Dean isn't exactly stoked to return to school after the summer, and you can hardly blame him after almost three months of blissfully doing nothing. But September has begun and here he is, lugging suitcases and boxes into the dorm once again. His mom follows him to his new room and stays until everything has been unpacked from the car, but unlike past years she doesn't stay to make Dean's bed and try to put everything away, because Sam is here too. There are various perks to having a parent who is a member of the faculty, and going to an overpriced school – albeit a very good one – is one of them. So while Dean tries to muster up the energy to actually unpack his stuff, Sam is beginning his high school career in the next dorm over, and Dean doesn't haven't the heart to warn him that freshmen usually end up with bunk beds – he thinks it might be character building for him in the long run.
Dean's roommate is going to be Victor, and he's glad it's somebody he's already friends with rather than one of the newbies. There are only a handful of them – wandering around like the puppies that lost the pack – but Dean doesn't take a huge interest in any of them, he's not in the mood for being perky and optimistic about the coming school year. He thinks about heading over to one of the girls' dorms to drop in on Jo, but he's fairly sure the resident staff won't be allowing visitors while people are still arriving. So Dean pushes all his stuff over to his side of the room and tries not to feel guilty as he starts off for the common room, expecting to find Ash already hogging the pool table.
He doesn't quite make it there though, because when he reaches the stairs one of the newbies is standing there with boxes in his arms that are stacked so high that they reach his nose. He peers over the top of them to look at Dean, who expects a frantic terror in the guy's eyes but only finds a calm blankness. Dean tries to glance around him but he can't see anybody else hovering on the stairs or accompanying the newbie, and he can't help but feel a little bad. He's probably never been to boarding school before and his parents have just dumped him here without even staying to make sure he gets settled.
"You okay there?" Dean asks, and he's mostly hoping that the guy will say yes because he wants to go downstairs and get rid of the pity-kindness that that's already bubbling up inside of him.
"I'm fine." His voice is steady but Dean doesn't believe him one bit. There's no awkward laughter or twitchy smile and he doesn't move out of Dean's way, he just stands there.
"Do you at least know where your room is?" Dean must be feeling extra charitable today because the guy clearly isn't asking for any help, but Dean plans on pushing until he cracks and admits he has no idea what he's doing.
"Um-" His key is sitting atop the boxes and Dean grabs it, just raising his eyebrows at the guy's puzzled expression.
"So what room number is it?"
"B-7."
Dean nods and steps in front of him, leading the way. B-7 is only a few doors down from his own room, and he wants to reassure him that it'll be fine and he won't be living in a crevice, but it's Dean's first time in this hall too, so it's anyone's best guess.
It turns out that he's worrying about nothing though, because he after jiggling the key around in the stiff lock he opens the door and there's only one bed pushed against the wall of a fairly spacious room. He's at the end of the hall too, so there's a big window that fills the entire area with light and it's contrastingly airy compared to Dean's room.
"You're lucky you got a single room." Dean lies. If it had been someone else it might have been lucky, but when you're new it's easier to get a hold on everything if you have a roommate to show you the ropes or go through it with you. There's no smile on the guy's face though, and he doesn't want to dampen his spirits any more than they already are.
The boy peers around cautiously before putting his boxes in the middle of the floor. "Thanks for the help." He moves to sit on the bare mattress, and even with his back straight as a board he manages to look deflated. Dean thinks this is his cue to leave, but his body has other ideas and his feet are planted to the floor and he just feels so guilty.
"I'm Dean, by the way." He shoves his hands in his pockets when the guy looks up and meets his eye, an uncertainty etched in his features.
"Castiel."
Dean's suspicions are confirmed. Castiel – with a name like that he has be one of those kids who's come straight out of private school back home because Mommy and Daddy didn't want the hassle anymore. He knows the type; he's come across his fair share of them in this dorm alone. Castiel will be right at home with the likes of Michael and Raphael, they're the people he'll want to befriending come tomorrow.
Dean really does want to cut all ties now and back out of that bedroom, or at least he thinks he does. But, well, Castiel seems different and he can't put his finger on why. Maybe it's because he's reserved and still sitting there in a stony silence, or because he still hasn't asked Dean who the cool guys are and complained about how awful this place is compared to his home. And he doesn't think it's because Castiel is by any means shy either: he doesn't fidget or find things to do while Dean flat-out stares at him, he just keeps his jaw tight and looks forward.
"Are you parents here?" This grabs Castiel's attention, and he's looking up at Dean again with a frown this time, as if it's a stupid question or it's a sore subject.
"They couldn't come – they're busy with work." He's a little quiet, but Dean can sense the frustration that leaks into his voice; he's upset that they're not here with him right now, but he won't say it.
"Oh that's – okay then – do you need help with the rest of your stuff?" The offer is out of his mouth before he can stop it, but Castiel is already frowning again and nodding before Dean can process what he's done.
There's not much left, just two suitcases that they carry between them and lug into Castiel's room. Dean finds himself listing all the basics to Castiel as they ascend the stairs and go back down the hall, telling him when the best time to go to dinner is and which showers work the best and which dorm leaders will have your ass if they find you sneaking around at 3AM on a school night. Dean likes this though, it's nice to feel useful and to have someone look to him for guidance – he doesn't get much of that when Sammy isn't around.
Cas is talking about his hometown and his parents as they unpack a box that is solely filled with books, and Dean tries to listen as he stacks each one on the shelves as neatly as he can. Castiel grew up in a remote house set away from anything, and he never sees a great deal of his parents because they're successful lawyers and constantly busy with clients. He's been through too many babysitters to remember, had live-in nannies sometimes too, but weirdly he doesn't seem all too fazed by it. It's almost as if he can hear Dean judging his family in his mind, and is trying to defend them without actually having much evidence to prove that they're good parents. Dean listens anyway and holds back most of the snarky things he could say, most of them, but then he hits a brick wall.
He's been going on as if he and Castiel are friends already, as if this is the start of something quite enjoyable that might make this year better than the last. But he's reminded that Castiel won't be his friend after this, by tomorrow he will have found his crowd and slipped in easily with all the rich kids and won't give Dean another thought. It may be blunt, but Dean knows it to be true, and he's not in the business of setting himself up for being ditched like some throwaway toy, so he says he needs to finish unpacking his own things and backs out of the room in a hurry.
It turns out that Castiel is also a senior and he shares physics with Dean. Up to this point Castiel had done exactly as Dean had expected, so when he sits down on Dean's bench instead of Michael's, he's more than slightly confused. Dean is so hell-bent on working out what Castiel is doing next to him, that he doesn't even realise Ash walk in and give him the stink-eye for not saving a place for him.
"Why are you sitting here?" Dean asks eventually, not being able to take it any longer. And he starts to worry about the way Castiel has him reigning in all these remarks and questions until he finally blurts something stupid out.
"Oh, I didn't' realise somebody was sitting here-" and he reaches for his bag on the floor and moves to get up, but that's not what Dean meant and he's grabbed Castiel's wrist and is dragging him back down before he walks across the room to Michael's bench.
"No – nobody's sitting here," but Castiel is still craning his neck to decide which of the empty seats he should switch to. "Cas!"
His head whips around at this and he looks at Dean with acute curiosity, before Dean sees what could possibly be a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'll stay here then." And Dean isn't sure why that's so exciting to him; maybe it's because he's been hanging out with the same group of people for three years and Castiel is new and intriguing – or maybe it's just because he chose Dean over Michael. Which Dean is still perplexed by because he saw Castiel having lunch at Michael's table and they were all cooing over the fresh meat they'd been handed.
Physics passes pleasantly, but it goes by in a blur similar to the one that Dean experienced in Cas' room yesterday. He feels closer to Castiel than he should already, and he's not really sure if they can constitute as friends yet or if he should be wary of how easy it is to be around Cas. So he does what he'd planned to do, and keeps his distance after that. Cas still sits next to him every time they have physics, but Dean doesn't see him much at any other point in the day, unless he runs into him in the dorm kitchen or there's a house meeting.
Then Dean starts to notice that the reason he never sees Castiel around isn't because he's been adopted by the obnoxious, rich kids – it's because he keeps to himself so much. It's not as though he's unpopular; anyone will talk to him and Dean hasn't gotten wind of anybody bad-mouthing him, but he just doesn't think Castiel has many friends – if any. Dean never sees him in any of the common rooms, and the times that he's seen Cas at lunch he's usually sitting by himself.
This leads Dean to decide that Cas probably won't drop him anytime soon, so he makes the short walk to his room and knocks on the door before letting himself in. Cas is sitting at his desk and bent over a textbook with sheets of paper strewn everywhere. He's wearing track shorts and an old t-shirt that's sticking to his skin with sweat, and it occurs to Dean that Cas must have signed up for cross country, explaining why he drops off the face of the earth after school most days.
"Dean?" He turns around in his chair and stares quizzically at Dean, his hair damp and a little flat compared its usual bedhead glory. Dean realises that he's still hovering in the doorway, so steps inside and sits on the edge of Cas' bed.
"You're a runner?" He asks, because somehow he feels as though it would be rude to open the conversation with why don't you have any friends.
Castiel nods and shifts his chair to face Dean. "I've always been fast I guess, and I find it calming." He just shrugs, and waits expectantly for Dean to announce what he'd come here for.
"So uh, how are you settling in?" Dean watches Castiel blink a few times before he subconsciously pouts ever so slightly as he thinks about it.
"Fine, I guess." He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, inspecting Dean with considerably more interest now. "You want to know who my friends are, don't you?"
Dean prays that he isn't blushing, but he can feel his cheeks and ears heating up because he sounds like a gossiping pre-teen girl at a sleepover. So he tries to play it off with a laugh that comes out mechanic and forced. "Sure, who are you hanging out with?"
"Nobody, really." Dean wonders how he can be so nonchalant about it – as if it he really couldn't care less. And maybe Dean would accept that and move on, except he's seen Cas when he thinks nobody is looking. Sometimes Dean will go to the library to print an essay off at the last minute, and he'll catch a glimpse of Castiel huddled in a nook between shelves, curled in on himself as he creates this distance between him and the rest of the world. He does a good job of making it look like he doesn't need anybody but his own company, but Dean doesn't believe it for a minute. He knows it's not real because he used the very same mask when he first came here, when he wasn't used to being so far away from Sam for such a long time. Dean can see quite well just how lonely Cas is, and it resonates within him, itches in the back of his mind even when he's thinking about anythingbut Castiel.
But just because he knows these things doesn't mean he's about to have a heart-to-heart with Cas about them. It would make things awkward for the both of them, and Dean's not here to make some mushy speech about what Cas is holding back. So he just asks why instead.
"I've never really been good at making new friends – my social skills are kind of dreadful." Cas won't even look at Dean now; he's glaring at the floor and gives off the impression that he's irritated with himself. And Jesus Christ, Dean feels like he's looking at a lost puppy that's just been kicked, and yet again he gets a dose of word-vomit.
"Well we're friends, right?"
Castiel is frozen for a moment, his mouth parted in shock and his eyes wide. But then he breaks out into a smile and nods at Dean, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah – yeah I guess we are."