Really Cliché Destiel Highschool

I Officially Hate When AO3 Does a Server Cleaning :(((((

Okey-Dokey homies! Here's the next part of my amazing story:

(Thanks so much for the comments! These next few chapters are gonna be like really plotty...)

Castiel's POV

I wake up disoriented. Opening my eyes, the events of last night come flooding back to me.

I am at the Winchester's house.

Mary Winchester makes excellent pie.

I'm sleeping on the pullout couch.

Dean Winchester is sleeping next to me.

Sunlight streams through the opened blinds as I recognize the cheerful blonde hair of Dean's mother. She hums as she sips her coffee and raps on the wall.

"Wakey-wakey Deanie!" She sings, and the boy in question groans in protest, rubbing his eyes blearily. He jostles me off his shoulder as he stands abruptly, and I yelp in surprise.

Dean takes no notice.

"You better have coffee." He mumbles as he shuffles to the kitchen. Mary raises an eyebrow.

"Would you like some coffee, Castiel?" Mary asks kindly. Dean looks up, mildly surprised, before realization dawns on his face. He seemed to have forgotten I was there. His expression briefly flickers to horror.

"Shit!" He rushes over as fast as his sleep logged feet can carry him. "Sorry, Cas." Dean at least has the manners to look sheepish. He helps me to a sitting position and I almost laugh. Mary Winchester raised her boys well.

"Do you have any tea?" I ask shyly. Mary looks back kindly. She nods, leaving the room, but not before yelling at Sam to 'wake the fuck up'. Sam snorts, mumbling 'language' just as John (and Dean) yell the same message from another room. Sam wakes with a huge yawn. Dean leans over and flicks his ear.

"Wake up sleeping beauty! We got shit to do!" Dean cackles when Sam kicks at him, dodging the wide sweep of his legs. The Saturday atmosphere was light hearted and pleasant.

It's too bad that didn't last.

The basic ringtone that signifies Michael calling interrupts the other boys' banter. I shoot Dean a meaningful glance before answering; Dean nods, and herds a confused and still half conscious Sam out of the room.

"Hello?" I ask cautiously.

"Castiel, you might want to come home. Can your friend Dean bring you?" He sounds worried.

"What is it Michael?"

Michael clears his throat on the other line.

"I'd rather we talk about it face-to-face."

"Of course."

Biting back a sigh as I press the 'end call' button, I slouch back onto the couch, defeated, as Dean comes back into the room holding two steaming cups--coffee (two creams and enough sugar to rot your teeth), and tea (green)-- held in his hands like an offering.

"Thank you." Is all I say as Dean hands me the fragile china and sits next to me.

There is a moment of comfortable silence, and then:

"What did your brother want?"

I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair, more out of habit than anything. I take a sip of the tea, if only to stall, and appreciate how the warmth of it spreads through my body.

"He couldn't say."

Dean's eyebrows furrow.

"Do you want me to drive you over there?" I say nothing, hoping my reluctant silence is answer enough. Apparently it is, and Dean nods, taking a long gulp from his coffee. He sighs in content, and settles back onto the pullout couch.

I allow myself this small moment of peace, sipping my tea quietly as the sunlight bathes the room and birds twitter outside in nearby trees. I try not to think about what made Michael sound so anxious. As Dean shifts and leans back against the arm of the couch and shoves his (extremely cold) toes under my thigh, I send him a playful glare and forget.
•••

Okay I have this headcannon that Mary has terrible language :))))))