Chapter 5: The Life of a Poet

Sam, Kevin, and Cas are studying on the couch, and Dean is trying too hard not to stare. He is moving consistently between the kitchen and the garage, always with another excuse as to why he has to come indoors. Sam and Kevin are ignoring him for the most part; Castiel, on the other hand, cannot bring himself to focus on his studies. Calculus seems so insignificant when you have your best friend's brother and your brother's best friend sneaking glances at you as he's covered in grease and sweat from working on his car.

Sam sighs as once again Castiel has not heard a word he has said. Sam knows he is not annoyed merely because Castiel has become distracted from their schoolwork, which honestly is boring Sam out of his mind as well, he is annoyed because Cas keeps staring at Dean and Dean keeps staring at Cas and fuck all if he is not jealous. Sam knew that those two had picked each other it as soon as Dean and Cas laid eyes on one another. That first day a mere two weeks ago and still he cannot help but think- hope that- but no. It is stupid, really. It is not even that big of a crush. It is the same feeling he got when he became friends with Jo. Sam has a way of blowing minute feelings out of proportion. Sam was terrified for weeks that Jo was going to find out about his stupid crush and next thing he knew he did not even have a crush. Sam had just cared for her so much, wanted to protect her, that he got his feelings all confused. She was like a sister. He knows his situation with Cas is the same; his emotions just have not caught up with him yet.

"You know I wonder if I taped a picture of Dean to your math book if it might help you focus," Sam jokes and Castiel's face turns a deep shade of red within seconds as he turns back to the conversation. Kevin scoffs but still does not lift his eyes to the conversation in front of him.

"Sorry," Cas says, not even denying the looks he had been throwing in Dean's direction.

"It's alright dude. It's just, you do realize the exam is tomorrow, right?" Sam asks and Castiel nods his head, positioning his hand above his paper.

"I do. I just um- I mean I-"

"It's alright man, I get it," Sam laughs and Castiel blushes again. Sam feels more annoyed than hurt at the blush casting itself against Cas's features. He does not want Cas to be another one of Dean's one night stands. He is too good for that.

Sam and Dean grew up without a proper example of a healthy relationship, considering their mother had died when Sam was merely an infant. Hell, their father never even gave them a good example of familial love. The closest example they had of that was Bobby and Ellen, but at that point, they were already both beyond damaged. It made relationships difficult for both Dean and Sam. Sam got attached too quickly, and Dean rarely got attached. They were polar opposites and both a bit emotionally stupid.

Castiel and Sam fall quiet once more as they begin to focus on their studies. The only words spoken are when Sam asks Cas what answer he got for 76. Then more silence. This silence continues for a good ten minutes. Then the doors opens. "Sorry, needed to wash my hands."

"Dean that's like the fourth time you've washed your hands in the past thirty minutes."

"Well I don't wanna mess up baby's interior now, do I?" Dean asks sarcastically as he sticks his hand under the running faucet.

"Actually at this frequency, you are more likely to damage your own skin. Washing your hands too frequently is a common sign among those with OCD, and can often lead to chapped and bleeding skin," Castiel says, stopping mid-problem to interject into the conversation. When Dean turns around with a raised eyebrow Castiel blushes. "Sorry," he mutters, looking back down at his papers.

"Don't apologize Cas. I kinda like it when you talk nerdy. Gives you character," Dean says, winking at Castiel as he walks out the door.

"Oh my God when are you two just gonna make out and get it over with," Kevin huffs as he looks up from his homework for the first time in the last hour. Complete and utter annoyance gracing his features. "At this rate, you won't even have half of your homework done by the time we go meet everyone else. Meanwhile, I'm done," Kevin says, closing his Advanced Calculus book and pulling up his laptop. "Onto English," he sighs, dreading the poem he has to write. He hates it when teachers want him to think creatively.

"Dean doesn't- he wouldn't-"

"Yes he would," Sam and Kevin say in unison, completely deadpan.

"Shut up," Castiel murmurs, blushing brightly as he looks down at his still-unsolved problem.

"We wouldn't have to keep saying it if you would just listen," Kevin sighs, eyes narrowed at his laptop as if it personally offended him. Twenty minutes of uninterrupted silence later and he is still in the same position, not sure how to even begin. "How the hell do you write poetry?" Kevin sighs, laying his head on the table.

"Think of Chuck," Sam says, and Kevin shoots him a glare. "Okay for once I am not picking on you guys. The only thing that all poetry has in common is emotion, and who do you feel emotion most strongly toward?" Sam says, raising an eyebrow. Kevin huffs. "I'm just saying, if you're struggling with a topic, romance is always a win."

"You're suggesting that I write a poem about Chuck. He is in my freaking English class! We have to read these."

"And?"

"And? What if he hears me? I'm not exactly the kind to go shouting their love off of rooftops. Not that it is," Kevin says as Sam goes to interject, a smug grin plastered on his face. Sam sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Don't put his name in it, just how he makes you feel. When you're around him or when you're apart. It doesn't matter what kind of emotion it is. Heck, you don't even have to put that it's a guy, just write it in second person."

"I did mine about bees."

"Not helping Cas," Sam says, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Winchester, if this backfires, it's your ass," Kevin whines as he begins nervously hovering his fingers over the keys. Slowly he begins typing, and then deleting, and then typing, and then deleting, and then finally he has a title.

"Indignant?" Castiel asks, tilting his head slightly as he glances at the title over his friend's shoulder.

"It'll make sense in the end. I think. I hope," Kevin says nervously, hoping to high heaven that Chuck gets a stomach bug before it comes Kevin's turn to present.

Indignant

By Kevin Tran

To be indignant is to feel anger over something unjust or unworthy,

And that is what I feel every time I look at you.

I'm angry because it isn't right,

It isn't right that God poured that much perfection

Into one human being.

It isn't right that

Every time I look at you I know what I feel,

But you can't see the damage you've done.

It isn't right because every time I look at you

The emptiness in my chest doubles.

I'm indignant because I know you.

I'm indignant because you don't know.

"Kevin that was beautiful! I knew you had it in you," Mrs. Tarantelli grins, patting Kevin on the back as she moves to the front. Kevin smiles, brutally aware of how hot his face feels. He has not looked at anyone in his class, never even glanced up from his paper when he was reading. A few had clapped politely when he finished, as they had done for the twelve others that had already read.

"Thank you," Kevin says, handing over his poem for grading and shuffling back to his seat. He glances up at the seat next to him where Chuck is sitting, unaware of what he's going to see. Chuck smiles at him, though it looks forced. Kevin raises a questioning brow but Chuck waves it off, patting his friend on the back and congratulating him for doing well on the assignment.

"It hasn't been graded yet," Kevin whispers back as the next student begins reading.

"It was good though Kevin. Trust me, I should know," Chuck says, and Kevin smiles softly. He almost forgets the jock's love for literature sometimes, considering he never really talks about it.

"I almost forgot. How are the books coming along?" Kevin asks and Chuck feels his face heat.

"Good, I'm on my second one," Chuck grins, glancing over at his friend. A throat being cleared draws their attention back to the front where their classmate is currently stuttering over her words as she tries to finish her poem about the ocean. The bell rings on the last word of her poem and the class barely pauses before beginning to gather their things.

"Alright class, we'll pick up on presentations tomorrow! Have a good day!" Mrs. Tarantelli calls over the cacophony of chairs being slid backward and bookbags clanging against desks.

"So uh, who was your poem about?" Chuck asks as they begin walking to their next class. Kevin splutters, not expecting the question.

"N-no one," he says, not making eye contact.

"Kevin, you are a horrible liar," Chuck says but presses the matter no more. After all, he does not really want the answer. He is already finding it hard enough to keep his jealousy bottled up, he does not need a face to label it with. After all, he had already thrown out three of his poem options to present to the class because no matter how hard he tried they all ended up on the same fucking topic. He eventually settled for a poem about walking through the woods at night, that, if looked at in a certain light could be construed as a metaphor for having a fear of falling in love, but his class would never catch that.

(A/N: I felt like more Kevin/Chuck was needed so this tidbit at the end kinda made me happy. I know it's a bit short but like I should have started studying for my Biology exam a solid two hours ago. However, I really wanted to update, so, here ya go!)