The door banged open loudly, and a whirlwind of blonde hair went stomping through the store, paying no mind to the browsing customers and carefully constructed displays as the girl the hair belonged to zeroed in on the scruffy-haired man at the counter and stormed up to him. He paid her no mind, and continued ringing up his current customer's purchases, smiling and having banal conversation about the weather or something else boring. She tapped her foot impatiently and leaned across the counter, glaring at the dark haired man. As the customer left with a small stack of science fiction novels, he finally turned to her.
"How was school?" His voice was measured. She narrowed her eyes and made a derisive sound, thrusting a sheet of paper at him as though it was covered in dirt. He made no effort to take it from her. "We're not doing it this way, Claire. You have to use your words."
She smirked condescendingly.
"Bite me."
With that, she dropped the paper onto the counter and stropped around it, heading for the back of the store to reach the apartment there. She listened as he spoke to another customer.
"She's my daughter."
"She's very rude. If I had spoken to my father that way, I would have been caned." The elderly woman observed.
"She's had a tough few years," her father defended her mildly. She scoffed again as she stomped up the stairs to the apartment. Her father was always calm and non confrontational. It was irritating, and when Claire was having a hard time he made her feel like such a colossal dick with his soothing tones and restrained way of speaking. She vented her new frustration on the front door, giving it a kick before opening it up, and then slamming every drawer and cupboard door she could find, stomping on the ceiling the entire time. It took him ten minutes of her banging around the apartment to finally come up. Charlie must have been on a break. He stood in the doorway and watched with those clear blue eyes while she continued her tantrum, eventually giving up and, feeling foolish, flopping onto the sofa. And then throwing the cushions onto the floor.
"Thank you for not breaking anything this time," her father eventually spoke.
"Bite me." She repeated.
"I take it that you're upset with Mr Winchester wanting to talk with me?"
"I didn't do anything!" Her latest cushion caught a lamp, which fell to the floor with the sound of glass breaking.
"I take it back about nothing breaking," he sounded amused. Asshole. "Mr Winchester didn't say you had done anything, merely that he wishes to speak with me. Perhaps he's looked into your transcripts and seen the problems that you've faced recently."
Claire scoffed again, hoping that noise would contain all the vitriol she felt for her father. He always made it sound like it was her problem, when he was the one who left and he was the one who left her mom to get sick and die all alone and he was the one who came back into her life like nothing had happened. He was different to how he had been as a child too, more distant and less reactive, like he'd had some kind of epiphany or religious experience in the time when he walked away from their family.
"We're not going to know until we go. I'll call him and set up a meeting for tomorrow, okay?"
Claire lost control, and threw a cushion at him. It bounced off his head and fell to the floor. It must have hurt, the power she put into that throw, but holier-than-thou Castiel wasn't going to break.
"I'll ask Charlie to look after the store. I suppose it's too much to ask you to do your homework?"
He walked back down to the bookstore, and Claire stuck her finger in the air at his retreating back, before plugging herself into her iPod and letting something loud and full of rage pump through her ears and into her system. She wasn't going to do her homework, not for her father and definitely not for Mr Winchester.
Claire had intended to cut out of school and avoid her father, but maybe he was more aware of the way her head worked now than he let on, because he caught her coming out of the side door and put a firm hand on her back, leading her around to the office. They were sat together outside Mr Winchester's office, and Claire felt even crappier.
"I thought you said Mr Winchester wanted to see you." She snarked. "I didn't realise it was Mr Winchester."
He didn't respond, looking up instead at a poster that was meant to inspire students to be better, but just inspired Claire to grab a Sharpie and make adjustments. She was trying to mess with him, because it was weird, two brothers on the same faculty. Tall Mr Winchester was her annoying English teacher, the other Mr Winchester was the principal. They didn't look alike, past the brown hair and green eyes, but the rumours had reached Claire in her short time at this school that they were brothers, and they still lived together. Some of the kids thought they were dating too, but Claire didn't see it. She tried a different tact.
"So, you gonna hang in there, Castiel?"
He merely looked at her, that passive gaze that she didn't buy. He had to be cussing her out every time he looked at her like that, pilgrimage or no pilgrimage. He had to regret coming back in her life, dragging her into his apartment, playing the doting father again. He had to hate her using his name, instead of calling him Dad.
"Mr Winchester will see you now," The redhead secretary gestured to the door, interrupting their … well, not conversation, exactly. Castiel stood, and gestured himself.
"After you, Claire." He feigned politeness, though they both knew he was making sure she wouldn't run away. She stomped into the office, and her father followed. She sank into one of the seats opposite Mr Winchester, but Castiel had to be different. He stepped up to the desk, and held a hand out to shake. Mr Winchester stood up, sizing her father up, and took his hand after a short pause. They lingered after shaking hands, staring at each other, and Claire felt grossed out. She didn't know what her father had been up to in his absence, but she hadn't expected it to involve men. Or worse, teachers. And yet there he was, staring at the principal like the second coming, and Mr Winchester didn't seem to hate it. It took a lifetime for them to realise that hey, they were in a parent-teacher meeting to discuss how terrible a person Claire was. They let go and sat down in their respective seats, Mr Winchester leaning forward onto the desk and trying not to stare at Claire's father.
"So, you must be curious why I've tried to arrange a meeting?" Mr Winchester smiled at Claire. She glared back, slouching in her seat. She could feel her father watching her and refused to meet his eye. It would be like agreeing she had done something wrong and for once, she hadn't.
"A little," Castiel said eventually, though Claire could tell he was still watching her thoughtfully.
"I'll put your mind at ease and let you know that Claire isn't in any trouble. This is a routine meeting for transfer students, just to check that she's settling in okay, go over any concerns you have, that kind of thing."
Claire looked at her nails. She wished she was in trouble, because being checked up on for the sake of it was ridiculous and pathetic and so typical of boring adults like Castiel and Mr Winchester.
"It's good of the school to do that," Castiel offered. "What kind of concerns do you mean?"
"Well, anything. Schoolwork, how Claire's adjusting, after school activities, friendships, access to our school counsellor. Anything. This is a free space."
Claire wanted to run. She didn't want to stick around to hear her father go on and on about how awful she was, or suggest she have frequent school counsellor sessions - barf - and she definitely didn't want to see them continually undress each other with their eyes - again, barf - but leaving would mean that they would probably get more candid without her to buffer them.
"Have you read Claire's transcripts?" Castiel asked, and Claire wondered if he was buying some thinking time or else he was trying to perve over the principal's voice.
"I have, but I wanted your input. Sometimes those things can only tell me how well Claire has done, not any issues she might be dealing with. This is a free space, Mr Novak." Mr Winchester reminded him. "I won't be making life difficult for Claire, or singling her out. We try and have good communication between parents and faculty here."
Claire looked up at the ceiling. She couldn't understand why everyone thought Mr Winchester was so great, he tried too hard. But apparently it worked on her father.
"You'll know from Claire's transcripts about my split with her mother, and her losing her mother, her coming here to live with me. It's all very new, and I know Claire might act out. She did at her last school, which is why she moved to this one. But Claire is tough, she's going to surprise you. I know it. She's surprised me in the last couple of months that we've had to reconnect."
Claire's only reaction was to look at her father from the corner of her eyes. She hadn't expected a compliment. She hadn't earned it. He must have felt her surprise, even if she didn't show it, because he gave her a cautious smile.
"For all your anger over the situation, you haven't run away from me, you haven't put yourself in dangerous situations. You have every right to be angry, Claire."
She narrowed her eyes at him. Was that why he didn't react to her tantrums?
"She may need some understanding from your teachers when it comes to completing homework assignments for the next few weeks, just to ease her into it, but Claire doesn't like handouts too much, so I think special treatment would irritate her," he cast another glance at her. "Almost as much as it's bugging her right now that I'm speaking for her, even though she has no inclination of talking right now."
She rolled her eyes, and Mr Winchester fought a smile. The fact that he agreed with her father was worse than their eye fucking.
"You know your daughter well."
"As well as she'll let me know her." Castiel looked back at the principal, and they continued that doey-eyed gaze.
"So, are we good? We done?" Claire finally spoke up.
"For now," Mr Winchester nodded. "But I am going to give you a pass, Claire. Use it any time you want to, it gives you the power to come and see me. For any reason." He slid a laminated blue card from a drawer on his desk and handed it over. "I'm not just your principal."
"I know, I know, you're my 'pal' too!" She said sarcastically. He fought a smirk.
"Hardly. I'm not just your principal, I'm a human being, and very much capable of empathy." Mr Winchester looked back to Castiel. "And Mr Novak, please feel free to call if you have any concerns that you would like to express without worrying about Claire's reaction. I'll make sure the faculty use discretion if there's anything we have to implement." He scribbled something onto a Post-it, and handed it to Castiel. "My cell phone is far more reliable than the school secretary."
Claire felt nauseated. Her principal had actually given her father his cell number right in front of her, and that was after all the eye sex. She stood up, letting her father know she was ready to go. He was folding Mr Winchester's number up and securing it into his wallet.
"Thank you, Mr Winchester."
"Dean," Mr Winchester smiled. "Call me Dean."
"Dean," Castiel repeated slowly. "Thank you for seeing us, and for your number, and the pass and everything. I'm hoping Claire has a bright future at this school."
"I don't see any reason why she won't. Thank you for coming in, I hope it didn't inconvenience you too much?" They both stood, and walked out together, barely noticing whether or not Claire trailed behind, listening to them crawl up each other's butts with the flirty compliments.
"Not at all. I run a bookstore nearby but my employee is more than capable of keeping it in one piece."
"Which bookstore is that?"
"Jimmy's?"
"I've heard of it. You have a great reputation."
"Dad, can we go now?" Claire raised her voice, trying to shut them up before they declared their undying infatuation in front of the few people left in the building.
"Yes, certainly. Thank you again, Dean."
Mr Winchester waved them along and turned to his next appointment, and Claire stormed ahead of her father as they headed to his car.
"Is everything okay, Claire?" He asked quietly.
"Oh, everything's fine. My principal's checking up on me in case I have 'issues' and my dad goes along and eye flirts with him!" She blasted.
"I'm not going to deny that your principal is an attractive man, but I was there for your needs first and foremost." He defended himself as they reached the car. He unlocked it and she climbed into the front seat, crossing her arms and scowling at the dashboard. He climbed in behind the wheel, but didn't start the car. "I don't suppose there's any point in asking if you wish to discuss this?"
"What's to discuss? He gave you his number. Call him any time, right? About stuff you wouldn't say in front of me, like what you want for dinner or the nights that you're free."
"He gave me his number because he thought I wasn't talking in your presence. He's trying to be discreet in his support, Claire."
"You met him five minutes ago, how in the hell do you even know?"
Castiel put the key in the ignition, and pursed his lips at the rear view mirror.
"There's no answer I can give that doesn't sound empty or condescending or vapid. So I suppose I know that because I want to believe that's the man he is to charge the sexual fantasies I'm going to be having about him."
"You're so gross."
"You prefer that answer to 'I'm an adult and I've learnt about people in the last forty years' don't you?"
Claire didn't respond, except to glare out of the side window, accidentally catching his eye in the wing mirror.
"That's what I thought. You could thank me for getting you out of homework for the next couple of weeks. You could thank him for that magic pass that allows you to blow off lessons you're not prepared to deal with." He finally turned the key, and the car roared to life. "And yes, I think your principal is attractive. But there's little chance he would want to date one of the sophomore's fathers."
"And if he does?" She pushed.
"Would you really want to know? Besides, you heard him, he'd be discreet."
She looked over in time to see the small smile on her dad's face. The first time she had seen him truly happy - truly anything - in years. She wanted to hate him and curse him and ban him from Mr Winchester, but that smile made her realise just how long her dad must have been unhappy.
"What about Mom?" She asked in a small voice, not really wanting the answer.
"I will always love Amelia," he said gently. "She was a good wife, and she gave me you. But I haven't been with her for years, Claire, and she moved on in that time. I have too."
"She never moved on." Claire squared her shoulders and looked down at her knees. "She only ever wanted you back."
"Then I'm sorry I couldn't give her what she wanted, what you wanted. Sometimes we don't get what we want."
"And sometimes we get the principal's phone number."
"Would you rather I don't text or call him?" Castiel said quietly as he pulled up behind the store. "I have his number, but I don't have to use it."
Claire turned to look at him, and she could see the hope in the way he pursed his lips, in the shine of his eyes. She liked the feeling of power over her father, over the jerk-off who abandoned her and her mother six years ago. But she was also beginning to realise that maybe her father had been unhappy for a very long time, and this number seemed to be enough to ease that. She sighed, hating herself for putting him first.
"Fine, use it. But just don't be gross about it."
She got out of the car and headed straight for her poky little bedroom, sinking on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. She didn't want to hear her dad being gross over the principal, didn't want to deal with Charlie's pep, didn't want to do anything except mope. She put on her Netflix, and cuddled up to a cushion, watching some dorky sitcom rerun and burying her face in the cushion so she didn't have to see herself cry.