wow okay I'll try to keep this short but basically I love you guys for reviewing and alerting and faving and shit I totally wasn't expecting the amount of feedback that I got

this chapter may or may not be a little confusing at some points to someone who isn't me idk I haven't had anyone else read it or anything so let me know about that

okay

Chapter 2

"Is he drunk?" Dean practically yells at Sam later that night. They're seated at one of the cafeteria's circular dining tables eating what has to be the best meal Dean has had in a long time. Not that he's in any mood to appreciate that.

"Dean, shhh!" Sam whispers frantically, looking over his shoulder. They're referring to Sam's roommate, Ash, who just moments before had excused himself to go to the "little boys room," stumbling several times on his way.

"I'm fucking serious, Sam," Dean continues, quieter this time. "Is your roommate intoxicated? Yes or no." Sam hesitates before answering.

"Yes," he finally says.

"Sam, that's not okay. You're in the fucking ninth grade, you shouldn't be getting drunk."

"I'm not drunk! If I were, you'd be able to tell." Sam protests. And while Dean can't argue with that—Sam had gotten drunk off one of their dad's beers once while Dean wasn't watching him and he's such a lightweight his face was red for like three hours—he still can't help but feel like there's something really messed up about the whole situation. He's supposed to protect Sam, to make sure he doesn't get hurt. How can he do that if they're not living together, don't have any classes together, and Sam's roommate is a perpetual drunk?

"Do you know how much trouble you could get into if you got caught with alcohol in your room? This is a Catholic school for God's sake. I'm turning in that paperwork to get you switched out of there ASAP," Dean says. To be honest, he's a little bit glad that this happened. He felt weird not being in the same room as Sam and now he has an actual reason to get them switched. Even if Ash does get expelled in the process.

"Dean you can't do this. I like Ash, okay?" Sam says earnestly. "He's cool, he's funny, and he's the first real friend I've had in a while." Dean can't help but think of Castiel when Sam says it. "So what if he's irresponsible? He's like, a genius, he knows what he's doing and he's not going to get caught. Dean, you gotta let me make my own decisions. Just this once." Sam utilizes his all-too-effective puppy face and Dean feels his resolve weaken almost immediately.

"We are not having this discussion," Dean finally says, and though part of him feels bad for it, he doesn't let it show. Sam spends the rest of dinner sulking into his mashed potatoes. Ash never comes back from the bathroom.

As Dean lays in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the quiet sound of Castiel's breath, he replays his and Sam's discussion over and over again in his head.

He wants Sam to have friends, he really does. He wants Sam to be able to be his own person, to grow and make mistakes and learn from them. God knows Dean did when he was Sam's age. But he's fourteen years old and Dean's still his big brother, and he wants to protect him from everything even though he knows that he can't. He doesn't know where to draw the line between "overprotective" and "actual good judgment call." And he doesn't want Sam to hate him, which he definitely would if he got Sam's only friend expelled.

In the end, Dean decides to fill out the housing appeal just in case, thinking he can always turn it in later if the worst should happen. He fills out his name, Sam's name, his grade, and his room number, but when he gets to "reason for change," he puts the pen down with a sigh. He needs to make up a fabricated reason for the change, one that will ensure immediate approval without getting anyone in trouble. Finally, he comes up with one. One involving Castiel.

With every word Dean writes on the little slip of paper he hates himself a little bit more. He feels dirty and wicked and guilty as hell, but he does it because he thinks he has to. He tells himself he's doing it to protect Sam, to pull him out of harm's reach if he ever teeters too close. But some basic part of Dean knows that he fills out that paper for his own goddamn self. Because he needs to be close to Sam, he needs the familiarity of his brother because the kid is all he's got. Because if he's not looking after Sam then what the hell is his life for? And because he's scared of Castiel, of what Dean's confided in him already, and of the way Castiel looks at Dean, and of the way it makes Dean feel.

So he fills out the form and puts it in the bottom of his suitcase "just in case" he tells himself, and he goes to bed and tries to sleep despite the guilt twisting his stomach and Castiel's face, soft and concerned, floating in the darkness of his mind.

When Dean wakes up the next morning, Castiel is already dressed and studying at his desk.

"Morning," he says roughly as Dean gets out of bed. Dean grunts in response. Castiel gestures to a pile of clothes on Dean's desk. "Sister Ellen brought those over this morning. It's your school uniform." Dean picks up the clothes and rushes to the bathroom to shower and change because he can't stand being in the same room as Castiel right now, which is a problem since they live together. He wonders, as he showers, just how long that housing appeal is going to have to sit at the bottom of his suitcase before he can look his roommate in the eye again. Eventually though, his mind moves on to other things, like how nervous he is for the first day of class, and how much he doesn't want to go to church even for ten minutes, and how stupid he looks in his uniform of khaki pants, white button-down shirt, navy blue blazer and blue and grey-striped tie. And how he doesn't know how to tie a tie.

When Dean walks out of the bathroom, hair wet and tie slung awkwardly around his neck, (he never really learned how to tie one, and actually can't remember wearing one in his life) well, there's really not much he can do when Castiel offers to tie it for him. So he stands there, looking everywhere but Castiel's face as the boy's slender fingers swiftly and expertly secure the tie around Dean's neck. Dean manages a flustered, "thanks," and then he darts out the door as quickly as possible and tries to focus his mind on something, anything else.

It's Monday, so Dean makes his way to the little chapel in which Mass is held, slipping into the steady flow of students doing the same. No one seems to notice him, which he appreciates. He realizes after a few minutes that in his rush to leave the dorm he forgot his coat in his suitcase and all of a sudden he's fucking cold. But it's too late to go back and get it now so he keeps walking, wrapping his arms around his chest and thinking that if there is a God, somehow the ancient looking stone chapel will have central heating.

Dean's only been to church a couple of times before in all his life, and he's never been to a Catholic mass before so he's not sure what to expect. He picks a seat near the back of the chapel next to a boy about his age. After a few minutes of sitting in silence waiting for the service to begin, Dean pulls out his phone and composes a message to Sam.

"I'm going to give you a chance living with Ash," it says. "But the first reason either of you gives me to change that, I'm turning the housing appeal in. it's all filled out and ready to go. Bitch. "

"You might wanna put that away," the boy next to him whispers once the message is sent. Dean puts the phone on silent and slides it back into his pocket. "I've seen kids get caught texting in here before and it ain't pretty," the boy says, holding out his hand to Dean. Dean shakes it, keeping his gaze trained on the front of the church (which he thinks is called the altar but he's not exactly sure) because the mass is starting and he wants to at least look like he's paying attention. "I'm Gordon," the boy says.

"Dean," Dean whispers.

"You new here, Dean?" Dean just nods in response and when he doesn't elaborate, Gordon doesn't ask him to. "You a senior?" he says.

"Yeah."

"Cool, me too." Up at the altar the ancient, hunchy priest is muttering something about salvation but Dean really doesn't care to listen.

"The priest looks like he's about to keel over up there," Dean comments, realizing after he says it that he probably shouldn't have. It's difficult to remember sometimes that not everyone here is a morbid heathen like him and sooner or later he's bound to offend someone. Luckily, Gordon laughs. Though it's hushed, it's a hearty, genuine sound, and Dean thinks he could learn to like this kid, even if he does give off a sort of bossy, superior vibe.

"Yeah, Father O'Connor's been on the brink of life and 'eternal salvation' for as long as I can remember. The fact that he's still even breathing by this point makes me more inclined to believe in divine intervention than anything he's ever said up there."

A short, stout nun with flat blonde hair shushes them, so they don't say much for the rest of the short service. When it's over, Gordon invites Dean to come sit with his friends at breakfast but Dean declines, saying he wants to find his brother. Dean can't remember ever eating breakfast without Sam, and he doesn't plan on starting now.

But it's Sam that finds Dean. On his way out of the chapel he feels a soft punch on the back of his shoulder and turns around to see his brother, Ash in tow. "I got your text. Jerk," Sam says, and there's a huge smile on his face and Ash looks just as sober as anyone. As they walk to the cafeteria together, Dean is almost certain he's made the right choice in giving Sam a chance with his roommate.

At breakfast Dean gets to know Ash a little bit better. Turns out Sam wasn't lying—the kid is a genius. He goes to Our Lady of the Stars because he wants to, because it's the best high school in the area and he thinks it'll prepare him for MIT, where he wants to study computer programming. He's clearly a motivated kid, and despite his tendency to disregard all rules and laws he finds idiotic, which is most of them, Dean has to say he thinks that, for now at least, Ash will be more of a positive influence on his brother than a negative one. Sam seems to sense this, and he eats his Lucky Charms with a smug "I-told-you-so" grin.

Dean keeps looking for Castiel the whole meal but he never does see him.

When Dean walks into his first period class, U.S History, he notices Gordon sitting toward the back. There's an empty seat next to him so Dean takes it.

"Hey, Dean," Gordon says. He introduces Dean to his friends in nearby seats and Dean doesn't remember a single one of their names. Sam has always been good with names somehow but Dean, not so much. He usually just doesn't see the point—he's just going to move away soon anyway and he'll be given a whole new list of names to not learn. Maybe this time he'll make an effort. Just not today. "Dean just moved here from- where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Dean says. He really doesn't mean to make it sound as rude as it comes out, so he adds, "Washington," for good measure.

"Washington the state?" Gordon asks, wide-eyed. Dean nods. "Shit man, you came a long ass way."

"Tell me about it."

"You forgot your coat," says a gruff, unmistakable voice and Dean turns around to see Castiel standing right behind him, holding said coat with a curious expression on his face that Dean can't decipher. He does know that whatever the expression is, the emotions behind it are totally fucked and there's that goddamn guilt again in an overpowering wave that makes Dean's teeth hurt. Before Dean can thank him for bringing his coat, Castiel wordlessly drops it on his desk and walks stiffly to an empty seat near the front of the classroom.

Dean takes less than a second to ponder why Castiel is being so cold before realization hits him like a semi. Dean's coat had been left in his suitcase. Right on top of his housing appeal. Castiel must have read it, he must have read what Dean wrote about him, and Jesus Christ earlier that morning Dean would have told anyone that it wasn't possible to make him feel any more guilty, and he would have been dead wrong. He wants to throw up.

"You alright Dean?" Gordon says, and the words seem to be coming from miles away. "You look like you just walked in on your parents having sex or something." Dean manages a smile but he knows it's weak.

"I'm fine," he says, glaring at the back of Castiel's head.

"Dude, why did he have your coat?" asks one of Gordon's friends.

"We're roommates. Why, do you know him?"

Gordon and his friends let out a collective "Awww, dude!" in a way that makes it sound like Dean just confessed to faceplanting in dog shit rather than having Castiel as a roommate.

"I'm so sorry, man," Gordon says. Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asks. Dean knows Castiel is a bit on the weird side but he can't imagine what about him could be so bad that this many people seem to be unanimously sympathetic.

"Dude's a total faggot!" Gordon explains, and Dean's desire to throw up while simultaneously ceasing to exist intensifies. "I'm surprised they keep sticking guys in his room." Dean doesn't say anything, just turns around and faces the front, face pale and stomach twisting because that's exactly what he wrote on the stupid fucking paper and it's actually true and Castiel saw it.

"Unwanted advances," Dean had written. "Roommate made unwanted advances on me." It was a lie and they both knew it. Dean's not a homophobe. He doesn't give one single fuck if Castiel is gay. He just wrote it because he thought the administration at Our Lady of the Right-Wing Shitheads would care enough to change his room. But now he thinks back to what Gordon said, that he was "surprised they keep sticking guys in his room," and oh god this had probably happened to him before. And Castiel had been so understanding and so different from anyone Dean had ever talked to and he'd gone and fucked everything up and if Dean is this upset what is Castiel feeling right now?

Dean doesn't pay attention to a single thing that happens in class that day. He doesn't pay attention to much that happens in any of his other classes either. Turns out he has two more classes with Gordon, in which Dean avoids him as much as possible. Gordon looks confused but makes no real attempt to communicate with him and Dean is glad.

Turns out he has one more class with Castiel, too. Religious studies, the last class of the day, taught by the prettiest nun Dean has seen at school so far. But she's still not pretty in a fuckable way, not even in an erotically innocent virgin kind of way. And Dean's too distracted by Castiel's presence in the room to give it much thought anyway.

He sits as far away from him as the four walls of the classroom permit and spends the entirety of the particularly boring class trying to figure out if there's any way at all to explain himself to Castiel without sounding like a complete douchebag. In the end he figures there's really nothing he can do but just lay it out there and hope that Castiel forgives him or at least doesn't hate him or something. When the last bell finally rings dismissing class, Dean hurries out of his seat to catch up with Castiel but in the rush of students he loses him.

With nothing else to do, Dean goes back to the dorm and gets started on what homework he managed to copy down. Dean's not really a homework type of person, and when he is, he's really more of a "midnight-of-the-morning-it's-due" kind of homework type of person. But there's too much in his head and he just wants to fill it with math problems and squeeze out all the real ones. He barely understands any of it, letters and numbers blurring before his eyes because no matter how hard he tries to think about statistics he just can't.

By the time Castiel walks quietly into the room a few hours later, Dean has managed to scribble out like a page of notes that, if he were to go back and read them, would make about as much sense to him as Mandarin Chinese.

"Hey," Castiel says, and it's quiet but pleasant enough, and Dean is confused because seriously what the hell? If Dean were him, he would have skipped the greeting altogether and just started throwing punches.

"Castiel, listen," he says, "I am so sorry."

Castiel looks even more perplexed than usual.

"Sorry for what?" he asks. And now Dean is seriously confused. Either Castiel is being horrifyingly passive-aggressive or Dean severely misinterpreted his mood earlier.

No, fuck that. He had been giving Dean a shoulder so cold that he could practically see the vapor rising off from it. Dean might be mediocre at a lot of things, but reading people isn't one of them.

"Earlier, when you gave me my coat… you weren't mad about anything?" he says uneasily.

"Oh. That. I was not mad. Not at you, at least. It's just… Gordon, he, well." Castiel sighs, like he's having trouble finding the right words. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. That is not my intention at all. But Gordon is not a good person. I would advise you to stay away from him. I… I speak from experience." And there's that pained expression again, the same one he gave Dean in History, and Dean knows that he should feel bad for Castiel but really he's just so happy that he hasn't seen the housing appeal he can barely contain himself. His lungs flood with relief.

"I know. That's what I wanted to apologize for," Dean lies. When you gave me my coat Gordon started talking about you and… God what an asshole." It's not the entire truth in that it wasn't what Dean originally apologized for, but it's not exactly a lie either. He does think Gordon is an asshole, and had he known what a douchebag the guy was he never would have talked to him.

"It's fine," Castiel says with a small, grateful smile that Dean can't help but think suits him very well. "You couldn't have known."

"Yeah but, I just. Listen, Cas, I don't want you to think I'm like Gordon. I'm not. At all. What he said about you… I'm cool with it."

"Dean, I'm not gay," Castiel says. Dean is confused all over again. He's always thought of himself as a relatively complicated person but this guy's in a whole separate ball park of complexity.

"You're not? No offense, but you totally fit the bill. I mean, what was with the whole, 'I'm not interested in girls' deal?"

Castiel sits down on his bed with a sigh.

"I'm not interested in girls," he says, sounding slightly irritated, like he's had this conversation one too many times. "But I'm not interested in guys, either. I can't be. In either. I am… to be ordained."

"Ordained?"

"As a priest," Castiel says. Dean's eyes widen.

"You're kidding me," he says. Castiel tilts his head slightly in confusion. "I mean, you just don't seem like the type. You're too, I don't know, not boring." Or ugly, Dean thinks, and he only barely manages to avoid saying it out loud.

"It is my calling," Castiel says hesitantly, and Dean wonders if maybe there's a story there that his roommate doesn't want to share, if maybe Castiel is being pushed along into this lifestyle the same way Dean's own father is carefully molding a career for him in sales. But he lets it go.

"Okay then. Not gay, celibate. Hey, whatever floats your boat. Or… doesn't float it, I guess."

"I don't have a boat," Castiel says, tilting his head again. Dean snorts.

As soon as Castiel leaves to shower, Dean tears the housing appeal to shreds and sprinkles the pieces out the window where they blow away and become lost in the snow.