Ready to Fall

Chapter Four

Dean spends most of breakfast with a nervous twitch in his leg, bouncing it incessantly underneath the table as John asks questions about him and Cas from where he sits at the head of the table. His father's face is lined and tired from a night shift at the station, but his eyes are alive with curiosity. 

He doesn't seem to pick up on the fact that Castiel's fork clatters to his plate in surprise when Dean says, "Hey, babe, pass the syrup?" But it may be due to the fact he's too busy asking so many damn questions.

"Where is it that you met?" John asks around a bite of eggs and bacon, and Dean panics for a split second because details of their relationship are not things he and Castiel had discussed, but then Dean realizes all he has to do is answer honestly.

"Cas works at a coffee shop on campus," he explains. "I ducked in one day when it was raining and I didn't have an umbrella. Thought it'd be busier ‘cause it was cold out, but the place was dead. Cas was behind the register with his nose in a book, just like always." Dean chances a smile at his best friend and finds the other teen staring down at his breakfast plate with a soft smile on his face and slightly flushed cheeks.

"Anyway," Dean continues, "we just kind of hit it off and he hasn't been able to get rid of me since, huh, Cas?" Dean finishes, smiling in Castiel's direction again.

"Unfortunately," Castiel answers.

Mary joins them at the table, setting down a mug of fresh coffee in front of each of them before dishing some breakfast onto her plate.

"Dean told us you're an anthropology major," she tells Castiel. "Have you picked a focus yet?"

"I want to be a professor while leading my own anthropological research," Castiel answers, his eyes lighting up like they always do when he talks about schooling and his career choice. The thing is, Castiel may be into some boring shit (in Dean's opinion), but the way he talks about his major, with rapture in his voice and excitement in his eyes, Dean can't help but listen with both ears every time.

John grunts from the other side of the table. "Sounds pretty fancy," he comments, his voice dripping with disapproval because in John Winchester's opinion, hard labor jobs are the only ones worth any respect these days. Mary offers her husband a look, and Dean opens his mouth to snap at his dad, but a movement under the table stops him. He looks down to find Castiel's hand on his leg, warm and comforting, and he can't look away. It's not as if it's never happened before, Cas has always been a pretty touchy feely guy, but this feels different somehow and it sends Dean's heart beating wildly.

"Actually," Castiel counters smoothly, "it's much more than just poring over books. There's quite a bit of grunt work involved and quite frankly that's the part I look forward to the most. Surely you can appreciate someone who gets their hands dirty for a living, right Mr. Winchester?"

A balloon of pride swells in Dean's chest over Castiel's quiet bravery. Others would have cowered in John Winchester's presence and scuttled away with their tail tucked embarrassingly between their legs or lashed out in anger, but not Cas. Instead Castiel attempts to get on John's level while demanding respect all in the same breath, and it's something no one Dean's ever brought home has done before.

"What kind of grunt work?" John asks, a hint of mild interest in his voice.

As Castiel dives into a lengthy explanation of what exactly it is he would be doing if he were to go into his chosen career, Dean lets his hand rest on top of Castiel's. Their fingers slot together like two pieces of a puzzle and while he's not sure why he does it, his parents can't even see the gesture, it feels nice to know he's not alone in this. ...Whatever "this" is.