Castiel wasn't used to being late. He wasn't used to being on time, really, either. He was used to being ten to fifteen minutes early and fidgeting in chairs because the room was empty because even professors usually arrive only five minutes before their class is supposed to start (especially if it's right after lunch). So bumping into some poor guy on the sidewalk was just icing on the shitty cake that had become this Thursday. He had barely had time to apologize and run off, never mind greet and/or talk to what was obviously a fellow student. Chuck was always saying that Castiel should get out more, make more friends. And while Castiel certainly agreed, it was much easier said than done.
And it was raining. Usually, Castiel liked the rain (as much as anyone who is mostly prepared for it can). But today the rain seemed like a last fuck-you from some vengeful God. Castiel took a few moments to compose himself as best he could before he stepped into the classroom. It was a fairly small college, so even the bigger classes only had at most a couple hundred students. The one he was about to walk into had, on a good day, around ten. It was a higher-up grammar class. Most people didn't make it, simply because they couldn't be bothered to take the classes leading up.
He smoothed his hair down and brushed some of the rumples out of his jacket before opening the door, expecting a few pairs of eyes to turn towards him. He got an empty classroom, with the rain pattering gently on the windows across from him.
Frantically he pulled out his phone, re-mussing his hair as he scrolled through his email. Which is actually what he had been trying to do when he ran into that guy outside; this professor had a habit of canceling class after lunch and taking a long weekend. He usually sent an email, or, if Castiel had been his usual on-time (that is, fifteen minutes early) he could have caught him just as he was leaving.
Instead, he found the email in his spam folder, buried under several perplexing offers for some sort of enlargement he didn't really want to think about right now. "Snow up on the mountains," wrote the professor. "Taking a long weekend. Leaving after lunch. Study hard, kids."
Castiel really didn't like this guy that much.
Slump-shouldered and just as (if not more) disheveled as before, Castiel morosely made his way towards the courtyard he'd come from. Pretty much all the buildings had at least one door that opened onto it, and it was the main rest stop for people either visiting or taking a lunch break or just killing time between classes. Since it was raining, and most people had seemingly decided to take long weekends (whether their professors had decided the same or not), the courtyard was empty.
Well, almost empty. There was one guy just kind of wandering around, peering into doorways and tracing stones and not really looking like he had any purpose at all. His short hair was plastered to his head, and he didn't have a hood on his jacket (which was leather, and rather cracked at that). His jeans were stained with some dark stuff, probably ink. He looked a lot like an art student, from what Castiel saw around campus. Art students tended to look tired (check), have colorful and/or black stains on their pants and shirts (check), and have a sort of artsy/punky/weirdly intimidating aura about them (triple check). These factors, plus the whole Castiel-bumping-into-him-on-the-way-to-class thing that happened not five minutes ago, made Cas really want to just pull up his collar and fast-walk past the guy.
He tried. Honest, he did. It's just that Castiel was never the best fast-walker and the guy sort of got in his way while he was fumbling around with his collar. It was totally the guy's fault this time when Castiel walked into him. Should've been looking where he was going.
"Oh, geez," Castiel sputtered, grabbing onto the guy's shoulders to steady himself and then quickly letting go and blushing for some reason. (You idiot.)
Thankfully, the guy laughed. "You again? I'm starting to think you really like me." He looked Castiel up and down, expression thoughtful, before sticking out his hand. "Dean. Soon-to-be-student. Do you go here?"
(Don't do anything stupid, Castiel. This guy is really nice and his name is Dean and you've always liked Deans. Don't do anything stupid.)
"I'm Castiel," Castiel said, shaking Dean's hand. (It was calloused and warm and slightly damp from the rain.) "Yeah, I go here. Class was canceled, though. I can show you around, if you want."
Dean let go of Castiel's hand and crossed his arms, looking around him for a few seconds before shrugging. "Naw, I think I've seen most of what there is to see. I can check the rest of the place out when I know I'm actually coming here. Also, dude, you said when you bumped into me the first time that you had to take the bus. I have a car, if you need a ride."
Castiel felt like falling to his knees and kissing Dean's shoes. For the absolute piece of shit this day started out as, it was really turning out to be something a lot better. Like a nice watch encased in shit. And the shit was being washed off by rain.
"I would love a ride, Dean."
