Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At last, Sam thinks, surveying the campus around him.

He forces his wonder down, only letting his satisfaction through. He refuses to be pigeonholed as some kind of ignoramus. He isn’t one. Being here, today, is the natural outcome of his efforts. He deserves it. It’s that simple. His long, hard work paid.

He has no reason to be awed, but every reason to be proud.

I belong here, he tells himself, his eyes wandering and the building and the people roaming in the streets.

The place is filled with people around his age. They, too, had the occasion to get away from their family. They, too, are starting a new life with dreams in their mind and goals to reach. Sam is finally among people who are like him.

Obviously, most of them didn’t have a life as hard as his—they wouldn’t even be able to picture it—and had the chance of growing up in a normal family, but they have the most important in common.

And they’ll never know how much Sam is different from them.

“Stop! Just stop for a minute.”

Sam stops by reflex, looking around him. He spots the person who talked: a guy standing on a bench, who gathered a little crowd  around him. A Junior or a Senior, he thinks. White skin, dark hair, flasher trenchcoat... Did he just escape from some B-movie?

Maybe he’s from the theater club.

Sam represses a smile. He liked theater, more than soccer, but he pushes the wistfulness away. He’s here to study, and study he will. Nothing will distract him. He’ll have time for hobbies later. He has to rise as quickly as possible.

“Do you see what you’re doing? Where you are? Do you understand?”

What’s with the stupid questions?

They obviously know where they are and why. One doesn’t simply stumble in Stanford.

“You’re chained. Your thoughts aren’t only yours—they were put there. Look around you and think! You can do it. You can see! You’re slaves to a system but you can get free.”

Sam snorts. What a moron. College is the key to be free. The only ones not trying to get free are those who refuse to pursue their studies. The guy should go preach in the slum districts.

The guy keeps going, almost calling the college experience a scam. Sam snorts and walks away.

Easy to say, using daddy’s money.

Or so he hopes. It’d be insulting if that guy is here on a scolarship, like him.

Although... someone for whom college is the only chance to get a better life wouldn’t waste his time with that kind of nonsense.

Sam decides to forget about it.

Sam stares at his dorm. He dislikes the idea of sharing his space with strangers. He never had his own room, and it has been unpleasant enough, despite his brother and he being used to it. He doesn’t know the rules, here. He’s a quick learner, fortunately.

Sam is lead to his room, informed that his personal roommate is called Castiel. What a weird name. Sam’d have liked something more normal. His roommate has to be from a family of mystics. Maybe he’s a hipster.

Sam grimaces. He intends to let go of his dad’s strict military upbringing, but never he’d want to go that far. He wants to fit, not reject differently the society. Growing up in that kind of family is certainly the only way his life could have been worse.

Sam’s getting ahead of himself. His roommate enrolled in Stanford. It means they have common points and share a trust in the system.

Sam visits the place. The shared space, some kind of living room kitchenette, is rather nice. And Sam has his own room.

He smiles. It’s the beginning of a new life.

Sam is unpacking his stuff when he hears the door open. Certainly Castiel.

He takes a deep breathe, wanting to make a good impression. They’re going to spend a whole year together. They can’t start off on the wrong foot.

Sam steps in the main room and freezes, his will deflating. The idiot insulting college is in the room, taking in his surroundings.

“What are you doing here?”

He glances at him in boredom. Sam bristles.

“I am Castiel.”

Castiel. Like his roommate.

Sam’s stomach plummets down.

He’ll have to share his room with that?

His life at Stanford isn’t going to be as idyllic as he presumed.

Chapter Text

Castiel is insufferable. There are no other word to describe him. He doesn’t know common courtesy, not even bothering with a ‘hello’ or a ‘thank you’. He hardly talks and, whenever he opens his mouth, it’s either to spill one of his weird opinion about the ‘system’, either to insult someone—Sam, more often than not. He isn’t the kind of person Sam’d have pictured at college. That sort of thing was supposed to be left behind him.

Somehow, Castiel is worse than Dean. Maybe because he isn’t family.

Sam tries to not think about that too much. Stanford is a new life, which means he can’t dwell on the past—on any part of his past.

Sam grits his teeth. He won’t be defeated at the first difficulty. Castiel-the-roommate is a challenge. No. It’s an affront. He won’t be pushed around. He’s going to tackle this problem like he tackled every other problem that appeared in his life: head-on. And he’s going to make it. His efforts are always rewarded. That’s how he ended up in Stanford.

Castiel is only... a mild nuisance.

It’d never be worse than moving from motel room to motel room, with his brother as his only company.

Sam has been wrong.

It’s not something he likes to admit, even in the secret of his mind. He underestimated Castiel. Or, more exactly, he overestimated him.

Castiel is useless.

Sam’d rather think something else about his roommate, especially since they’re going to live a long, too long year together—they just reached their first weekend—but Castiel is useless.

He doesn’t cook, doesn’t tidy up their rooms. Sometimes, he leaves his dishes on the table. Or his left-over. It’s so bad Sam is relieved about the shared bathroom. Sure, if he has lived elsewhere, he wouldn’t have to put up with Castiel, but he has to think positively. (As much as he can given the situation.) And not sharing a bathroom they’d have to clean by themselves is a plus side.

Sam’d never have thought that possible but his room is worse than the motel rooms where he used to live. Certainly thanks to the cleaning ladies they hire. Stanford should hire some, too, and not only for the shared spaces.

He will not clean up after Castiel. His mess, his problem.

Sam doesn’t know what courses Castiel takes. His roommate has shot down any attempt at talking Sam tried for the first two days... polite attempts, that still earned him glares. Castiel doesn’t seem to do anything but roam in the campus, calling for rebellion. Sam spotted him three times since their first meeting. Three times. The campus is huge. What kind of unpleasant coincidence is that?

More important still. Why Castiel can’t act like this elsewhere? College is a chance. If he doesn’t like it, he can leave. He should leave.

If only he could leave.

Sam rereads his notes, on Sunday morning, enjoying the relative peace of his room—Castiel left... for what? Sam doesn’t know and doesn’t care—when his phone rings. He glances at the caller ID. Dean. He blinks, surprised. He told his brother he didn’t have to call him weekly. He doesn’t want him to keep an eye on him, and certainly reports to their dad. He should have known Dean wouldn’t listen. There’s his picture next to the word ‘overbearing’.

He reaches out for his phone and his about to refuse the call when his eyes catch sight of a bowl Castiel abandoned on the table. Again. His eyes travel on the room, noticing all his mess. Castiel finally put away a mug he used three days ago, but the mess/clear-out ratio doesn’t work in his favor.

Sam has no one to talk to. He’s only been here for a week. Though, if he had friends, would he want to complain about his roommate? No. He’d talk about courses and thoughts and career paths with them. Anything else would be less than perfect.

But telling about Castiel to Dean wouldn’t ruin his experience at college. His brother’d tell dumb jokes about it, but it’s the way he reacts to everything.

Sam picks up the phone.

“Hi Dean.”

Chapter Text

The call goes rather well.

Sam has to remind his brother a couple of times to not call him Sammy—once should have been more than enough—but otherwise Dean shows himself to be a good listener. Maybe living away from each other is improving their relationship. There aren’t as many things to fix with Dean than with their dad, but Dean has been an actor of his former lifestyle, never disagreeing with their dad, always nodding to everything he said.

Surprisingly, Dean doesn’t criticize him for choosing to go to Stanford. He listens as Sam tells him about the campus, and that first time he ran into Castiel. About later, when he realized Castiel was his roommate.

This part makes his brother laugh.

“Tough luck. Can’t believe you went enmity at first sight with a guy you spot once on campus and he turns out to be your roommate?”

“Enmity?”

“What? I read!”

Sam blinks, surprised. A question rises in his mind but he pushes it away. He has bigger problems than Dean being weirdly picky about his words. Like Castiel.

“That’s not the least of it. The room is a mess because of him. He never tidies up. He leaves his dishes everywhere. I stumbled on a mug, once.”

Sam still doesn’t know what that mug was doing on the floor.

Dean snorts. “Could be worse.”

Sam groans. “You’re kidding!”

“It’s only dishes.”

“It’s not only dishes.”

Dean listens to him as he piles up his list of grievances against Castiel. It’s rather long, given how little time they spent together. Once he finished describing their room and Castiel’s utter lack of care, he segues into his lack of courtesy and how he isn’t made to live with other people.

“Maybe he’s an introvert that needs time to get used to college?” Dean tries to cheer him up.

“He was lecturing people outside, Dean,” Sam reminds him.

Dean snorts, trying to swallow back a laugh. Sam scowls, but he guesses he can give him points for trying.

“Right. I... call you again next week. You’d tell me if it gets better?”

“Sure.”

It’s only hours after hanging up that Sam realizes he completely gave up on his no-contact with his family rule.

He shrugs it off.

True to his word, Dean calls his the next Sunday to ask him about his life at Stanford and about Castiel.

“It’s worse.”

“Worse?”

“He talked to me.”

“It’s not a good news?”

“He called me a freak.”

“You argued?”

“I did nothing!”

“He just walked in and called you a freak?” Dean asks, his voice taunt.

“Yeah! Just because I’m trying a new diet. Can you believe him?”

There’s a pause, then Dean laughs.

“It’s not funny! He said if I ever tried to convert him to ‘vegan nonsense’, he’d end me. I’m not vegan, just careful!”

Which isn’t something Castiel can say. He seems to feed only on junk food. By chance, he’s going to die before the end of the year.

Dean laughs harder, which... rude. Why the overprotective brother instinct never kicks in when it can be useful—for example, when the roommate you despise threatens you?

“Did– did you try to convert him?”

“I didn’t! I only explained him the benefits of this diet.”

Dean bursts out laughing. Sam scowls. He should hang up.

Dean calls again the following Sunday.

“Nothing to say about your roommate this week?”

If only. But Castiel can’t be normal for the life of him.

Sam pours his heart and Dean laughs at the strangest times. Even he thinks Castiel is ridiculous. It’s so telling.

“He thinks he’s an activist! But he’s not. He’s just sprouting conspiracy nonsense.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I expect him to explain the Earth is flat.”

“What he said?”

Sam shrugs. “Things about everyone being surrounded by propaganda all the time and not realizing it or something. I try to tone it down.”

“Don’t wanna try to understand him?”

“No!”

“Maybe it’ll help you find his weakness,” Dean retorts, a smile in his voice.

Sam ponders about it two seconds flat.

“It’s not worth it.”

Dean finds it funny, somehow.

“I could bear this, you know? But our room... He doesn’t do any chore.”

“The chores?”

“We’ve been here for three weeks. It’s enough to know someone’s habits.”

There’s a silence.

“Do you do your chores?”

Sam bristles. “I won’t clean up after him.”

Dean hums noncommittally. He mutters something that Sam can’t hear.

It sounds like a criticism, though.

At the end of his fourth Sunday morning at Stanford, there are knocks at the door. Sam blinks at it, sure his mind is playing tricks to him. The knocks sound again.

He goes to the door and opens it. He stills in surprise. Dean grins.

“What are you doing here?”

Sam’s voice doesn’t hold much resentment. He doesn’t care about his roommate’s opinion.

“You’ve been in Stanford for a while so... Happy one month anniversary!”

Chapter Text

Dean waits but Sam stays in the doorway, staring at him. His confidence shatters, though he does his best to cling to his smile. Coming to Stanford hasn’t been a good idea...

No. He can’t start thinking that way. Sam is surprised, not angry—not like he used to be the last days their family spend together. It’s a good thing.

“What you’re doing here?” Sam repeats.

“I’m here to save you, obviously. You let me in?”

Sam steps out of the way. Wow. He’s really tired of his roomate to not be more annoyed because of his visit. Dean’d have to hug Castiel to thank him.

Dean steps in the room and whistles. “So that’s what a bachelor pad looks like.”

The table and the sink are covered with dishes. Dean smirks. So Sam and Castiel only bother to clean up something only at the moment when they need it.

There aren’t many furnitures: a table, a sink, a fridge and two armchairs looking as old as the building itself. There isn’t a single personal touch. It’s quite the sorry sight.

And there’s dust. Too much dust. Dean's throat itches.

Sam crosses his arms. “I told you. It’s Castiel’s fault.”

Dean gestures to a jacket belonging to Sam, crippled on one of the armchairs. Sam tenses. He grabs the jacket. “It’s not– It’s only–”

“Sure,” Dean cuts him off.

He may have failed Sam if he doesn’t think about cleaning up after himself. He stares at his brother in pity. He’d never find a girlfriend. What girl wouldn’t mind a guy who can’t take care of his own place? Of his meals? It’s not relationship material.

Or so Dean thinks. It’s not like any of his relationships lasted long enough for him to know how housework is shared in couples.

The thought dampens his mood. He shoves it away.

“I’m feeling like a mom.”

“Sure.”

“Helicoptering my way to college because students think they can live alone but can’t iron a shirt to save their life.”

Sam scowls. “I could.”

Dean points a stare at his shirt, all wrinkled.

“It’s Sunday.”

The excuse is so lame Dean snorts.

“You know, working on a fancy degree doesn’t prevent to pick up socks.”

“It’s not fancy.”

“Girls have too much self-respect to end up with someone like you.”

Sam smirks.

“You care about cleaning for girls.”

No. I care because dad wouldn’t have taken care of it.

“What’s your plan? Celibate?”

Sam huffs and stomps to his room, muttering about assignements.

“Wait! Where’s the vacuum?”

“Huh?”

“Rag? A broom?”

Sam’s eyes are empty, as if Dean is talking some unfathomable language.

Dean did a terrible job in raising him.

“Forget it.”

Sam walks to his room. Dean glances at the other door, wondering if Sam’s funny roommate is there.

He shakes his head. He’ll care about it later. He has some work to do.

Chapter Text

Sam takes refuge in his room and lets out a sigh. It’s weird to see Dean here. His previous life on the roads and the life he’s leading in Stanford should never have met. They belong to different universes.

He sits at his desk and rereads his notes, trying to focus on his new normal. His agitation is getting back under control when a vacuum cleaner is turned on and Dean starts screaming I want to break free. Sam winces. He frowns stubbornly at his notes. Nothing will make him lose his concentration.

Sam gets used to it and the noise melts in the background... until knocks sound at his door.

He leans back into his chair and stares at the ceiling. Is his brother serious?

“What?”

Dean half-opens the door. Sam tenses but his brother doesn’t step in his space. It’s... weirdly considerate, from him.

Or Sam got so used to Castiel’s terrible manners he forgot how other people are—including his brother.

Or maybe Dean is on his best behavior.

“I finished cleaning. I’m going buy food and I come back, okay?”

“Food?” Sam echoes.

“There’s nothing in the fridge.”

“There’s enough.”

“There’s no food.”

Sam eyerolls. Hard. “There is food. Not everyone thinks living on junk food is a good idea.”

Dean lifts a hand. “Listen. I’m trying to be open-minded. I know college is all about finding oneself.” He sighs dramatically. “Most people test their sexuality, but you have to try out the most boring food ever.”

Sam waves him away. He doesn’t want to listen to more.

“Do whatever you want. Just–”

“Great! I’m gonna cook something good.”

Sam frowns. He opens his mouth to ask how but Dean is already gone.

Sam hears the door open and close. Certainly Dean coming back. His guess is confirmed one minute later when his brother starts singing Don’t stop me now. Well... singing may not be the accurate word. It’s enthusiastic—Sam can’t take that away from Dean—and completely out of key. Sam tones it down to work on an assignement. At least, he tries to. It’s like only five minutes have gone by when Dean knocks at his door again.

“What?”

“Lunch’s ready,” Dean declares in the doorway. “You coming?”

“What? You cooked for me?”

Dean eyerolls. “Obviously. Hurry. It’ll get cold.”

Sam follows his brother out of his room. Dean skips to a portable stove, nestled next the sink. Since when that thing is here?

It’s not the only change. The room is spotlessly clean, even more than the first time Sam stepped in it. There are only two plates on the table, filled with burger buns. Dishes are cleaned and piled up on one of those metal dishwashers that wasn’t here this morning. A basket is next to his room’s door and there’s a vacuum cleaner next to the door. The floor is shining.

Sam points around him.

“How?”

Dean isn’t rolling in money, from what he knows.

What if he scamed his dorm mates? He isn’t above thief. Sam’ll have to leave Stanford and start a new life in a second-tier college.

Dean watches the steaks frying in the pan. He nods at himself.

“I dipped into my savings.”

“You have savings?”

“Yep. I keep most of my wages for emergencies... and this was an emergency.

Savings? Wages? Since when Dean is so far-sighted?

The door opens before he can ask. Castiel stops on the threshold, staring at Dean in shock. Sam didn’t know he could display that kind of face. He thought his range of expressions was going from neutral to scorn.

“Wow,” utters Dean.

Sam glances at him in surprise. His brother is staring at Castiel, and Castiel is staring back at him, still frozen in the doorway.

“My brother,” Sam introduces him, silently challenging Castiel to protest about his guest though it’s their room and he should invite anyone he wants.

Dean grins at Castiel and waves at him.

“Heya. Name’s Dean.”

Sam blinks at his brother. He hasn’t known he could be so polite. Maybe he doesn’t have to dread him running into one of his friends. If he’s that nice with his awful roommate, he’d be charming with his friends.

He’d just have to make sure he doesn’t meet the girls. He’d make them uneasy.

“Hello Dean.”

“I’m cooking burgers. A man can’t live on coffee and kale alone,” he adds, glancing at his brother.

“Kale is utterly disgusting,” Castiel retorts, the usual sharp edge in his voice. He hesitates before adding sofly, “I love burgers, though.”

Dean smirks. “A man after my own heart.” His eyes travel on Castiel. “And you’re hot too. I didn’t expect it.”

Sam scoffs. Castiel isn’t, Sam can see it despite his utter lack of interest in men. The compliment is even more unbelievable coming from his brother mouth. Dean is such a caricature of lady man that Sam is surprised he can aim those words at a man.

Castiel squirms. Petty revenge. Sam digs it. The man can’t snark at Dean without sounding homophobic. He has to bear the words in silence.

Castiel looks away from Dean. His eyes fall on the ground. He frowns and starts looking around. Sam, too, forgot what their shared place could look like that. Maybe it’ll force Castiel to be careful, in the future.

One can dream.

Dean takes the pan out of the stove

“What happened?”

“I cleaned up.”

“Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t let my brother live like this, ya know? Imagine if the place started crawling with rats. You could have started another Great Plague. You’re missing the 1600s?”

Sam eyerolls. Their place wasn’t that bad.

Weirdly enough, Castiel shrinks on himself.

Dean makes the two burgers.

“Eat.”

“What about you?” Castiel asks.

“I’ll cook another one.” He pats the fridge. “There’s food here now. Get your burgers while they’re hot.”

After some hesitation, Sam and Castiel sit at the table. They never settled here together. They’re getting better and better at avoiding each other—though nowhere near good enough, from Sam’s opinion.

Sam bites down in his burger, determined to leave as quickly as he can. Castiel is destabilized for now, but he’ll soon turn back into his rude self.

“It’s good!” Sam shouts in surprise.

Castiel nods.

Chapter Text

Sam slips away as soon as he finishes his burger.

Dean holds back a sigh. At least, he’s sure Sam had a decent meal today—because, whatever he says, his new diet doesn’t sound nourishing.

He turns his attention to Castiel, still sitting at the table, looking lost. He wolfed down his burger too.

Dean’s chest puffs up in pride. It’s certainly stupid, but it makes him happy. He studies Castiel. He’s easy for the eyes, thing he hasn’t expected. He has very blue eyes—the kind of blue eyes Dean didn’t even see on TV—and dark ruffled hair that make you want to run your hands into them. He has sharp features but a soft, confused expression. So, yeah, he hasn’t expected any of that, despite not believing Sam’s descriptions. His brother is never more subjective than he is toward people he dislikes.

Castiel notices the staring. He sits up and composes a confident mask, bordering on defiant.

“So? I heard you don’t like college much.”

Castiel scowls. Bad move. Dean should have avoided that topic it seems. What a pity. He’d have liked to hear the stories from Castiel’s point of view. Sam wouldn’t have made up things about his roommate out of the blue, especially to complain to him, but Dean’s pretty sure he’s exaggerating.

Castiel raises from his chair and walks toward his room. That’s really not fair. Dean has tons of questions. His mind flutters with them.

“You aren’t a kid!” he blurts out.

It’s what surprised him the most about Cas. He thought he was a kid of Sam’s age, and that was the reason they’re butting heads so often.

Castiel stops. He turns around raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“They aren’t many kids attending college.”

“Yeah, sure but... I mean– You’re older than Sam. I didn’t think they mixed the years, ya know? Like... the Sophomores together and all that?”

He isn’t sure he’s clear but Castiel doesn’t beat an eyelid.

“They don’t.”

“It’s your first year?”

Castiel eyes him and nods. Dean doesn’t like much his defensiveness. No one acts like this without having been hurt first.

He gathers the plates and walks to the sink to keep his hands busy.

“’S cool. I’m thinking about taking up courses, in a couple of years. If I can.”

“You do?”

Dean nods, fighting the urge to turn around. He turns on the tap and starts doing the dishes. Given how was the room when he entered it, he doesn’t trust Sam and Castiel to take care of it later.

“Yep. I’ve got a job, and I’m saving money.” Though an important part of his savings just vanished... but it was truly a matter of life and death. Dean couldn’t let Sam live like this.

Castiel’s footstep comes closer. Dean gives him a smile. Castiel stops.

“I had to work three years after high school,” he confesses.

Dean whistles. “We’re about the same age.”

He hopes he didn’t say it too weirdly.

Castiel nods softly, as if it’s an interesting information and not only Dean being his usual weird self.

“I still have a job.”

“Impressive. ’S not easy to study and work.”

“Many people do.”

“And so? It’s still impressive.”

Castiel comes closer and stops at his side. His focus slides on his hands.

“Can I help?”

Dean jerks his chin toward a dish towel. Castiel takes it and starts wiping a plate.

Chapter Text

Knocks sound at Sam’s door. He feels like it’s the only thing he heard today.

“What?”

Dean half-opens the door. “I’m leaving.”

“That soon?” Sam asks, surprised.

Dean eyerolls. “You spent the whole day working... I’m ashamed of you, you know?”

Sam huffs. Pursuing your studies demands a huge amount of work. Sam was ready for it. It’s not a high price to pay to finally get the life he wants.

Though he hasn’t felt the day vanishing.

“I– Huh...? I walk you to the door?”

“Sure. There’re so many doors around. I could get lost. We never know.”

Sam hears a hint of annoyance in Dean’s voice but he shoots out of his chair all the same. He doesn’t want his brother to stumble into his dormmates and talk to them. It’d reflect poorly of him, he’s sure. It’s one thing for Dean to meet Castiel—who is very annoying and in no position to lecture Sam for anything—, it’s another for him to meet his other costudents.

Dean eyerolls again when Sam walks past him. What’s gotten into him today?

Sam notices Castiel is still in the main room. If he hasn’t left since lunch, it means Dean spent more than five hours with him... Sam winces, a sharp guilt stabbing at his chest. He wouldn’t wish that upon his nemesis. No wonder Dean is a little cranky. Who wouldn’t be after spending that much time alone with Castiel?

Dean sighs and an apology takes shape in Sam’s mind.

“Why don’t you have a TV?”

Huh? Dean’s still disappointed about that?

“We don’t have the time.”

“Or the money,” Castiel adds.

Sam winces. He’d rather forget about this part. Castiel is so at ease about his lack of money that he certainly comes from a wealthy family. Sam can’t see another explanation. He’d be ashamed if lacking money wasn’t a decision, but because of circumstances beyond his control.

“How I’m gonna show Cas movies then?”

Cas?

Castiel stills, his eyes going wide. Sam flicks his eyes to his brother, silently pleading him to not poke at Castiel. Sure, he let them alone for too long, but it’s not a reason to goad him, right? Especially since Sam will have to live with the consequences?

(What if it’s some kind of twisted revenge?)

“You... are coming back?” Castiel asks, a strange tension in his voice.

“Obviously. I can’t give up on you, right?”

Castiel blinks. It nearly startles Sam.

“Right,” Sam mutters. “But you have to go before coming back”

“You ain’t wrong!” Dean laughs.

Sam walks him outside of their room. He nearly freaks out when Castiel falls into step with them. They advance in the hallway, climb down the stairs, and cross the main room. Attention focuses on them. Sam does his best to ignore it.

He leads his brother to the door. Dean stops on the threshold to look at them.

“Have fun!” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Sam eyerolls. “I won’t do anything you’d do, jerk.”

“Sure, bitch. You don’t know how to have fun.” His eyes snap to Castiel. “I come back in two weeks.”

He steps outside and the door closes behind him. Sam lets out a little sigh. He doesn’t know what to think about the whole thing.

“Sam.”

Sam startles. He whirls around to stare at his roommate. It’s the first time he calls him by his name. Usually, he just goes ‘you there’ if he bothers to talk to him at all.

“Errr... What?”

“At what time Dean got here?”

“10:00.”

Castiel nods. He turns around and goes back to their room.

This is the weirdest thing that happened today, Sam decides.

Chapter Text

The following days are filled with courses and assignments and professors to talk with. Sam got used quickly used to the college rhythm. It’s way easier than all the warnings he heard hinted. Maybe the way his dad raised him helped. Everything feels easy after having put up with John Winchester and his whims for eighteen years.

Sam’s making progress sur le social side, building a friendship with a guy named Brady. Brady is serious and rather introvert, so it helps.

The stove is making their daily life easier. He doesn’t have to leave his room every time he wants to heat up something. He can’t believe he hasn’t thought of it on his own.

Maybe he does focus a little too much on the classes.

Castiel is his usual rude self, not acknowledging him when they run into each other, whether it’s in their room or in the campus. Sam spots him arguing twice with militant students. He really hopes no one imagines that, since they’re roommates, he’s friend with him.

(With any luck, no one knows they’re roommates.)

Mostly. There’s that thing with the box. Castiel decided to use it as some trash can. Sam’d rather not think about it. Except when he moves back the box behind Castiel’s armchair.

And the lunch box. Dean cooked several meals before leaving and Castiel claimed half of them. Sam is pretty sure he’s lying when he says—too defensively—that Dean cooked them for him, but it’s not worth picking up a fight over it.

Sam almost doesn’t notice the time going by.

Dean calls the next Sunday, but Sam has an important assignement so he cuts the call short. Anyway, they’re going to see each other in a week. It’s no big deal.

As Dean promised, he’s back two weeks later.

This time, Castiel is in the living room when he gets here. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when he left his room to grab breakfast and saw Castiel sitting up like a gargoyle on his armchair, staring at the door—he usually avoids their common room like the plague. He’s still in this position when Sam comes back around 10:00. It makes him wonder if he’s unconscious or something.

He’s saved from speaking to him by taps at the door. Castiel sits up suddenly. He waits for a bit before glowering at him.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Dean. Go open the door.”

Sam intended to... before Castiel ordered him to. He crosses his arms.

“Open the door yourself.”

“Dean is your brother.”

“And so?”

“So you have to open the door.”

Sam scoffs. He’s exempted from finding a retort by the door opening.

“’S not cool to argue that early, guys.”

Dean smiles and shuts the door behind him. Sam notices he’s holding a bag filled so much he’s surprised it’s not tearing down.

“What’s that?”

“Food. And stuff.” Dean’s eyes dart to Castiel. “Heya Cas.”

“Hello Dean,” Castiel answers solemnly.

Dean grins. He looks away from Castiel and his smile vanishes. His eyes scan the ground, the table, the sink. He turns to Sam and raises an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I study a lot. I don’t have the time,” Sam defends himself.

Anyway, it’s not as bad as when Dean came, two weeks ago.

“I’m a waiter living in Kansas.”

Sam frowns. What does it have to do with his studies?

“Good for you?” he tries.

Dean sighs. But Sam has been heartfelt. It’s good he finally got a job. That means he’s putting roots somewhere.

“I’ve been careful,” Castiel lies.

Sam gestures at the three empty mugs he let on the table.

“Yeah? And who that belongs to?”

“You.”

“Me?!”

Castiel nods and looks at Dean.

“Those mugs aren’t mine. The bowl and plate aren’t either.”

Okay. Maybe not all the mugs belong to Castiel, and that the bowl doesn’t either, but the the rest... the rest! Sam points the box behind his armchair—it seems that Castiel moved it again.

“What about that?”

“It’s your seat, so it belongs to you.”

Sam gapes. Sure, he threw a couple of stuff there, but it was Castiel’s idea to begin with.

“That’s not true!” He turns toward Dean. “It’s not my fault!”

“Sure. It’s the administration’s.”

Sam can’t tell if his brother is mocking him or being serious.

Dean walks to the frigde and fills it with food. He gathers the dishes, piles them in the sink and settles the still heavy bag on the table. He produces a garbage bag and gloves that he puts on. Sam stares at him.

“What?”

“You are... very prepared.”

“I knew what I was going to find.”

Sam wants to lock himself in his room but he remembers he let his brothers alone with his psycho of a roommate for hours. He can’t do that again.

Dean hands the trash bag to Castiel.

“Hold that for me.”

To Sam’s utter surprise, Castiel complies. That’s the same guy that shut the library door to his face when he has asked—politely—to keep it open for him? How Dean does?

Dean fills the bag, starting by the box of shame. Castiel stares at him in fascination, as if he never saw anyone cleaning up a place, before. It may explain why he can’t keep the place tidy.

Dean stares between the two roommates.

“I really hope your rooms aren’t like this.”

“It sure isn’t,” Sam mutters.

How Dean can even think that?

Castiel barely shakes his head. Is he lying or is he able to take care of a place? If so, why he doesn’t extend his skills to their common room?

Dean removes his gloves and throws them in the bag. He looks up at Castiel, his eyes sparkling his mischief. Sam opens his mouth to order him to not say whatever he’s going to say, but Dean beats him to it.

“Awwwww, aren’t you a sweetheart?”

Cas frowns. Dean boops the tip of his nose with his index. Castiel growls. He puts the bag on the ground—Sam’s quite surprised he doesn’t throw it to Dean’s face—, turns around and stomps to his room. He slams the door behind him. Dean lets out a laugh.

“That’s lame,” Sam complains. “I’ll have to put up with him after you leave.”

Dean laughs harder. Easy to find that funny when he wouldn’t have to see Castiel for two other weeks.

Sam scowls.

“What d’you want for lunch?”

Chapter Text

Since Sam can’t be trusted about food, Dean picks up what he’s going to cook. Everyone like burritos, don’t they?

He glances at Cas’ door several times, hoping he’d join him—them. He knows he’s been kinda annoying, but he couldn’t help it. Cas did look cute.

And Dean’s acting like third-grader.

He sets three plates on the table—there’re only two chairs, but he doesn’t mind—and urges himself to knock at Castiel’s door. The choice is taken out of his hands: Cas opens it and peers outside. Dean grins at him.

“I made lunch.”

Cas narrows his eyes, weighting his options. He steps out of his room, deciding Dean’s food is well worth him being annoying.

Dean grins so much his cheeks hurt.

Sam lingers a little after lunch. He talks about his classes weirdly reluctantly. Dean waves him away. Seeing he’s alive and well is more than enough, for him. They don’t have to spend all their time together.

He knows he doesn’t imagine how quick Sam runs toward his room. Kids.

Dean turns toward Cas. Who’s to say he isn’t going to storm away too?

“Sorry. For earlier.”

Cas frowns.

“I like you, you know?”

Confusion overcomes his face. Dean twists his hands together. His expressions are really cute. It’s not fair.

His smile slips away, because Cas keeps looking surprised—too surprised for his taste. Dean shrugs.

“You seem nice, and... I wanted to thank you.”

Cas blinks in quick succession. Dean never saw him that puzzled. Sure, it’s only the second time they meet, but he’s rather a good judge of characters, and Cas is the kind to keep a poker face even after witnessing a miracle.

“Why?”

“If not for you, Sam wouldn’t talk to me that often. And I couldn’t show up all the time.”

“Every two weeks is hardly all the time,” Cas points out. He pauses. “I thought you get along.”

“He came to Stanford pour a brand-new start.” Dean grins. He really can’t help it. “That’s something you know well, don’t you?”

Cas scowls deeply. Dean snorts. Cas narrows his eyes. He struggles to find a retort and diverts his face. Dean is annoying. He knows. He should correct him.

But he certainly isn’t that annoying given that Cas doesn’t leave.

“Anyway. Sam’s in full adolescence crisis.”

A frown gently settles on Cas’ face. He looks at him.

“It exists for real? I thought it was a myth.”

Dean barks a laugh. Cas studies his face. Dean pats his shoulder.

“That’s exactly what I thought before it hit Sam. He was... twelve I think? Maybe a little earlier.”

“It lasts long.”

“You have no idea.”

Cas glances at Sam’s door. “When it stops?”

“Twenty-five, at most. That’s when people stop growing. It can’t last more longer than that.” Or so he hopes. “Though Sam’s in a better mood.”

“That’s an improvement?”

“Yep.”

Maybe it’s because Sam is away from their dad and not having shouting contests with him every other day. Anyway, he’s less angry. He looks midly annoying all the time, but not angry. The difference is obvious, especially in Dean’s eyes. Anger creeps him out.

“You want meals for this week?”

“Again?”

Dean nods. “I’ve got to cook for Sam. Despite what he thinks, he can’t live on kale alone.”

Cas smirks mockingly.

“So... if you want...?”

“You don’t mind?”

“I love cooking.”

Dean really does. He hasn’t thought he would. Cooking used to be such a chore and a source of stress—there was never enough food, never enough variety. Now he’s got control over his money, it changes everything. Though it’s not fancy and many people wouldn’t call that cooking.

“Alright.”

The time flies quickly. Too quickly.

They don’t talk much. It’s only the second time they’re meeting, and even Dean knows they need to know each other for longer for him to ask all the questions he has about Cas. But they talk about movies. Well, he talks about movies and Cas listens. They talk about books, too, and about things they heard about.

It’s nice.

But time is flying. Dean sighs when he checks out the time.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Of course.”

Dean looks at Cas, searching a hint of regret in his eyes. He finds none, but he likes the way his posture relaxed since lunch. The line of his shoulders is softer and his face isn’t closed anymore. And that’s thanks to him.

Dean loves small victories.

“Wait a minute.”

Dean paws at his jacket and produces a ragged book—his old paperback of 1984. Cas hasn’t seen the movie, obviously, but when he didn’t pick up on his reference, last week, Dean understood he hasn’t read the book either. And he can’t let that go.

He hands the book to Cas.

“I think you’ll like it.” He pauses for a bit and shrugs. “Or finds it interesting. It’s a classic. At worst, it’d give you some pop culture.”

Cas reaches for the book. He studies the cover in silence.

“I’ll ask you tons of questions. To be sure you read the thing.”

“I’d have read it,” Cas replies seriously.

Dean smiles.

Chapter Text

Sam is sitting under the trees, with Brady, Zac and Rebecca. He spends more time with them than he intended to—he’s here to study and nothing else—but he doesn’t regret it. He’d have missed something.

Not that he’ll ever thank Castiel to be insufferable. Sam is a rational man, who doesn’t believe in any flavor of paranormal, and yet he can feel Castiel’s bad vibes in their common space, even when he makes himself scarce.

Come to think about it... Sam could go the library. Spending time with his friends is truly his choice, unrelated to his annoying roommate or Dean’s advices. He’s glad of it, even when he has to listen to them talking about their childhood so casually, painting a warm home and a big family, and that it squeezes his heart.

He knows a little more what he missed everyday.

But now, he has his fate in his own hands.

“What about you Sam?” Zac says. “You never talk about anything.”

“I do.”

“Classes and professors don’t count.”

“And asking us questions doesn’t count either,” adds Rebecca.

Whatever. Sam doesn’t have that kind of nice memories to share. He only knows his mom’s face thanks to a couple of pictures. He doesn’t know a thing about his grandparents. His dad has never been like their dads. All he did for Thanksgivings was eating cold slices of turkey with his brother while their dad was passed out on the couch. Christmases weren’t any better.

Sam glances at Brady, who kicks Zac’s ankle. “Maybe we’d have the time to talk if you didn’t spend hours to describe your Christmas trees.”

“I don’t!”

Zac kinda does.

“If you’ve got no idea, can I ask something?”

Rebecca’s smirk makes Sam suspicious.

“What?”

“I learned that you’re roommate with Cas-tiel.”

“Really?” Zac asks, suddenly interested.

“How you know that?”

“I know a guy in your dorm... And Castiel’s starting to have a reputation.”

Sam closes his eyes. That’s exactly what he wanted to avoid—well, one of the many things he wanted to avoid. People know he’s Castiel’s roommate. He’s going to be lumped together with him, in spite of his exemplary behavior.

“I’ve nothing to do with him. I can’t stand him.”

Brady pats his shoulder. Sam glares at him. The gesture is too patronizing to his taste. Brady hardly suppresses a smile.

“That much?”

“Living with him is Hell. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t think I ever saw you that pissed,” Zac comments.

“Yeah. That’s quite impressive,” Rebecca comments. She leans toward him. “You know how to get rid of this... tension?”

Uh-oh.

“Well– It’s– We’re great friends but–”

“Not me, idiot,” she laughs rather offendingly. “I’m talking about your roommate. When there’s that kind of annoyance between two people, usually...”

Sam winces in disgust. His so-called friends burst out laughing. First of all, he isn’t gay. But even then, he’d have better taste. Who with a working brain and a little self-esteem would date Castiel of all men?

Sam tells so to his friends without any qualms. They laugh even harder. He sighs. He should have gone to the library.

“C’mon. Don’t pout... What if we talked about our crushes, instead of our not-crushes?”

“Which guy of my dorm you’re dating?”

“Who talked about dating?”

Zac groans. Sam feels him. He hates when Dean acts like this. He bets it’s even more annoying when it comes from a sister.

“But he’s cute. What about you?”

Sam’s mind immediately goes to a girl with blonde hair and a contagious smile.

“A girl caught your eyes?”

“Well...”

“Oh!”

“Tell me! Hurry!”

“You’re annoying. All of you.”

“You just turned me down. You owe me that!”

“Be careful,” Zac mock-whispers. “She might get offended.”

“I won’t,” Rebecca says in a tone indicating she, in fact, would.

Sam stares at her. “There’s no way you’ll leave me alone if I don’t tell you?”

“Indeed.”

All’s left to do is ripping the bandage off then.

“Jessica Moore.”

“Ah. Sure. There’s, like, no comparison.”

“You sell yourself short,” Brady tries to comfort her.

“Nah. I mean... I’d choose Jessica over you all too.”

“What?”

“What? She’s hot.”

“She seems...” Sam trails off. He and Jessica only attend two classes together, and don’t talk often. But there’s something about her... Sam wouldn’t know how to word it.

He’d like to spend more time with her. Get to know her.

“Ava’s planning a Halloween party,” Brady says, out of the blue.

“And?”

“Jess will be there. I got an invitation too. I can get you there.”

“Sam never comes to parties.”

And he loathes Halloween... but, this part, no one has to know.

And it’d be nice to see Jessica more than between two classes.

“I can make an exception.”

His dumb friends shout as if they won a world championship.

Sam smiles in spite of himself.

Obviously, Sam reports the annoying conversation to his brother the following Sunday, over the phone.

“You imagine? I’ve got better taste than that.”

“I have no taste clearly.”

Sam frowns. Dean’s retort is weird, isn’t it?

Their talk resumes and Sam forgets about it soon enough.

Chapter Text

Time goes by too slowly.

Dean liked the new rhythm of his life after Sam left for Stanford. Sure, John ditched him the very next day—he didn’t need free babysitting anymore—and Dean was scared for the both of them—neither Sam nor John spent more than a couple of days without him taking care of everything—but he saw the opportunity and seized it. He rushed back to Kansas and got a job. He isn’t rolling in money, but it’s enough. He’s living to his own pace, without having to worry over each little details.

Of course, he’s jolted awake more often than not, sure Sam or their dad was dead somewhere because of him. Dean hates those nights.

Dean hasn’t found a place to live yet, but motel rooms are cheap enough and he has the Impala.

And he has a routine. The monotony doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t have to watch over anyone but himself. It feels like holidays.

(One of his coworkers looked at him weird when he said so.)

But now... Dean has something to look forward to. Every two weeks. He has the proof Sam is fine. He’s sharing meals with people he likes. He talks with someone—someone nice to look at and with a beautiful voice, as if it needed to be more perfect.

It obviously became the highlight of his days.

It’s been a while since Dean has been that impatient.

The next Sunday, when Sam calls, Dean has to fight the urge to ask him about Cas. He only manages to because his brother brings it up on his own, complaining because his friends imagined a hate-crush between he and Cas—it’s good to know he has friends—and saying several times in different wordings that Cas isn’t his type.

Dean eyerolls to this. Sam always looks down on who or what he likes. Dean can’t wait for his teenage crisis to end.

Sam mentions Cas’d have stopped a demonstration by himself. Dean would have liked details, but Sam isn’t interesting in sharing them... if he knows them. If he isn’t only repeating rumors.

“You know... Cas isn’t that bad. You should give him a chance.”

“You’re kidding? You met him.”

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy.”

Dean doesn’t hear Sam’s whole answer but he’s pretty sure he says something along the lines ‘my own brother’.

That’s younger siblings for you.

Dean has to use all his self-control after his shift, Saturday, to not drive to Stanford right away.

“Only three hours to wait,” he murmurs as he tries to force himself into sleep, pretending he hasn’t noticed the date on the calendar, that he doesn’t know why he’s getting more and more restless.

It doesn’t work usually, and it obviously doesn’t work now. Dean’s mind is always more restless when he should sleep, maybe because Dean has nothing to focus on and it feels free to torment him.

He counts each second passing by.

Chapter Text

Dean knocks at Sam’s and Cas’ door. He listens, wondering if they’re going to bicker like they did last time. They don’t. Sam opens the door. Dean smiles.

“Hello!”

He walks into the room. Cas is in his seat, like he was last time. Their eyes meet right away. Something expands in Dean’s chest.

“Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

His eyes are very pretty.

Sam clears his throat. Dean looks around and quirks a surprised eyebrow. No box overflowing with take-outs. No pile of dirty dishes, but only two mugs, clearly from this morning. There’s dust on the floor and a cardigan rolled up in Sam’s armchair—who wears that?—, but the progress is impressive.

“You aren’t trying to lure rats anymore?”

“I can handle myself,” Sam mutters.

As the last weeks prove, probably.

Dean bites down on this comment. Sam is doing better. It’d be a pity to offend him out of it.

“I’ve been more careful,” Cas declares.

“I see that.”

“And I read your book.”

“What book?” Sam asks, puzzled.

“I didn’t talk to you!” Cas snaps.

So that’s what Sam was talking about, when he complained about Cas’ behavior. He’s never like that with him.

Dean has to bite back a grin.

Sam huffs.

“You liked it?” Dean queries.

Cas gives all his attention to him, looking at him with his huge blue eyes.

“Very much. It was... interesting.”

“Yeah.”

“The end... I knew it’d end badly—it wouldn’t have made sense otherwise—but I hoped...”

“Me too.”

Cas scrunches up his nose. It’s cute.

“You can’t know what I was going to say.”

He winks. “I do.”

Cas frowns in puzzlement. Dean claps his hands. He looks around again.

“Well, you evolved from being slobs. I’m proud of you.”

Cas seems to preen.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Sam retorts, all righteous younger sibling offense. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not.”

However, Dean’s wondering if Sam has some memory issues. How he can forget about it when Dean can’t, after seeing this only twice and not living here?

“It’s a shame you don’t have a TV,” he sighs. “It’d have been nice. I don’t have much to do, today.”

Cooking a couple of meals won’t take that much time.

He’ll worry over it later.

Dean sets down the burgers. He knows to cook other meals, but it’s his speciality—or so he chooses it to be. The other meals he likes to cook can be reheated.

Cas nearly dives on the food.

“Calm down cowboy. You were starving or what?”

Dean’s stomach ties in uneasiness. The idea Cas could not have enough to eat...

Cas stills, his cheeks round.

“Those make me very happy,” he says through a mouthful, making Sam wince.

“The burgers?”

Cas nods. Dean pats his shoulder.

“You’ve got taste.”

Cas dips his head in thanks. “Everything you cook is good.”

Dean blushes. “Thanks. You’ll want other meals for this week?”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“You cooked for Cas? For real?”

Sam sounds geniunely surprised.

Cas glowers at him.

“Obviously. You thought he was stealing your food?”

Sam mutters something about it not being surprising. Cas squints harder, mentally trying to turn him into ashes, it seems.

“And you didn’t fight for it?”

“Not worth it.”

Dean dramatically raises a hand to his chest. “I pour love in my cooking and it’s not worth it.”

Sam eyerolls. Cas glares harder.

“I would. Fight,” he announces, looking like he wants to prove it.

Since there’s only Sam to fight, Dean’d better defuse the situation before it becomes a situation.

“I know, Cas.”

“You could buy your own food,” Sam comments.

“So do you.”

“The food’ll get cold.”

Cas forgets all about Sam to focus on his burger.

Very flattering.

Chapter Text

Dean and Cas end up shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink to do the dishes. Sam slipped away at the second he finished his meal. Dean should comment on it, probably, but he likes too much spending time with Cas to do so.

“So, Cas, what’s your story?”

Cas narrows his eyes at him. Not in an angry way. It looks like he’s trying to read his thoughts. It’s adorable. Which is worse than cute. Whatever. Dean’s little crush isn’t harming anyone. 

“Why?”

“I’m curious. Sam talked about you.”

“I’m sure he was so nice,” he comments flatly.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Yeah. But I know him. I can translate. And you really look like you don’t like the place.”

Cas pursues his lips stubbornly.

“You’re the baby of the family?”

“No!” he retorts with such offense he does sound like the baby of the family.

“But you ain’t the eldest.”

Cas squints—threateningly this time—and refuses to answer. Dean smirks. He taps his finger on his own forehead.

“We, the eldest, have a radar to recognize each other and recognize younger siblings.”

“You don’t.”

“Then how I guessed for you?”

Cas squints harder. Dean really doesn’t understand how Sam can’t stay mad at him.

He decides to drop the subject, not wanting Cas to storm away. He does nothing against his smile, though.

“And you. What’s your story?” Cas asks.

It’s not a challenge or avoidance. There’s geniune curiosity in his voice.

“There’s not much to tell. I’m boring, really.”

“That’s not true!”

Dean startles at the offense in Cas’ voice.

“I guess I’m pretty.”

More like he knows. People love to tell him so.

“You’re the most interesting person I met. The smartest, too.”

Dean laughs. “You didn’t meet many people then.”

He turns to Cas, only to see a crest-fallen expression on his face. His belly twists.

“I– Sorry. What d’you want to know?”

It’s certainly annoying to spend time with someone who keeps asking you stuff and dodges questions. Dean isn’t sure he did—he is boring—but maybe Cas feels like he’s hiding something from him.

(Maybe he wonders how someone like him and someone like Sam can be related.)

“You aren’t like the people here,” Cas says.

“I dropped out of highschool. Not the standard for Stanford... got it?”

Or any college, for the matter.

Sure, Dean’s trying to get a GED, but it’ll never erase that he didn’t manage it in due course, and that he doesn’t belong here.

“No. I mean... you’re not like them. Sam is like them. Or he wants to be. But you... You are interesting. I like talking with you.”

Dean tries to not be flustered at this. Thing is, he’d bet everything that Cas mean it geniunely, and not in the ‘I’d better not insult them outrightly’ way.

“You want a sum-up?” he asks, meaning it.

It’s weird, for him. He kinda feels weird. He doesn’t confide easily. Once bitten and all that. It’s never a good idea to give people ammunition to hurt you. But Dean doesn’t think Cas’ll weaponize whatever he says later. He has no proof, but he tends to trust his guts. It saved him more than once.

(Not listening hurt him more than once, too... lesson learned.)

“Or details. As you like.”

“To sum up: mom died when I was four, dad’s a paranoid ex-marine who drove us all around the country. I kinda raised Sam. That’s why I know...” Dean gestures at the room around them. He sighs, “And why he doesn’t.”

What a failure.

Cas smirks. “Spoiled baby of the family?”

“You know what you’re talking about, right Cas?”

Cas doesn’t look amused. “I am not... But I was one of the youngest. I had a brother...” Furrowed lines appear on his forehead. “We weren’t blood-related, but this is how we addressed anyone our age.”

Religious background then.

Dean should have guessed, since he’s named ‘Castiel’.

“We used to trick our older brothers into doing the chores in our place. It wasn’t a tantrum. They deserved it. They spent their days lecturing us.”

Cas adds an eyeroll, for good measure.

“What a rebel.”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t seem much but...”

He trails off. Dean bumps his shoulder.

“Raised by a paranoid ex-marine, remember?”

Cas’ face clears out in curiosity.

“Sometimes, all you can do is rebel in the little things.”

His shoulders relax and his expression softens. It’s not a smile, yet, but it almost is. Dean can’t help but grin.

“You travelled much.”

“We can say that.”

“Can you tell me? I only know this place and...”

“Where you come from.”

Cas nods.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Chapter Text

When Sam leaves his room, Dean and his roommate are sitting at the table, their shoulders almost pressing together, talking. He blinks. They can’t have spent the whole afternoon like this, can they?

Dean looks up at him.

“Heya Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” he corrects, darting a glance to Castiel.

He leaned back into his chair, a scowl on his face. At least, Castiel won’t stoop to use the loathed nickname to annoy him.

(To be honest, Castiel rarely bothers to use any version of his name.)

“I haven’t noticed it’s that late.” Dean mouths something, moving his fingers. Castiel’s attention snaps back to him. Dean shakes his head. “I’d better go now. We don’t want me to get fired, right?”

Castiel shakes his head. He doesn’t know rhetorical questions, it seems.

Dean raises to his feet, smiling. He lays a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re awesome.”

And then... Sam’s jaw almost hits the ground. Castiel smiles. Something fond and soft and affectionate. He can display that kind of expression? Feels that kind of thing?

“Oh! I nearly forgot!”

Dean grabs his jacket, completely unaware of what is happening. He takes a sorry book from a pocket and holds it to Castiel.

“It’s my favorite.”

Castiel tenses. He reaches out gently.

“I’ll take care of it,” he vows.

“I know you will.”

Sam doesn’t understand a thing. Dean shrugs on his jacket. He glances at Castiel, smiles, and walks to the door. He stops. Turns around to look at Sam.

“And... err... it’d be fine?”

“Why it wouldn’t be?”

“Well... this weekend...”

Dean trails off.

“What’s about this weekend?”

“October ends this week.”

“Ah? Yeah. I know. Halloween’s soon.”

Sam eyerolls. His brother loves this celebration. Sam’ll never understand why.

Though it may change this year.

He hopes.

“Halloween...? You’ve got plans?”

“I’ve been invited to a party,” Sam explains reluctantly.

Dean grins. “That’s great. I was worrying to be honest.” He turns toward Castiel. “The kid only walks from his room to the classrooms. That’s not a life.”

Castiel nods solemnly.

No. No. Sam doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that at all.

“First of all, I’m at Stanford to work. Second... Castiel. What’s your plans for Halloween?”

“I don’t.”

Sam waits, but Castiel doesn’t have an epiphany about how hypocritical it makes him sound. He doesn’t have plans and he criticizes him, really?

“You’re going to be okay?” Dean asks.

Sam glances at his brother in annoyance, but he’s talking to him, not to Castiel. He scowls. Does Dean think he can’t handle himself? Sure, parties are more his thing, but Sam can do everything he set his mind to.

“I’ll be fine.”

Dean looks like he wants to add something, but he decides against it. He nods.

“See ya in two weeks.”

“Sure.”

Dean leaves. He shuts the door behind him. Sam blinks. It’s–

“Dean was weird, don’t you think?” Castiel asks.

The words are too neutral to be a judgement—Castiel isn’t one to mince his words... Sam bears the brunt of it more often than not—but, since it’s Castiel, Sam doesn’t see what else it could be.

He shrugs.

“Dean’s always weird.”

Castiel’s expression settles on his usual mood: pure and unabashed annoyance. Sam holds back a sigh.

“You’re really useless, you know?”

“And you’re rude.”

Castiel squints. Sam raises his eyebrows. No retort? Does that mean he won this round?

He’s tempted to call Dean right away to report this.

“Your voice is grating. I wonder how Dean stood it for so long.”

Castiel vacates his seat and locks himself inside his room.

Sam decides to consider this as a win anyway.

Dean calls the following Sunday.

Sam is still on cloud nine because of the Halloween party. He met Jess and they talked! The curse of this stupid celebration didn’t strike this year. Even Castiel’s behavior since Wednesday haven’t scratched this happiness.

He feels like he belongs. At last.

He’s in a great mood when he answers the phone. So much that he feels lenient enough to not report Castiel’s misdemeanors.

“Heya Sammy. You fine?”

Sam eyerolls. He’s about to remind his brother he’s called ‘Sam’ when something makes him pause.

Dean sounds weird.

Sam shakes his head. No, no and no. He won’t let Castiel mess with his mind. His roommate met Dean how often? Three times? Dean is Sam’s brother. Sam knows him since forever. He’d have noticed if there was something weird.

“Sammy?”

“I’m fine,” he hurries to answer. There has been an urgency in Dean’s voice, the same kind that appeared when Sam got hurt when they were only the two of them. “The week’s been great.”

“Really? No annoying roommate?”

“Castiel is always annoying, but...”

Sam hasn’t intended to tell Dean about the party, or Jessica. He knows what kind of comments he’d have to hear. But now...

He recounts the party and, when he hangs up, he has the impression Dean sounds a little lighter.

Chapter Text

Sam grumbles when he opens the door. One would think he’d be used of his brother showing up every couple of weeks.

Dean doesn’t care. Sammy is fine.

Dean knows it, but it doesn’t hurt to see it with his own eyes. Especially when he can’t get out of his own mind.

It’s always the same, in the beginning of November.

Dean has no excuse to be so happy to see Cas though. He hasn’t worried that much about him—no more than he usually worries for people he likes—but he’s as glad to see him as he is to see Sam. Maybe more.

Dean greets them and looks around him. There’s one mug on the table and that’s all. He pretends to wipe out a tear.

“You’re doing so much better. I’m proud of you.” Then, because he can’t help it, this time, “Even baby brothers can learn something.”

Like he expected, Sam eyerolls, huffs, and goes in his room to do his homework. Dean would worry if he hasn’t heard about Jess and the Halloween party. But it’s certainly not enough. He should drag Sam to the theater. Cas too. Cas needs more pop culture and Sam to go out more often. Two birds, one stone.

“Are you fine?” Cas asks, staring at him.

Dean blinks back in the present. Huh?

Cas walks closer to him. “You weren’t fine, when you left, last time.”

He... picked on that?

Dean does nothing against the fond smile curling his mouth. He puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

Cas tilts his head.

“It’s just... that date.” Dean glances at Sam’s door. Nothing seems to move behind it. “It was our mom’s death anniversary,” he whispers. “It’s okay, now.”

Until the next year.

The thought prickles at him. That’s one of the reasons he avoids to plan ahead. The future rarely sounds good.

There are exceptions, of course, he thinks, looking at Cas.

“It must have been hard.”

Dean is about to utter a yes when he pauses. In hindsight, it hasn’t been that bad. Clearly not the worst start of November he lived. Sure, Dean had to go to his work, and play his part among patrons and coworker, but it only lasted some hours. Not the whole day. As soon as he stepped out of the bar, he didn’t have to perform anymore. He has been able to let the mask slip, to wallow in his grieving. He didn’t have to put aside everything he felt to make sure his family was holding together or pick up anyone else’s pieces. He could just be.

“It’s been worse.”

Cas nods. He doesn’t tell him to not downplay his feelings, doesn’t pry.

This is nice, too.

“I read your book.”

“And so?”

“It was... strange.”

“But the good kind of strange.”

“Indeed.”

Chapter Text

There’s something wrong about Cas.

Well, not wrong obviously, but there’s something on his mind. Too bad Dean doesn’t pick up on it before lunch is ready. The whole dealing with his mom’s anniversary, and worrying over his brother and his dad because of it, then his surprise about Cas noticing and caring about his weariness... It has been more emotional agitation than he’s used to. Especially for the last part.

Not that it’s a good excuse.

They share lunch with Sam, Cas and he does the dishes. They have their own routine. It’s nice.

They sit back at the table and Dean waits for Cas to open up to him. It doesn’t take long.

“I gave up a course,” Cas ends up announcing, as if he confessed a major defeat.

“Why?”

Cas looks up at him. Dean bumps his shoulder with his.

“Why did you? You’ve got a reason, right?”

“I asked a question, to understand better, and they all looked at me, as if questions are stupid. As if you shouldn’t try to understand. Because this person told so, they said. As if it’s a valid argument, and it means everything.” Cas pauses. He sighs. “I wonder why I left home.”

“It’s not easy, to start again.”

“I do not fit in. I thought it’d be different... I’ve been told it’d be different.”

“By who?”

“A high school teacher. You had your paranoid ex-marine father. I had a zealously religious family.”

Dean nods. He guessed that much.

“Everyone knew how they are. They didn’t have to keep us away from others to keep us obedient. Some of my brothers and I... we were tired of it. We had questions, but no answer. And... this teacher appeared, one day. He only stayed for three months.”

“Oh Captain! My Captain!”

Cas tilts his head, not annoyed in the slightest by Dean’s quote. He never is. He’s puzzled, as usual.

“A movie. I’ll make you watch it.”

Cas nods, as if it was as important as his story.

“He told to some of us about college... One of my brothers, the one I told you about...”

“The one who helped you trick your eldest?”

Cas smirks. Dean is glad to see he has good memories among the bad.

“He enrolled to Stanford too.”

“You still see each other?”

“Sometimes.”

So Cas isn’t all alone when Dean’s not around? Good to know. He deserves it.

(It hurts a little, to think he isn’t as important to Cas as Cas is to him, but Cas really deserves it.)

“This teacher?”

“He said we’d get to ask all the questions we could dream of and be answered. He said we’d be free.” Cas meets his eyes. “You know how much freedom means after being chained.”

“I do,” Dean whispers.

“But it’s not like this. There are still chains. There are many questions we aren’t allowed to ask, too many. It’s like before, except I don’t know any of the rules. I’m not free. The cage has a different shape.” He pauses. “I’m not sure I was right to come.”

Dean allows the silence to settle.

“You’d regret it, if you didn’t try. And there’re things you like, here. People, classes?”

“Some classes are interesting,” Cas confirms, his tone softer. “Most of my professors know what they are teaching about... with a few exceptions.”

Dean snorts. Knowing Cas, he doesn’t hide his opinion of those professors, even if it costs him credits.

“So it’s a good experience overall?”

“Overall, yes.”

Cas hesitates.

“Something else?” Dean prompts him.

“Some students. They are...” Cas makes an adorably offended face. “They’re assbutts.”

Dean laughs. He can’t help it. Cas’ expression, coupled with this insult—he just made it up, right?—and the seriousness of his voice uttering it...

But Cas’ expression crumbles and Dean feels a twinge of guilt. He bites his lip to not dig his grave deeper by saying something like ‘sorry, but you’re cute’.

“There is so much hate in them. The targets are different, mostly, but they remind me my family. They don’t like questions either. They despise people like us.”

“Like us?” Dean echoes.

Cas winces. He turns his face away. “Like you. People who had to face adverse circumstances, who did their best. They don’t think their best is enough. They don’t understand how it is to not have so little money. Not in that way. I haven’t known for long, but this couple of years has been enough. The world... It allows you to see how it really works.”

Dean nods curtly.

“They shout about the rights of criminals, shouting they wouldn’t have done what they did if they weren’t failed by the system.”

“It could be a good thing.”

“Except it’s not. They don’t spare a thought for those who suffered as much and aren’t criminals. They don’t see the people who suffer in silence. If they don’t hurt others, if they don’t scream everything about their life for everyone to hear, then it means they aren’t suffering.”

Dean’s heart squeezes. It’s easy to see and hear how much people are suffering behind their smiles, though.

“They don’t have much empathy, unlike you.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. What the fuck?

Cas keeps talking, without giving him the time to react, “They repeat the same opinions. They get angry if you ask them questions. They call you rabid if you don’t agree with them.”

Dean stiffens. Rabid? They deshumanize people only because they disagree with them once? ? It’s such a wrong path to follow. He knows that, and where it can lead to. Why those people studying in that high-rated college don’t?

“Trying to have a conversation with them is like teaching poetry to fish.”

Dean frowns. What?

Cas sighs in annoyance. “Long story.”

“I can’t wait for you to tell me.”

The hint of a pleased smile touches Cas’ mouth. The smile drops.

“I complained much.”

“It’s good for tension.”

“Do you?”

“I– Well– Obviously!”

Getting mad at TV or book characters count, doesn’t it?

Cas narrows his eyes.

“And I learned something really interesting about you, huh?”

“What?”

Dean pokes at his chest. “Don’t like obedience much, huh?”

“Because you do?” Cas retorts, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Dean lowers his eyelashes. “Under the right circumstances.”

Cas stares at him.

Dean feels a blush creep into his face. He clears his throat and looks away.

“I’m glad we talked, you know? Hey! I know what book you should read next. I don’t have it with me, so you’ll have to borrow it to the library... There’re libraries, around, right?”

“There are. We should go sometime.”

Dean turns his face away, unable to fight his grin.

It’s not a date, he knows.

But it kinda feels like it.

Chapter Text

Knocks sound at the door. On a Thursday evening.

Sam pokes his head out of his room. Who it can be? None of his friends would show up like this—he forbade them to visit him in his dorm because Castiel.

Sam looks at Cas’ room. Does he have friends? Did he invite them? But Castiel is glaring at him from his room, as if it’s his fault. Annoying, but Sam likes that better than having his place invaded by Castiel’s people.

Castiel’s expression softens. It’s very few and between, so it keeps creeping Sam out.

“You think it’s Dean?”

“It’s Thursday.”

The knocks sound again.

“Sam? Castiel? I know you’re in here,” says someone who is not Dean.

Castiel glares at the door, his jaws tightening, as if the fact it’s not Dean is an insult toward him. Sam crosses the living room to answer the door before his roommate can do something dumb and antagonize the whole dorm. If he learned something from his childhood, it’s that your actions and intentions matter less than the people you spend time with, even though you don’t want to be with those people.

He opens his door on one of their dormmate. Of average height—smaller than Sam, in any case—, Black, stylized beard, friendly expression. Sam ran into his in the hallways a couple of times, but he didn’t catch his name. He feels bad about it since he seems to know him.

He’s accompanied by another guy—lanky, white, wearing an old-fashioned mullet and looking stone. There’s a TV between the two of them.

“Errr... You need help?”

The first guy grins. “You brother complained you don’t have a TV.”

Sam startles. His brother? His dormmates talked with Dean? Is this the moment when he has to leave Stanford forever because he ruined his reputation?

He temporarily zoned out. When he focuses on the situation, the guy is ending off his speech by saying he’s giving them this TV.

“Who are you?” Castiel asks coldly.

For the first time, Sam is relieved about his rudeness.

“Victor.” He gestures at the other guy with his head. “And this is Ash.”

Ash shrugs.

“And... You’re giving us a TV because you talked with Dean?”

Victor laughs.

“I doubt it’s the craziest thing someone did about your brother... and I don’t even swing that way.”

Huh...?

“Can you move?”

“Sure.”

Sam steps out of the way. Victor and Ash move the TV inside the room. They find some clear space, behind the door, and let it on the bare ground. Victor says they’d have to be careful and Sam does nothing but nods.

“The problem is that they can’t use it to browse Internet,” Ash comments.

“Same with all TVs.”

“For now. The future is gonna blow your mind.” Ash pauses. “And they don’t have a cassette deck.”

Victor shrugs in apology. “I wasn’t going to replace it.”

“Err. No. It’s fine. I mean thanks,” Sam stutters.

Victor nods.

“Call if you need something else.”

He and Ash leave. They close the door behind them. Sam blinks. The TV is still here.

“That’s. So. Weird.”

For once, Cas doesn’t snark at him. Sam glances at him. He’s staring at the TV, looking as lost as Sam feels.

It looks like they have the same opinion. Sam would celebrate if the whole thing wasn’t just so confusing.

Chapter Text

Sunday morning again. Sam feels like the time is running away from him.

Castiel is sitting in his armchair, writing things in a notebook. He’s so focused that Sam is starting to worry. Nothing good can come from him. What if he’s planning a demonstration? Or worse? After all, his stupid actions require preparation. Should Sam try to investigate about him or should he ignore it and hope for the best? He obviously like the second option better, but the first may be better. What if he gets trouble because he doesn’t warn Castiel’s next victims beforehand?

He’s in the middle of those wonderings when Dean knocks at the door. Castiel closes his notebook and raises to his feet. At least, Dean will distract him for some hours. Maybe Sam’ll have the opportunity to steal the notebook, or that Cas’ll forget about his plans.

Dean walks with the usual greetings. He’s pushing the door when his eyes zero in on their new device.

“You’ve got a TV?”

“Victor brought it. Because you talked.”

“Yeah?” Dean grins.

He bypasses. Sam wonders in worry if Dean is going to knoch at every door until he finds Victor to thank him, but Dean does worse: he shouts in the hallway, “Victor. You’re a sweetheart!”

Sam winces, knowing how thin are the doors and the walls.

Laughs follow Dean’s statement. Sam hesitates between holing up in his room and dragging his brother back inside so he won’t embarrass him further. If he stops it quickly enough, maybe his dormmates will forget all about it—and about him.

Sam’s eyes fall on the TV. The TV Victor brought to them because he talked with Dean once.

“Hey, Dean.”

Dean grins. He props himself against the doorframe, stretching his legs, looking at someone in the hallway with a smile... a smile...

Sam frowns. It looks like a flirting smile, except that Dean is talking with a man.

“It’s so nice. Timing’s almost perfect.”

“Is that so?”

“Not long after Halloween.”

“I wanted to have my new TV for the day, but it didn’t work out.”

Dean straightens his spine, his expression turning geniune. “You do movie marathons, too?”

“Is there another way to celebrate Halloween?”

“Hell, no!” Dean exclaims in earnest, winnin a laugh from Victor. “Hey! You’d have lunch with us?”

“I’ve got a girlfriend, Winchester.”

“Suuuure. But is she as pretty as me?”

“I ain’t answering that,” Victor retorts, a smile in his voice.

Something cracks. Sam swirls his head around and sees the pen in Castiel’s hand, snapped in half. His roommate’s face is blank, like a mask of tone.

Castiel swirls around and stomps back to his room.

“You know where to find me if you change you mind.”

“Sure.”

Cas slams his door shut. There’s so much rage in it the walls tremble.

“Wh–” Dean walks back in the room. He closes the door gently behind him, in a stark contrast. “Where’s Cas?”

“His room.”

Dean looks to Castiel’s door with big eyes.

“What happened?”

Sam shrugs. How should he know?

Unfortunately, Castiel took his notebook with him. Does this turn of events count as enough efforts to prevent him to carry out his nefarious plans?

Sam decides that it does.

Chapter Text

Dean decides to cook burgers.

It’s Cas’ favorite food, and it seems that he has to earn forgiveness.

A tiny bity part of him thinks he knows why. He hopes, because if Cas was mad about Victor...

Dean shakes his head. He’s getting ahead of himself. Cas could be annoyed at something unrelated. Like some dumbasses lecturing and belittling him.

Cas isn’t annoyed enough to not show up when Dean announces lunch is ready. His eyes light up when he spots the burgers and Dean serves him first. Sam scoffs at it, but little brothers who can’t cook their own food don’t have their word to say.

Cas starts relaxing during the meal. He looks so content about the burgers that Dean feels his chest warm up. Cas relaxes even more once Sam does his Houdini act—it’s impressive how quickly he disappears as soon as Dean thinks about the chores.

Dean hesitates to kill the pleasant mood, but he doesn’t want Cas to get things wrong, especially about him and Victor.

“It’s nice, about the TV.”

Cas tenses right away.

“I want to make you watch tons of movies.”

Some of the tension ebbs away and a spark of interest shines in the blue eyes.

“That’s why I annoyed Victor with this, and I was so happy, you know?”

Dean feels his face heat up. The whole thing’s kinda embarrassing. Especially if Cas doesn’t mean it that way.

Cas looks pleased.

“I read Gilded Needles, as you suggested.”

Dean grins. “So?”

“The themes echoed our conversation perfectly. I liked it very much. You’re talented to recommend books.”

Dean flushes with pleasure. “Come on, that’s not hard.”

“You wouldn’t tell so if you knew what books were recommended to me before you.”

The ‘before you’, as if he’s as important for Cas as Cas is for him nearly make him giggle. But Cas displays a haunted face and Dean can’t hold back a snort. Cas scowls.

“Yeah, people promising you’re going to love this book and that it’s going to change your life... and you just lose hours ready something you don’t care about, hoping you’d get it,” Dean concedes. “I can make you a list of writers.”

“You don’t lend me books anymore?” Cas asks, sounding weirdly disappointed.

“I don’t have that many books... but I read a lot. And I know many authors that you’ll like. I promise you.”

Cas doesn’t smile at his joke. He’s looking at him with an expression... An expression...

Something twists and expands in Dean’s chest.

“I knew those books meant much for you, but I didn’t realize how precious they were. Thank you for trusting me with them.”

Dean should answer that it’s nothing, that Cas doesn’t have to be so solemn for so little. He can’t. His books are treassures to him, and Cas knows it.

“Which authors you’d recommend to me?”

Dean clears his throat, grateful for the change of topic. “For Sci-Fi: Asimov and Philip K. Dick. And Bradbury. You’ll love Bradbury, especially Fahrenheit 451.”

Dean keeps going about authors he read and the themes of their stories.

Cas listens.

“Sam! I’m leaving!” Dean shouts next to the door. He glances at Cas, standing close to him, and suddenly feels shy. “You know... I can come back next week.”

“I don’t think Sam’d ruin the place in one week,” Cas retorts.

“Yeah. You’re doing better—the both of you. I’ve way less work when I’m around.”

Cas almost smiles.

“What I mean... well... it’d give us more time to watch movies... or for someone to show me around the campus?”

Cas stares at him, without answering. Shame creeps inside Dean’s throat. He forces a laugh out to chase it away and turns his face away—his expression shows too much of what he thinks and feels.

By chance, Sam chooses this moment to join them.

Dean bids quick goodbyes to them and all but runs out of the dorm.

Chapter Text

Dean does his best to focus on his tasks and not allow his mind to be distracted by Sunday’s dumb disappointment.

It doesn’t work.

But it’s his fault. Why on Earth he entertained such big hopes? Cas likes him. He finds him interesting for some mysterious reason. Why he asked for more?

He got what he deserved.

Less worse than he deserved.

Dean weaves his way among the tables. He takes orders, serves drinks, deals with annoyed patrons and exhausted coworkers. The smile is easy to keep on his face. Lies are always easy.

The blandness of Wednesday evening is broken by his phone’s ring. Dean is so surprised he doesn’t react right away. He produces his phone. His heart stops. It’s Sammy.

He drops everything and walks out of the bar. He’s going to get fired, certainly, but it doesn’t matter. Sam never calls. Something terrible must have happened to him. Countless scenarios fight in his mind as he holds the phone against his ear.

“Sam?”

“It’s Castiel.”

Dean’s stomach plumets down. How horrible it is for Cas to call using Sam’s phone?

“It’s... I...”

“Don’t beat around the bushes.”

Dean doesn’t think he’s strong enough to handle whatever news Cas has to give him, but stalling would only make it worse.

“I’m sorry for Sunday. I don’t know what I did, but you weren’t fine when you left and I... I don’t like it,” he finishes in a whisper.

Dean blinks in quick succession.

“I’m a little lost... Sam is fine?”

“Why he wouldn’t be?”

“You’re calling with his phone.”

“I didn’t mug him.”

Dean lets out a startled noise. “Sam lent you his phone?”

Silence falls at the other side of the line.

“He didn’t... lend it to me.”

Dean laughs, making Cas pouts—there’s no other way to describe his silence.

“I’m forgiven?”

“You’ll have to ask that to Sam.”

“I don’t care about Sam. I wondered about you, Sunday.”

Dean’s smile fades away. “It’s not your fault, okay? You don’t have to apologize to turn down dates. If someone ever says otherwise, run, got it?”

“You... were offering me a date?”

“Dates. But don’t worry about it.”

“I didn’t mean to turn them down.”

“It’s okay, Cas.”

“So you’ll come every week?”

“I... Cas? I...”

Dean darts a glance to the door. He should put an end to the call since Sam is fine, and Cas too. He risks a lot.

“I don’t understand,” he confesses.

“I want to see you every week. I thought you were offering to take care of the place, and we use enough of your time.”

“To say being a housewife is my dream.”

“Dean.”

“Sorry.” Dean glances over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta go. We meet Sunday?”

“Sunday,” Cas repeats.

Dean can picture the smile on his face.

He hangs up, his heart so light he should fear it’d fly away. He shakes his head and walks back in the bar. No one noticed his absence. He certainly used his luck for the whole month. Or even for the next few years.

The smile on his face for the rest of the day isn’t a lie anymore.

Chapter Text

Sam grabs the first thing he finds in the fridge—kale, he notices with disappointment—, ready to run back to his room. For some reason, Castiel has his gargoyle cat behavior, staring at the door from his armchair. He certainly forgot Dean won’t come this week. Sam isn’t going to remind him. You know what happens to messagers? Anyway, Castiel has been annoying, spending all his time glued to the TV, watching the dumbest, the most ridiculous, programs. Sam intends to report it to his brother. It’s his fault. Why he had to make sure they got a TV?

Someone knocks at the door. Sam stills. He sees Castiel tense from the corner of his eyes. Sam walks to the door. None of his dormmates deserve to bear the brunt of Castiel’s disappointment of not seeing Dean.

Sam only hopes Dean hasn’t convinced them to hand other furnitures to them. He’s weirded out enough by the TV, though Victor makes it sound as if they are doing him a favor.

Go figure.

Sam opens the door.

“Dean?!”

“Heya Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” he corrects by mere reflex.

It’s already been two weeks...? No. He’s working hard and time flies, sure, but he’d have noticed it.

“You– It’s only been one week.”

“Cas invited me.”

Sam swirls his head around. Cas doesn’t do so much as glance at him, despite Sam being in the way. All his attention is on Dean and a smile is hovering on his face.

Oh God.

Cas likes Dean. He’s able to like someone.

Sure, Sam suspected so. Castiel is weirdly bearable around Dean and smiles only about him. But it feels different. They’re having plans not only because Cas is his roommate and Dean his brother.

“So you let me in or not?” Dean asks.

“Huh?”

Dean eyerolls. “Don’t worry. You can go about your business. I won’t be meddling.”

Sam takes a step aside, letting Dean in. Dean grins at Castiel.

“Heya Cas!”

“Hello Dean.”

There’s fondness in Castiel’s voice. Sam’d have seen everything. Or heard. Whatever.

“You guys are friends?”

“Obviously. Cas is hyper nice when you give him a chance. You should try.”

Sam scowls. He did nothing but try that first month they spent together. Castiel had forever to change his behavior. He hasn’t bothered to, in spite of Sam’s courtesy. He is the problem.

A problem Dean somehow solved.

It’s a miracle.

When Sam turns around, he nearly has an attack. Cas walked to them—to Dean. He’s still ignoring him, which is almost being civil in his book.

Dean grins.

“Look what I found!”

He produces a black stuffed toy and nearly sticks it to Castiel’s nose. For Castiel’s defense, he doesn’t bat an eyelid. There isn’t the slightest ripple of annoyance crossing his face.

“What is it?”

“You!”

Castiel narrows his eyes. He grabs the plush in one hand and moves it away to study it. Sam thinks it’s a kind of cat. Black, fluffy, with two round and sparkly blue eyes.

Cas throws it back to Dean.

“This is not me.”

“How can you say that? Come on.” Dean pushes back the cat to Castiel’s face. “The blue eyes. The grumpy pout. I didn’t find it a trenchcoat yet, but it’s totally you version plushy. Isn’t he cute? You can’t tell me he isn’t.”

Sam rolls his eyes. He can’t believe he’s brother with that guy. How heredity could fail him that much?

He heads back to his room.

“I like green eyes better,” Castiel informs them right before he closes the door.

Chapter Text

The upside of Dean showing up more often is that Sam can worry even less about meals. Sure, it only happened once, but it gave him more time for his studies. He only has to think about dinners, and can easily balance his diet with healthy food.

Castiel keeps staring down at him about this, but if he wants to have a stroke before turning thirty, that’s up to him.

(It’s not like Sam can convince him of anything.)

Things are easier between them, though. They don’t do their best to avoid each other anymore and Dean’s meals make Cas almost toleranle.

It’s a total mystery. Castiel isn’t a people person—he even snaps at introverts—and yet he likes Dean. He doesn’t mind Dean being... Dean. He hasn’t been angry about the stuffed cat thing.

Sam doesn’t intend to dive into the details. Things are better than he thought they’d be and he won’t poke at the horn nest.

The next Sunday, Castiel leaves his room at nine o’clock... wearing his trenchcoat. Sam stares at him. He hasn’t been weird enough to wear it inside, on a Sunday morning.

“You’ve got a problem?” Castiel snarls.

Sam eyerolls. He slams the fridge door shut. He can’t wait for Dean to be here.

“Come back before 10:00.”

Sam stops on the threshold of his room. “Dean and you are friends. I’m not your butler.”

“Obviously. A butler would take a better care of his place.”

Sam grits his teeth. “You can open the door yourself.”

Dean can’t been here too quickly.

It’s crazy how quickly you get used to an improved situation. Sam wouldn’t supporterait une semaine entière de ce traitement anymore.

To say it’s been his daily lot for a whole month.

Sam doesn’t rush outside of his room when he hears knocks at the door. He has a point to make.

He waits to hear Dean’s voice echoing in the living room to join his brother and his roommate. Cas is standing inches away from Dean, smirking smugly, still wearing trenchcoat. He slides his hand in a pocket and produces a plush. It’s a pale pink rabbit with the same kind of big shiny eyes than the cat’s. Its are green.

“It’s you.”

Great. Sam’s caught in the middle of some passive-aggressive battle.

He goes back to his room.

He’ll be back for lunch.

Chapter Text

“How is Cas-tiel?”

Sam eyerolls at Rebecca. It became a habit, from her.

He opens his mouth to answer like he does usually—Castiel is Castiel, there’s nothing more to tell—but stops himself. Things are different. Cas is different.

His hesitation in front of Rebecca is like blood in the water. Sam knows how useless it is to fight her so he talks about Castiel’s behavior. Everyone knows him, if only by reputation. He’s rude, always ready to insult people who did nothing to him, always screaming his ideas that no one care about and being angry because of it. Sam never heard something nice about him.

Except from Dean.

“Did someone got on his right side before?”

“Never heard of it,” says Zac. “Maybe it’s because of your brother? Maybe he’s like a bee charmer?”

“A beast charmer,” Rebecca corrects accurately.

Sam doesn’t give it more thought. It’s just another day of his life at Stanford.

Or so he thought.

How naive he has been.

Jess joins them for lunch, something she does more and more often, for Sam’s delight.

Their relationship is progressing, thanks to the Halloween party. They aren’t dating, but they’re heading this way. Sam hopes. Anyway, they’re getting to know each other and Sam loves what he learns of Jessica.

“I didn’t know you have a brother,” Jess says, catching him off guard.

“What?”

“Everyone talks about him and how he tamed Castiel.”

Sam glares at Rebecca who raises her hands defensively.

“It wasn’t me.”

They both turn to Zac who shrinks on himself. “I just told to a couple of people.”

Sam eyerolls. That’s how rumors start. Given Castiel’s reputation, it certainly spreads to the whole campus.

“There’s not much to say.”

“I’d like to meet him.”

“What?”

“It’s your brother. I’m curious.”

Sam wonders how to wiggle out of this situation. He pleads at Brady with his eyes.

“Well... What about Christmas party? We could invite your bro!”

This isn’t helping!

Although... it’d be better than a private meeting. Jess would spend much time with other people, as would Dean. Sam would be able to keep the introduction as short as he can, without looking suspicious.

“Does it suit you?” Sam asks Jess.

“If it works for you,” she shrugs.

Sam doesn’t dare to leave his room on Sunday, even when Dean shows up. He only walks out for lunch, feeling like he’s sentenced to death.

There’s no way Dean meeting Jess and his friends will end up well.

“Look what the cat dragged in!”

“Something dragged by a cat would be more interesting.”

“Play nice.”

Sam sits.

“Dean. You’d like to come to the Christmas’ party?”

Dean startles. A slow smile appears on his face. “Really?”

“Jess wants to meet you.”

“Of course I want to.” His smile shatters as he glances at Castiel. “Except...”

“Go.”

“Cas can come, too?”

Sam shrugs. “Sure.”

Everyone knows what to expect from Castiel. It won’t make things worse for him.

“Me?” Cas asks, his voice full of doubts.

“What? You’re going to leave me alone among all those strangers?”

Sam eyerolls at his brother’s exaggeration. Castiel frowns. He’s about to retort, pauses, watches Dean’s face. The fight bleeds out of him.

“Alright.”

Beast charmer is the accurate wording.

Chapter Text

There are more people at the party than Sam expected. Sure, it’s one of their last chance to spend time together before the holiday season, but there are many parties, across the whole campus. Why there are so many people here?

And why he recognizes so many of them?

He stares suspiciously at Zac, who shrugs. He guesses rumor hit again.

He hates his life.

A guy introduces himself as Uriel and asks if he’s Dean’s brother, as if Sam isn’t the Stanford student and not the way around. Once Sam assents, he declares they’re not his crowd—sounding as if they’re some lowlifes and not students in one of the best colleges of the country—but he knows Castiel for a long time and he has to see the miracle with his own eyes.

So it’s really the rumor’s fault.

Sam joins his friends and Jessica. Not for the first time, he thinks what a bad idea it is. He shouldn’t have accepted Brady’s idea and he should have found an excuse for Jess to not meet Dean. He wants to charm her, not to make her run for the hills.

It’d be a chance if he keeps having friends or his life of dreams at Stanford after this.

(He should have thought of giving the wrong address to Dean.)

His mind is debating with ‘should have’ when the door opens again. Nothing surprising in itself—people come and go as they please—but the silence filling the place, quickly replaced by murmurs?

Sam winces and raises his head. As he expected, Castiel is walking in the room, flanking Dean.

Jess elbows his side. “Care to introduce me?”

Sam holds back a sigh. He doesn’t have a choice anymore, does he?

Rebecca blushes. “That’s your brother?”

Sam groans inwardly.

“Don’t you dare thinking about it,” he warns before giving his arm to Jessica.

Jess makes an amused sound and links her arm with his. They cross the short distance separating them from the door—Jessica has wanted to notice Dean immediately. Everyone is watching Castiel and Dean openly. Dean leans toward Cas and whispers something. Castiel’s face softens.

“I can’t believe it,” Uriel states, his voice taunt with shock. “It was true.”

He doesn’t bother with talking low. The smile slips from Castiel’s face and he swirls his head toward him, narrowing his eyes. Dean spots Sam and tugs at Castiel’s trenchcoat, getting his focus back. They meet halfway. Sam is a bundle of nerves. He doesn’t know who’ll act the most obnoxiously, his brother or his roommate. But things go well. Surprisingly well.

Sam’s suspicion increases.

The rest of his friends join them and everything keeps going well. The surprise about Castiel not lecturing or glaring at anyone wears off and people start minding their own business. Sam and Jess themselves sit in a sofa to talk. Except she points out at something with a smile. Somehow, Dean ended up surrounded by girls. It looks like he can’t help it.

Sam really hopes no one will lump them together. He knows to behave.

Cas sighs, bored, and walks away from Dean. Sam tracks his path, but he only joins Uriel.

Wolfwhistles make him look the other way. Dean is stepping away from a girl, whose face falls.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says—Sam cringes... who calls a random girl sweetheart? “I’m interested by someone else.”

Sam hopes it’s a lie. He doesn’t want Dean to meddle more in his student life. Though his consideration for someone else’s feelings is surprising.

“Really?” the girl retorts doubtfully.

“Yay. Amazing blue eyes. Dark hair.”

Sam scans the faces around Dean. None of the girls fit this description.

“Driven by his convictions and dreams in his head.”

Wait a minute. His?

Sam nearly chokes. Horror of horrors, Dean turns his head toward Castiel, smiling softly, almost shyly. Nope. That’s so not going to happen.

“You can’t do that!”

Dean winks. “Do that? No. But I can totally do–”

Sam grabs the cushion behind his back and throws it to his face because he can finish this sentence. Thankfully, it works.

“Ouch.”

“It’s a pillow.”

“It hurts.”

Castiel hurries at his side and studies him carefully. He glares at Sam. So he’s an only child and didn’t spend much time kids his age. Why else would he be so dramatic about this?

Dean touches his shoulder and Cas forgets all about Sam.

“Dean?”

Dean cups his face and lays a kiss on his mouth. Castiel stiffens in surprise.

“I mean it.”

Castiel stares at Dean. Sam wonders if he’s going to hit him. His brother would deserve it for his betrayal... but then Sam’d have to defend him. There’s no good option here.

Cas lunges at Dean, pushing him to a wall and kissing him in a way Sam has never wanted to witness.

There’re wolfwhistles all around them, more enthusiastic than earlier. Easy for them: it’s not their brother with their annoying roommate.

Jess puts a pillow in his arms, grinning. Sam nods and throws it at his brother, but only hitting Castiel’s back. Dean giggles—he giggles. Cas peels off of Dean’s enough to glare at him. Disappointed ooooohs chorus in the room.

“You stop that!”

“Can’t you mind your own business for once?” Cas groans.

“Can’t you know how to act in public for once?” Sam retorts.

“Go lecturing someone else.”

“This isn’t lecturing. This is teaching you manners, since no one ever bothered to!”

Dean pats Castiel’s chest. Cas tears his attention from Sam and slightly moves back, keeping Dean trapped against the wall.

“He ain’t wrong, sunshine. And I’d like to bring you to a date first.”

Castiel straightens up. He nods curtly and walks away. Dean’s eyes follow him, way too fond. This is Castiel he’s looking at. Them being friends is one thing, but that? It’s worse than everything Sam could have imagined.

“This is high treason,” he points out to Dean.

His brother laughs.

Chapter Text

Dean can’t believe his luck.

He’s snuggling with Cas, in his bed hardly big enough for one man. They have to squeeze tight, but they don’t care. The rise and fall of his chest is comforting against his cheek.

Over the weeks, since the very first time they met, Dean gradually convinced himself that Cas was interested in him, but their new situation feels like a surprise. Dean isn’t one to get what he wants. And, despite having used the word ‘date’, Cas hasn’t acted differently toward him. No touch or kiss. No indirect ask. Nothing. They kept watching movies and TV programs, talking about musics and books, speaking about their live.

Until the Christmas party.

Until Dean took the last step.

Cas kissed him, and that kiss...

Dean smiles in the dark.

Cas’ hand wanders in his hair. Dean melts against him. It’s been a while since someone touched him. He isn’t sure anyone ever touched him the way Cas does.

“Sleep,” he mutters. “You’re going to be tired.”

“You sound tired.”

“That too.”

Dean drops a kiss on Cas’ collarbone and nuzzles closer to him.

It’s easy to fall asleep like this.

Sam eyerolls whenever he sees them together.

There has been a tense moment, right after the party, when Sam complained like little brothers do before stilling. Dean saw the cogs turn inside his brain, the slow addition about the fact he and Cas are guys and is that the reaction Sam wanted to show...? Dean cut it short. He ruffled his too-long hair, earning a shout of outrage, before thanking him to not be weird about it. Sam wrapped himself in a young siblingness offense and declared Dean was a freak to like someone like Castiel.

(Maybe Dean has been tempted to retort it was homophobic, and thought it was way too soon to joke about that. In a couple of months, certainly.)

Anyway. Sam is normal about them, nothing really changed between the three of them, and Dean finds it great.

He has to leave soon, but he’ll come back. He’ll be allowed to stay as much as he wants.

Dean drives to Stanford at the second he finishes his shift, the next Saturday evening.

He meets more people in the hallways than in the Sunday mornings. Victor pats his shoulder and wishes him to be happy with Cas. Dean obviously doesn’t blush at this. Nor he does when he wonders if the whole campus knows about Cas and him.

(Confessing at a party gathering dozens and dozens of people could have that kind of consequences.)

Dean knocks to Sam’s and Cas’ door. Cas lets him in. Dean surveys the room.

“Your brother is with Jessica.”

“Good job.”

Dean saw the way they stared at each other. He hopes it’d work between them.

He follows Cas to his room and walks to his desk.

“Look who I brought with me!” Dean tells to the stuffed rabbit. He puts mini-Cas next to the rabbit. He really has to find him a trenchcoat. Or to make one. It can’t be too hard, right? Anyway, Dean learns fast.

“We talks to them?”

Dean swirls around. Cas is right behind him, his eyes on his face. He’s quite stealthy.

“Well... I mean... I got into the habit, you see?”

Cas nods as if it’s interesting.

“You don’t?” Dean asks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

The first ‘discussion’ has been Dean being absolutely baffled at this impulse buying. He never did something like this. He never dared to, despite having a job now. He’d rather increase his savings. You never know when the tide will turn.

But the little plushy with its big blue eyes, its ruffled black fur and its grumpy wrinkle—a manufacturing fault—made him dumbly think about Cas and he has been unable to leave it in this stupid shop.

(On the other hand, Dean went shopping to find a gift for Cas, for their first date that ended up not being a date.)

“He can stay here, so they won’t be alone anymore,” Cas decides. 

“And they’re almost as cute as us,” Dean retorts, batting his eyelashes.

“Certainly.”

“And they’ll be sooooo happy.”

“I know how I’d feel if I could have you at my side all day long.”

Dean’s heart flutters. Cas is going to be the death of him.

“Aww. Cas. Is that you asking me to move in with you?”

“It’s not.”

Dean nearly snorts. Cas’ way to take sometimes things literally is adorable.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

Dean’s smile freezes.

“Huh?”

“I’m asking you, now.”

“But– You– You can’t.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow—unfairly hot, from Dean’s opinion. “Why not?”

“We don’t know each other for that long.”

“You make me happy.”

Dean stares at Cas, with his expression so sure, so geniune.

“I– Sure. I’ll have to find a job around here. And quit my current job.”

What else he can answer?

Cas smiles. It’s not a hint softening his expression. It’s a real smile, curving up his mouth, crinkling his eyes.

Dean’s heart soars.

Chapter Text

Dean spends more and more time at their place. It’s weird, to see him so settled. It’s quite different from the brother Sam remembers. Sure, he talked about a job a couple of times, but Sam didn’t think it was an actual job.

Sam asks him if he doesn’t miss his life on the roads, and Dean looks so shocked that he expects to see him fly out of the dorm and throw himself in the Impala to prove him wrong. Or to prove himself wrong.

Dean doesn’t.

It’s improvement, Sam tells himself. But he’s a little annoyed at the muddle between his previous life and his studies. It was weird the first time Dean showed up in his dorm. It was weird at the Christmas party. And it is weird, now, with Dean being around almost all the time, walking out of Castiel’s room with his hair tousled and hickeys on his exposed skin—which Sam didn’t need to see, really. Almost all his dormmates are fawning over him. Even Sam’s friends like him.

The upside of Dean dating Cas is that Cas spends less time in their shared space and that he’s always with Dean, meaning he’s kinda tolerable, because he’d rather give all his attention to Dean than bothering with anything else.

Sam deserves better. It’s weird to have to put up with the whole lovey-dovey act, especially from them. Dean’s baggage of female one-night stands is enough to fill a mid-sized city and Cas... Cas seems to hate people.

Especially him.

And, unfortunately, there are still moments when Sam and Castiel end up alone.

“Why are you here?” Cas asks, frowning as Sam walks in.

“I live here.”

Cas scrunches up his nose. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you? If she has enough bad taste to date you, she won’t mind you living with her.”

Sam stares at him. Cas frowns further.

“Now you bang my brother, you could try being polite.”

Cas answers without missing a beat.

“No.”

Sam eyerolls.

There are only disadvantages about this stupid situation.

Okay. Maybe Sam exaggerated. The meals aren’t a disadvantage. Dean cooks rather well. He even took into account some of Sam’s suggestion, despite Cas making faces at him.

(Sam nearly had a heart attack when Dean pointed out they can’t live on greasy food alone. Dean. His brother.)

Now, there are three chairs around the table. Sam doesn’t know who has given them this chair. Or the radio. His brother wins people over a little too easily.

(Maybe it’s the key to the mystery. Why what is working on ninety percent of humankind wouldn’t work on Cas? After all, he’s human too.)

(Apparently.)

“We should move in an apartment together, next year, don’t you think?” Dean asks.

Sam chokes on a mouthful of pasta. He grabs his glass and drinks it down. He slams it on the table and points a stare at his brother.

Dean shrugs. “It wouldn’t change much, but we’ll have more room.”

“Still the same bedroom, I hope,” Cas says.

Dean shoots him a smirk. He really thinks Sam will sign up one year of that on purpose?

“C’mon. Someone has to do all the job,” Dean adds, gesturing at the room around them. “I’ll like more room to cook and–” He leans into Cas, smiling flirtariously. “–I wouldn’t mind waking up at your side every day.”

Wonder dawns on Cas’ face. Obviously. Who else would dream to wake up everyday next to him? If Sam had any choice, he wouldn’t live in the same city.

“So?” Dean grins, proud of himself.

The answer is easy. Spending one more year around Cas is an unpleasant prospect. But... Realization hits Sam. Cas will be in his life as long as Dean’ll fancy it. If Sam turns this option down, he may end up with another roommate of Castiel’s kind and still have to spend his free time with Castiel.

And Dean said he’d keep taking care of the boring stuff. It’s a good upside.

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Awesome!”

Dean exchanges a disgustingly fond grin with Castiel.

Yep. Sam’s getting used to it. He could as well reap the benefits.