And here we have it: Chapter Two.
Enjoy
The next few days went by fairly well for Cas. None of his classes seemed to be too terribly bad, at least so far, and he'd managed not to make a fool of himself yet. Things were definitely looking up for him, which made the grin on his face almost permanent.
That is, until about 3 weeks into the semester, when everything went to hell in a hand basket. Professor Winchester, Dean, had administered a pop quiz. If there was one thing Cas couldn't do, it was surprises, especially bad ones.
The panic set in at full capacity as soon as the paper reached his desk. It was only 5 questions he could do this.
1. Answer…Double check. Correct.
2. Answer…Double check. Correct.
3. Answer…Double check. Correct.
4. Answer…Double check. Correct.
5. …
Cas blinked. He was almost done. This was the last question. He could this.
5. …
He vigorously worked the problem out, all the while praying that this wouldn't ruin the good mood he'd had going. It wasn't fair, really, how much one little thing could alter his mood, how much different he was as a person depending on said mood.
He got his answer. He double checked it
Wrong.
He got another answer. He double checked it.
Wrong.
Frustration and anxiety overpowered him. He could understand why it wasn't working. It was a simple problem. It was supposed to be easy.
Answer…Double check. Wrong. Shit.
"I don't understand why it's not fucking working!"
The room went deathly quiet. Had he actually said that out loud?
"Castiel? May I speak with you outside please?"
The entire room snickered.
Yes. Yes he had, in fact, said it out loud.
He waited just outside the door for Cas to get through the rows of backpacks and reach the door.
"Cas—" Dean started when he'd arrived.
"I'm so sorry, Professor Winchester. It'll never happen again. I got so frustrated and I—"
Dean grasped his shoulders to get him to calm down and focus. "Castiel. Breath."
He watched his student draw in deep breaths and exhale them slowly. His groined tightened. Dean couldn't help but notice how truly beautiful his student was. The breathing seemed to work, though the harried, scared look in Cas's large blue eyes didn't leave.
Dean started again, "Cas, if you don't understand the material, we can certainly find you a tutor, or I can spend some extra time with you myself, alright?"
Cas swallowed dryly. As glorious as spending extra time with this particular professor sounded, he understood the material very well was not an adept liar. He simply hated having to tell his teachers. They always thought he was faking it and didn't care, if they even noticed in the first place. The teachers who did know looked at him with pity in their eyes. Cas hated being pitied.
"I'm…I'm not comfortable speaking about it here. May we…speak later?"
Dean nodded, surprised. This boy's maturity was beyond his years. Whatever the problem was, he more than earned Dean's time. "Yes, of course."
They agreed to meet around 5:30, after both of their classes had ended for the day. Cas was nervous. Of course, he was often nervous when talking with professors, but there was something about Professor Winchester….Dean, that had his pulse rate higher than usual and his palms sweaty.
Castiel was standing in the doorway to Dean's office holding two coffees when the professor looked up from his desk and smiled warmly.
Cas blushed, then attempted to cover, talking a mile a minute. "I, uh, I brought you coffee, I didn't know what you liked though, so I just got a regular coffee." He set the two cups on the desk. "So I also got you cream and sugar. It's from the shop down the street, I hope that's okay. It's my favorite place, and I wanted to thank you so—"
"Cas," Dean stopped him. And he thought he'd never hear a sweeter sound. Apparently, he was feeling poetic. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful."
Dean motioned for him to sit down. He did, and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was Cas who spoke first.
"The official diagnosis is Bipolar Disorder with delusional tendencies and a pre-disposition to addiction." He paused for a moment. Then, "It's not as bad as it sounds, truly. I don't have auditory or visual hallucinations. I do not have multiple personalities. Though it does seem that way sometimes, I suppose. I was diagnosed four years ago. The medications I take keep me stable, but every day is different. I can identify my triggers more easily than I used to be able to. My moods still fluctuate, but it's not as bad as it used to be, I assure you. The reason I am retaking this class is because I hit a bad spot and I woke up early one Tuesday morning in hospital. They transported me to a facility, where I subsequently missed a week of classes. I plan to finish this semester with no…slip-ups, though I'm sure you understand that I can't exactly plan this sort of thing."
When he'd finished his speech of sorts, Dean simply took a long pull of his coffee, set it back down, and looked back at him. Cas started to panic. Had he said too much? Was he going to be kicked out of the class? Was it all over for him at this school?
"I'm gay."
Cas's jaw dropped. "Um…?"
Dean shrugged. "You're bipolar. I'm gay. And I think the jock that sits in the front has crabs." He grinned. "What I'm saying is it doesn't matter."
Staying silent, Cas quickly finished his coffee. "It doesn't?"
"Nope. Not at all."
"But…I disrupted class today…"
"So?" Dean responded. "It happens. One time in high school, I feel asleep in class and my friend thought it would be funny if he pushed me over. I landed on the floor with a scream. At least your disruption was related to the material."
Cas literally couldn't believe he was having this conversation. At this point, his teachers usually dismissed him, or lectured him on the value of education, or recommended a good therapist. But then, Dean wasn't usual, that much was clear.
"Tell me about your delusions. You said they're different from hallucinations?" Dean smiled again. "Good to know I'm not going to enter my classroom or office to find you salting all the entrances to ward off demons."
The sudden change of subject surprised him a little, but he bounced back quickly and laughed at the joke, even if it was a rather pathetic one. "Um. Yeah. It's more like…I love to read, but I have to be careful. Because if I get really into the book, then I forget that…the book's world isn't real. And I lose reality. And then…it just…goes from there."
"Doesn't everyone do that?"
Cas smirked at the thought. "Yes, I suppose."
They fell into a companionable silence yet again. To be honest, it made Cas feel much better. It was rare that he felt comfortable in a shared silence.
This time, Dean broke the silence. "To die to sleep,/To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub,/For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,/When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,/Must give us pause."
Cas froze, then murmured, "Hamlet. Act 3. Scene 1."
"Yes," Dean smiled. He truly liked Cas. Probably more than a teacher should like a student, but that didn't matter right now. So he continued. "It's alright, Cas. Even Hamlet, one of the greatest literary characters of all time, went through down spells." He reached across the desk and squeezed Cas's hand. It was cold. "The important part is that you make it through them."
They spent the next hour or so discussing…everything. It was the first time that Cas had really felt that it was okay to open up to someone. He felt as though he'd actually made a friend. It was comforting to know that someone cared about whether he was up or down. At the end of the meeting, which had lasted much longer than either expected, they shook hands and said their goodbyes.
At the door, Cas turned back towards his teach nervously. "Could we…maybe…meet again? It's very nice to have someone that I can confide in."
Dean smiled, which he seemed to be doing a lot of tonight, "Of course. I'll check my schedule and we'll set up a time."
Cas walked to his car feeling very hopeful, a warm feeling spreading through his body.
Dean half-ran to his car, excited to get home and do some research. He wanted to understand more about his favorite student.