This was not supposed to happen. The paint cans weren't even supposed to be able to fall off the table, seeing as they were nailed to the damn thing.
So why did he keep walking into puddles of of color and ruining his new shoes? Seriously, he just bought these yesterday. It was the first time he'd even worn them and already they were ruined.
Castiel sighs as he helps yet another 7-year-old wash paint off her face, and her dress, after another boy had jokingly cupped some in his hands and proceeded to splash it all over her. Currently, her eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks swollen, and she is whimpering because there is still paint drying on her face.
At least he's not the only one having a bad day.
Delicately he takes the young girl's small hands and holds them under the sink, so when she rubs her eyes she doesn't make them even more irritated by getting paint in them. Once all traces of color are washed off, Castiel takes a paper towel, hands it to the child, and takes another one to run under warm water while she dries off.
He bends down to her level and takes her face in the grip of his forefinger and thumb.
"Okay, Annabelle," he says gently, not wanting to surprise her. "I'm going to get the paint off of your face. Would you like that?"
The little girl nods shakily, her lower lip trembling in that heartachingly sad way that young kids have.
Castiel starts off by pressing the damp paper towel, now lukewarm, on her face and wiping some paint off. It leaves a colorful blotch on the paper towel, and he turns it over so a clean part is facing Annabelle.
He rubs again, a little harder, but not so much to hurt the young girl. Her eyes still look watery and it wouldn't help by making her cry more. He does it again, dabbs this time, and repeats the process until there is no more paint on her little face. He throws the now rainbow colored paper towel into the garbage by the sink and smiles down at her.
"Is that better?" He asks, just to make sure.
She runs a hand down her face and pulls it back to look at, expecting to see colors staining her fingers. When nothing comes back, her face breaks into a little grin, and she begins giggling.
"Y's mister Nov'k, that's much bett'r." She beams up at him.
Castiel's own face betrays a smile. He bends down again, and brings his thumb up to wipe away some stray tears.
"Good. Remember to ask your mommy to wash your beautiful dress, yes? I'd love to see you wear it again, pretty girl." He laughs when she blushes slightly and wraps her small arms around his neck.
"Th'nk you mister Nov'k." she says into his ear, warm.
"You're welcome, Annabelle." He stands up and watches her run off to start playing with her pictures again. He expects she'll need to be cleaned up again in a matter of minutes, if the way she sticks her whole hand into the can is anything to go by.
"Mr. Novak?"
Castiel turns, and finds his boss, the principal, waiting in the doorway of the room. She smiles warmly at him. Castiel's senses tell him that its a facade for something much more depressing. A side she would never show anyone but herself.
"Ms. Collins! Its good to see you. What can I do for our lovely principal?" He makes his way towards her, minding the shorter people in his pathway and being careful not to run them over.
He shakes her hand, her grip as light as it always is, and he pats her hand comfortingly. Castiel can see a more realistic smile shining through at the action, and he takes pride in that.
"Well, you see, we have hired a new seventh grade maths teacher and a new freshmen world geography teacher. They both happen to be arriving on the same day, as they are brothers," She explains carefully. Castiel can see her facade slip through slightly to the nervousness below and he grips her hand tighter. "Unfortunately, all the other teachers have classes during the period that they are supposed to be given a tour and I have had to bail because of a short notice board meeting."
"And you want me to give them a tour since that's my free period before lunch?" He asks, reading her mind.
Her face sags in relief. "Would you?" she pleads.
"Of course. It's my job to be nice to the new kids at school." He smirks when she chuckles.
"Thank you, Mr. Novak." she grins, and Castiel sees a weight has just been lifted from her shoulders.
"It's my pleasure, Ms. Collins." He watches her leave, her back turned but her heart vulnerable. It's the best thing that has happened to her all day.
Castiel walks home.
Well, by home he means his small, three bedroom, two bath apartment. Whitewashed walls and all.
Seriously, he really needs to decorate the plain living space. People might get suspicious if they visited. (That's a really big if). The only person who had ever visited was his landlord, who had only ever inspected the place for leaks or vandalism and left, not even a word about his unusual home.
He takes his time walking home, greeting each of the homeless on the corners, dropping a five dollar bill into each hat or can and telling them to go buy themselves a sandwich. He waves through the window at the small supermarket to old Mrs. Gold, and her estranged cat, Finnick. The feline prances out the sliding doors to greet Castiel, and he reaches down to scratch behind Finnick's ears, the cat purring the whole time.
He stops at the music shop to do the classic Michael Jackson moves, dancing to imaginary Billie Jean, and George, the cashier on shift at the moment, laughs at his crazy imitation. With a wink, Castiel continues on.
When he finally gets to his apartment building, he has a bright smile on his face as he strides into the front lobby. He intends to start up a friendly conversation with the front desk man, James, but the poor man seems to be involved in an argument. The yelling alerts Castiel, but when the other man pulls James over the stone counter by the front of his shirt, Castiel is by his side in the blink of an eye.
He pulls the angry customer into a death grip arm lock, with no way out. The man struggles under his strength, but is no match, so he gives up. Castiel is tight-lipped the entire time, aware of the man's companion staring daggers into the side of his head.
He reluctantly lets the man go, whom as such takes the time to rub his wrist, grumbling.
"Why are you giving this man trouble?" He asks sternly, the undertone obvious. If you start any more violence, I will do more than just put you in an arm lock.
The man in front of him doesn't answer, just continues rubbing his wrist and mumbling under his breath. Instead, his companion provides some answers.
"We're looking for an apartment. No one else has any available rooms for us, so this was our last resort," The man's companion is tall, taller than any Castiel's ever seen, and in comparison he is like an elf to this man who looks down at him as he speaks. "This place doesn't even have anything, so my brother is just mad that there isn't anywhere we can live. It looks like we'll be spending more time in a cheap motel across town."
Castiel considers this and finally looks back to the other man. He thinks for a moment, you don't even know them, but he swears he's seen them before somewhere and that makes him somehow generous. Even though this is a disastrous idea.
"I know it is short notice, but you seem like decent people, and so," He mentally slaps himself at this. "you may stay with me for the time being until you find somewhere else."
And he almost actually slaps himself because the man in front of him is suddenly turning and beaming and all he can think is oh dear lord before he's wrapped up in a bear hug. It's the most traumatizing experience in his life, because the man lifts him, lifts him, up off the ground and his feet are dangling below him as he squirms slightly.
When he is finally allowed the ground again, the man has pulled back.
And everything comes tumbling down. Because this man, this man, Castiel actually recognizes immediately and almost gasps, almost pulls a knock out punch and runs. This man.
This man.
This man is Dean Winchester, professionally trained assassin and hunter, and that's his brother, Sam Winchester, CIA hacker and also trained hunter.
Hunters.
And Castiel has a feeling of just who they're hunting.
This is such a bad day for him.
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