Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Dude…you really need to update your music taste. If I have to listen to this shit for the rest of the trip I’m going to open the door on the highway,” Sam sank lower into the seat of the Impala as another classic rock song kicked on through the speakers.

“Too bad. You know the rules, Sammy,” Dean drummed along with the music on the steering wheel, glancing down at his GPS. 2 hours left on the drive from Kansas out to California. Sam had gotten a full ride to Stanford, and who was Dean to deny his brother this opportunity. Their father’s only condition on Sam being allowed to go was that Dean had to go as well. Luckily, Dean had applied when he found out Sam was. Despite being 4 years out of high school, Dean had kept his resume up to most college’s standards. Plus he had one hell of a personal statement.

Despite his earlier complaints, Sam hummed along with the music choices Dean made. They’d grown up on this kind of music. John Winchester was nothing if not consistent. After all, the ounce of freedom that was awarded Dean came with the price tag of being his brother’s bodyguard. But it’s better than being back home.

The brothers’ belongings had been sent ahead of them to the townhome they’d be living in for the coming year. One of the benefits of their life; no freshman dorms.

Thank whatever lord above is listening. Dean really did not want to deal with communal bathrooms on top of babysitting duty. In California. He knew his brother could take care of himself. Hell, they both were better at it than the average person. But he also knew Sam is the important son.

As time ticked by, so did Dean’s energy. He’d be so thankful for a bed. And a shower. Hotel showers never made him feel clean enough. Dean knew he was good looking, and he just wanted to preserve that for as long as he could. So what if he had skin care. Better than being dried out by the young age of 28. Like the nerd his brother was, Sam was looking at a campus map.

“Anything interesting, Sam?” Dean peered to his right slightly, trying to keep his eyes on the unfamiliar highway too.

“Nothing much. Looking at the libraries and where my classes are mostly,” the sound of crinkling paper filled the car as Sam refolded the map.

“Do they have anything fun on there? Where’s the gym or a bar?” Despite doing well in school, studying wasn’t exactly what Dean wanted to fill all his free time with.

“There was one on the north side and another on the west. No bars on the school map,” sarcasm dripping from Sam’s tone.

Dean knew Sam wasn’t thrilled about having Dean follow him to college. Frankly, it wasn’t Dean’s ideal life either. But they had to deal with it. If either of them wanted to get out.

After some time, they finally approached their place. It was a dark brown town home, connected on the left to another. A moving truck was parked outside in both driveways. Their neighbor must be moving in too.

Wonder if we will get to meet them. Maybe they’re in school too. Dean grabbed his duffel from the back and tossed Sam’s towards him before tucking his pistol in the side of his bag. Most of his weapons were in the packed boxes the movers were sorting through currently. He’d organize everything later. Right now, a bed was calling his name desperately.

“Sammy!” Dean called out, “I’m going to sleep. Wake me up if you want to get dinner.”

A groan of affirmation was sent out from somewhere deeper in the house. Dean walked up the steps and took the room on the right. His boxes sat stacked up against one wall, the window looking into the side yard. There was a built-in bookshelf on the wall next to the door, not that Dean had too many books to fill it with. His whole life fit into 6 boxes and 2 extra bags.

Tossing his bag onto the ground next to his bed, Dean flopped face down onto the mattress. He’d need to put sheets on soon, but he couldn’t be bothered. Dragging himself forward and towards his pillow, Dean laid on his stomach, head feeling heavier with each passing second. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

.. / .-.. --- ...- ./ -.-- --- ..-.

The world was hot. Too hot.

As his dreams often did, Dean’s mind was full of fire and screams. He was only a kid when his mom died. Sam was just a baby, but Dean was still haunted by the memories. Especially the night it happened. He remembered waking up to a noise outside his bedroom. Someone was walking down the hallway.

The next thing Dean heard was screaming. His mom’s screaming. As quick as he could, Dean tried to get to her, but he was stopped by his father.

“Mom!! Mom!” Dean yelled as he thrashed in his father’s arms. John held him tight though, stopping him from running further. Orange light crept around the corner, getting brighter.

“Take your brother outside, Dean! Now!” Sam was wrapped in a blanket as John placed him in Dean’s arms. As quick as he could, Dean ran down the steps and into the front yard. Flames licked at the windows of his house, as if begging to get out. Windows shattered from the heat, glass raining down on the yard. The front door slammed open, and a man in all black ran out. Dean couldn’t see his face as he was pushed backwards towards the sidewalk. Holding Sam tight, the only thing Dean could do was fall. Pain flashed behind his eyes as he hit the ground; the man continuing down the street.

Coughing, Dean’s father ran out after him. His hands were covered in blood. Fire crept through the house. Sirens were a distant noise in the back of Dean’s mind, pain growing as he tried to sit up.

“Dean! Is Sammy ok? What happened?” John tried to grab Sam from Dean’s arms, but he held on tight. That last thing Dean remembers is his house going up in flames.

.. / .-.. --- ...- ./ -.-- --- ..-.

Dean woke with a start. Whether from the dream or the knocking on his door didn’t matter much. It wasn’t the first time he’d had this dream, or memory, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Running a hand along his face, he sat up before answering a “yeah” to the knocks.

“You said you wanted to get food. Wanna go to the store or just eat out tonight?” Sam’s head popped in the now open door.

“Uhh…let’s go find somewhere with food before shopping. I definitely don’t feel like cooking tonight. You’re driving, though,” Dean tossed his keys towards Sam who caught them with ease. After all, Sam was the only other person allowed to drive Baby. Dean had fixed her up when he was 16. She’s the picture of health, as much as a car can be. A 1967 Chevy Impala, black, of course, because it’s sleek.

The brothers walked out of the house, discussing their options, making sure to lock up their new place now that the movers were done. When Dean made it to the passenger side, he noticed the door on their neighbors house was open.

“Cassie! What box did you want next?” A voice called from the moving truck. A brunet man stuck his head out the back.

“Bring one of the kitchen ones! And I told you to stop calling me that, Gabe,” replied the voice. Deep and gravelly, it gave Dean a slight pause. It had been a while since he’d heard a voice he was attracted to right off the bat. He hadn’t even seen the guy’s face. Sam tapped the top of the car twice, getting Dean’s attention back on him.

“Sorry. What were you saying?” Dean shook himself out of his thoughts and slid into the passenger seat.

“There’s a restaurant just a little bit away called the Roadhouse. It has a bar too. Looks pretty good online,” Sam started Baby up and started driving.

“Sure, why not?” Dean looked outside the window at the view. That was at least another positive about the place their dad had picked. The view was nice. The sun was still up, starting its descent despite the later hour. The clock in the Impala had caught up with the time change, but not Dean’s internal one. And his nap earlier hadn’t helped. Oh well.

15 minutes later, Sam pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse. The inside looked like a classic bar from back home in Kansas. Dark wood grain, large bar in the center, booths along the walls. Yeah, this felt comfortable. They sat in one of the booths under neon beer signs, soft rock music filtering around the room.

“Want a beer? I’m gonna go get one from the bar before we get food,” Dean gestured with his chin in that direction.

“Yeah. Just don’t tell them how old I am,” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” Dean walked up to the bar. A young, blonde girl walked over to greet him.

“Hey, what can I get you started with tonight?” She asked.

“2 bottles of beer, El Sol, if you have it,” Dean responded, leaning on the bar.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” A thick Cajun accent floated over from the other side of the bar, “Dean Winchester, is that you?”

“Benny? Oh my god! It’s been too long, dude!” Dean met Benny during high school. They were quick friends. Benny’s family moved up to Kansas his sophomore year, and he and Dean had history together since. Once he graduated, Benny moved across the country. He and Dean had kept up occasionally and on holidays, but had lost track of details sometime along the way.

Benny opened the bar flap and crushed Dean in a bear hug. It really had been too long. Benny had been there when Dean was going through a couple crises in his youth. He hadn’t even told Sam about those.

“What brings you out here, man? I’ve missed you,” Benny took a step back, clapping Dean on the back, “Oh by the way, this lovely lady is Jo, her and her mom, Ellen, own this fine establishment.”

“Hey, Dean. My brother, Sam, is sitting over there,” Dean pointed, and Sam waved, having looked up at the commotion.

“Nice to meet you, Dean. Here are those beers,” Jo placed 2 bottles on the counter, “open or closed tab?”

“Oh c’mon, Jo. This is my best friend and his little brother. Put it on my tab,” Benny grabbed the bottles from the bar and started walking over towards Sam.

Jo sighed, but smiled lightly. Turning to help other guests, she walked to the other end of the bar where a woman , who Dean assumed was her mother, stood. There was definitely a family resemblance.

“So, what can I get you guys to eat?” Benny set the beers on the table reaching over to shake Sam’s hand.

“I’ll try the chicken club sandwich and chips. Nice to see you, Benny,” Sam said, setting the menu down.

“You got a good burger here?” Dean, ever predictable, asked Benny.

“It’s my menu. You know it’s good. I’ll get those right out for y’all,” Benny walked back towards the bar and kitchen.

“Well, that was unexpected. Who knew we’d run into him?” Dean leaned back into the booth, taking a swig of his beer. He really was shocked to see his friend. Maybe he wouldn’t hate being out here as much as he thought.

“Yeah, plus it’s someone else for you to bother instead of me,” Sam looked over at Dean, clinking his beer against his brother’s.

“Listen, Sam, I know you didn’t exactly want me to come out here with you. And it’s not like it was my first choice either. But dad gave me an order. He just wants you to be safe,” Dean and Sam had this conversation before but much less civil. Sam had even yelled at their father, something Dean had not been brave enough to do since he was a teenager.

“Dean. It’s fine. I know why you’re here. It’s nice that you care. I just wanted to get away from our lives. It’s just suffocating sometimes,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, it sure is,” Dean knew their life was far from normal. On the surface, after their mother died, their lives continued mostly as they should. The police never found the man that was in their house, the only proof of him even existing was in memories. Their father never let it go though. John Winchester never stopped looking. In his search, he became something of a famous bounty hunter. There would be weeks where Dean and Sam were left at home alone, just enough supplies to make it until their father returned. Not that they couldn’t spare the money. John took jobs with quite high payloads often, but that was his money. Dean took up odd jobs from the age of 15 just to be safe.

John started taking Dean with him on jobs occasionally. Never the important ones, but one where he could learn. By 17, Dean could disassemble and reassemble any of his father’s guns and knew his way around a variety of other weapons, favoring knives if he had a choice. Despite the numerous hunts, John had made little headway in finding his wife’s killer. His bitterness and anger only built as the years went by. Dean started going on more jobs after he graduated high school. Becoming John’s “perfect soldier.” But that was ok. It meant that Sam wasn’t going to be involved in this life. Sure he knew what was happening, but at least he never had to see. In his spare time, Dean would teach Sam basic combat skills; he hoped that Sam never had to use them. Hopefully being across the country would help.

Benny returned to the table with their food and an extra slice of pie.

“Benny, you’re a lifesaver,” Dean's eyes lit up at the food in front of them.

“Just cause I remember you like it,” Benny winked at Dean and left the two brothers to their food. As they dug in, both Sam and Dean let out a groan. It really was delicious. His burger was cooked perfectly, and don’t even get him started on the pie. Even though it was just apple, Dean didn’t think he’d had a better one. And he’d had a lot of pies in his life.

“We definitely have to come back,” Dean licked his spoon clean.

“It’s not like we are short on time here,” Sam reminded, “plus this really is delicious.”

The brothers polished off their beer, left some cash on the table (against Benny’s insistence), and headed back to the car. Sam drove them back home, playing some local radio station as they drove. Even though it wasn’t his usual music taste, Dean found himself tapping his foot to the beat of some of the music. As they pulled into their driveway, they noticed the moving truck that had been outside their neighbor’s was gone. They must have finished unloading. A light was on upstairs, drawn curtains only allowing a shadow of a man to be seen.

Who reads and walks around at the same time? Actually, I’m sure I’ve seen Sam do that before. Dean thought, finding he was looking up for far too long. Sam had already made his way to the door.

“Dean, you’re staring,” Sam teased.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean responded, catching up to Sam.

“Jerk,” Sam replied as he locked their door.

Chapter Text

Castiel Novak always hated the beginning of the school year. His family made him move around every couple years, even though it was unnecessary. He was in his last year of his Master’s in Finance, a degree Castiel only participated in to appease his father. The degree would be wholly useless after he graduated.

His moving truck would be arriving with Gabriel, his brother, later. For now, he’d focus on unpacking the few boxes that fit inside his own car. Grabbing the first one, Castiel walked up to his bedroom. He’d put sheets on the bed and had put together his night stand the day before. His bay window had drawers built into it, so he pulled one out and started transferring items from the box. Candles, some smaller trinkets, and a bee paper weight got sorted into the drawer. Once he organized his desk maybe he’d move things around.

Picking up a vanilla and honey scented candle, Castiel set it on his nightstand and lit it, the scent slowly filling the room. Just light enough to be noticeable but not to overpower. When he walked downstairs, he heard his brother pulling up with the rest of his belongings. Gabriel parked the large U-Haul next to Castiel’s car, turning the engine off.

“Cassie! Your favorite brother is here!” Gabriel hung his body out the door of the truck, noting the open front door.

“Not if you don’t stop with the nicknames. Why’d that even stick past 14?” Castiel went outside and pulled his brother off the truck down into a hug. Gabriel was the closest to him in age, only 2 years older, but Castiel had only grown closer to him in recent years. Gabe had gotten out from under their father’s thumb as soon as he got out of college, building his own business from essentially the ground up. He owned a film business, both reputable and less so. Gabriel didn’t love the term “porn director,” but half of his gigs boiled down to that. Not that Gabe wasn’t worth his work. Just his name on a project was enough to boost ratings by 30 points.

“You know you love me. Besides, I brought everything you could ever need,” gesturing to the entire truck, Gabriel pulled out of the hug halfway.

“I’ll see about that myself. We might as well get started if we want to complete our tradition later.”

“Right-o, buck-o,” Gabriel went around to unlock the back of the truck, and Castiel grabbed the last 2 boxes from his own car. The pair made quick work of the few boxes inside, sorting based on Castiel’s labeling system. Sure it took up some extra boxes, but everything had a place.

A couple of hours later, the pair had gotten most of the boxes out, Castiel unpacking while Gabriel brought more inside and set them in their appropriate rooms. After the pair brought in a lovely cream colored couch to the living room, Castiel slumped into the cushions.

From the outside, Gabriel called “Cassie, we only have a few boxes left! Which one did you want next?”

The unlocking of a door and subsequent opening, or more so, creaking, of car doors pulled Castiel off the couch.

Must be the neighbors, Castiel thought. He wondered what they were like. The landlord of the two townhomes told Castiel that it was a pair of brothers. Perhaps he should bake them a honey cake, one of the few things Castiel could make. He set the kitchen on fire more than once as a child, as his siblings brought up every Christmas.

“Just grab one of the kitchen ones, if that’s easy to grab!” Castiel’s thoughts lingering on the sound of the steps and his neighbor’s door in the distance.

As Castiel and Gabriel finished unpacking the boxes and making his new place feel like home, adding rugs, furniture, books, and of course, a few plants, Castiel noticed the time.

“Oh goodness! Gabe, we have to leave now if we want to make it in time!” Castiel set down the towels he was putting away and ran to his car.

“I’ll drop the truck off; meet me at the lot and we can ride together,” Gabriel made sure to pull and lock the door behind him, tossing Castiel the house keys before they both started driving down the way. Castiel’s car rumbled down the road, down streets he’d memorized over the past four and a half years.

Though Stanford wasn’t his first choice, Castiel had enjoyed it. He’d gotten his Bachelor’s in both business and English. The English degree was Castiel’s choice. Even though he was moving forwards with finance, one of his old professors needed TA for one of his classes, and Castiel was a remarkable student in it.

After picking up his brother, Castiel sped as much as his conscience and car would allow.

“You know we are gonna make it. It’s not life or death,” Gabriel joked.

“Yeah, but I think I’ll need all the luck I can get this year.” Within 10 minutes, they arrived at their destination. A small ice cream shack right by the beach with seasonal flavors had become a tradition for Castiel and Gabriel the first year he went off for school. Their other siblings were busy with their jobs or life, so Gabriel made the trip down from Washington with Castiel. Without Gabe, Castiel probably wouldn’t have even tried to befriend his roommates freshman year. He even met other people in the dorms. One of those friends, Meg, was finishing her nursing degree up in Seattle this year. She’d been busier than Castiel would have liked, not that he didn’t understand. Clinicals were kicking her ass apparently.

The flavors at the ice cream shop were hardly ever the same, except the basics, of course. Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry were consistent. One that stood out this time was a lemon lavender ice cream.

“Hello,” Castiel greeted the cashier, “I’d like a small cone of the lemon lavender please. Gabe, what would you like?”

“I’ll take a large cup of the chocolate caramel swirl,” Gabriel definitely only ordered the large because Castiel was paying. Castiel rolled his eyes and gave the woman his card. He also grabbed a couple dollars to put in the tip jar. Once they got their ice cream, the brothers walked out towards the beach. The breeze felt nice compared to the August heat.

Finding a nice place to sit down, Castiel laid out the blanket he kept in his car. The sun was setting, painting the sky various shades of orange and red. Very few clouds patterned the sky.

“Listen, Castiel,” the lack of nickname noting a serious shift, “I think Dad expects you to work on jobs this year. I know you’re busy. And I know you don’t want to. But Dad knows you’re the best of us. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ve been hearing whisperings. None of it is good.”

“Figures. And it’s not like I’ve been completely out of the game. I still take those couple jobs a year so you don’t have to come back,” Castiel lightly shoved Gabriel’s shoulder.

“And you’ll never know how grateful I am for that. But I’m here for you. Only a grueling 6 hour drive south. Better than the full day up to our house,” Gabriel finished his ice cream and looked at the ocean. That place hadn’t been a home for many years. Holidays and meetings were all that took place there for many of the Novak siblings.

Growing up in Seattle, Castiel came to appreciate the sunny weather while at his college. Rain was almost a constant there. The rain on his soul lifted when he was here as well. Him, Gabriel, and their sister, Anna, all had the same mother, but their other siblings didn’t. Their father isn't exactly the best man, but he was powerful. The Novak family is infamous in Seattle for many reasons. As owners of a large publishing company, Novak Industries, there’s always the stigma that comes with a quick rise to power in a new city, even if the company seemed innocent. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending, most of those rumors were true. Castiel’s father, Chuck, ruled with an iron fist both in business and violence. Castiel and his siblings had no choice but to grow up in it. Castiel didn’t know every detail of what his father did, but he knew what he was needed for. From his high school days, Castiel had been chosen to become the next weapon his father trained. So from age 16 on, he’d had rigorous training in hand to hand and weapons combat. Immediately, his proficiency had shown. His father had started sending him on “clean up” missions.

The sight of blood was never a bother. More a nuisance to clean. But Castiel never got caught. He did his missions, killed who he was told, and never complained. After a few of his missions were particularly successful, Castiel earned the nickname “Angel of Death.” No one ever saw him coming or going. It was as if he appeared out of thin air and left in the same breath.

Castiel took the last bite of his cone before the sun finished setting. When he looked up, a green flash flew over the horizon.

“Look at that! You said you wanted good luck! That’s never happened before when we’ve come here,” Gabriel clapped Castiel on the back, continuing to look out on the ocean, “Maybe you’ll even find a boyfriend this year,” he added with an eyebrow waggle.

“Oh come on. You know that’s just as hopeless as it has been before,” Castiel rested his hands in his head. As much as he wants a boyfriend, there’s too many factors he can’t control. And no one had caught his eye. But maybe that green flash was just the luck he’d need to make it through this year.

Standing up and brushing off the sand, Castiel took his last look out at the ocean. Small waves crashed on the shore, bringing with them small shells. The breeze turned cooler, a chill passing through his shoulders. Castiel grabbed the blanket from the ground as Gabriel got up too.

“Where do you want me to drop you, Gabe? Or did you have other plans for the night?” Castiel folded the blanket on the way back to the car.

“Oh don’t worry, I have someone coming to pick me up.” Headlights appeared at the end of the road, driving closer towards where Castiel was parked. As it arrived, Castiel could make out the bright red hair in the driver’s seat.

Must be Rowena. Memories of Gabriel’s latest fling flooded his mind, some against his will. He learned to knock on doors even if he thought the room was empty quite recently. On cue, her head popped out the window.

“Ready to head out, dear? We can’t be late, remember?”

“You heard her, Cassie,” Gabriel turned to his brother, “You know I’m serious though. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” and Castiel did mean it. He pulled his brother in for a quick hug before letting him go off with Rowena. Whether he saw them start making out as she drove off wasn’t his business, and frankly, he didn’t need to know. Getting into his own car, Castiel turned the radio up. He’d been trying to expand his music taste for the past few years, at Meg’s insistence, but most of the genres she’d shown him weren’t his type. Castiel grew up listening to classical music because of his parents. Gabriel and Anna had tried to get him into pop as a kid, and some of it was just overwhelming. When he got to Stanford, Meg had shown him some of her alternative music, and Castiel had liked enough of that for Meg’s satisfaction.

Driving back to his place was quick and easy. Castiel pulled into the driveway, noting that his neighbors were still not back. He’d introduce himself another day then. He was getting tired anyways. The clock inside his car read 9:37pm. He hadn’t realized how much time he and Gabriel spent on the beach. It was worth the lightness on his shoulders. Castiel wasn’t alone in life anymore. He had people who cared for him.

Walking inside, Castiel placed his keys in the bowl he’d set on his hall tree. Hopefully he wouldn’t forget them and lock himself out somehow like he’d done at his last place more than once. Oops. Grabbing his shoes, Castiel walked upstairs to his bedroom. Thankfully, his bathroom was connected to his room. One of the main reasons Castiel chose this place, besides the views, was the bathroom. A large tub was nestled in one corner next to a separate shower. The large vanity and mirror made up the opposite wall.

I need to shave before classes start, he thought. 5 o’clock shadow dusted Castiel’s jaw, not that he didn’t like the look. It made him look older, and people definitely had a thing for that. But he was only 23. Plus his hair was always a bother to control. He’d all but given up on it in recent years, accepting that there would always be a slight craze to it. Castiel wanted to look put together enough in a professional setting. He wasn’t nervous about the teaching aspect. The class only had 28 people enrolled.

After washing his face, putting on pajama pants, and selecting a book from his shelf, Castiel had renewed energy. Standing with his book, he turned his lamp on beside his bed and relit his candle. Outside his window, he could hear a car pull up. Taking a peek out the side of his curtain, Castiel saw two men get out of the car. The driver looked younger, but he was taller than the other. But it was the second who gave Castiel pause. Despite the darkness settling outside, he could see his green eyes. As if sensing Castiel’s gaze, he looked up. Thankful for the curtains, Castiel quickly turned his attention back to the book in his hands, his mind still on his neighbor. The man was attractive. Very much so. As if carved from marble by the ancient Greeks. Castiel’s heart sped up as he thought of him. Their voices carried up, but Castiel couldn’t make out the words they were saying. He heard their door close and let loose a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Settling down in his bed, Castiel tried to calm his mind. He read the same paragraph in his book four times before he decided to just close it and set it down. He blew the candle out and turned off the lamp. Maybe his sleep would hold peaceful dreams full of green eyes and the future.

Chapter Text

The week before classes officially started went by quickly. Dean finally unpacked the boxes in his room. Green sheets and a black comforter now graced his bed. One of his bookshelves is now filled with the few he owned, a couple journals he had filled, and an old snow globe his mom had given him when he was a kid. Dean’s guitar rested against the wall by the window. His drawers underneath the built-ins were filled with most of his clothes, a couple nicer pieces and his collection of flannels hung in the closet. His nightstand now had a blank journal on it.

Can’t forget to pack that. Crap, what time is it? Dean checked his watch, 8:32 am. Great, he only had a few more minutes before he and Sam had to leave. Why’d Sam have to pick a class that started at 9:15 am? Dean was so not a morning person. He’d settled on wearing a black t-shirt, dark jeans, and some old black converse. Grabbing his 2 rings he wore and the necklace Sam bought him for Christmas one year, Dean walked over to his backpack. His laptop, notebook, journal, pens, pencils, and a charger were stuffed inside. Dean wasn’t much of a notes person either, preferring to listen and occasionally sketch to keep his mind occupied.

As Dean walked downstairs, he smelled coffee.

“Thank god! It’s too early,” Dean reached for the mug Sam was holding out for him.

“Thank me, actually,” Sam sipped from his own mug.

“Absolutely not. You’re the reason I’m up this early.”

“I can get to school on my own. You don’t have to drive me.” Sam had classes every day except Thursday, and Dean had classes Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

“Oh please. It’s not bad. At least the weather is good. Gives me a chance to explore the campus a little bit,” Dean drank his coffee down. Hooking his backpack over his shoulder, he walked towards the door. Sam picked his bag up from the table in the kitchen and followed.

Parking on campus proved to be a bitch and a half. People parked over the lines, taking all the closest spots. After circling the lot for 5 minutes, Dean pulled into a spot under a tree.

“Good enough. I’ll see you later, alright?” Dean leaned over the seat to grab the 2 backpacks.

“Yep. Can’t wait,” Sam was already half out the door, ready to be as free as he could be.

Dean sighed, locking his car up, watching Sam walk away. He walked the other direction, towards the quad, to kill time before his class started at 10. Plugging his headphones into his phone, Dean turned on one of his many playlists. Metallica started up and his pace matched the beat. It didn’t take long for Dean to reach his destination. He had about 40 minutes before his class started, so he sat on a bench in the sun and pulled out his journal. His father started keeping journals after his mother had died, full of evidence and observations, and Dean started keeping them himself too.

On one of the blank pages at the beginning, Dean started drawing. One of the trees on the quad, a dogwood he recognized, had recently bloomed. While he was drawing, he also noticed the people milling around. Some small groups, some individuals, and some couples. One man caught his eye in particular. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes. They were striking. Dean paused in his sketch, fully aware he was staring at the man walking. He turned the page and started drawing again, determined to capture some of the man’s beauty before he never saw him again. He was in khakis, a white t-shirt, and white button up over it. Somehow, the outfit looked like it was made for the man. As he disappeared from view, Dean once again looked at his watch, and decided he’d better head to class too.

The English building was chilly compared to outside. Dean located his classroom and walked in. Students were scattered around the small lecture hall, plenty of seats left open to choose from. Dean picked a seat 2 rows back from the front, towards the center. No sooner had he sat down, had the door flung open, and a woman with bright red hair strolled right in.

“Phew, I’m not late on the first day!” She said louder than she probably meant. Dean chuckled a little, seeing her Star Wars shirt and army green jacket. Honestly, he wished he’d brought one too. She must have taken his laugh as an invitation because she sat down right next to him.

“I’m Charlie, nice to meet you,” Charlie stuck her hand out towards Dean in greeting.

“Dean,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Great. So what’s your opinion on Star Trek vs Star Wars?”

Dean blinked at the quickness of the conversation. Oh to be an extrovert, “Star Wars obviously. But there’s a special place in my heart for Star Trek.”

“Acceptable. I think we will be good friends, Dean,” Charlie unpacked her computer from her bag and set it on the desk in front of them.

“What’s your major?”

“Ok a little basic of a question, but it’s computer science. I’m only taking this class for a gen ed requirement. It seemed more interesting than just plain English. What about you?”

“English,” Dean said with a side-eye at her insulting his major, “but yeah that’s basically why I picked it too. Love and Death sounds a little metal.”

“Oh god, I insulted you already, didn’t I? Sorry, dude, I’m just really not good at English.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I’ve got a little brother who’s way smarter than me. He’s pre-law, philosophy I think. It’s all way over my head. Just like math,” Dean groaned.

“Math is hard for you? I can help you with that,” Charlie offered, “Let me see your schedule.”

Dean pulled up his schedule, showing her the trigonometry gen-ed he had to take. Luckily, it was the only math class he needed and he could be done. Of course it was about stupid triangles though.

“Oh for sure. I’ve got you. You’ll pass with flying colors with my help,” Charlie smiled at him.

“Then I’ll help you as much as I can here. Not gonna write any papers for you though,” Dean offered his hand out again, to shake on their deal. As their hands met, the door opened again. And in walked the man Dean had seen on the quad. He let out a small gasp, Charlie turning to see his face. Dean could feel the blush creeping up his neck and on his cheeks.

“Dean, do you know him?” Charlie whispered as the man got settled at the desk.

“No,” Dean whispered back.

“Seems like you want to,” she elbowed him lightly.

“Shut up,” Dean let out through clenched teeth and looking at the man, who Dean found was also looking at him.

Clearing his throat, the man at the front of the room started talking.

“Hello, all. I’m Castiel Novak. You can call me Castiel, or Mr. Novak. Whatever you are most comfortable with. I’ll be doing a majority of the teaching this semester, even though I am just your TA. Professor Mills informed me yesterday that she was having her child, but that I have all I need to teach the class. I understand if you all want to reschedule this class, or even find a different one. But for those of you that stick around, it is a pleasure to have you.”

Castiel. What an interesting name. Dean thought. He pulled his notebook out to write down anything else Castiel said about the class, fighting down the butterflies growing in his stomach whenever he and Castiel made eye contact. Somehow his eyes were even more blue.

Charlie nudged him again and angled her computer towards Dean.

Are you sure you don’t know him?

Dean wrote back:

Swear. He does sound a little familiar though.

Passing a few more notes back and forth between their mediums, Dean zoned back in when Castiel started explaining the assignment due the next week.

“Please write me a one page paper about a life experience about love, death, or both. Other than relating to those themes, you are free to write about anything and are free to go,” Castiel started packing his bag up.

Dean started doing the same, Charlie grabbing his phone from off the desk and unlocking it with ease. She typed away on the screen before Dean even really noticed.

“Hey! Not cool,” Dean took his phone back from her, “how’d you even guess my password?”

“You typed it in right in front of me 20 minutes ago. Just giving you my number. And judging your music taste. Do you even listen to anything from this century?”

“For your information, classic rock is good. No matter the instance. There’s a song for every occasion,” Dean explained.

“Ok, dad. Sure thing. What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Charlie picked up her bag and followed Dean down and out the door.

“Aw, Charles, I’m flattered, but not interested,” Dean touched his heart in fake sympathy.

“Ew, gross. I don’t even like dick, and you’re not even my type,” Charlie pranced in front of him and stuck her tongue out at him.

Now it was Dean’s turn to be offended.

“I’ll have you know I am a catch. You’d be lucky to have me!” Dean let the door close behind me, hearing a low chuckle from inside the room that he assumed belonged to his TA. A blush crept up his cheeks again.

“Sure you are. Anyways, I just wondered because I’m done for the next 4 hours. Want to walk around, see the sights, do the things?”

“Could you sound any more like a tourist right now?”

“You’re the one with the accent. What is that, Texas?”

“Kansas. Don’t you dare call me Texan ever again. But sure let’s go have a look,” Dean poked Charlie on the chest, and they started walking again, no destination in mind.

.. / .-.. --- ...- ./ -.-- --- ..-.

Dean and Charlie parted ways after she showed him the building where she’d have most of her computer science classes. It was super modern compared to the English building. Charlie told Dean all about her future career aspirations and everything she hoped to accomplish in the next 4 years. If she was here that long. If Charlie got her way, she’d be done in 3 and working for the FBI by then.

Dean edited her contact name to “Charles” and sent her a message as he sat on the hood on the Impala waiting on Sam.

Dean: hate to say it, but I think I’m already bored without you.

After a couple minutes, a response came through.

Charles: Aw you miss me

Charles: I must be so amazing

Dean: the feeling is fading quickly

Charles: Ok ok hmmmm

Charles: If you had to pick any monster in any mythology to be real, what would you pick?

Dean: …

Dean: probably vampires

Charles: Like twilight?

Dean: oh my god gross

Dean: real classic ones

Charles: Fangs do it for you?

Dean: … no comment

Charlie’s typing bubble popped up and down a couple times.

Dean: I can feel the laughter from all the way over here

Charles: idk what you’re talking about. The lack of capital letters from an English major is astounding btw

Dean: i’m professional in all my actual writing

Dean: texting doesn’t count

Charles: Sure sure

Charles: Teach just walked in. I’ll talk to you later

Dean: good luck

As Dean pocketed his phone, Sam walked up behind him.

“Jesus, Sam. Don’t scare me like that,” Dean flinched only a little. Definitely didn’t jump off the hood of the car. Sam laughed at him all the same.

“Easy, Dean. You sound like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam went around to open his door, easily sliding into his seat in the car.

“Only your pale ass. Hope the sun wasn’t treating you too hard,” Dean pulled his door shut, starting the car, “How were your classes?”

“Fine. Normal first day stuff. One teacher already introduced some big debate we have in my Moral Philosophy class. He even paired us up already. The guy I’m partnered with is nice enough though. Seems like he’ll pull his weight.”

“That’s good. Can’t have someone taking advantage of my little brother,” Dean ruffled Sam’s hair as he drove out of the parking lot.

“Dean, quit it!” Sam tapped Dean’s hand.

“You need a haircut, Sam.”

“Your face needs a haircut.”

“Seriously? You can’t come up with anything better than that after 18 years with your big brain?”

“You have a big brain. Wait,” Sam misspoke.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, little brother.”

“Shut up. Anyway, how was your class?”

Dean recounted his morning and subsequent afternoon with Charlie, leaving out how attractive his TA is. Him and Sam haven’t had the whole “attracted to dudes too” conversation. He doesn’t think Sam would care one way or the other, but the fear is still there. His dad hadn’t been the most excited to find out first hand. That wasn’t really how Dean wanted to tell him either, but it scared him enough that Benny (and now Charlie he guessed) knew about his sexuality.

Pulling into their driveway, the brothers went their separate ways in the house. Sam sat on their couch, taking his laptop out and starting on his homework. Dean walked upstairs and set his bag down and took his shoes off next to the bed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text over to Benny.

Dean: whatcha doing this weekend? wanna get coffee this weekend and catch up?

Dean put his phone down on the counter in his bathroom. Taking off his jewelry, he reached into the shower to start it. He pulled his shirt over his head and slid out of his jeans. He stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the hours of the day. Warm water solves almost any problem.

Dean squirted soap onto his washcloth and started cleaning. The scent of pine and leather filled his nose. While he was rinsing off, memories of the day flashed through Dean’s head. The sun on his face while he was on the quad this morning. Making a friend on day one. The mysterious man who ended up being his TA. His thoughts lingered on him. That piercing blue gaze. His messy dark hair. The way his shirt hugged his shoulders and his pants stretched over his thighs.

Before Dean realized where his thoughts lingered for too long, his stomach was doing little flips

Son of a bitch. Is it wrong to jerk off to your TA on day one? Fuck, he’s hot though.

Dean reached down and gripped his cock. He groaned lightly, his memories of Castiel amplified by his current state. Dean imagined what his voice would sound like close to his ears. If the deep timbre would rattle Dean’s brain. He leaned back on the shower door as his hand moved up and down his cock. Turns out warm water can create problems too.

His mind raced with images filled in and supplied by his brain. He was throughly fucked. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing. His hand moved faster, letting out a shaky breath, a moan on his lips. Dean let himself get lost in the vision of Castiel on his knees in front of him. With a final moan, Dean came into his hand.

Rushing through the rest of his shower routine so the guilt couldn’t set in too much, Dean shampooed his hair and did a final rinse off. Drying off, Dean noticed a message flashing on his screen.

Benny: Yeah! There’s a coffee shop down the road from the Roadhouse. Say 11 on Saturday?

Dean: see you then dude