Castiel was nervous as he approached his lab, though this was nothing new. The flashcards in his hands were new though, and he kept fiddling with them, changing the order. He felt ridiculous, he felt like he could start a lapidary in his stomach there were so many butterflies in there jostling against his ribcage. It's just a day like any other, he kept telling himself. Cas wondered if after the twentieth time he might in fact believe it. Thus far, that had not been the case.
Today Castiel would attempt to teach Dean language. He felt overwhelmed, he had no idea how to begin really. Language was such a huge and expansive concept it seemed impossible, futile even. The English language may have been vast but it was really impossible to explain, Dean may as well have been a mute and deaf outsider.
Cas took a deep and shuddering breath in an attempt to soothe his rising hysteria as he entered the lab. He comforted himself in the revelation that even if he failed it wouldn't matter, no one cared about his research anyway and certainly no self-respecting scientist would believe in catboys. Of course they'd never been confronted with the reality of a tawny muscled catboy flank rubbing against the thighs of his slacks, which was how Dean chose to greet him this morning. Dean was not always so affectionate or demonstrative. It was a relief however that he wouldn't have to try and coax Dean from some tight hiding space.
Castiel stroked his fingers through Dean's shortly shorn locks absentmindedly. He pushed the catboy away after a moment, putting his hands on those strong shoulders silently imploring Dean to sit. Dean did sit, but regarded Cas quizzically with his head tilted to the side in the universal sign of confusion.
Castiel decided to start with the basics. "Castiel," he intoned flatly pointing to his chest. Dean still looked puzzled. He walked closer and prodded Dean's own chest, repeating Dean's name as he did so. Dean's brow furrowed. Castiel repeated the actions. In fact, Castiel repeated those same actions and their names for about forty minutes before comprehension seemed to dawn in those deep green eyes.
Finally, when Castiel had all but given up, having left Dean to his own devices after his resolute failure this morning, Dean bounded up to him and smiled. His voice was rough with obvious disuse, but Dean managed to chirp an approximation of "Cas," clearly stumbling over the scientist's full name. He looked inordinately pleased with himself and Cas sighed internally. Today was clearly going to be one of those days where he wished he could just cover the process with a quick montage like in the movies. Nonetheless, he did want to reinforce Dean's efforts and encourage cooperation in these lessons so he gave Dean a piece of jerky and scratched the tight stomach of the catboy when it was presented to him, before heading off to lunch.
Castiel spent most of the meal deep in scholarly thoughts about imparting language. As he was leaving he laughed as it occurred to him that he had been foolishly worried this morning. To hell with his damn flashcards, Dean would clearly not be ready for such measures anytime soon. In fact, he decided that while he might devote a further hour near the end of the day for language lessons, Castiel would let Dean range free that afternoon and do as he pleased. Obviously the process would be a slow one and Cas needed more time to consider the best approach to continue with.
