Cheeseburgers and Pie (Chapter 2)
The next month or so of classes went by faster than Dean realized. His days were filled with World Literature, Economics 101, Statistics and this stupid sculpting class he got put into because he refused to pick a visual arts credit. He didn’t see much of Castiel. He actually never saw him on campus, only ever running into the kid when Castiel dragged himself back into their room to study all night. If you asked Dean what color eyes his roommate had he wouldn’t be able to tell you, but he could tell you where the cowlick is on the back of his head. To Dean, Castiel seemed like any other college student you hear about. Struggling to make it through exams and homework. Using all his spare time between homework and studying to read some book Dean couldn’t pronounce the name of. He was either law or medicine, Dean hadn’t asked him which. The kid didn’t look like he had time to chat. Dean was the opposite, taking college one day at a time. He still hadn’t decided his major. Maybe business, like his dad. Still, he had till next year first semester to worry about declaring a major and until that point, didn’t feel like wasting his energy thinking about it. He would rather think about Lisa, the girl who sat in the front row of his economics class. He’d never seen her face, but with an ass like that, Dean was sure he could make any exception.
After staring at Lisa for a month and deciding that her face was indeed better than her ass, Dean decided it might be time to actually try to speak to her. Not that he ever really had a hard time with women, but this was college now, a whole new ball game. Or so he suspected. Turns out cornering Lisa after class was easier than he’d expected. It seemed like she was almost waiting for him. After about fifteen minutes he’d talked her up enough to get her to agree to a date this Saturday at seven. Perfect. Dean was feeling on top of the world, until his World Lit. teacher decided to assign a “brief” research paper on ancient texts, ten pages. Due midnight Saturday. It was already Thursday, which meant he needed to pick a subject, research it, and get it written by Saturday before his date. The thought of fitting that into his full day of class Friday and preparations for his economics quiz on Monday made Dean’s stomach tie itself in a knot. Under normal circumstances he might have been able to pull it off. But now all he was thinking about was Lisa. The way she curled her hair around her fingers when she was studying the notes on the board. The way she bites her lip before she talks about something she’s passionate about. The dimple she got in her cheek before she accepted Dean’s offer of dinner and a movie. He stumbled over to the library after class and by the time he’d accomplished absolutely nothing but imagining the shine on Lisa’s hair and the soft glow of her skin by candlelight, his stomach was grumbling so loud the librarian shushed him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the two largest books on the “World Cultures” shelf, checking out quickly, mind far from Lisa and only on what flavor of pie they would have in the cafeteria today.
No pie. There was no fucking pie. Dean wasn’t sure what kind of sick joke the cafeteria lady was trying to play on him. She knew him by name and every day, when he ordered his slice, or two, she gave him the same line ‘You’re gonna have pie filling for blood pretty soon if you don’t stop there boy’ with a look that clearly said she was surprised Dean wasn’t 400 pounds by now. Dean wouldn’t have minded either of those scenarios. He bought a slice of pizza instead, because it was kind of pie, and grumbled all the way back to his room.
Hands full of books and pizza, Dean kicked the door open, causing Castiel to jump in his chair.
“Sorry man,” and Dean was, he always thought of Castiel as some fragile deer. Even after the first night when he challenged the RA, Dean couldn’t shake the image of this porcelain figurine of a person living across the room from him. It’s not like he was around him a lot, but whenever he was Castiel radiated the most serene sense of calm. It was like living with an ocean, Dean knew he had power in there but the kid was so stoic it was easy to forget.
Stomping over to his bed he dropped his armful of research material with a loud thump. Settling down with a notebook and his pizza he flicked through the pages. He didn't see anything interesting. Nothing at all. If he had managed to drag himself out of bed to show up for scheduling day he wouldn’t be in this class. He’d be in a class he actually cared about. He’d be doing interesting homework, not looking up dead languages to write a fucking novel about. Dean put all of his frustrations into the fervent motion of flicking through the books pages.
If Dean had been paying attention to anything except his own annoyance at his homework he would have noticed that with each noisy page turn Castiel’s shoulders were growing more and more tense. His posture coiled and after fifteen minutes Castiel whipped around in his desk chair and snapped, “Are you trying to test my patience on purpose or do you really not realize you’re making more noise than an elephant in a glass cavern?”
Dean chuckled, “ An elephant in a glass cavern?” He didn’t look up from his book and continued the quest for the most interesting thing he could find.
Castiel stared at him blankly and when Dean didn't stop flicking through the book he finally stated in a more intimidating tone, “Dean Winchester, if you do not stop snapping your pages I swear on my life I will snap every one of your fingers.”
That finally got Dean’s attention. He slammed the book closed and straightened up. “I’m sorry, okay? I just have to write this massive paper by Saturday at midnight and I asked Lisa out for a date Saturday and I just don’t know if I can handle classes and homework and Lisa and this paper before its due.” The words had come out harsh and Dean felt himself giving Castiel the look he used to give Sam when he was being a little shit.
Castiel didn’t back down though. Leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “If it will get you to stop making so much noise I could help.”
“Really?” Dean wasn’t even embarrassed that his voice went up an octave. Relief from getting some help and shock that Castiel was actually interacting with him for once pulled his eyebrows up to his hairline.
“I mean, I won’t do your work for you, but I wouldn’t want you to disappoint your date,” Castiel turned back to his desk, “it’s impertinent. What is your paper on?”
“Ancient texts and languages, I’ve been looking through this book but all of these seem really boring. I’m sure everyone will just pick Latin,” Dean flopped down on his bed, “maybe I should too.” He slapped the book shut and tossed it at the floor where it slid close to Castiel’s chair.
Castiel twirled around and picked up the book and studied its cover, “you could write your paper on Enochian.”
Dean lifted up to his elbows, giving Castiel his most inquiring stare. Castiel didn’t notice though, as he was busy flicking through the pages of Dean’s book. “Pinocchio is the name of a puppet Castiel. Not a language.”
Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean. Dean smirked at him and Castiel continued in an annoyed tone, “Not Pinocchio, Enochian. It’s the language of angels.”
“Angels, huh?” Dean sat up fully now, seemingly intrigued by the direction of the conversation. But in reality he was intrigued by Castiel talking to him for more than four seconds. He’s pretty sure the only other conversations they’ve ever had besides that first night were when Dean asks him if he wants something from the cafeteria as he leaves for dinner and Castiel always says no. Those last seconds maximum, Dean never argued because at that point in the day pie was his primary directive, and God help him if he was going to let mission control down.
“Yes, it was recorded in the late 16th century by John Dee and his seer Edward Kelley. They claimed the language was revealed to them by the angels. There is debate about it, some believe it to be a viable basis for the magical arts and some deny that it is anything other than a poor imitation of another ancient language. My guess is that it is a derivative of Latin, if that was the case at all.” Castiel had never said this much at one time. It took Dean a moment to register that he was still speaking English.
“So it’s like one of those times when people believe they’re speaking to God and stuff, right? I don’t know if that would work out. I mean how much can there really be about a fake dead language?” Dean’s main concern was writing ten pages on the thing, not its credibility.
“You’d be surprised. Besides, we don’t know for certain that it is fake.” Castiel’s tone was blank, but Dean couldn’t help feeling he might have offended his roommate.
“You mean to tell me you believe in angels?” Dean was careful to keep his own tone as blank as Castiel’s.
“My parents raised all of their children very religiously, I seem to have strayed from the light, so to speak, but after a childhood like mine, it’s hard to not at least hope there are beings somewhere looking out for us.” At this, Castiel finally looked up and locked his eyes on Dean. The expression on his face told Dean that Castiel’s childhood hadn’t been particularly happy. Dean reminded himself to question him about it later, when he didn’t have a paper to write. Castiel shook the memories from his mind and handed Dean the book, open to a section on Enochian. “Here, Dean. I’ve skimmed the first section and it seems to be in agreement with everything I’ve been taught on the subject. This looks like a good source to start off with.”
“Thanks, man.” Dean took the book eagerly, ready to get as much done as possible.
“Is there anything else I can do to assist you?” Castiel asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want you to write it for me. There doesn't seem like that much else you can do. I’ll just have to pull an all-nighter tomorrow and type it up and email it to my professor.” The pressure in Dean’s chest began to build again. In all seriousness he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to get it done by the deadline. He was shit at typing, his hands too used to hard labor that the delicate act of stroking the keys took all of his concentration, he could barely do a word a minute.
“Are you sure? You look troubled still.” Damn, he was perceptive, Dean would give him that.
“I just... I don’t know if I can actually get it typed. I take forever and this thing is ten pages. I just, I really don’t know.” Dean leaned back against the wall in a slump of defeat.
“I could type it.” Castiel was staring at him blankly.
“No way, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Dean wouldn’t subject Castiel to the torture.
“It’s not a problem. I’m just typing it after all. I would have you write everything out first. Besides I like typing. It’s relaxing.” A small smile graced Castiel’s lips for a moment, it was meant to reassure Dean that he didn't mind, but Dean still felt uneasy.
“Seriously? Like... seriously, seriously?” Dean knew he shouldn’t be trying to convince someone to not help him, but he just needed to be sure, this was the first time they’d actually talked. It just didn’t feel quite right, asking so much of Castiel.
“I assure you, Dean, though I am breaking the rules technically, I do not mind. Just give me your outline with an introduction and conclusion by tomorrow night, I will have all day Saturday to type it and you can relax and focus on your,” Relief washed over Dean as Castiel spun back around in his chair, “date.”
“You’re the best, you know that?” Dean smiled from ear to ear at Castiel. They hadn’t had much time to interact together, but Dean promised himself he’d remedy that. He certainly owed Castiel after this.
Castiel turned back around and opened his mouth to say something else but on catching Dean’s grin, rolled his eyes and swirled back around in his chair. They spend the rest of the night studying. Dean buries himself in the work, trying to take down and organize as much of his information as possible, that way Castiel won’t have to spend so much time typing the paper. He still can’t believe the guy even offered. It still baffles Dean that Castiel, who barely speaks to him and is willing to risk being caught typing Dean’s paper for him. It’s extraordinary. But then again, nothing about Castiel had ever been normal up to this point so why should Dean expect anything different.
Friday’s classes go by in a blur and as soon as his last one is let out Dean beelines straight for his dorm. Burying himself in more research he barely notices when Castiel walks in. In fact, Dean’s too busy writing that he doesn't notice he’s way past due on dinner. By the time he takes a break it’s dark and his stomach is making the most inhuman sound. The cafeteria is already closed for the night and the idea of going all the way out to his car to drive miles out to the nearest food joint makes dealing with his angry stomach seem much more enjoyable. He’s worn himself out from staying up taking notes the night before and all he really wants to do is sleep. Dean heaves himself out of comfort of his bed to start packing up the papers strewn across his blankets and transfer them onto his desk when Castiel reenters the room. Dean hadn’t even noticed he’d been gone. He shoots Castiel a small tired smile and slumps back down on his now clean bed.
“Oh hey, I’m almost finished. Just gonna take a quick breather. Thanks again for this man.” Dean says as he lowers himself onto the pillow, his stomach making the loudest noise Dean’s ever heard. Something between a growling dog and a paper shredder. Dean felt himself flush in embarrassment as Castiel glared at his stomach like it was actually a threat to their safety. “Sorry, I got so wrapped up in writing I accidentally skipped dinner.”
“I noticed. That’s why I went out to get you this.” Castiel takes a couple steps forward and produces a small styrofoam container from the paper bag he’d been carrying. “I’m afraid it might be a little cold now, I got distracted walking back from the cafeteria.”
Dean grabs it eagerly and pops it open, nearly crying at the sight of that perfect little cheeseburger staring up at him.
“The cafeteria worker assured me you would also enjoy these,” Castiel pulled another longer box out of the bag and thrust it into Dean’s face, pulling his attention off the cheeseburger. He opened it eagerly and had to resist burying his face in the lukewarm french fries.
“Dude.... just, dude.” Dean had never smiled so much in his entire life. “You are a saint. No, you’re an angel. You are a perfect, precious angel.”
Castiel crinkled his nose up at that and huffed as he settled himself back into his desk. Dean was shoveling fries and burger into his mouth as fast as possible, barely avoiding several ketchup spills over his bed covers. Once he’d finished his dinner he buried himself in the last of his work. All he had to do was think of a really killer conclusion. He’d gotten halfway done when sleep overtook him and he passed out on top of everything.
He woke around noon the next day with a start, bolting up in bed. He scanned the room and found himself under his blanket with everything from last night cleaned up and put in its proper place. He smiled, to himself. Castiel. Getting out of bed he went over to his desk to grab his notes but they had been replaced by a scrap of paper that read:
Dean, you fell asleep on top of your notes and empty food containers. You seemed in desperate need of sleep so I left you alone. I cleaned, then looked over your work. You’ve done a much more thorough job than I had expected. I am pleased you find Enochian so interesting. I have taken your notes to the library to begin typing. Enjoy your day. - Castiel
p.s. I am concerned at the amount of drool you produce. More research is required, however. Will get back to you on this.
Wiping his chin with a frown, he crumpled the note and tossed it. With Castiel in the library, Dean took the opportunity to start studying for his economics before grabbing lunch in the cafeteria. It took about half an hour before Dean couldn’t fight his stomach anymore. Setting the rest of his work aside he scrambled out of his clothes and into the shower. Stepping back into the room he picked up the black t-shirt he had been wearing the previous day and gave it a good sniff. Deciding that it was fine for another day, at least until his date later, he pulled it back on and tugged on his favorite pair of worn-out jeans. Stepping into his work boots and out the door, he headed towards the cafeteria, in accordance to his stomach’s vicious growling. Instead of his usual waffles and extra bacon, Dean opted for a plain bagel and two cups of coffee to go. Grabbing a handful of condiments he headed off to the library to check up on Castiel.
Finding him wasn’t that hard. Not many of the students chose to spend their time on Saturday cooped up in the library. And since for quite some time Dean had only been able to stare at the back of his head, spotting the unmistakable mess of dark hair from the sparse crowd took seconds.
“You didn’t need to bring me anything,” Castiel mumbled at the computer screen.
“Dude, you need to stop. I’m starting to think you can read my mind or something. You didn’t even turn around how the hell could you tell that one: it was me and two: I had brought you anything.” Dean had pulled up a chair but hovered over it anxiously waiting for Castiel’s response. He waited over Castiel’s shoulder for the boy to grow a third eye in the middle of his forehead and predict the future.
Castiel sighed roughly and pulled the pen out from behind his ear to make a note over something Dean had written. “I did see you.”
“Oh yeah?” That hadn’t clarified anything with Dean. He was inspecting the back of Castiel’s head for another set of eyes when Castiel sighed again.
Arching away from the notes to stretch, Castiel yawned. Then turning to Dean he rolled his eyes as he realized Dean was still concerned he might have some mystical psychic powers, brought the pen up to tap the computer screen. “There’s a glare, I can see clear reflections in it. Sit and look.”
Dean did as he was told, giving a rough grunt and blamed the lack of caffeine for his obliviousness. Castiel gave him a small smile and something softened in his tired eyes, reassuring Dean that he understood and did not take Dean for an idiot, like almost everyone else would have. It made something in Dean’s chest ache with gratefulness, he hated having to defend himself. Especially when it came to his intellect.
“See, not psychic, just extraordinarily observant,” Castiel widened his smile a bit more, then turned back to the screen to look over his typing. Yawning again, this time much more violently, Castiel reached over and took the nearest coffee cup. He popped the cap off and took a long deep sip, holding the cup to his lips, chewing on the rim as he studied Dean’s handwriting. ”You should work on your penmanship.”
“You shouldn’t offer to do a near-stranger’s homework.” Dean smirked and made a mental note that Castiel took his coffee black too. Castiel turned to him and cocked his head, like a puppy does when it can’t figure out what you’re trying to tell it.
“Dean, I hardly think almost half a semester of living together in tight quarters makes us ‘near-strangers’.” Castiel was frowning now, just slightly.
“I guess. We just never talked before. Too busy to be social, not that that is really an excuse.” Dean felt something else in his heart that time. He didn’t know what it was but it was telling him that he should have been paying more attention to his room mate. Castiel had obviously paid attention to him, Dean was too busy throwing himself a no-friends-lonely-freshman pity party to realize he may have been living with the best friend he’d had since Sam.
“You don’t need to sit there and stare at me, Dean. I thought the whole point of this was for you to have more time to... prepare for tonight’s activities.” Castiel keeps his eyes focused on the monitor and Dean studies him for a moment longer. He’d never really looked at his face before. Castiel was handsome, in the way that most men are. He had ability for his face to be lost in a crowd but not plain enough to be forgotten. Sharp cheekbones pushed up olive skin tinted blue by the computer, a light stubble spread over his jaw, like someone had sprinkled pepper over his face. His chin was sharp, almost too sharp. Then there were his lips, tenderly wrapped around the pen in his mouth. In the glow of the screen they looked almost purple, with chips and cracks in them. Dean caught himself wondering if they would shatter under a particularly forceful kiss. “Dean...”
Oh, shit. He hadn’t been checking out his room mate. He just slept too long and was in that dreary state that being overly rested makes you. He look a large gulp of his coffee, wincing as the liquid burned through his esophagus. “Oh yeah, I just, I wanted to bring you some fuel. And uh, check up. I know I didn’t finish last night.”
“The information you’ve provided is highly sufficient.” Castiel managed around the pen. Dean furrowed his brow and was about to protest when Castiel held up a hand. “Dean, go. Everything is fine here. I will meet you back in our room.”
“Yeah, okay. See you, Castiel.” Dean lingered for a second or two longer, but all it got him was and eye roll from the other boy. Dean walked away feeling even worse about the situation, he definitely owed Castiel for this. Something big, maybe dinner, outside of the campus. But, whatever, he’d think of something later. For now he had to get back to studying and preparing for Lisa.
Studying was easier said than done. Between worrying about his date and Castiel working in the library he barely had a spare moment to think about economics. He vowed never to do this to Castiel, or himself, ever again. Next time he’d just man up and reschedule. He was sure by then Lisa would be wrapped around his finger, totally willing to do whatever for Dean, just like all the other girls before her. Or so he hoped.
After five failed attempts to study and six outfit changes, Dean found himself staring at his reflection over the bathroom sink. When did he become such a girl? He’s just going on a date. Yes, Lisa Breadan was literally the hottest girl he’s ever come into contact with. But nothing in her airs made her seem that much different than any other girl he’s ever been with. He decided that he needed another quick shower, as a refresher. Something to ease the stress away. So, leaving his clothes on his bed he grabbed his towel and headed to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, Dean stepped out feeling more relaxed and ready to face Lisa. Or at least ready enough to try a couple pick up lines out on the mirror.
Halfway through his first pantomime of picking Lisa up, the door bursts open and hits Dean hard against the shoulder.
“Oh, I apologize.” Castiel mumbles.
“It’s cool, just, knock maybe?” Dean quickly inspects his shoulder, it might bruise but it’ll be okay for now. Then he turns and meets Castiel’s eyes. He’s about to say something, maybe question him about the paper or how his coffee was, but he can’t speak for some reason. Castiel’s gaze grazes down Dean’s body and back up to lock onto his eyes. Dean suddenly becomes aware that he’s only got a towel slung across his hips. He feels the blush all the way up to the tips of his ears but he can’t move.
“I apologize,” Castiel whispers as he finally breaks eye contact. He whirls around goes over to his desk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt I just needed some papers I left here and I was hoping to use the facilities, I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you might have left already. I didn’t hear you in the bathroom. I should have knocked.”
Castiel was rambling. A lot. “Dude, no worries, probably should have locked the door. I’m done though so you can do your business. Don’t worry about it.” He gave Castiel’s back a small smile and stepped out of the way for him.
“Thank you.” Castiel sounded more relaxed but wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye. As he brushed passed Dean caught the slight flush along his neck, thank God he wasn’t the only one embarrassed. As soon as the door closes Dean quickly pulls on his boxer briefs and the nicest pair of jeans he owns, but is still stuck on what shirt he should wear.
“Castiel!” Dean calls to the bathroom door.
“Yes, Dean?” He hears Castiel answer faintly through the door.
“I need your help!” Dean’s tone is almost as desperate as he feels. How can a picking a shirt be this hard?
“What is it?” Castiel finally emerges from the bathroom, but stops just past the threshold. He looks tense, Dean blames that on himself. He really shouldn’t have asked Castiel to type his paper.
“I just, uh, I need help,” Dean turns to his bed and picks up the two shirts he’s been considering for past five minutes, ”I need help picking a shirt.”
He offers each meekly to Castiel, ashamed at his indecision. “The green one, it brings out your eyes,” Castiel mumbles out quickly before retreating back into the bathroom. Pulling on his shirt and brushing past Castiel to check one more time in the mirror, Dean heads out. Just before leaving he turns and meets Castiel’s gaze.
“Thanks man, for everything.” Dean gives him a small smirk, which Castiel returns weakly. “I’ll be back by 11 and we can look over the paper again one more time before sending it. And I mean it Castiel, thank you. I owe you one. Big time.”
“Good luck, Dean.” Castiel offers, but Dean’s already closed the door.
Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Epilogue |
After staring at Lisa for a month and deciding that her face was indeed better than her ass, Dean decided it might be time to actually try to speak to her. Not that he ever really had a hard time with women, but this was college now, a whole new ball game. Or so he suspected. Turns out cornering Lisa after class was easier than he’d expected. It seemed like she was almost waiting for him. After about fifteen minutes he’d talked her up enough to get her to agree to a date this Saturday at seven. Perfect. Dean was feeling on top of the world, until his World Lit. teacher decided to assign a “brief” research paper on ancient texts, ten pages. Due midnight Saturday. It was already Thursday, which meant he needed to pick a subject, research it, and get it written by Saturday before his date. The thought of fitting that into his full day of class Friday and preparations for his economics quiz on Monday made Dean’s stomach tie itself in a knot. Under normal circumstances he might have been able to pull it off. But now all he was thinking about was Lisa. The way she curled her hair around her fingers when she was studying the notes on the board. The way she bites her lip before she talks about something she’s passionate about. The dimple she got in her cheek before she accepted Dean’s offer of dinner and a movie. He stumbled over to the library after class and by the time he’d accomplished absolutely nothing but imagining the shine on Lisa’s hair and the soft glow of her skin by candlelight, his stomach was grumbling so loud the librarian shushed him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the two largest books on the “World Cultures” shelf, checking out quickly, mind far from Lisa and only on what flavor of pie they would have in the cafeteria today.
No pie. There was no fucking pie. Dean wasn’t sure what kind of sick joke the cafeteria lady was trying to play on him. She knew him by name and every day, when he ordered his slice, or two, she gave him the same line ‘You’re gonna have pie filling for blood pretty soon if you don’t stop there boy’ with a look that clearly said she was surprised Dean wasn’t 400 pounds by now. Dean wouldn’t have minded either of those scenarios. He bought a slice of pizza instead, because it was kind of pie, and grumbled all the way back to his room.
Hands full of books and pizza, Dean kicked the door open, causing Castiel to jump in his chair.
“Sorry man,” and Dean was, he always thought of Castiel as some fragile deer. Even after the first night when he challenged the RA, Dean couldn’t shake the image of this porcelain figurine of a person living across the room from him. It’s not like he was around him a lot, but whenever he was Castiel radiated the most serene sense of calm. It was like living with an ocean, Dean knew he had power in there but the kid was so stoic it was easy to forget.
Stomping over to his bed he dropped his armful of research material with a loud thump. Settling down with a notebook and his pizza he flicked through the pages. He didn't see anything interesting. Nothing at all. If he had managed to drag himself out of bed to show up for scheduling day he wouldn’t be in this class. He’d be in a class he actually cared about. He’d be doing interesting homework, not looking up dead languages to write a fucking novel about. Dean put all of his frustrations into the fervent motion of flicking through the books pages.
If Dean had been paying attention to anything except his own annoyance at his homework he would have noticed that with each noisy page turn Castiel’s shoulders were growing more and more tense. His posture coiled and after fifteen minutes Castiel whipped around in his desk chair and snapped, “Are you trying to test my patience on purpose or do you really not realize you’re making more noise than an elephant in a glass cavern?”
Dean chuckled, “ An elephant in a glass cavern?” He didn’t look up from his book and continued the quest for the most interesting thing he could find.
Castiel stared at him blankly and when Dean didn't stop flicking through the book he finally stated in a more intimidating tone, “Dean Winchester, if you do not stop snapping your pages I swear on my life I will snap every one of your fingers.”
That finally got Dean’s attention. He slammed the book closed and straightened up. “I’m sorry, okay? I just have to write this massive paper by Saturday at midnight and I asked Lisa out for a date Saturday and I just don’t know if I can handle classes and homework and Lisa and this paper before its due.” The words had come out harsh and Dean felt himself giving Castiel the look he used to give Sam when he was being a little shit.
Castiel didn’t back down though. Leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “If it will get you to stop making so much noise I could help.”
“Really?” Dean wasn’t even embarrassed that his voice went up an octave. Relief from getting some help and shock that Castiel was actually interacting with him for once pulled his eyebrows up to his hairline.
“I mean, I won’t do your work for you, but I wouldn’t want you to disappoint your date,” Castiel turned back to his desk, “it’s impertinent. What is your paper on?”
“Ancient texts and languages, I’ve been looking through this book but all of these seem really boring. I’m sure everyone will just pick Latin,” Dean flopped down on his bed, “maybe I should too.” He slapped the book shut and tossed it at the floor where it slid close to Castiel’s chair.
Castiel twirled around and picked up the book and studied its cover, “you could write your paper on Enochian.”
Dean lifted up to his elbows, giving Castiel his most inquiring stare. Castiel didn’t notice though, as he was busy flicking through the pages of Dean’s book. “Pinocchio is the name of a puppet Castiel. Not a language.”
Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean. Dean smirked at him and Castiel continued in an annoyed tone, “Not Pinocchio, Enochian. It’s the language of angels.”
“Angels, huh?” Dean sat up fully now, seemingly intrigued by the direction of the conversation. But in reality he was intrigued by Castiel talking to him for more than four seconds. He’s pretty sure the only other conversations they’ve ever had besides that first night were when Dean asks him if he wants something from the cafeteria as he leaves for dinner and Castiel always says no. Those last seconds maximum, Dean never argued because at that point in the day pie was his primary directive, and God help him if he was going to let mission control down.
“Yes, it was recorded in the late 16th century by John Dee and his seer Edward Kelley. They claimed the language was revealed to them by the angels. There is debate about it, some believe it to be a viable basis for the magical arts and some deny that it is anything other than a poor imitation of another ancient language. My guess is that it is a derivative of Latin, if that was the case at all.” Castiel had never said this much at one time. It took Dean a moment to register that he was still speaking English.
“So it’s like one of those times when people believe they’re speaking to God and stuff, right? I don’t know if that would work out. I mean how much can there really be about a fake dead language?” Dean’s main concern was writing ten pages on the thing, not its credibility.
“You’d be surprised. Besides, we don’t know for certain that it is fake.” Castiel’s tone was blank, but Dean couldn’t help feeling he might have offended his roommate.
“You mean to tell me you believe in angels?” Dean was careful to keep his own tone as blank as Castiel’s.
“My parents raised all of their children very religiously, I seem to have strayed from the light, so to speak, but after a childhood like mine, it’s hard to not at least hope there are beings somewhere looking out for us.” At this, Castiel finally looked up and locked his eyes on Dean. The expression on his face told Dean that Castiel’s childhood hadn’t been particularly happy. Dean reminded himself to question him about it later, when he didn’t have a paper to write. Castiel shook the memories from his mind and handed Dean the book, open to a section on Enochian. “Here, Dean. I’ve skimmed the first section and it seems to be in agreement with everything I’ve been taught on the subject. This looks like a good source to start off with.”
“Thanks, man.” Dean took the book eagerly, ready to get as much done as possible.
“Is there anything else I can do to assist you?” Castiel asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want you to write it for me. There doesn't seem like that much else you can do. I’ll just have to pull an all-nighter tomorrow and type it up and email it to my professor.” The pressure in Dean’s chest began to build again. In all seriousness he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to get it done by the deadline. He was shit at typing, his hands too used to hard labor that the delicate act of stroking the keys took all of his concentration, he could barely do a word a minute.
“Are you sure? You look troubled still.” Damn, he was perceptive, Dean would give him that.
“I just... I don’t know if I can actually get it typed. I take forever and this thing is ten pages. I just, I really don’t know.” Dean leaned back against the wall in a slump of defeat.
“I could type it.” Castiel was staring at him blankly.
“No way, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Dean wouldn’t subject Castiel to the torture.
“It’s not a problem. I’m just typing it after all. I would have you write everything out first. Besides I like typing. It’s relaxing.” A small smile graced Castiel’s lips for a moment, it was meant to reassure Dean that he didn't mind, but Dean still felt uneasy.
“Seriously? Like... seriously, seriously?” Dean knew he shouldn’t be trying to convince someone to not help him, but he just needed to be sure, this was the first time they’d actually talked. It just didn’t feel quite right, asking so much of Castiel.
“I assure you, Dean, though I am breaking the rules technically, I do not mind. Just give me your outline with an introduction and conclusion by tomorrow night, I will have all day Saturday to type it and you can relax and focus on your,” Relief washed over Dean as Castiel spun back around in his chair, “date.”
“You’re the best, you know that?” Dean smiled from ear to ear at Castiel. They hadn’t had much time to interact together, but Dean promised himself he’d remedy that. He certainly owed Castiel after this.
Castiel turned back around and opened his mouth to say something else but on catching Dean’s grin, rolled his eyes and swirled back around in his chair. They spend the rest of the night studying. Dean buries himself in the work, trying to take down and organize as much of his information as possible, that way Castiel won’t have to spend so much time typing the paper. He still can’t believe the guy even offered. It still baffles Dean that Castiel, who barely speaks to him and is willing to risk being caught typing Dean’s paper for him. It’s extraordinary. But then again, nothing about Castiel had ever been normal up to this point so why should Dean expect anything different.
Friday’s classes go by in a blur and as soon as his last one is let out Dean beelines straight for his dorm. Burying himself in more research he barely notices when Castiel walks in. In fact, Dean’s too busy writing that he doesn't notice he’s way past due on dinner. By the time he takes a break it’s dark and his stomach is making the most inhuman sound. The cafeteria is already closed for the night and the idea of going all the way out to his car to drive miles out to the nearest food joint makes dealing with his angry stomach seem much more enjoyable. He’s worn himself out from staying up taking notes the night before and all he really wants to do is sleep. Dean heaves himself out of comfort of his bed to start packing up the papers strewn across his blankets and transfer them onto his desk when Castiel reenters the room. Dean hadn’t even noticed he’d been gone. He shoots Castiel a small tired smile and slumps back down on his now clean bed.
“Oh hey, I’m almost finished. Just gonna take a quick breather. Thanks again for this man.” Dean says as he lowers himself onto the pillow, his stomach making the loudest noise Dean’s ever heard. Something between a growling dog and a paper shredder. Dean felt himself flush in embarrassment as Castiel glared at his stomach like it was actually a threat to their safety. “Sorry, I got so wrapped up in writing I accidentally skipped dinner.”
“I noticed. That’s why I went out to get you this.” Castiel takes a couple steps forward and produces a small styrofoam container from the paper bag he’d been carrying. “I’m afraid it might be a little cold now, I got distracted walking back from the cafeteria.”
Dean grabs it eagerly and pops it open, nearly crying at the sight of that perfect little cheeseburger staring up at him.
“The cafeteria worker assured me you would also enjoy these,” Castiel pulled another longer box out of the bag and thrust it into Dean’s face, pulling his attention off the cheeseburger. He opened it eagerly and had to resist burying his face in the lukewarm french fries.
“Dude.... just, dude.” Dean had never smiled so much in his entire life. “You are a saint. No, you’re an angel. You are a perfect, precious angel.”
Castiel crinkled his nose up at that and huffed as he settled himself back into his desk. Dean was shoveling fries and burger into his mouth as fast as possible, barely avoiding several ketchup spills over his bed covers. Once he’d finished his dinner he buried himself in the last of his work. All he had to do was think of a really killer conclusion. He’d gotten halfway done when sleep overtook him and he passed out on top of everything.
He woke around noon the next day with a start, bolting up in bed. He scanned the room and found himself under his blanket with everything from last night cleaned up and put in its proper place. He smiled, to himself. Castiel. Getting out of bed he went over to his desk to grab his notes but they had been replaced by a scrap of paper that read:
Dean, you fell asleep on top of your notes and empty food containers. You seemed in desperate need of sleep so I left you alone. I cleaned, then looked over your work. You’ve done a much more thorough job than I had expected. I am pleased you find Enochian so interesting. I have taken your notes to the library to begin typing. Enjoy your day. - Castiel
p.s. I am concerned at the amount of drool you produce. More research is required, however. Will get back to you on this.
Wiping his chin with a frown, he crumpled the note and tossed it. With Castiel in the library, Dean took the opportunity to start studying for his economics before grabbing lunch in the cafeteria. It took about half an hour before Dean couldn’t fight his stomach anymore. Setting the rest of his work aside he scrambled out of his clothes and into the shower. Stepping back into the room he picked up the black t-shirt he had been wearing the previous day and gave it a good sniff. Deciding that it was fine for another day, at least until his date later, he pulled it back on and tugged on his favorite pair of worn-out jeans. Stepping into his work boots and out the door, he headed towards the cafeteria, in accordance to his stomach’s vicious growling. Instead of his usual waffles and extra bacon, Dean opted for a plain bagel and two cups of coffee to go. Grabbing a handful of condiments he headed off to the library to check up on Castiel.
Finding him wasn’t that hard. Not many of the students chose to spend their time on Saturday cooped up in the library. And since for quite some time Dean had only been able to stare at the back of his head, spotting the unmistakable mess of dark hair from the sparse crowd took seconds.
“You didn’t need to bring me anything,” Castiel mumbled at the computer screen.
“Dude, you need to stop. I’m starting to think you can read my mind or something. You didn’t even turn around how the hell could you tell that one: it was me and two: I had brought you anything.” Dean had pulled up a chair but hovered over it anxiously waiting for Castiel’s response. He waited over Castiel’s shoulder for the boy to grow a third eye in the middle of his forehead and predict the future.
Castiel sighed roughly and pulled the pen out from behind his ear to make a note over something Dean had written. “I did see you.”
“Oh yeah?” That hadn’t clarified anything with Dean. He was inspecting the back of Castiel’s head for another set of eyes when Castiel sighed again.
Arching away from the notes to stretch, Castiel yawned. Then turning to Dean he rolled his eyes as he realized Dean was still concerned he might have some mystical psychic powers, brought the pen up to tap the computer screen. “There’s a glare, I can see clear reflections in it. Sit and look.”
Dean did as he was told, giving a rough grunt and blamed the lack of caffeine for his obliviousness. Castiel gave him a small smile and something softened in his tired eyes, reassuring Dean that he understood and did not take Dean for an idiot, like almost everyone else would have. It made something in Dean’s chest ache with gratefulness, he hated having to defend himself. Especially when it came to his intellect.
“See, not psychic, just extraordinarily observant,” Castiel widened his smile a bit more, then turned back to the screen to look over his typing. Yawning again, this time much more violently, Castiel reached over and took the nearest coffee cup. He popped the cap off and took a long deep sip, holding the cup to his lips, chewing on the rim as he studied Dean’s handwriting. ”You should work on your penmanship.”
“You shouldn’t offer to do a near-stranger’s homework.” Dean smirked and made a mental note that Castiel took his coffee black too. Castiel turned to him and cocked his head, like a puppy does when it can’t figure out what you’re trying to tell it.
“Dean, I hardly think almost half a semester of living together in tight quarters makes us ‘near-strangers’.” Castiel was frowning now, just slightly.
“I guess. We just never talked before. Too busy to be social, not that that is really an excuse.” Dean felt something else in his heart that time. He didn’t know what it was but it was telling him that he should have been paying more attention to his room mate. Castiel had obviously paid attention to him, Dean was too busy throwing himself a no-friends-lonely-freshman pity party to realize he may have been living with the best friend he’d had since Sam.
“You don’t need to sit there and stare at me, Dean. I thought the whole point of this was for you to have more time to... prepare for tonight’s activities.” Castiel keeps his eyes focused on the monitor and Dean studies him for a moment longer. He’d never really looked at his face before. Castiel was handsome, in the way that most men are. He had ability for his face to be lost in a crowd but not plain enough to be forgotten. Sharp cheekbones pushed up olive skin tinted blue by the computer, a light stubble spread over his jaw, like someone had sprinkled pepper over his face. His chin was sharp, almost too sharp. Then there were his lips, tenderly wrapped around the pen in his mouth. In the glow of the screen they looked almost purple, with chips and cracks in them. Dean caught himself wondering if they would shatter under a particularly forceful kiss. “Dean...”
Oh, shit. He hadn’t been checking out his room mate. He just slept too long and was in that dreary state that being overly rested makes you. He look a large gulp of his coffee, wincing as the liquid burned through his esophagus. “Oh yeah, I just, I wanted to bring you some fuel. And uh, check up. I know I didn’t finish last night.”
“The information you’ve provided is highly sufficient.” Castiel managed around the pen. Dean furrowed his brow and was about to protest when Castiel held up a hand. “Dean, go. Everything is fine here. I will meet you back in our room.”
“Yeah, okay. See you, Castiel.” Dean lingered for a second or two longer, but all it got him was and eye roll from the other boy. Dean walked away feeling even worse about the situation, he definitely owed Castiel for this. Something big, maybe dinner, outside of the campus. But, whatever, he’d think of something later. For now he had to get back to studying and preparing for Lisa.
Studying was easier said than done. Between worrying about his date and Castiel working in the library he barely had a spare moment to think about economics. He vowed never to do this to Castiel, or himself, ever again. Next time he’d just man up and reschedule. He was sure by then Lisa would be wrapped around his finger, totally willing to do whatever for Dean, just like all the other girls before her. Or so he hoped.
After five failed attempts to study and six outfit changes, Dean found himself staring at his reflection over the bathroom sink. When did he become such a girl? He’s just going on a date. Yes, Lisa Breadan was literally the hottest girl he’s ever come into contact with. But nothing in her airs made her seem that much different than any other girl he’s ever been with. He decided that he needed another quick shower, as a refresher. Something to ease the stress away. So, leaving his clothes on his bed he grabbed his towel and headed to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, Dean stepped out feeling more relaxed and ready to face Lisa. Or at least ready enough to try a couple pick up lines out on the mirror.
Halfway through his first pantomime of picking Lisa up, the door bursts open and hits Dean hard against the shoulder.
“Oh, I apologize.” Castiel mumbles.
“It’s cool, just, knock maybe?” Dean quickly inspects his shoulder, it might bruise but it’ll be okay for now. Then he turns and meets Castiel’s eyes. He’s about to say something, maybe question him about the paper or how his coffee was, but he can’t speak for some reason. Castiel’s gaze grazes down Dean’s body and back up to lock onto his eyes. Dean suddenly becomes aware that he’s only got a towel slung across his hips. He feels the blush all the way up to the tips of his ears but he can’t move.
“I apologize,” Castiel whispers as he finally breaks eye contact. He whirls around goes over to his desk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt I just needed some papers I left here and I was hoping to use the facilities, I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you might have left already. I didn’t hear you in the bathroom. I should have knocked.”
Castiel was rambling. A lot. “Dude, no worries, probably should have locked the door. I’m done though so you can do your business. Don’t worry about it.” He gave Castiel’s back a small smile and stepped out of the way for him.
“Thank you.” Castiel sounded more relaxed but wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye. As he brushed passed Dean caught the slight flush along his neck, thank God he wasn’t the only one embarrassed. As soon as the door closes Dean quickly pulls on his boxer briefs and the nicest pair of jeans he owns, but is still stuck on what shirt he should wear.
“Castiel!” Dean calls to the bathroom door.
“Yes, Dean?” He hears Castiel answer faintly through the door.
“I need your help!” Dean’s tone is almost as desperate as he feels. How can a picking a shirt be this hard?
“What is it?” Castiel finally emerges from the bathroom, but stops just past the threshold. He looks tense, Dean blames that on himself. He really shouldn’t have asked Castiel to type his paper.
“I just, uh, I need help,” Dean turns to his bed and picks up the two shirts he’s been considering for past five minutes, ”I need help picking a shirt.”
He offers each meekly to Castiel, ashamed at his indecision. “The green one, it brings out your eyes,” Castiel mumbles out quickly before retreating back into the bathroom. Pulling on his shirt and brushing past Castiel to check one more time in the mirror, Dean heads out. Just before leaving he turns and meets Castiel’s gaze.
“Thanks man, for everything.” Dean gives him a small smirk, which Castiel returns weakly. “I’ll be back by 11 and we can look over the paper again one more time before sending it. And I mean it Castiel, thank you. I owe you one. Big time.”
“Good luck, Dean.” Castiel offers, but Dean’s already closed the door.
Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Epilogue |