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It is 3:06 and Cas was late. Dean didnāt have a problem when it came toĀ hisĀ being late, but Cas, who was always so punctual and polite and evenĀ grammaticallyĀ correct,Ā was late. By a walloping six minutes too. A record.
Dean sighed and leaned against the wall next to the library, keeping an eye out for his tutor. He could ditch out now, blame it on Casās lateness, but Sam would never accept it and wouldĀ nagĀ andĀ bitchĀ about his grades and what graduation could bring and all sorts of shit. Dean watched the parade of people before him when he saw him- the dark-haired rumpled teen, the one who walked as though he had a rod glued to his spine, the one who stared more intently at people than anyone Dean had even seen before. Besides, if anything, Cas would be disappointed in him. And Cas wasā¦ he wasnāt anything like anyone Dean had ever met. He was patient, tough, and sincere. The combination was weird, but in a good way.
āHello, Dean,ā Cas said as he stood before him. Dean gulped, could only thinkĀ blue, and then smiled, beginning to reply with some shit answer, but then looking to Casās left.
Wasā¦ was that a bruise? āWho did this to you?ā He growled.
Cas tried to pull away, to hide, but it was too late- Dean held his chin, cupped it, really, so he could examine the damage. It was dark and puffy, and looked like the exact shape of someoneās fist.Ā
āWho did this to you?ā It was almost a growl, and Dean flinched a little when Cas looked up at him, eyes wide. Open. Vulnerable.Ā
āYour..ā he hesitates, clears his throat, looks at the floor. āYour friends, Dean. Your teammates- theyā¦ they thinkā¦ā
Dean did not want to hear Cas say what they thought. Because he already knew, had even joined in, sometimes, talking about Casās straight-laced attitude, his staring, the way he knew everything about everywhere and everyone. About how he stared mostly at guys. Cas hearing about it, Cas knowing, Cas being hurt by this,Ā burned.Ā Like nothing else Dean had felt before.Ā
Dean shrugged off his backpack and handed it to Cas. āHold this, Iāll be right back.ā
-
Cas was torn. He wanted to run, run from the beautiful boy who mocked him, made fun of him, made references he clearly didnāt understand, but the way Dean had looked at Casā¦ he needed to stay.
If nothing else, he would stick to the plan. He would help Dean Winchester pass History, even if it killed him.
Dean reappeared fifteen minutes later, looked considerably more ruffled than he ever had. Cas rose from his seat, worried, as Dean tried to smooth down his hair. There was some blood at the corner of his mouth. Cas tried not to stare. āDeanā¦ā he whispered, almost shaking.Ā
āCas, itās fine,ā started Dean gruffly, and sat down, wincing. Cas couldnāt make himself sit down, to rush to get a Kleenex,Ā something.Ā āI.. those guys? Theyāre jerks. And Iām sorry theyā¦ā He paused. āIāmā¦ theyāre not my friends anymore.ā He looked up at him, in one of the most honest expressions Casād ever seen from him. It startled him. āIāmā¦ā
āItās okay, Dean.ā
āTheyāre never gonna mess with you again, okay?ā He grumbles further, eyes narrowed. āThey touch you, they come anywhere near you, Iāll rip their lungs out, alright?ā
āThat hardly seems necessary,ā Cas replied, but smiled. āThank you, Dean.ā He sat down, shrugging his coat off of his shoulders, and hands Deanās bag across the table. āI thought we would start on Mary, Queen of Scots.ā
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