Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket about thirty minutes into Professor Singer's lecture on engine repair for a 1980 Pinto.

He didn't hesitate to reach down and start fishing it out; anyone who had the number knew his class schedule and wouldn't message unless it were important. Another glance at the clock to make sure, and- Yeah, Cas would have just gotten home from his classes, which meant something must have gone wrong. Given how rarely Cas texted, it was probably something urgent or very, very important. (If that prompted him to speed up his extrication of his phone, it was only because of the Cow. He didn't speed up, though, so it didn't matter.)

By the time he'd gotten it out - he wasn't worried, just efficient - worst case scenarios were running through his head. Something had gone wrong with Samantha, his dad had stopped by again and found out, something had gone wrong with Ca-

Did Sam eat?

Dean rolled his eyes and set his phone on his desk. So much for an emergency. He grabbed his pen and went back to taking notes.

His phone buzzed again, vibrating against the wood grain of the desk. He flipped it over.

Dean?

Another buzz.

Did she eat?

Another.

Dean?

He snatched up the phone before it could go off again, resting it on his knee and typing out an awkward, one-handed yeah while still trying to pay attention to the lecture, taking a good three tries to find and press the send button. He set it down on his notebook and picked up his pen again.

The pen was discarded two seconds later when his phone buzzed again. Did you eat?

Another short foray into texting yielded the very informative: yeah.

Cas typed and sent the next message within seconds. Really?

Yeah. Grudgingly, Dean looked down long enough to send a second message: you said to.

What did you eat, Dean?

Dean looked over at the professor long enough to make sure he wouldn't miss too much of the lecture, then took the phone in both hands. Dude, I'm in a lecture.

Cas didn't write back.

Dean went back to paying attention to the lecture. (He absolutely, completely stayed focused on the lesson. He did not keep looking over at his phone and waiting for a text. He did end up breaking the awkward texting silence with food … just to be civil, of course.)

You didn't eat, did you?

Dean dropped the pen again - dammit, Cas, he'd only just picked it up - and grabbed his phone. I raided the damn cereal, okay, drop it. He paused for a minute, in which he did not start feeling bad about snapping and also did not get at all worried (Was that enough? Did Cas buy it?). He added more - we're outta bacon... should add it to the shopping list - out of practicality, that was all.

Why didn't you say that the first time? A second text came in just after: You always add stuff that we don't have to the list, Dean. That's counter-intuitive; I go looking for it and can't find it."

It took him until he'd typed out the first response - lecture, Cas, Singers a hardass - to process the second. (And he did not smile. Pesky allergies.) Yeah, Cas, point of a shopping list.

Did you pack lunch?

Nope

Why not?

Dean jotted down a few notes into his notebook before turning back to his phone. I'm out in a few hours. Be fine till then. We need bread too .

Cas fell silent, and Dean was glad for the peace to focus on the lecture. (He wasn't worried at all. He did not keep flicking the phone screen on and off. And while he did take notes, he did not also type, erase, and then retype a few messages.)

He certainly didn't snatch up the phone again the second it buzzed, either. Dean, I'm bringing you food.

He also didn't shake his head vigorously while forgetting Cas couldn't see him. Im fine. A pause, in which Cas didn't answer (and he was not staring at the phone to be sure). Singers done in an hour.

You have another class today, Dean.

Shurleys an elective class

No answer (and Dean was not too impatient to wait for one; he just didn't want to be rude).

Shouldnt even be in writing, I suck at it

Still no answer (still not impatient).

Least engineering makes sense.

It took another five minutes for Cas to message back. You're a good writer, Dean. I've read your essays.

At least Cas had forgotten his damn-foolish idea of going back to the campus he'd just left to bring in a lunch. Essays, Cas. Not creative writing.

It was still good writing.

Nope

Except maybe he'd spoken too soon, because: On my way.

Cas, you dont have to

No answer.

Dont worry about it

Still no answer.

I'm fine

No answer (not impatient).

Cas?

Dean couldn't hold back a - frustrated. Frustrated. Not endeared - sigh as he dropped the phone back onto his desk, picked up his pen, and jotted down another note.