Fic: On Pavement : Through Air 2/? + Prologue
Title: On Pavement : Through Air [ch.2 Stanford]
Author: metchaky
Rating: R overall (tentatively)
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Word Count: [WIP]
Summary: Dean doesn't see why he should want to travel abroad when there's enough shit to see within the continental US to last a lifetime.
Castiel is fascinated by the language and culture of lands he's never been in.
Or: a series of snapshots from Dean's life within the context of Sam's. And maybe also more often than not in the context of Sam's former professor, Castiel.
[ Start: Prologue ]
Dean’s pretty much the greatest brother a massive nerd like Sam could ever hope to have. Or, at least, Dean figures he is because there’s no other explanation for why he’d let Sam and Jess- pretty though she may be- drag him to a debate on Foreign Aid. And not just any debate, but a debate between two scumbag politicians that Dean thought the world would be better off without.
“Why are we standing in line for this? Why is there a line for this?” Dean thumped his head against the shiny granite of the lobby wall. The line of people waiting to get into the auditorium zig-zagged across the open space of the room.
Sam picked up an information packet from a nearby table. “Katrina? Haiti? The Tohoku earthquake and tsunami? Foreign aid is kind of a popular topic right now. Not to mention elections are right around the corner.”
“Regardless of who wins, at the end of the day we’re still going to be served a heaping plate of bullshit. The only difference will be how it’s cooked.” Looking around, Dean was at least pleased to see that half of the attendees were dressed casually, having come straight from class.
“That’s why there’ll be two experts on stage who’ll be there to fact check.” Sam looked up from where he was flipping through the info-packet, “And anyways, if you were just going to complain the whole time, why’d you even come?”
“Because I’m an awesome big brother.”
Jessica had been chatting with the small group of people in the line in front of them, but turned around with a laugh at Dean’s comment. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that after the panel there’s going to be a mixer with an open bar and catered buffet.”
Dean flashed her a smile, “Can’t say ‘no’ to free food and drinks.”
Jessica smiled back before returning to her previous conversation. Luckily for Dean, they didn’t have to wait much longer before the auditorium doors opened. The volume of chatter rose as the line began moving forward and Jess rejoined them, hooking her arm through Sam’s and happily relating the discussion she had just had with the group who had, apparently, been members of the Peace Corps.
Dean tried to remember what the last movie he’d actually gotten to see at a theater had been. He knew for a fact that he had seen a Batman movie at some point, but was pretty sure there were at least two that had come out in the past handful of years and couldn’t be say which one he’d watched. On the other hand, a ton of comic-book movies had been released recently so he figured he was safe in assuming the last movie he’d seen had been a proper action flick.
“Really, Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled him back to the situation at hand. “We haven’t even found seats yet and you’re already mentally checking yourself out?”
Jessica swatted at Sam’s arm lightly. “Let him be. Unlike us, he’s not studying law or public policy. You can’t blame him for not being immediately interested in a discussion about international policy and funds.” She stage-whispered at Dean, “Just be glad Sam’s not forcing you to attend one of his Tax Law seminars. I was mentally singing songs from Schoolhouse Rock to tide myself over.”
“You were singing educational songs to keep yourself entertained?” Dean snorted, “Awww man, you and Sam are just perfect for each other.”
Sam stepped on his foot. “Says the guy who can’t even recite the Preamble without singing it.”
Dean shrugged. “That shit was catchy.”
Jess hummed. “I’m just a bill. Yes, I’m only a bill...”
The sound of chatter significantly decreased once they finally stepped into the auditorium, which was at least three times the size of any movie theater Dean had ever been in. It had a high vaulted ceiling, balcony, and looked as though it could easily seat more than a thousand.
Dean let out a low whistle. “This is one hell of a venue.”
“It’s the largest one on campus,” Sam nodded as Jessica tugged him along, maneuvering around people and moving them towards seats somewhere near the center.
They finally picked a set of seats about ten rows from the stage. It was close enough that they could clearly see the event crew doing a bit of last-minute set-up. There was a polished wooden podium on either side of the stage, angled to face both each other and the audience with a long table in the center.
Once the auditorium had been filled and the doors closed, a smartly dressed woman finally came out to the podium and began speaking. She started off giving a standard welcome speech with a special thanks to the donors as the lights dimmed and a large screen behind her lit up.
“Dude,” Dean whispered at Sam, “I totally thought that was a wall. That’s a fucking massive screen. They should definitely use this as a movie theater.”
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam hissed back. After a moment he smirked and added, “And we totally hold movie screenings here sometimes, it’s awesome.”
The screen was showing a large world map that zoomed into a country, flashed a range of images depicting culture and living standards before zooming out and repeating with a different area. The announcer began setting the context for the discussion by going over the history and politics of foreign aid.
The lights slowly brightened as she began introducing the panelists (“Mr. Zachariah Adler”) and Dean lamented the fact that a lack of dimmed lights meant he’d have a harder time napping unnoticed. He took a moment to check out the people around him (“Mr. Dick Roman”) and noted that people definitely could have both the beauty and the brains. Dean had just assumed (“Professor Novak”) that Jessica and Sam- and Dean only included Sam because being good-looking was a confirmed Curse of the Winchesters- were flukes in a place like Stanford which was chock-full of brainiacs (“Professor Crowley”).
Dean saw Jessica lean forward, propping her elbows on both her armrests. She raised her eyebrows and turned her head towards Dean and Sam before reaching near her feet to pull a small notepad and pen out of her purse. She quickly jotted something down and passed it to Sam, who did an awkward eyeroll/snort combo. Dean leaned over to see what was written-
Prof. Novak is def a hottie w/ a body. Mrs. Robinson kinks all around!
-and snapped his eyes to the stage.
There, sitting in one of the two seats at the table, was Castiel looking as ruffled and suited-up as before. Dean grinned and let out a huff of amusement at how stiff he looked. The other man at the table, whose nameplate stated Crowley, had leaned over with a hand over the microphone in front of him and said something. Cas shook his head slightly, tugging his tie loose with a frown as Crowley smirked.
Dean kind of felt sorry for the guy. He took Jess’ notepad and pen from Sam and scribbled out He’s gonna get eaten alive up there.
Sam shook his head and replied, He’s at the top of his field. Holds lectures and consultations for a living. Don’t underestimate him.
Dean shrugged and tossed the pen and notepad back towards Jessica who scowled at him and tucked both items into the front pocket of Sam’s button-up shirt, for easy access. They all turned their attention back to the stage as the rest of the audience clapped politely as the two faces Dean recognized from attack ads on the television each took a podium.
Dean pumped his fist in victory as the lights over the audience dimmed to nearly complete darkness. He leaned back and tried to get as settled into his seat as possible, tilting his head back and folding his hands over his stomach. He ignored the dirty look he received from a stranger in the seat next to him as he accidentally bumped their elbow while prepping to zone out- because Castiel Novak may have been eyecandy with his tousled hair and piercing eyes, but it wasn’t worth having to look at Dick and Zachariah for the duration of the debate.
He nudged Sam and whispered, “Wake me up if something exciting happens.”
“Shush. They’re actually starting now.”
Dean grabbed Sam’s forearm, “And by ‘exciting’ I mean my kind of exciting.”
“Yeah, okay, be quiet.”
Dean tightened his grip, “And by ‘my kind of exciting’ I mean ‘if someone’s about to get punched out’.”
Sam brushed Dean’s hand off his arm with a glare and a firm, “Seriously.”
Dean shrugged again and closed his eyes.
He managed to doze off for a total of twenty minutes before the person behind him sneezed on his neck and startled him awake. Rolling his shoulders back he waved off their hushed apology and let his eyes readjust to the lighting in the room. Dick Roman was currently speaking at his podium and Dean wondered if he should even put in the effort to pretend to care about what was being said or just take one of the NyQuil gel caps that he knew Jessica had in her purse.
“… capitalism has worked well for us. Each McDonalds or Starbucks that we open in a developing country immediately boosts their economy by providing new jobs with a stable and established company.” Dick’s lips stretched wide, baring his teeth in his trademark smile that never managed to reach his eyes.
“No, no, no,” Zachariah rebutted, competing with Dick for the title of Who Dean Would Be The Least Likely To Save In The Zombie Apocalypse, “economic growth needs to happen organically. I’m all for our government providing a helping hand here and there, but the truth is: there are plenty of countries that have succeeded on their own. All that these other countries “in need of aid” really need is direction.” Dean thought that Zachariah was definitely winning the competition; each word he said was grating and dipped in a smug elitism that made his skin crawl. “They may have to make some tough sacrifices, but if they follow our counsel without complaint, their future will be set.”
“If I may interrupt.” And that was a voice that Dean thought might actually make attending bullshit political debates worth it. “The independent research and data that you both presented earlier may support your individual claims, but I see now that they lacked relevant context which I think is important in-”
“Excuse me,” Zachariah cut in, “Professor… Novak, is it? I don’t believe you’re actually a part of this debate. You’re here to inform us of inaccuracies in our arguments, not to give us your opinion on how we present those arguments.”
Dean watched as the balding politician sneered at Cas before returning to his talking points and simply steamrolling over the professor’s attempts to clarify his concerns. He definitely felt bad for the guy, but then again he’d called it right from the start; the professor didn’t stand a chance against the two public speaking powerhouses he was sharing the stage with. And while Dean noted that his face hadn’t given away any sign of having been humiliated, Castiel was sitting up a little straighter in his chair.
The debate picked up and Dean actually found himself, against all odds, fascinated. That it was Sam’s former professor that had caught his attention, and not the actual politicians and their arguments, wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the why.
In the next fifteen minutes, there were several more instances of the situation that Dean had just witnessed: arguments would be given, Castiel would try to interrupt, Dick or Zachariah would talk over him, and then Cas would shut up and continue to watch silently.
Rinse and Repeat.
Dean couldn’t really explain the rising indignation he felt grow with each time Castiel was shot-down. In truth, he didn’t care much about the entire thing and really just wanted out; screw the fact that he’d have to climb over a dozen people to do so. But Dean couldn’t help but be impressed. Cas took each hit and rolled with it, only to get up knowing full well the outcome wouldn’t be much different.
It was something he could respect.
Dean glanced next to him. Sam had a vaguely horrified look on his face while Jessica seemed suspended between disbelief and anger. He nudged his brother with an elbow. “Sooooo… it kind of looks like your hero’s getting the political equivalent of the shit beaten out of him.”
Sam blinked at him, as though just now remembering that Dean had been sitting by him the entire time. Eyes quickly flicking back to the stage, Sam pulled out the notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.
Novak and Crowley have just been treated as glorified tape recorders. Haven’t gotten a word in besides reading out base statistics and facts.
Jess leaned over to add something to the notepad, but stopped as Castiel once again attempted to join the argument.
“It seems that your focus is more on what is best for our own government. Neither of your suggestions has taken into account the fact that these countries have their own culture and lifestyle. It was my understanding that the point of foreign aid is to help. Not to take over and govern.“
Dick let out a loud laugh and wide grin. “That’s exactly what you’d expect from a Berkeley professor.”
Zachariah joined in with a look bordering on disgust. “If only the economy ran on bleeding hearts and naïve optimism.”
There was a loud screech, amplified ten-fold by a nearby mic, that had Dean clapping his hands over his ears. It took him a moment to realize the sound had resulted from Castiel’s chair being pushed back as he stood up.
It was completely silent as Cas stood stock-still and stared down at his hands, which were flat on the table.
When he started speaking, his voice was barely above a growl. “I am not here to win the popular vote.” Cas lifted his head to slowly and deliberately look both Dick and then Zachariah in the eyes. His blue eyes were hardened and Dean could see the restrained fury in the tension of his jaw. “You are free to twist the facts so that they are ‘palatable’ for your respective constituents, but I will not join you in hiding the realities of the situation.” Dean watched as Cas looked back to his hands, taking a moment to breathe. “I feel that my time might be better served elsewhere”
He then proceeded to pick up his folders and walk off the stage.
Before anyone could really process his exit, Crowley tapped the mic sitting on the table he now had to himself. “Just going to put this out there: I’ll help you hide whatever reality you want if I get his paycheck.”
The entire auditorium broke out in loud whispers and Dean stood up, smoothing out the creases in his jeans.
Sam grabbed his arm. “It’s not over yet.”
He shrugged and whispered back, “I can’ take anymore of this shit, especially without Hot Brunette.”
“That was the girl in the Yaris.”
Dean threw a fist in the air and said at normal volume, “Solidarity!” before giving Sam and Jess a dramatic wink and stepping on several feet as he made his way back to the aisle and out of the auditorium.
He re-entered the lobby to find that it had been converted into the promised buffet area, which confirmed to Dean that his ideas were always the best. He also figured that, being the first and only person there, it was his god-ordained duty to taste-test everything they offered.
Several people filtered out of the auditorium, having obviously agreed with Dean’s flawless logic, but it wasn’t until Dean was refilling his plate from the personal pie section of the dessert table that Sam and Jess joined him.
Sam set a plate of lasagna down on their table. “So… that was crazy.”
Jess nodded and put down a plate laden with mashed potatoes and gravy. “Bat-shit.”
“Yeah,” Dean said around a mouthful of food, “let’s talk about the fact that when you invited me to this you specifically said ‘you might even enjoy it, Dean.’”
Sam shrugged his shoulders almost sheepishly, “I figured since you called Professor Novak ‘hot’ that you might be interested.”
“I also called Lucy Liu hot. Didn’t see you dragging me to any Ally McBeal events.” Dean took a forkful of Sam’s lasagna, “Though your professor was pretty bad-ass.” After a second’s consideration, Dean added, “I mean, after the forty-five minutes of verbal bitch-slapping that Cas took.”
“He was a guest lecturer. I’ve never actually had him as a full-time professor. But yeah, I’m surprised that he managed to keep it together for so long.”
Dean nodded. “Well, y’know what they say: ‘Patience is a virtue… in bed.’”
Sam flicked a bit of mushroom in his direction. “Also, ‘Cas’? I’m pretty sure it’s considered a social faux pas to call someone by a nickname you made up when you’re not even friends with them.”
“Tell that to Brangelina.”
“Portmanteaus of famous couples don’t count.”
“Hey,” Jess stood up, “This is fascinating banter and all, but I think I just saw Rebecca so I’ll be right back.” She leaned down to peck Sam on the cheek, “Try not to rip each other’s throats out.” Waving at someone across the room, she took off.
Sam stared after her with sappy eyes of adoration. “Hey Dean, in all honesty... I know this whole thing really isn’t your scene, but whenever you’re in town it’s always just the two of us and,” he turned the sappy eyes towards his brother and continued in a quieter voice, “I just really want you and Jess to spend more time together.”
“Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m pretty invested in making sure you don’t end up with some crazy-ass bitch because, in the end, I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the mess.”
Sam looked at him unhappily, “Dean.”
“Which means it’s inevitable that we’ll have to hang out so that I can properly vet her.”
Before Sam could tease Dean about how he really needed to stop trying to hide just much of a big softie he actually was, there was a bit of commotion as Zachariah, Dick, and Crowley all made an appearance.
Dean felt a fleeting moment of disappointment when it was clear that Castiel wouldn’t be in attendance. He hadn’t really thought about whether or not he had any expectations in regards to running into the guy again. But then again, Dean figured someone should give the guy a high-five for sticking up for his values.
And if Dean was volunteering, then it was because he was just that kind of guy.
[Next: ch.3 Bay Street]
Author: metchaky
Rating: R overall (tentatively)
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Word Count: [WIP]
Summary: Dean doesn't see why he should want to travel abroad when there's enough shit to see within the continental US to last a lifetime.
Castiel is fascinated by the language and culture of lands he's never been in.
Or: a series of snapshots from Dean's life within the context of Sam's. And maybe also more often than not in the context of Sam's former professor, Castiel.
[ Start: Prologue ]
Dean’s pretty much the greatest brother a massive nerd like Sam could ever hope to have. Or, at least, Dean figures he is because there’s no other explanation for why he’d let Sam and Jess- pretty though she may be- drag him to a debate on Foreign Aid. And not just any debate, but a debate between two scumbag politicians that Dean thought the world would be better off without.
“Why are we standing in line for this? Why is there a line for this?” Dean thumped his head against the shiny granite of the lobby wall. The line of people waiting to get into the auditorium zig-zagged across the open space of the room.
Sam picked up an information packet from a nearby table. “Katrina? Haiti? The Tohoku earthquake and tsunami? Foreign aid is kind of a popular topic right now. Not to mention elections are right around the corner.”
“Regardless of who wins, at the end of the day we’re still going to be served a heaping plate of bullshit. The only difference will be how it’s cooked.” Looking around, Dean was at least pleased to see that half of the attendees were dressed casually, having come straight from class.
“That’s why there’ll be two experts on stage who’ll be there to fact check.” Sam looked up from where he was flipping through the info-packet, “And anyways, if you were just going to complain the whole time, why’d you even come?”
“Because I’m an awesome big brother.”
Jessica had been chatting with the small group of people in the line in front of them, but turned around with a laugh at Dean’s comment. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that after the panel there’s going to be a mixer with an open bar and catered buffet.”
Dean flashed her a smile, “Can’t say ‘no’ to free food and drinks.”
Jessica smiled back before returning to her previous conversation. Luckily for Dean, they didn’t have to wait much longer before the auditorium doors opened. The volume of chatter rose as the line began moving forward and Jess rejoined them, hooking her arm through Sam’s and happily relating the discussion she had just had with the group who had, apparently, been members of the Peace Corps.
Dean tried to remember what the last movie he’d actually gotten to see at a theater had been. He knew for a fact that he had seen a Batman movie at some point, but was pretty sure there were at least two that had come out in the past handful of years and couldn’t be say which one he’d watched. On the other hand, a ton of comic-book movies had been released recently so he figured he was safe in assuming the last movie he’d seen had been a proper action flick.
“Really, Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled him back to the situation at hand. “We haven’t even found seats yet and you’re already mentally checking yourself out?”
Jessica swatted at Sam’s arm lightly. “Let him be. Unlike us, he’s not studying law or public policy. You can’t blame him for not being immediately interested in a discussion about international policy and funds.” She stage-whispered at Dean, “Just be glad Sam’s not forcing you to attend one of his Tax Law seminars. I was mentally singing songs from Schoolhouse Rock to tide myself over.”
“You were singing educational songs to keep yourself entertained?” Dean snorted, “Awww man, you and Sam are just perfect for each other.”
Sam stepped on his foot. “Says the guy who can’t even recite the Preamble without singing it.”
Dean shrugged. “That shit was catchy.”
Jess hummed. “I’m just a bill. Yes, I’m only a bill...”
The sound of chatter significantly decreased once they finally stepped into the auditorium, which was at least three times the size of any movie theater Dean had ever been in. It had a high vaulted ceiling, balcony, and looked as though it could easily seat more than a thousand.
Dean let out a low whistle. “This is one hell of a venue.”
“It’s the largest one on campus,” Sam nodded as Jessica tugged him along, maneuvering around people and moving them towards seats somewhere near the center.
They finally picked a set of seats about ten rows from the stage. It was close enough that they could clearly see the event crew doing a bit of last-minute set-up. There was a polished wooden podium on either side of the stage, angled to face both each other and the audience with a long table in the center.
Once the auditorium had been filled and the doors closed, a smartly dressed woman finally came out to the podium and began speaking. She started off giving a standard welcome speech with a special thanks to the donors as the lights dimmed and a large screen behind her lit up.
“Dude,” Dean whispered at Sam, “I totally thought that was a wall. That’s a fucking massive screen. They should definitely use this as a movie theater.”
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam hissed back. After a moment he smirked and added, “And we totally hold movie screenings here sometimes, it’s awesome.”
The screen was showing a large world map that zoomed into a country, flashed a range of images depicting culture and living standards before zooming out and repeating with a different area. The announcer began setting the context for the discussion by going over the history and politics of foreign aid.
The lights slowly brightened as she began introducing the panelists (“Mr. Zachariah Adler”) and Dean lamented the fact that a lack of dimmed lights meant he’d have a harder time napping unnoticed. He took a moment to check out the people around him (“Mr. Dick Roman”) and noted that people definitely could have both the beauty and the brains. Dean had just assumed (“Professor Novak”) that Jessica and Sam- and Dean only included Sam because being good-looking was a confirmed Curse of the Winchesters- were flukes in a place like Stanford which was chock-full of brainiacs (“Professor Crowley”).
Dean saw Jessica lean forward, propping her elbows on both her armrests. She raised her eyebrows and turned her head towards Dean and Sam before reaching near her feet to pull a small notepad and pen out of her purse. She quickly jotted something down and passed it to Sam, who did an awkward eyeroll/snort combo. Dean leaned over to see what was written-
Prof. Novak is def a hottie w/ a body. Mrs. Robinson kinks all around!
-and snapped his eyes to the stage.
There, sitting in one of the two seats at the table, was Castiel looking as ruffled and suited-up as before. Dean grinned and let out a huff of amusement at how stiff he looked. The other man at the table, whose nameplate stated Crowley, had leaned over with a hand over the microphone in front of him and said something. Cas shook his head slightly, tugging his tie loose with a frown as Crowley smirked.
Dean kind of felt sorry for the guy. He took Jess’ notepad and pen from Sam and scribbled out He’s gonna get eaten alive up there.
Sam shook his head and replied, He’s at the top of his field. Holds lectures and consultations for a living. Don’t underestimate him.
Dean shrugged and tossed the pen and notepad back towards Jessica who scowled at him and tucked both items into the front pocket of Sam’s button-up shirt, for easy access. They all turned their attention back to the stage as the rest of the audience clapped politely as the two faces Dean recognized from attack ads on the television each took a podium.
Dean pumped his fist in victory as the lights over the audience dimmed to nearly complete darkness. He leaned back and tried to get as settled into his seat as possible, tilting his head back and folding his hands over his stomach. He ignored the dirty look he received from a stranger in the seat next to him as he accidentally bumped their elbow while prepping to zone out- because Castiel Novak may have been eyecandy with his tousled hair and piercing eyes, but it wasn’t worth having to look at Dick and Zachariah for the duration of the debate.
He nudged Sam and whispered, “Wake me up if something exciting happens.”
“Shush. They’re actually starting now.”
Dean grabbed Sam’s forearm, “And by ‘exciting’ I mean my kind of exciting.”
“Yeah, okay, be quiet.”
Dean tightened his grip, “And by ‘my kind of exciting’ I mean ‘if someone’s about to get punched out’.”
Sam brushed Dean’s hand off his arm with a glare and a firm, “Seriously.”
Dean shrugged again and closed his eyes.
He managed to doze off for a total of twenty minutes before the person behind him sneezed on his neck and startled him awake. Rolling his shoulders back he waved off their hushed apology and let his eyes readjust to the lighting in the room. Dick Roman was currently speaking at his podium and Dean wondered if he should even put in the effort to pretend to care about what was being said or just take one of the NyQuil gel caps that he knew Jessica had in her purse.
“… capitalism has worked well for us. Each McDonalds or Starbucks that we open in a developing country immediately boosts their economy by providing new jobs with a stable and established company.” Dick’s lips stretched wide, baring his teeth in his trademark smile that never managed to reach his eyes.
“No, no, no,” Zachariah rebutted, competing with Dick for the title of Who Dean Would Be The Least Likely To Save In The Zombie Apocalypse, “economic growth needs to happen organically. I’m all for our government providing a helping hand here and there, but the truth is: there are plenty of countries that have succeeded on their own. All that these other countries “in need of aid” really need is direction.” Dean thought that Zachariah was definitely winning the competition; each word he said was grating and dipped in a smug elitism that made his skin crawl. “They may have to make some tough sacrifices, but if they follow our counsel without complaint, their future will be set.”
“If I may interrupt.” And that was a voice that Dean thought might actually make attending bullshit political debates worth it. “The independent research and data that you both presented earlier may support your individual claims, but I see now that they lacked relevant context which I think is important in-”
“Excuse me,” Zachariah cut in, “Professor… Novak, is it? I don’t believe you’re actually a part of this debate. You’re here to inform us of inaccuracies in our arguments, not to give us your opinion on how we present those arguments.”
Dean watched as the balding politician sneered at Cas before returning to his talking points and simply steamrolling over the professor’s attempts to clarify his concerns. He definitely felt bad for the guy, but then again he’d called it right from the start; the professor didn’t stand a chance against the two public speaking powerhouses he was sharing the stage with. And while Dean noted that his face hadn’t given away any sign of having been humiliated, Castiel was sitting up a little straighter in his chair.
The debate picked up and Dean actually found himself, against all odds, fascinated. That it was Sam’s former professor that had caught his attention, and not the actual politicians and their arguments, wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the why.
In the next fifteen minutes, there were several more instances of the situation that Dean had just witnessed: arguments would be given, Castiel would try to interrupt, Dick or Zachariah would talk over him, and then Cas would shut up and continue to watch silently.
Rinse and Repeat.
Dean couldn’t really explain the rising indignation he felt grow with each time Castiel was shot-down. In truth, he didn’t care much about the entire thing and really just wanted out; screw the fact that he’d have to climb over a dozen people to do so. But Dean couldn’t help but be impressed. Cas took each hit and rolled with it, only to get up knowing full well the outcome wouldn’t be much different.
It was something he could respect.
Dean glanced next to him. Sam had a vaguely horrified look on his face while Jessica seemed suspended between disbelief and anger. He nudged his brother with an elbow. “Sooooo… it kind of looks like your hero’s getting the political equivalent of the shit beaten out of him.”
Sam blinked at him, as though just now remembering that Dean had been sitting by him the entire time. Eyes quickly flicking back to the stage, Sam pulled out the notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.
Novak and Crowley have just been treated as glorified tape recorders. Haven’t gotten a word in besides reading out base statistics and facts.
Jess leaned over to add something to the notepad, but stopped as Castiel once again attempted to join the argument.
“It seems that your focus is more on what is best for our own government. Neither of your suggestions has taken into account the fact that these countries have their own culture and lifestyle. It was my understanding that the point of foreign aid is to help. Not to take over and govern.“
Dick let out a loud laugh and wide grin. “That’s exactly what you’d expect from a Berkeley professor.”
Zachariah joined in with a look bordering on disgust. “If only the economy ran on bleeding hearts and naïve optimism.”
There was a loud screech, amplified ten-fold by a nearby mic, that had Dean clapping his hands over his ears. It took him a moment to realize the sound had resulted from Castiel’s chair being pushed back as he stood up.
It was completely silent as Cas stood stock-still and stared down at his hands, which were flat on the table.
When he started speaking, his voice was barely above a growl. “I am not here to win the popular vote.” Cas lifted his head to slowly and deliberately look both Dick and then Zachariah in the eyes. His blue eyes were hardened and Dean could see the restrained fury in the tension of his jaw. “You are free to twist the facts so that they are ‘palatable’ for your respective constituents, but I will not join you in hiding the realities of the situation.” Dean watched as Cas looked back to his hands, taking a moment to breathe. “I feel that my time might be better served elsewhere”
He then proceeded to pick up his folders and walk off the stage.
Before anyone could really process his exit, Crowley tapped the mic sitting on the table he now had to himself. “Just going to put this out there: I’ll help you hide whatever reality you want if I get his paycheck.”
The entire auditorium broke out in loud whispers and Dean stood up, smoothing out the creases in his jeans.
Sam grabbed his arm. “It’s not over yet.”
He shrugged and whispered back, “I can’ take anymore of this shit, especially without Hot Brunette.”
“That was the girl in the Yaris.”
Dean threw a fist in the air and said at normal volume, “Solidarity!” before giving Sam and Jess a dramatic wink and stepping on several feet as he made his way back to the aisle and out of the auditorium.
He re-entered the lobby to find that it had been converted into the promised buffet area, which confirmed to Dean that his ideas were always the best. He also figured that, being the first and only person there, it was his god-ordained duty to taste-test everything they offered.
Several people filtered out of the auditorium, having obviously agreed with Dean’s flawless logic, but it wasn’t until Dean was refilling his plate from the personal pie section of the dessert table that Sam and Jess joined him.
Sam set a plate of lasagna down on their table. “So… that was crazy.”
Jess nodded and put down a plate laden with mashed potatoes and gravy. “Bat-shit.”
“Yeah,” Dean said around a mouthful of food, “let’s talk about the fact that when you invited me to this you specifically said ‘you might even enjoy it, Dean.’”
Sam shrugged his shoulders almost sheepishly, “I figured since you called Professor Novak ‘hot’ that you might be interested.”
“I also called Lucy Liu hot. Didn’t see you dragging me to any Ally McBeal events.” Dean took a forkful of Sam’s lasagna, “Though your professor was pretty bad-ass.” After a second’s consideration, Dean added, “I mean, after the forty-five minutes of verbal bitch-slapping that Cas took.”
“He was a guest lecturer. I’ve never actually had him as a full-time professor. But yeah, I’m surprised that he managed to keep it together for so long.”
Dean nodded. “Well, y’know what they say: ‘Patience is a virtue… in bed.’”
Sam flicked a bit of mushroom in his direction. “Also, ‘Cas’? I’m pretty sure it’s considered a social faux pas to call someone by a nickname you made up when you’re not even friends with them.”
“Tell that to Brangelina.”
“Portmanteaus of famous couples don’t count.”
“Hey,” Jess stood up, “This is fascinating banter and all, but I think I just saw Rebecca so I’ll be right back.” She leaned down to peck Sam on the cheek, “Try not to rip each other’s throats out.” Waving at someone across the room, she took off.
Sam stared after her with sappy eyes of adoration. “Hey Dean, in all honesty... I know this whole thing really isn’t your scene, but whenever you’re in town it’s always just the two of us and,” he turned the sappy eyes towards his brother and continued in a quieter voice, “I just really want you and Jess to spend more time together.”
“Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m pretty invested in making sure you don’t end up with some crazy-ass bitch because, in the end, I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the mess.”
Sam looked at him unhappily, “Dean.”
“Which means it’s inevitable that we’ll have to hang out so that I can properly vet her.”
Before Sam could tease Dean about how he really needed to stop trying to hide just much of a big softie he actually was, there was a bit of commotion as Zachariah, Dick, and Crowley all made an appearance.
Dean felt a fleeting moment of disappointment when it was clear that Castiel wouldn’t be in attendance. He hadn’t really thought about whether or not he had any expectations in regards to running into the guy again. But then again, Dean figured someone should give the guy a high-five for sticking up for his values.
And if Dean was volunteering, then it was because he was just that kind of guy.
[Next: ch.3 Bay Street]