Disclaimer - I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters, unfortunately. Thank you for reading!
Dean settled into a chair near the back of the auditorium, a good twenty minutes late on the first day of class. Shit. Not that he was ever particularly concerned about making a good impression – he was only here because it was the same thing his father did after he graduated high school. Four years at State University and he could get his Mechanical Engineering degree and settle down somewhere. Like father like son, or something like that.
The World History professor hadn't noticed Dean step in late, but he would still have to ask for a syllabus, which had been passed out before he got there. He settled in to listen to an hour lecture on why World History 101 was the most important class he would take here from a very cocky looking professor. Seemed like the type that thought he was hilarious – but was more irritating than anything. How would he survive another semester listening to this guy?
A syllabus appeared on his desk. Dean looked up, finding himself eye to eye with the teacher's assistant, who could only be a few years older than him but held a millennium in his dark blue eyes.
"Thanks."
"It's my job to help Professor Balthazar's students succeed in class. It is no issue."
"Well, thanks anyways. Can you not tell him I was late today?"
"Of course. I won't mention anything to Balthazar."
"Awesome. I'm Dean, by the way."
"Castiel. I should go – Balthazar will notice where I've gone."
"Right. Nice meeting you."
"Goddamnit." Dean groaned, pushing the quiz to the corner of his desk. It was two weeks in and he was already flunking History class. He just wanted to get his degree and get out – why did he have to know whatever the fuck the 'Neolithic Revolution' was. It probably didn't help that instead of taking notes he stared angrily at a smudge at the chalkboard for the rest of the hour.
"Class dismissed. Remember to read chapter six for next Monday!" Professor Balthazar switched off the projector and Dean started packing his untouched note-taking supplies in his backpack. He didn't even notice the person walking up to him until they were right next to his face.
"I could assist you, if you wanted. With the, uh, studying."
"Hey Cas. Yeah, that'd be great actually I kinda need it. Clearly." He gestured to the bright red 'F' at the top of his page. Dean had only talked to the TA once or twice since their first meeting, but liked the dude. It was funny how close he was with Professor Balthazar though – they seemed like complete opposites.
"There's a coffee shop on Main Street where I go sometimes. I'll give you the address." The TA bent over and scrawled the street and number on the open page of Dean's notebook. His handwriting was cursive, each stroke quick and studied to perfection.
"Thanks. Are you free for later today? I don't get any of this shit – we should start sooner rather than later."
"I should be done with Balthazar around five. I could meet you after that."
"Awesome. How much do you charge per session?"
"Charge? No, I'm happy to help for free."
"Wow. Thanks, man. I'll see you around five then. Later." Dean shoved his notebook into his bag, waving to Cas as he walked out of the double doors at the top of the room, a few feet behind his seat.
Castiel felt Balthazar come up behind him. "Who's the boy?"
"He's one of your students."
"I'm aware. You seem to have taken an interest in him. Did I overhear something about getting coffee with him? You know University rules about teachers and students –"
"I'm a teacher's assistant Balthazar. And it's nothing like that. I'm helping him study. He's been struggling in your class."
"All of my students struggle, Cas – I do not intend to have my course be an easy one. Now why are you taking an interest in this particular boy?"
"What are you trying to imply, Balthazar?"
"Nothing. Only that you seem to like him in a way I haven't seen Castiel like anyone before. And I've known you a long time."
"Is there something you want me to do or would you rather the university pay us to chat all day?"
"Oh I don't care. Not exactly my money, is it? You know what, why don't you go home early. There isn't much work to be done around here. Go get ready for your date."
"It isn't a date." Cas mumbled as he pulled on his raincoat, throwing his hands in his pockets.
"Of course not."
He threw the door shut behind him, trying to ignore the truth behind the professor's words. No, he didn't like Dean like that. He was just a student who needed help. A very attractive student – not that Castiel noticed that sort of thing.
"So cuneiform was the first written language and developed in Mesopotamia and was based on pictures?"
"Yes, pictographs. It was also the language that the oldest known literary work was written in – the Epic of Gilgamesh."
"Right. Cool. Got it." Dean rubbed his forehead and glared at his notes. It was so much stuff to take in. Although, talking it over with Cas seemed to be helping him.
"Dean, I get the impression you dislike history."
"Yeah, well I don't understand why I need to learn so much crap stories about thousands of years ago."
"Why do you think I want to study history for the rest of my life, Dean?"
"I don't know. You're good at it?"
Cas shook his head lightly. "It's often forgotten that these are human stories. That the things we're learning about, these are the highlights, the first steps of civilization reaching what it is today. And we think of these people like stories and legends but they were just people asking the same questions we are, but in Babylon instead of Iowa and Cuneiform instead of English. They were all just people, Dean. People who created us, who created every basic form of anything we have."
"I never really thought of it that way. I guess history can be pretty epic when you say it like that, Cas."
"Isn't it?"
Dean smiled crookedly at Cas, who had started picking at the spine of the class's assigned textbook absentmindedly.
"I'm going to get more coffee. Want anything?" He walked towards the counter, snapping his tutor out of his reverie.
"Black coffee. Small, please." Castiel watched the student hand the cashier a few bills and order for himself as well. There was something different about Dean, he thought. What that was, he couldn't quite identify. Perhaps Balthazar was right. Perhaps this was what romantic or sexual attraction was like. Castiel had never really had that with anyone – except maybe the odd character in a book or television show – but never with a person. Although he knew Dean wouldn't view him that way. Dean saw him as a TA, a tutor, an acquaintance – that's it. Right?
He passed the small black coffee to Cas and sat back down across from him. His fingers wrapped around the base of his cup, shooting warmth into his hands. He took his black too – although he was surprised that Cas did. The TA seemed like he would drink something more cultured – like some sort of espresso or latte. Not a cup of mediocre dark roast like Dean, who grew up on diner food and Sunday cartoons. No, Cas was all classic novels and history and suits with a raincoat and obscure European movies with subtitles, even though he probably was fluent and didn't even need them. Cas wasn't crappy black coffee – he was so much more than that. He was so much more than Dean, he thought, who could only claim to have a great car and awesome taste in music – that was it.
Castiel sipped his coffee for a few minutes, their comfortable silence buffered by the hum of conversations around them. He glanced away from Dean for a moment, realizing he had been staring too long – just in time to see the bus pass. The last bus available that night – Castiel's only way back to his apartment, except walking, but it was almost five miles from here, not to mention it was almost 10pm. The TA sighed, resigned to walking home in the dark and the rain. Maybe he could draw out some time sipping coffee, to wait out the storm, although it might be a while and the night would only drag on until it was dangerously late.
"Something wrong?"
"I missed the bus." Cas frowned, staring at the empty bus stop.
"Sorry man, that sucks. I can give you a ride, if you need one."
"No, I can wait here for..."
"It's fine, Cas, really. I'm not gonna make you wait here until the morning shift starts. I don't even know if this place is open that late. C'mon." Dean gestured for Cas to get up and waited as he shoved the textbook in his messenger bag and pulled on his trenchcoat.
They half-ran, careful not to slip on the slick pavement, towards Dean's car – a classic black Impala, which, when Dean turned on the ignition, roared to life, with the tape player blasting Back in Black.
"Alright, where to, Cas?"