Chapter 1: Moving In

Are you sure about this Dean? Sam asked, sounding apprehensive. He adjusted his grip on the duffel bag and looked up at the collage critically. "I won't judge you if you want to back out now"

"Shut up, Sammy," retorted Dean, hiding his own uneasiness. Just because he hadn't decided to go to college until last minute and he didn't want to be a fancy lawyer didn't mean he was gonna flunk out. He had even gotten enough scholarships to almost cover tuition. He would be committed, at least for the first semester.

Dean and Sam made their way across the parking lot, both carrying bags. There was a desk set up with a dozen older students volunteering, handing out keys and pointing lost people in the right direction.

Dean stepped up in front of a pretty blonde girl. "Hey there," he said with a 'charming' grin, "Dean Winchester?"

"Um-hm," she said, searching through a box. "Winchester, Winchester, got it!"

She pulled out an envelope with the name "Dean Winchester" labeled on it. "Thanks," Dean said, casting an eye to her name tag, "Jo."

She gave him an unamused look and handed him the envelope. "Here's your welcome package, it's got your key, ID, and some rules and emergency procedures. You're in room (she checked the label) 412, the elevators are that way."

Dean thanked her with a wink. Sam rolled his eyes.

Following Jo's directions, Sam and Dean made their way down a crowded hall. Guys and girls were running this way and that, carrying boxes suitcases, duffel bags, even Tupperware. People were shouting, calling out, greeting old friends and making new ones. Dean led Sam through the chaos, checking room numbers. Room 412, that was it. The door was already open, propped by a box of books. Dean cast an appraising eye over the space. Two closets, and a pair of beds raised over desks. One desk was already covered in odds and ends, and above it a gangly teenager was wrestling with the fitted sheet.

"Um, hey?" asked Dean.

The boy turned his head. "Oh. Hello," he replied. He then swung his feet over the wooden edge and slipped to the ground, landing with a thump. Tilting his head faintly, he frowned at the brothers. "Are one of you my roommate?"

"Yeah," said Dean, "Me. I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam. He's helping me move in."

"Castiel," was the reply, and to Dean's surprise, he extended a hand.

"Oh, um, right," said Dean, shaking it awkwardly. The handshake gave him the chance to take Castiel in fully. He looked average, blue eyes, dark hair. He was tall, but still shorter than Dean or Sam, who admittedly was huge.

Likewise, Castiel sized Dean up as a future roommate, studying his green eyes, brown hair and serious expression. He was tall, a few inches taller than Cas, and athletically built. Castiel wondered vaguely if he participated in any sports.

"I guess this is my bed," Dean said, dropping Castiel's hand and slinging his duffle onto the empty desk.

"I assumed that as first to arrive I would have my choice," said Castiel, watching him.

"You mean first come, first served?" asked Dean.

"Yes," replied Castiel.

Dean nodded. "Alright," he sighed, realising he was now stuck with this guy for the rest of the year.

Sam nodded to Castiel with a tight smile, and threw the bag he had been carrying over their heads and onto Dean's bed. Dean turned to his brother.

"Well, unless you're gonna help unpack, I guess I'll see you later."

"Oh," said Sam, mildly surprised, "Um, alright then, yeah, see you… around."

He hesitated, unsure of whether or not he should hug goodbye. Finally clapping him on the shoulder, he nodded to Castiel and left.

Dean turned to Castiel and smiled. "He's a big fan of sappy goodbyes," he explained.

"I see," lied Castiel, who climbed back on his bed and resumed struggling with his sheets.

Dean turned his back and opened one of the duffel bags, and threw his handful of shirts and jeans unceremoniously into the drawer of his closet.

"What is your major, Dean?" asked Castiel in his gravelly voice. Dean glanced up. He was done with his sheet, and was now trying to shake a pillow into its case as he spoke.

"I don't have one," he admitted reluctantly, "I mean, I don't even know if I'm gonna stay or not."

"Then why come?" Castiel asked without accusation, although he was looking at the reluctant pillow as though it had mortally offended him.

"I dunno," replied Dean, taking the pillow and shaking it into its case in one snap. He glanced out the door as he tossed it back to Castiel. Some blonde girl was walking by. "The girls I guess."

Castiel didn't roll his eyes, that would be rude. He simply reflected on the stark differences between his new roommate and himself.

"I'm majoring in religious studies," he said dryly, even though he hadn't been asked.

"You're gonna be what, a preacher?" asked Dean, turning back around.

"No," said Castiel, and pointed to the blanket on his desk chair. "Can you pass me that?" When Dean complied, he continued, "I am not fit to lead any group of people, for any purpose, including religious ones."

"Ain't that right, little brother," drawled a voice from the doorway. Dean turned back around to see a short man leaning against the frame. His hair was a little longer than Sam's, and he was holding a lollipop in one hand.

"And you are?" asked Dean.

"Gabriel," he said, putting the lollipop in his mouth. He looked Dean up and down. "You Cassie's roommate?"

"Please do not call me that," Castiel requested.

"I'm Dean Winchester," Dean said, wondering Gabriel would shake his hand too.

He didn't, and said, "Alright, see you around," and left.

Dean made a face to express his confusion. "Huh."

"That's my older brother," said Castiel, who was sitting at his desk now, organizing wires for his laptop. "He's majoring in media studies. Although I use 'majoring' as a loose term. I don't believe he has attended a class in all the time he has been here."

"Hmm."

Dean pulled his textbooks out of the other duffel and piled them haphazardly on his desk. He tossed the pens and notebooks Sam had insisted he bring into a drawer and began pulling his own blanket and pillow out. He threw them up on his bed carelessly and climbed on after, fiddling with his phone.

Determined to befriend his new roommate, Castiel asked him, "If you're not majoring in anything, what classes are you taking?"

"Uh," Dean flipped through his phone until he found his schedule, "I had to take English, umm, auto workshop, intro to business, geography, and… astronomy."

"Interesting choices," remarked Castiel, who sounded genuinely sincere.

Dean looked at him. "Well, what are you taking?"

"English as well, obviously, Ancient History, World Religions, Psychology, and Public Speaking."

"There's a public speaking course?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Damn. Sounds easy."

"Not necessarily," replied Castiel.

"What? It's just talking. Or does this have something to do with your whole 'not fit to lead' thing?"

"Something along those lines," Castiel answered vaguely.

Dean rolled his eyes. How rude, thought Castiel. But then again, he was supposed to make friends in his time away.

"What's your schedule?" he asked Dean reluctantly, "Maybe we're in the same English class."

"Why's that so important?" Dean scoffed.

Castiel hesitated. "Because I hoped we could become friends."

Dean looked at him. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. "We'll be friends, Cas," he said gruffly, and checked his schedule. "My class is on Thursdays at 9. You?"

"The same time," he replied, "Is your professor Mr. Keller?"

"Uh-huh."

"I guess we're in the same class."

"Hope he's an easy marker."

Castiel chuckled. "You should hope Dean, that he is accepting of a student that would forgo learning for less work."

"Damn straight," Dean replied, "I already speak English, don't I?"

"Well, the class is tomorrow," said Cas, "You should do the reading beforehand." As if to demonstrate, he picked up his textbook and began reading.

"They're not gonna care, Cas," said Dean lazily.

"We'll see," was all Cas said.