Way Back When (Superlock) **ON HIATUS**

Chapter 8 - Way Back When We Were Happy

Dean awoke to the sun in his eyes and the sound and smell of bacon sizzling. He opened his eyes to find he was on the couch. He slowly sat up and looked around. Sherlock's bed was empty. He assumed Sherlock never returned last night. Dean wondered where he was.

Dean pulled himself off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. When he entered he found Sherlock making breakfast. With a smile on his face? Was Dean dreaming?

"Oh, good morning, Dean!" Sherlock's smile grew to a grin and he served two pancakes and some bacon onto a plate and set it on the table. "I made you breakfast," he said cheerily.

"I can see that," Dean said, confused and maybe just a bit scared. He sat at the table and looked at the food on his plate. "There wouldn't, by any chance, be drugs or poison in this food, would there?"

Sherlock made a face like he was thinking. "Not today," He said with a disappointed tone in his voice. Dean sighed and began eating as Sherlock continued cooking.

When Dean was dressed and ready to take pictures around campus, he noticed something blue in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to find a navy blue tie draped over the arm of the couch. He walked over and picked it up, feeling the polyester under his fingers. Without thinking, he folded the tie and placed it back on the arm of the couch. He was about to turn and leave it at that, but instead grabbed the tie and put it in his pocket. He had a feeling he knew who it belonged to.

***
Castiel was lounging on a bench in the courtyard, reading. It was around noon. Castiel loved this time of day in the courtyard because all the students were in the dining hall eating lunch. It was quiet and peaceful outside, just the way he liked it.

It was about fifteen minutes of quiet reading before Castiel heard footsteps on the half-melted snow. He checked his watch. Lunch wasn't over for at least another half hour. Closing his book, Castiel poked his head around the tree that sat beside the bench. He saw Dean walking toward him, his camera swinging from his neck.

"Hey!" Castiel greeted him. Dean returned the greeting and sat on the bench next to Castiel.

"You left this in my dorm last night." Dean pulled the tie out of his pocket and held it out to Castiel.

"Oh, thanks," Castiel took the tie and put it in his own pocket. "So, what are you up to? Shouldn't you be eating lunch?"

"I could ask you the same question," Dean said, accusingly.

"I'm not hungry. I had a late breakfast." Castiel ignored Dean's accusing tone. "Plus, I like this time of day. It's peaceful and solitary in the courtyards."

As Castiel returned to his book, Dean noticed a certain... aesthetic in the way he was sitting.

"Hey, do you mind if I... take your picture?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Not at all," Castiel replied, a smile creeping onto his face. "Do you want me to pose, or... "

"No, no." Dean nervously chuckled. "Just read. It'll look candid." Dean backed up a little from the bench and crouched down. He snapped a few pictures, and flipped through them, trying to decide which ones were the best.

Dean eventually decided they were all good and didn't delete any. He was mesmerized by the way the sunlight hit Castiel and accented every feature of his face. Dean showed the pictures to Castiel and he seemed to like them as much as Dean did.

The two boys chatted until lunch was over and students poured out into the courtyard. They decided to leave and head to Castiel's dorm.

"By the way, what are you reading?" Dean pointed at the book clutched in Castiel's hands as they walked down the halls of student housing.

"Jane Eyre. It's for school, but I really like it. What do you like to read?"

"Oh, I'm not really a big reader, but my dad has this old journal from, like, college. He gave it to me after..." Dean trailed off. He didn't exactly want to spill his not-so-sparkly childhood to a boy he'd met four days ago.

"After what?"

Dean sighed. "After my mom died."

Castiel's expression shifted to empathy. He knew what it was like to lose family. Well, kind of. His mom had left when he was still little, so he didn't remember a lot.

"I'm so sorry," Castiel said. "How long ago?"

Dean sighed. "About 18 years. Sam was just a few months old. He doesn't remember her."

"What was her name?"

"Mary."

"That's a beautiful name."

They reached the door of Castiel's dorm and went inside. John was sitting on his bed, reading.

"Hey, Cas." He glanced at his watch.

"Shit, I'm late," he said as he jumped up and grabbed his coat. John ran out the door.

"Where's he rushing off to?" Dean asked.

"He's meeting Sherlock before his next class."

"Seriously? He's with that prick?

"I guess they're just weird enough for each other."

Castiel flopped down on his bed, reached under his pillow, and pulled out a bag of candy corn. He started munching on it, then, with a large handful of candy corn in his mouth, asked, "Wunt smm?"

Dean shook his head in slight disgust.

"I'm not really a sugar person. 'Cept for pie. I love pie."

Castiel shrugged and stuffed the bag back under his pillow. He hopped off his bad and made his way over to the kitchen. Dean set his camera on Castiel's bedside table and followed Castiel. Dean hopped onto the table while Castiel crouched down in front of the fridge.

"Want something to eat? We've got some carrots," Castiel offered. "Apples, tomatoes... "

Dean shook his head more violently after each suggestion.

"... Pirouettes?"

Dean immediately switched to nodding his head violently, causing Castiel to chuckle as he handed Dean the tin. Dean didn't waste any time opening the tin and starting to eat the crispy cookies. Castiel watched, majorly amused.

(A/N Pirouettes are crispy,
tube-shaped cookies filled with chocolate. There's a picture attached to this chapter.)

"I thought you said you weren't a sugar person," Castiel said with an accusatory tone. Dean abruptly stopped munching.

"I lied." Dean's speech was muffled. Castiel rolled his eyes as Dean continued munching.

Eventually, Castiel pried the tin from Dean's hands and put it away. The two decided to spend the rest of their afternoon studying at a cafe and agreed to hang out again that evening. As they sat on the couch in Dean's dorm, slurping spaghetti, Sherlock once again absent, they began to drift off. Dean, predicting Sherlock wouldn't return to his bed that night, suggested Castiel to sleep in Sherlock's bed instead of hauling himself back to his own dorm. Castiel accepted, and soon both boys were fast asleep.