuring squeeze.

As Cas leaned in to shyly peck Dean on the cheek, sweet and chaste and ridiculously nerdy, Dean resolved to send Bobby some flowers.