Morning, Teach.

Chapter 4

Castiel frowns, staring at the door with a whirlwind of emotions going through him. What the hell was that? He squints at the door for another second, then turns around and leaves, going to the elevator and riding it down in silent contemplation. So that was it. Dean was done, already. He hadn't even taken a day or two to let Cas know that he was done with him- it had been that quick. Castiel supposed that he had it coming, considering how he had fled the club like Dean was going to eat him alive.
He walks out of the apartment complex and down to his car, getting in and sitting quietly for a moment, before being jarred out of his thoughts by his phone beeping to alert him to a new message. Cas unlocks the phone and pulls up the message, realizing he has 7 messages, all from Meg.
Meg: where r U?
Meg: Im staying at work late, picked up more hours.
Meg: Castiel, r u still at work?
Meg: Castiel, answer me.
Meg: HEY, Im done at work, where RU ?!
Meg: Fine, don't answer me...
Meg: Im going out with Ruby, don't wait up.

Castiel sighs, rubs a hand over his face, then starts his car up and drives home to an empty house. He's grateful for the time to shower and make dinner, knowing that Meg would probably be coming home late from the bar with Ruby, her single bar hopping friend, wanting food.

He sighs, stirring his pasta, and drinks a beer slowly while grading some more papers, stopping when he looks at Dean's description of his top three favorite artists, and why they were his favorites. His chest tightens and he quickly flips past the paper to the next one.

*

When Sam comes home from soccer practise two hours later, Dean had dressed, cleaned up the mess in the living room and ordered pizza. They eat on the couch, watching some crappy talk show, and Dean takes care that Sam doesn't come to close to where the man-on-man action had happened earlier that afternoon. Sam knows about Dean's sexual orientation, probably knew even before Dean himself had realized it and he was okay with it, as long as Dean didn't fuck anyone in his room. Or in his presence. So of course Sam knows that their apartment was regularly frequented by a couple of nameless, faceless men and that there was practically no room - except his own - Dean hadn't had sex in. Dean is aware of how fucked up this is, of how inappropriate the circumstances are for a fourteen year old boy. But Sam also knows that Dean's life had sucked so far. That he had had to take care of his younger brother ever since their parents had died in a car crash, when Dean had been ten and Sam had been six years old. There had been some foster families but after a while they all surrendered to Dean's stubbornness and reluctance to follow rules, to let anybody near him or, god forbid, into his heart. He hadn't always been like this... he doesn't remember much about his parents but he does remember his mother and their love for each other, how Mary had sung for him and let him play with his baby brother. Yes, there had been a time when Dean Winchester had been content, carefree, happy even.

He goes to bed that night, remembering blue eyes and dark hair and plush lips, a rough voice and breathy gasps and he thinks that maybe this feeling that makes his chest constrict could be guilt or regret or something equally girly...

The next day is important. Dean doesn't even try to pretend it's not. He chooses his clothes carefully, skin tight black shirt and washed-out jeans and when he locks the door of his car, making his way over to the school entrance, he feels relatively good. He doesn't see Cas until 3rd period, walking in the classroom as one of the last students, sitting somewhere in the middle, not looking at his teacher. It takes about twenty minutes for Cas to first make his round through the room and when he stops by Dean's table, looking down on his work, Dean raises his head to look back up at him for the first time. And the plan he had, the plan he always has, suddenly shifts to the background, fades, until Dean can barely remember that he was supposed to ignore him, to make it clear that this was it. He quickly looks back down, feeling his cheeks flush and only dares to breathe out, when Cas walks past him. Staring down at his notes, Dean notices his hands are trembling. Well, fuck...