After sleeping more than he had in the past 6 months combined, and several likely unnecessary off-days, Dean returned to school.
"Hello, Dean." The gravelly voice seemed to materialize inches from his body.
"Jesus!" Dean exclaimed at the seemingly instantaneously forming teenager.
"No, 'Castiel'."
Dean proceeded to fix Castiel a look that could only be described as a mix of 'are you shitting me' and just plain wonder. He seemed so untouched by everything. His eyes tried to perceive all they could. Like he'd been living in a box, and wanted to see everything possible before he was shoved back in.
"Yes, I remember your name." Dean said matter-of-factly. "Where are you going?"
Castiel took out a perfectly folded paper from his pocket and proceeded to study it diligently. "It would appear I am headed to the third floor for AP American Literature II."
"Jeez," Dean answered, letting out an impressed whistle. "You aren't screwin' around, huh?"
"No, I suppose not." Castiel said, more of a question than anything else. "What class are you going to?"
"What class am I going to? Well, that's a complicated question, Cas." Dean replied, only partially aware of the nickname he'd just used.
"Why is that?" The, now, confused boy responded. Luckily, he didn't seem upset by Dean's nickname for him.
"Well, technically, I should also be headed to the third floor for English, but I'll be damned if I actually wind up there any time soon." Dean laughed.
"Pardon?" Cas asked.
So it turns out Cas' box was thicker than what Dean had anticipated.
Cas manipulated Dean to walk up the stairs with him and explain exactly what he'd meant. However, by the time he'd finally gotten Cas to understand, he found himself standing in front of his first period class, staring his teacher straight in the face.
"Son-of-a-bitch." Dean muttered under his breath.
"Sorry?" Cas said, laughing a bit to himself.
"That right there? That wasn't too shabby, Novak." Dean said, as he began an only half-sarcastic slow clap.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Cas said, mockingly.
"Yeah, yeah," he laughed. "I'll see you at lunch?" He said, inviting the boy to eat with his friends.
"Only if you take notes during your class." Cas said.
"Not a problem." Dean replied nonchalantly.
"Legible notes. Preferably written in English."
"But I'm concussed!" He whined.
"Your problem, Winchester. Not mine." Castiel walked into his classroom.
Dean didn't notice he was moving until he was sitting in his desk with his notebook out.
...
Cas sat with Dean at lunch that day. Well, it wasn't just Dean. It was a group comprised of Dean, Jo, Ruby, Ash, and Chuck. While nothing out of the ordinary happened, Dean could see Cas noting every aspect of the apparent social protocol of 21st century teenagers.
As Dean shamelessly flirted with Jo, he could've sworn he saw something happen in Cas. It was just out of the corner of his eye, sure. But he saw a brief wavering of his unending gaze. Before he could ponder it further, he continued his idle dialogue with the cute girl sitting next to him.
...
Dean was worried, and he supposed he should be. While school was a nice distraction, there was no forgetting the fact that John would be home today. Dean didn't want him back. While he wasn't exactly a perfect role model, he couldn't have his father trying to mess with Sam. He still had time, he was a good kid, and Dean would sooner commit patricide than see anything unsavory happen to his kid brother.
As Sam walked out of the high school fumbling with something in his backpack, Dean's stomach dropped. He wasn't ready to go home yet.
John might be there.
Dean saw someone beside Sam, smirking a bit. As they walked closer Dean saw who the figure was. It was his saving grace with blue eyes.
"Dean!" both boys yelled out, simultaneously.
"Hey!" Dean replied, equally as loud although they were now within hugging distance.
"How was school, Sammy?"
"Awesome!" Sam replied.
He ruffled his hair. "So what made today so 'awesome'?" Dean asked.
"Well, Castiel is in my book club last period of the day. So we talked and hung out. Funny what having a senior strike up a conversation with you will do to your social status."
Dean smiled, seeing his brother beaming like this made him almost as happy as Sam.
"God, you got Sam to make him friends? I think I'm starting to like you!"
"I think I'm starting to like you too, Dean."
It wasn't an answer that Dean would have expected, and that made it all-the-more flattering.
"It's not that I wasn't paying attention! Side conversations are allowed!" Sam was happy to fill the developing silence.
"Conversations related to the assigned subject matter are, in fact, encouraged." Cas added.
"Well, regardless, thanks so much for keeping this little guy company while I was off doing, you know, non-book related things." Dean said, clearly antsy.
After getting in the Impala and mutually waving goodbye, Dean started up the car.
"You need to hang out with him more." Sam said.
"Yeah, I do." Dean said, his fingers hopping along the steering wheel to a nonexistent song.
"So, what's wrong?" Sam asked.
The music stopped.