Castiel didn't know what he had expected to feel when his phone was charged enough for him to finally turn it back on. Relief maybe? Because hearing anything at all from Dean now, even the other boy saying that he didn't want Cas to rescue him would have been better than nothing. Which was what he found when he discovered that every single missed call and text that had blinked up on the screen of his phone before it had died in his hand was from Sam or Anna or Gabe; the trio asking, worrying, and complaining respectively about why they had been left waiting at the airport after their return flight from Chicago instead of being picked by Dean and Castiel like they had previously planned.
Not a single voicemail was from his boyfriend, there wasn't even a measly text to let him know that the other boy was still alive and Cas felt the icy dread clawing at his throat until he was shaking. Meg was so distraught and part of him was aware that the fact that he couldn't force any words out of his throat was just fueling her worry. She had already wrapped three spare blankets around his shoulders before he managed to bat her away so he could curl up on his side on her couch and focus on keeping the looming panic attack at bay instead of her fluttering, frantic movements. His mind raced with all the horrible things John could be doing to Dean. Images of torn, bloody fingernails and smoking shotgun barrels assaulted him behind his closed eyelids so he settled on staring blankly at the wall until his eyes watered from not blinking.
He could distantly hear Meg explaining what was going on to Luc when the assistant professor arrived home from wherever he had been, Castle dimly heard the word library before the image of a blood-spattered Bible flittered through his mind and he curled in tighter on himself until the pain his in chest eased enough that he could draw in a shallow breath. She told her fiancé the version, the lie, that Castiel had told her. He and Dean had fought, somehow it was entirely his fault ("But I highly fucking doubt it," Meg added, glancing at her friend's prone form on her sofa.), and now Dean wasn't speaking to him, wouldn't even answer his phone calls.
That last part was true because he did keep calling Dean, listening to the voicemail message that his boyfriend had breathlessly recorded while Cas had been tickling him one afternoon when they were supposed to be studying, before he hit the end call button, counted to a thousand, and called the other boy again; praying each time that Dean would answer and sinking further and into the dark every time he didn't.
Four hundred and sixty-three, four hundred and sixty-four, four hundred an—
"No, he won't even talk to me anymore," Meg whispered from somewhere behind the couch. Castiel gave a slow blink and tried to block her out as he kept counting down the seconds until he could press the send button on his phone; Dean's number was already pulled up and mocking him on the small touch screen. "Jo, no. The last thing he said is 'He's gone.' And then he just laid down on my couch. I don't think Dean is answering his calls, what am I supposed to do?"
Huh, guess she was talking to Jo now. Maybe they thought he was going to have a mental break again, they all had to know about him now. Since everything about the trial had been on the news and the reporters hadn't hesitated in the slightest before hurling questions about 'torture' and 'suicide' and 'hostage' at him and his family every time they had left the Chicago courthouse. Oh, well it didn't really matter if they thought he was losing it over Dean because he was, just not for the reasons that they thought.
"Yea, maybe you should try calling him too." Meg agreed softly. Castiel felt a cool hand touch his forehead, the concerned gesture shocking him into blinking away the grit and tears that had formed in his eyes as he had stared at the wall and counted patiently inside his head. "Shit, now he's crying. Jo, I think this was a big fight. Like one of those ones you can't come back from."
Six hundred and ninety-six, six hundred and ninety-seven, six hundr—
"No, you're right. Dean's probably just being a big baby about the whole thing, but really is now the best time for all of this shit? They just got back from the trial and Monday is fucking Valentine's Day...yea, I know...yea, Cas has been real excited for it too, but I don't think it's going to happen Jo."
Meg's voice was moving farther away, into the kitchen where Castiel could dimly hear her clattering around with the pots and pans, probably getting ready to start dinner. He had been watching the fading afternoon light streaming in from the small window in Meg's kitchen and had tried to will the sun to keep from setting so that maybe he wouldn't lose another day with Dean to John. The whole way back from Chicago he had been making plans that involved them and not having to hide from anyone anymore; plans about not being scared and the suddenness that all of that had slipped away from him was overwhelming and more that just a little bit painful.
Nine hundred and two, nine hundred and three, nine hundred and fo-
"He's gonna stay here," Meg said, sounding small and tired and just making him feel worse for dragging her into al lof this too. "Gabe's got enough on his plate already...Cas said he would go home Monday, but I told him he can stay as long as he needs to. Dean's probably just off hiding somewhere with his tail between his legs for fucking up this shit again. I'm pretty convinced that he's never going to realize just how much Cas loves him, I mean, Jo. When I say he looked bad when I found him, I mean he looked terrible. Now he's like fucking comatose on my couch and all I can think to do is make him soup, I'm useless at this nursemaid bullshit. Yea...maybe you should. Yea, see you soon. Bye."
Before his phone had finished charging, they had been looking at bridal magazines and Cas had been trying to keep his mind off of Dean by convincing Meg that yellow bridesmaid dresses were more likely to be viewed as a sadistic form of torture by Jo and Anna and Luc's sister than they were to be flattering. It had been normal and then he had ruined it all by being harshly reminded every time the voicemail picked up that he had fucked up Dean's life simply by being in it and it looked like nothing he could do was going to fix it. She was probably sick of dealing with their drama and that's why she was calling in Jo as reinforcements, he knew that most couples didn't go through shit like this. But then again, Cas and Dean had never exactly been like a normal couple.
One thousand
Cas pressed the send button and then made sure his speaker phone was on, the earpiece had been making his skin feel hot and tacky and blistered and his hands felt like they were shaking too hard for him to be able to hold it up to his face without knocking a couple of his own teeth out. The ringing started and he knew by now that there would be six of them before it clicked over to the automated message system, but it didn't make the empty seconds between the rings any shorter or the pain when Dean didn't answer any less searing.
"Hey, uh. Cas, stop! This is Dean and I can't come to the phone right now because I'm either trapped under a car or-No, I'm not saying that dork. Get away from me! Noooo! Baby, you're doing that on purpose! Anyway, leave a message and after I'm done reminding someone around here who's boss, I'll call you back. There, Cas you are the wor-" Beep
Castiel could still remember the day that Dean had recorded the message: what the other boy had been wearing and how his ribs had still been ticklish under the careful, scientific prodding that Cas was administering after Dean had jumped away from the way Cas's fingers had trailed over his sides while they were kissing. Dean had said the automated message lacked personality and had even joked that they should practice recording a message together ("Y'know, just in case one of our phones die or something," had been Dean's, quick and bashful explanation.) He had known it was the other boy's unsubtle way of alluding to their future, but the sentiment had been pushed aside in favor of more kissing.
He took a shuddering breath in and disconnected the call, not leaving a message yet again because what was the point? Dean was probably dead or at least wished he was and Cas had done nothing to help him. Just waited around like an idiot while John took him away somewhere because he was scared of having more people he cared about get hurt. Dean was going to die and Cas would never be able to forgive himself for it; it would only be a matter of time before the simple act of living without the other boy became unbearable. Until then, all he could do was count.
One, two, three, four, five…
Castiel went through three more of his torturous calling cycles before there was a brisk knock on the door and his stomach started gnawing angrily at him, incensed because he was resolutely ignoring the smells wafting out of Meg's kitchen in favor of counting and trying not to cry. Luc had disappeared off to the first bedroom down the hall, the one that in this mirror-reversed copy of Dean's apartment was being used as an office for Luc to grade papers and work on his thesis for his own master's degree in political science. In the other apartment it was John's bedroom and despite the fact he had never looked into the older Winchester's bedroom, Castiel doubted it was decorated in the same tasteful burgundies and mahogany that Luc's office was tatted out in.
"Oh hell no," Jo's voice rang out loudly for Castiel in the quiet vortex that had just become his labored breathing and the endless, stream of numbers filing orderly through his mind.
He felt hands on his shoulders and his view of the white walls in Meg's apartment shifted from the blank space between her television and a bookshelf that had been tilted on it's side when he was lying down to a picture of Meg and Luc dressed up in their Halloween costumes that was hanging on the wall. They had been JFK and Jackie, the couple that he and Dean would never get a chance to be or rather one that was too eerily similar for it to not cause Castiel's stomach to turn queasily from the sudden rush of sitting upright.
Jo crouched down on the floor between his knees, holding firmly onto his shoulder with one hand as the other roamed over his face; the back of her hand pressed to his forehead like she was checking his temperature before she moved to cup his cheek. Her expression was a weird mix of concern and anger, the two warring with impatience as her mouth moved with words that he couldnt' or didn't want to hear. Castiel assumed that it was the latter and tried to shift his gaze back off of her, the blank wall was safer to look at than the face of just another person that he had let down.
"Cas? CAS!" Jo said, her voice snapping him out of his stupor along with a soft slap that she gave to his cheek in order to get his attention. "Okay, we're paying attention now right?"
Castiel nodded weakly, his stubble scratching against the palm of her hand though Jo didn't so much as wince away from the sting that he was sure she was feeling.
"Good," She said, pulling him to his feet causing all of the blankets that Meg had wrapped around him to puddle down onto the couch cushions where he had been sitting. Castiel immediately started shivering again, though whether it was from the cold or the shock of him losing his place in his counting that caused it he wasn't entirely sure. "Now listen close, Cas. Because I'm only going to say this to you once. Are you with me?"
He nodded again and shoved his cell phone deep into his pocket as Jo narrowed her eyes at him before turning him and angling them both towards the hallway that led to Meg's bathroom where he had spent just enough time earlier to change clothes in before he almost hyperventilated and bolted back to the relative safety of the cheerily decorated living room. Cas considered fighting against her once he realized that that was where she was leading him, but he didn't have the strength or the drive to care about struggling right now. Especially not against someone who he was fairly certain was trying to help him.
"Now, I love Dean. He's like my closest friend, practically my brother from another mother, y'know?" Jo explained as she guided him into the bathroom and plopped him down on the closed toilet lid, reaching over to plug up the bathtub and start the water as she continued speaking. "But goddamnit, the boy is a fucking moron. Now whatever he did to make you like this-"
"He didn't-" Castiel started, his voice cracking from disuse before Jo held up her hand to stop him from clearing his throat so that he could continue.
"Save your story for the tabloids, Cas." Jo said not unkindly, giving him a sad smile as she made an up gesture with her hands and he stood automatically, flinching back when she reached for the hem of his t-shirt. "Calm down, dude. You're literally about as sexy to me as Garth on any given day. This is just you needing to feel better and a bubble bath always helps with that."
"I'd rather keep my clothes on," Castiel replied, sitting back down heavily on the toilet lid and crossing his arms over his chest causing Jo to just shrug in response as she turned to start rifling through Meg's medicine cabinet where she pulled out a bottle of purplish bubble bath and dumped a hefty dollop into the steaming water.
"My point being, Cas," Jo continued, sitting down on the edge of the tub with her legs stretched out in front of her as she swirled the steadily foaming water with the tips of her fingers. "Dean fucks up, a lot. A measurement which we both know is an understatement, but whatever he did this time. It isn't your fault, no matter what he might have said when he was angry. So the fact that you're sitting here beating yourself up over it is ridiculous. If he isn't going to answer your calls or speak to you then you just need to give him his space. It's just going to make him more determined that you're better off without him if he finds out that you're sitting around torturing yourself."
"But what if he's hurt, Jo?" Castiel asked, sitting forward on the toilet seat and pushing his palms into his burning eyes with a frustrated groan. "What if he goes and does something stupid because he's mad? I'll never be able to forgive myself."
"How about you worry about forgiving him for tossing all your stuff out of his apartment first?" Jo snapped, letting out an irritated huff as she shook her head at the steaming water. "Sorry, that's just...fuck. It's just like Dean to do something like that, impulsive and hurtful because he has a fucking martyr complex that would put Joan of Arc to shame. Listen, he's probably just at Bobby's or something. He likes to go smash the windows out of the junkers when he's trying to wrap his head around something."
He hadn't thought to call Bobby, what if Dean was with Bobby? What if his phone was just broken or locked in the apartment and all of this was a misunderstanding? What if John had tossed all of Cas's stuff out after Dean had left and then decided to change the locks on the apartment so that he wouldn't have to deal with either of his gay sons coming back to contaminate him with their filth? That was it, right? Dean was probably just fine.
"Plus y'know," the other girl said, twisting the knobs on the bathtub to turn the water off before rising to her feet with a stretch and a sigh. "It's not like you're not going to see him at school, I'm sure by then he will have realized what an idiot he's being by not talking to you. You might have just asked for too much from him too fast, he's not used to having someone other than Sam rely on him for like emotional shit. He's probably just overwhelmed."
Castiel nodded at his knees and let out a heavy breath that he felt like he had been holding since the night before when Dean had told him to run. John probably had hit him, but he really didn't think that the Winchester patriarch would be stupid enough to kill his own son. What would he ever stand to gain by doing that? It would just mean that he had permanently lost Dean and drive Sam even farther away. No, John Winchester was a lot of things; homophobic, a drunk, probably mentally ill, and the very definition of bad parenting. But stupid was not one of those things, at least going off of what little information Cas had about the older man and after talking with Jo he did feel a little better about Dean. He was still worried as hell, but as long as his boyfriend made it to school on Monday then he could probably keep from panicking for at least the rest of the weekend.
"Oh and Meg is making spaghetti and you are going to eat it," Jo declared pausing as she started to shut the bathroom door behind herself. The petite blonde held up a warning finger when Castiel opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't hungry, that he probably wouldn't be able to hold anything down until he saw Dean again and knew the other boy was safe. "No sir. You're going to eat it and if you throw up then you're going to be on a steady diet of Pepto and Saltines for the rest of the weekend. Worrying yourself sick over a silly fight is not going to make anything any better. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am," Castiel intoned, giving her a half-hearted salute and forcing the barest of smiles on his face so that she would stop giving him that pitying, motherly look that just made the ache in his chest worse. "Bath, food, and then we can try to talk Meg out of picking yellow and pink for her wedding colors."
"Oh no," Jo said, making a face and shaking her head quickly. "Its gonna look like a baby shower threw up all over me, that is not going to work. We're all gonna look like complete crap in those colors, who knew Meg was so fucking girly?"
"Not me," Castiel said with a shrug, watched with a slightly more genuine smile as Jo huffed and shut the door; he double and then triple checked that the door was locked before he started striping out of his clothes.
The water was near scalding, just how he liked it, and felt like a soothing compress for the bruises that were on his elbows from hitting the floor in Dean's bathroom. Cas tried not to think of how when he had left Dean's apartment John had just hit his son across the face or of the purpling marks that so often peppered his boyfriend's skin in places that wouldn't be seen unless the other boy undressed. John knew how to hide the bruises, but there was no way that Dean wouldn't be sporting some sort of shiner at school on Monday. Castiel hoped the obvious injuries would finally be enough that the school might step in and get the people who might be able to help his boyfriend involved. Sheriff Mills had been nice at the dance, Cas couldn't imagine her not doing something to help Dean when he so obviously needed it.
By the time the bubbles had started to fizzle out around him, Cas had already decided that Luc probably wouldn't miss the little bit of the shampoo that he used to carefully wash his hair; tenderly pressing on the large lump at the back of his head to see if it was going to start bleeding again while trying to remember the signs of a skull fracture from when he had had one after Lake Forrest. He figured he had already fucked up by falling asleep while waiting on Dean to call him, so the nausea and dizziness were probably just because he was hungry and not a concussion of some sort.
It wasn't until he was headed back towards the living room, damp towel draped around his neck and phone pressed to his ear as he tried to call Dean again that he heard Meg and Jo arguing in hushed whispered with Luc. The voicemail kicked in and Cas quickly ended the call before the sound of Dean's recorded voice caused his heart to break all over again, leaning instead towards the sound of the trio's discussion that was taking place in the small dining room that bled into the kitchen as he stuck to the shadows of the hallway.
"I'm telling you, Meg," Luc said lowly, his voice sounding remorseful and tired. "I was Dean's age once upon a time. Plus I'm straight so I know, don't be mad at me for telling you my opinion when you two came and asked me for it."
"I'm not mad at you!" Meg practically screamed. Cas heard a loud shush from Jo along with a strange crackling sound that he couldn't place, he was tempted to glance around the corner to see what they were talking about, but something in his gut was telling him that he didn't want to know. "I'm just...I'm mad at the fucking situation okay, Luc? He's gonna make Cas have like a mental break and then throw all of his shit out, but not before he fucking cheats on him?! That asshole is dead. Beyond dead."
"Okay, we don't know though do we?" Jo interjected in a hurried whisper. "We. Don't. Know. And until one of us is able to talk to Dean about it we just need to go off the only information that we do have, which is that Dean and Cas fuck like its the end times so that's probably all it is. Alright? Don't jump to conclusions."
"I just wanted to do some fucking laundry," Meg complained and there was the crackling sound again as her voice moved farther away, towards the small stacked washer and dryer that was off the kitchen if Castiel had to guess. "Poor kid has been living out of a duffle bag for a week and now he has to deal with Dean's emotionally stunted bullshit. I warned him, Jo. But did he listen to me? Nooo, fucking green eyes dragged him right the fuck in…"
Meg's voice was muffled now and Cas couldn't make it out, but judging from what little he had heard it felt like the bottom was dropping out of his stomach. Luc was wrong, Meg was wrong, and nothing in the world would convince him that Dean could ever...Dean had liked girls before though and Castiel hadn't ever really expected the other boy to just stop noticing a pretty face just because he was around. It would be selfish to ask that much from Dean and he had always been happy with what they had because it was all that he had ever wanted with another person, but if Dean needed...that from someone, he was more than fairly certain that Dean would want it from him. Especially with how he had been talking in the shower.
Cas shook off his doubt and headed around the corner, making a concentrated effort to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping as he ruffled the towel through his hair one last time. Luc was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Jo as she carefully packed the books and other assorted knick knacks that had been left in the hallway by Dean back into his duffel bag so that she could make room for the stack of plates that were sitting near her elbow. Meg was halfway hanging out of the small closet that housed the wash and dryer, still muttering to herself until she turned around to see Cas standing there; the black trashbag that his clothes and Dean's linens had been in hanging limply in her hands, deflated like the saddest, neglected Thanksgiving Day parade balloon ever.
"Hey hon," Jo called brightly, shooting Meg a warning glance until the brunette started moving; shoving the empty trashbag into her recycling bin as she ambled over to the table with a nonchalance that was not believable in the slightest. "Dinner's ready and I've officially talked Meg into anything color besides yellow. Pink is still on the table though, Luc has begged her to change her mind. Haven't you, Luc?"
"Yea yea," Luc agreed quickly, giving Castiel an apologetic look before the plates rattled on the table and the older man let out a startled curse that he tried to cover with a cough. Jo glared at him for a second before hefting the duffle bag over to sit underneath the coat hooks by the front door and returning quickly to spread the plates quickly out around the table. "Anyway, Cas. It's good to see that you're feeling better. Hopefully you can talk some sense into my old lady before I'm forced to walk down the aisle wearing a magenta ascot."
"If you're thinking that you're going to be the one walking down the aisle than we have bigger issues here, buttercup," Meg said, dropping a kiss onto Luc's upturned forehead before she dropped heavily into one of the chairs and watched while Jo busily moved food from the kitchen to the table with the same kind of motherly air that Ellen had when she was cooking for the houseful of teenagers that she routinely woke up to discover lounging around her house.
"We're a progressive couple," Luc argued, nudging her jokingly until she allowed him to take her hand and hold it in his; lacing their fingers together. "I'll even take your last name if you want me to. You can toss my garter and I'll toss your bouquet, there are no rules when you're getting married."
Castiel felt his heart give a painful lurch when he thought of how he and Dean fit together perfectly just like the other couple before he quickly took the seat at the opposite end of the table from Luc, next to Meg. Jo strategically placed a bowl of garlic bread near him before snatching up his plate and loading it down with steaming noodles and marinara sauce, more than he could ever possibly eat with the way his stomach was contorting, but he would try for her. Dean would be mad if he showed up to school looking like a skeleton on Monday and all of the lingerie that he had bought almost as a joke for the other boy's Valentine's Day gift wouldn't fit right if he lost too much weight.
"So colors," Castiel said, picking up his forking and cautiously winding spaghetti around its tines as he forced himself to think positive because Dean was alive, he was; Cas could just feel it in his bones. "I always thought teal was a good spring color, mature. Pastels for an April wedding would be really predictable."
Naomi always made a point to get to work early. Usually she would arrive long before the janitors so that she could drop off the usual box of donuts that she picked up on her way to work; the one that everyone thought that Tessa actually brought because there was no way that cold hearted Principal Tapping bought breakfast for her coworkers every single day. Nor did she start the first pot of coffee in the break room since she was always complaining about the teachers finishing it without starting more for other people. Hardass that she was of course she didn't tip out some of Chuck's 'hidden' break room bourbon into the sink every morning so that it was just a little bit more than the other man wouldn't get a chance to drink; though she hadn't found a new bottle in his usual hiding places in quite a while.
Of course she did all those things. Along with sorting through the mail if it was stuck into the school's oversized mailbox by the time she got there, just one more job that the overworked receptionist didn't have to do and one that Lila didn't like to pass off to the student office aides because they were too tempted to snoop through the interoffice memos that the teachers got in their individual pigeonhole mail slots. Naomi did a lot of things that no one asked or expected her to do, was way more concerned about her students than a lot of people thought, and knew exactly why Dean and Sam Winchester had been out of school for the last week despite what the man who had claimed to be their uncle had told Lila when he called.
But she was still expecting both boys to be back when the Novaks returned to school and the principal had already sent an email out to all the teacher asking for them to be understanding when all four students returned, stating that they needed to be reasonable with the dates they set when they handed over all of the work that their charges had missed during the week they had been in Chicago. Spring break was coming up soon and it felt like graduation was just looming around the corner, Naomi was just as ready for the break away from the school and all of her fellow teachers as the students were.
Valentine's Day found her going about her usual routine; disarming the alarms and flicking on the hallway lights as she passed sorting through the large bundle of mail that was disconcertingly peppered with red and pink envelopes containing wishes for a happy holiday that some former students sent to the administration no matter what the actual occasion was. The President's Day cards were right up there with the Arbor Day ones as being some of the strangest pieces of mail that Naomi had ever seen. But then again, it was always nice to hear back that kids she had watched struggle through the hierarchies of high school were doing well.
Naomi leaned up against the high counter top that separated the scattered chairs and potted plants that made up the office waiting from from Lila's desk, the teacher's mail slots, and the door that led to Naomi's office in the back corner of the room; sorting the envelopes into stacks for each teacher as she hummed an old Ricky Nelson song under her breath that was absolutely not in the spirit of the love-themed holiday. She had watched Pulp Fiction the night before, alone with her cat and it was either humming anti-love songs or the one about counting flowers on the wall which would be stuck in her head all day if she started thinking about that one.
The mail was just more of the usual: random Valentine's Day cards for random teachers (not all of them got one and rarely did a former student think to send one to more than just the instructors who they had felt close to), notices reminding some of the older teachers to check their retirement and pension funds, a bland form letter from the union reminding them that it was that time of year for open enrollment again, and a slim pale blue envelope that was addressed just to her in familiar, spidery script.
Well at least it's something new, Naomi thought, neatly slitting the top of the envelope with the letter opener that she had retrieved from Lila's desk and pulling out the page of stationery that was inside along with a piece of plain white copy paper that had a small, dark rounded image printed on it.
'Dearest Naomi,
I hope that isn't too forward, "dearest". It feels normal to write it and I am more than sure it would feel amazing to say it, to call you that like I've wanted to for all of these years, but you know how I am with words… I've been trying to think of what I wanted to say to you for a while now, since long before New Year's Eve and maybe I should've said something before then, but I feel like it wouldn't have been fair to saddle you with any unwanted declarations when all you've ever offered to me is friendship and understanding. I'd hate to lose those things, but without an explanation I don't know if I can continue moving forward with the program I'm in. Attached is a copy of my one month chip from AA. I know a month isn't anything to brag about, but I've been encouraged to see my progress instead of focusing on the years that I wasted failing myself and everyone around me; especially you.
Naomi, I want to apologize for all the ways that I failed you. Not just your shoes, which I've given Tessa the money to replace to give to you if you want it, but also for not being the type of person who is brave enough to stand up to the school board and say the things that you haven't been able to say. The politics of being a principal have kept you from standing up to the intolerance that runs so rampant in this school, the school board has tied your hands and I should have taken the initiative long ago to take that bullet for you and your family so that the student's at this school wouldn't have to deal with the same kind of narrow mindedness that your family had to deal with. I've brought the matter to the local PFLAG chapter and they have decided to start a petition that will call for a re-election of the school board members at the end of this year. I know its not much, but for a recovering alcoholic/coward its about the best I can do for you.
As for me and you (not to presume that there is a 'you and me', is there?) I know I've probably lost my chance if there ever was one with you. But in the spirit of the holiday I've decided to tell you that I love you. Since the first day that you introduced yourself to the faculty as the new principal, determined and fearless in ways that I never will be, I knew that you were someone who's life I wanted to be in in whatever way you would have me. I'm under no illusions that you feel the same way, especially after all of the times that you have seen me at my absolute worst, but I felt like you needed to know and that maybe we could start to fix our friendship if nothing else.
Being in recovery has taught me to value the things in my life that I can't live without and you are one of those things Naomi. No matter what you decide to do, know that nothing will change how I feel about you and just having you speak to me again would be more than I could ever hope to expect.
Love always,
Charles Elyon Shurley'
The office had started to fill around Naomi; Lila bustled in muttering under her breath about kids these days and cleaning her glasses that constantly hung on a chain around her neck with the edge of her cardigan. The hallways outside the office were steadily filling in with the early bird students who always showed up early and loitered in the hallways, right now they were carrying various balloons and bears and boxes that were tagged red and pink in the honor of the holiday; chattering excitedly about who the gifts were meant for without a care in the world. She saw Virgil and Pam pass by together, heads bowed low and hands brushing between them as they walked like they were fooling any of the students or other teachers by being discreet; at least they weren't having sex in their classrooms.
She read the letter one more time, trying to force the giddiness that she could feel building in her chest from manifesting itself as girlish giggles that would completely undermine the steadfast persona that she had been cultivating for all of these years. After that second read through Naomi passed off the task of sorting through all of the mail; apologizing to Lila before briskly making her way down the hallways in the general direction of Chuck's classroom with the letter folded neatly, but clutched like a grenade that was about to go off in her left hand.
The closer she got though and the more students that she saw in the hallway, talking and laughing and letting out surprised little exhaltations of surprise over gifts that had been left in their lockers, the more Naomi started to doubt that Chuck actually meant the words that he wrote in his letter in the way that she hoped he did. There were a lot of different types of love afterall. Maybe the English teacher had meant philia and storge, the kind of affectionate and familial love that Naomi associated with her siblings and that Chuck probably felt for her since she so often was there to be the shoulder that he leaned on. What if it wasn't eros or agape that the man felt for her? The heady, intoxicating, physical need to have her in his life like Naomi had to be amongst the towering stacks of books that traversed Chuck's apartment like she was always meant to be there. It could very well be possible that she was reading more between the lines of his handwritten letter than he meant for her to simply because she wanted to.
Naomi slowed her pace, lingering in the hallways as she watched the students talk to each other; the couples standing close enough that she should probably reprimand them, but it was Valentine's Day and Naomi just couldn't bring herself to rain on their parade. Joanna Harvelle was practically bouncing in place as Adam Milligan clasped a small golden necklace around her neck before she the smaller girl spun around and pressed him against the lockers with a kiss that lost some of its heat once the male student pointed out that they had an audience that included the principal.
She could only smile at them with a wry tilt to her head that urged them to save it for after school before continuing on to the next hallway that housed half of the senior lockers and Chuck's classroom. Miles Lindberg was standing with Castiel Novak and Krissy Chambers who had her hand fixed snugly in one of the mulleted student's back pocket, speaking in low and concerned tones with the other senior who had dark circles ringing his blue eyes and was wearing a grey Henley that seemed to hang of his tired frame. The trial had probably been the type of ordeal that no teenager should ever have to go through, which was just another reason why Dean and Sam missing a week of school was not on the principal's number one list of concerns.
Chuck's homeroom was full of freshman, a fact that the English teacher both hated because most mornings he was nursing a hangover that wasn't helped by the chattering of a classroom of fourteen and fifteen year olds and loved because the student's zeal reminded him of why he had started teaching in the first place. When the warning bell signaled, his classroom was already halfway full of girls cooing over boxes of chocolate or tasteful cards that had really been picked out by their boyfriends' mothers because a card singing the latest pop ballad was not romantic in the slightest and the older women knew that better than their sons.
He had always thought that homemade, handwritten cards were much more thoughtful, but then again he had always been much better with the written word that abstract gestures of affection. After talking to Tessa about how he could make up for the debacle that was New Year's Eve to Naomi, sending a letter had just seemed like the most obvious choice, but almost as soon as he had dropped it into the blue outgoing mail bin at his apartment the panic had clutched at his chest and Chuck had wanted nothing more than to crawl inside the metal container and retrieve what surely was the most awkward confession of love ever written. The grizzled, sleep deprived older man had briefly considered dropping a match down the mail chute, but had thrown that idea out when he had decided that bringing down the wrath of the fire department on his neighbors probably would not make him very popular.
So all he could do was wait for the hammer to drop; for Naomi to either come to him and tell him that while his confession was sweet it was not reciprocated or to drop off the paperwork for sexual harassment and tell him to stay the hell away from her. Chuck honestly believed that either of those outcomes would be better than the waiting, which he had been doing since dropping the letter in the mail during the middle of the last week; prompted to be brave by the stiff-shouldered way that Dean had pushed a path through the reports clogging up the steps of the Chicago courthouse so that Castiel could get through and inside the building. If a kid almost half his age could stand up to a pack of rabid reporters and the homophobia of a significant portion of the country, well then Chuck had figured that he could at least put pen to paper and stop being such a wuss about his feelings.
The rest of his student's poured in and Chuck gave one last glance to the list of the morning announcements that Pam had dropped off for him on her way to her own classroom, something she had been doing for him since he had taken to avoiding the office and the perpetual cold shoulder that the woman he loved had turned on him, before a knock interrupted him just as he was about to begin rattling off more of the same insipid rules that the school board kept trying to shove down the students' throats. He more than secretly hoped that all of those old bastards got what was coming to them from PFLAG and every kid like Dean and Castiel who wouldn't hesitate to stand up to them, but the sentiment paled when he saw Naomi standing in his doorway looking more unsure of herself than he had ever seen her and clutching a very familiar looking piece of stationery in one of her hands.
"Chuck," Namoi started, taking a hesitant step into the room before she noticed that all of the background chatter, that constant buzz of energy that teenagers just seemed to always exude, had ceased as soon as the freshman saw the principal standing in the doorway. He saw her tense before she was probably even consciously aware that she was doing it and his heart leapt in his chest when she pushed a stray curl that had fallen out of her usual bun back into place behind her ear. "I mean, Mr. Shurley. Can I speak for a moment?"
"Yes!" Chuck answered quickly, jumping to his feet and causing the students in the front row to flinch slightly when the movement caused the perpetually filled coffee mugs on his desk to rattle ominously. "Yesyes, give me um...Kevin! Come up here and read the announcements for me, after that guys just uh...study, quietly."
He tugged at the rolled up sleeves of his button down as he moved towards the door, smoothing down his tie and wondering if Naomi would notice that he had ironed everything he was wearing. It had taken burning a hole through a t-shirt that he used to be rather fond of and a dress shirt that he hated before he had finally given up and asked his kindly next door neighbor to show him how to use the Christmas present that he had gotten from his boss over a year before. Chuck had also trimmed his beard, unwilling to part just yet with that particular security blanket even though shaving was less daunting now that his hands didn't shake all the time anymore.
Chuck stepped out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click before taking the few steps down the hallway where Naomi had stopped with her back towards him; her shoulders tight under the purple blouse that she had on with the pencil skirts that she liked to wear when the weather was warm enough to warrant it. He immediately felt bad because he hadn't meant to make her so upset with his letter, but his sponsor had told him that it would be cathartic to put the words down on paper and it had been until it slipped down the mail slot; then it had just led to the most stressful weekend of his life.
"Hey, um…" Chuck started, wanting to reach out to Naomi when she turned to look at him, her face a mask that he used to be able to read so well with eyes that searched his own looking for what he didn't know. "If you mad or if you just want me to back off I get it, I just...I thought you should know. But honestly Noams, could the mailman have worse timing?"
Naomi had turned prepared to search through the clouds that always covered Chuck's gaze, but had been surprised to find the familiar blue eyes of the other man clearer and more piercing than she had ever seen them; reaching past her defenses to make her forget how to breath for just a second. That second was more than enough though for the other man to get an awkward joke in and for him to use the nickname that no one else dared to use besides her sister and Tessa. It was comforting to know that even though they hadn't talked in a while that they could still pick up where they had left off. Since the disastrous events of the New Year's Eve party when she had realized that until Chuck saved himself she was just reliving the same cycle of unhealthy codependency that she had left behind with Scott in New York Naomi had kept her distance, but now...maybe now she could stop torturing herself by staying away when it was the last thing she wanted to do.
"I think the mailman has pretty amazing timing, Chuckles," Namoi replied softly, melting when Chuck smiled at the use of her own nickname for him before she realized that she could actually see his smile instead of it being hid behind an unkempt, bushy beard. He actually looked really good, put together and well rested like she had never seen him look; it was doing extremely dangerous things to her self control. "You could have saved yourself the postage though, given me this in person or just talked to me."
"Do you know how scary Lila can be when you've told her not to let anyone bother you?" Chuck asked, earning an unladylike snort from the other woman that he wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of his life. "And the talking...y'know words...hard."
"You're not doing bad right now," Naomi said softly, looking up the few inches that still separated them despite the heels that she was wearing with her skirt; she had always liked that Chuck didn't use his height to intimidate people. "And we probably could've both saved ourselves the suspense. Five years is a long time to wait to drop a bomb like this on a person."
"Are we talking an atomic bomb here?" Chuck asked hopefully, taking the chance to step in close enough to Naomi that he could touch the back of her hand that was still clutching the letter that he had sent her. "Or like...one of those really shitty firecrackers that just has bomb in the name, but no one is surprised when it doesn't live up to its name?"
"I feel like you're insulting yourself somewhere in there," Naomi replied, grinning down at his hand bemusedly before she caught his fingers with his free hand and laced her own digits through his. "And its like a little flash bomb; surprising, but not devastating. No loss of life or anything."
"Well that's good," the other man agreed, "Because I like to think of myself as a lover not a fighter."
"You did not just-"
"I did just," Chuck interrupted causing Naomi to let out a chuckle that she buried behind the letter in her hand as she looked up at him underneath her eyelashes. "So I'm not getting rejected here right? Because I know my moves are a little unorthodox, but I would like to take you out."
"Tonight would be a horrible night to try to go on a first date," Naomi pointed out, sighing when she saw that Chuck's fingertips were still with ink from the ribbon of his typewriter; everything hadn't changed then, Chuck was still Chuck and he was in love with her. "Everywhere is going to be busy."
"Tomorrow, the day after, any night," Chuck said quickly, sounding just like his normal self and reassuring Naomi that this wasn't in fact a dream or a desperate Valentine's Day hallucination. "Hell you can come over and eat leftover Chinese and I will watch whatever horrible reality show you want. I just...I want this...with you. I always have."
"Are you really in AA?" Namoi asked suddenly, needing to know because that was going to be the deal breaker for her; unlike his ex she liked the writing and how Chuck could get lost in the worlds he created for his characters, but sobriety was going to be a must. "I don't think you're lying, but I need to know you're serious. I need to know its going to stick."
"I am and Noams, I can't promise it's going to stick. But I can sure as hell promise to try, especially if having a drink means losing the possibility of this." Chuck replied earnestly, running his thumb over the back of her hand in short, soft strokes that helped ground him from how elated he was by the possibility of Naomi feeling the same about him as he did about her. "I would really like to kiss you now."
"Chuck, you have a classroom full of students-"
"Naomi!" A voice called from down the hall, the brisk tapping of heels on the tile floor and the familiarity of the voice giving away the guidance counselor Tessa as she stormed towards the principal with a determined look on her face. "We need to talk, I just got the strangest call fr-am I interrupting something?"
"You really do have the worst timing, Tess." Chuck replied, not taking his eyes off of Naomi even as she blushed and ducked her head; giving his hand one last squeeze before she pulled it out of his grasp. "Even worse than the mailman."
"I don't understand that joke," Tessa said impatiently, tapping her foot as she spoke. "But I am happy to see that you two have worked your crap out. However, I do need to borrow our boss to sort out a situation before you two sneak off to make out in a closet somewhere. Don't even deny it, Naomi. I'm your best friend, remember?"
"We'll talk later," Naomi mumbled, looking completely mortified by the other woman's statements, but not denying anything that the guidance counselor had said as she turned to go with Tessa. "I'll um..I'll come by during your off period, maybe we can go to lunch together or something."
"Yea, of course," Chuck agreed quickly, letting her take a couple of steps before a thought struck him and he dug frantically through his pockets; coming up with his red One Month chip from AA that he held out towards her. "And uh...take this...so I know that you have a reason to talk to me later."
"I'll tell Lila to stop guarding me, Chuck," Naomi said, putting up her palm to stop him as he reached to put the chip into her hand. "You don't have to-"
"I trust you not to lose it," he said softly, curling her fingers carefully over the cool, raised metal. "Also I need a reason not to hide myself away from you, because y'know...as soon as you walk away I'm going to freak out about all of this."
"Well she will too," Tessa said quickly, making a come on gesture with her hands when both Naomi and Chuck gave her a pointed look. "I'm being the honest expediter here. You both like each other and you both have issues with relationships, you're both going to try to talk yourself out of this. Don't. Can I have Naomi now? Because I've got some serious fuckery going on and zero time for this."
"Yea, go," Chuck said with a sigh, giving Naomi one last smile as she mouthed 'I'm sorry' at him and turned to follow Tessa who had already set off back down the hallway. "I'll just...go back to molding the minds of the future and stuff, don't mind me."
Naomi didn't even try to hid the stupid smile that was on her face from Chuck's last comment, just let it wrap around her so that it could buoy her up for whatever it was that Tessa needed her for; guidance counselor emergencies usually involved SAT scores and schedule changes, nothing life or death that the other woman couldn't usually deal with by herself.
"So I know that you've been keeping it up with the trial," Tessa explained as the walked, the hallways echoing with her words even though she was speaking softly. "Castiel's trial. Lila told me that you've been worried about him since the dance and I know that Alistair and Azazel's in-school suspension is almost over, but I wasn't sure if you've been keeping up with Dean Winchester…"
"Well," Naomi began, following her around the corner and into her office that was little more than a decently sized closet that Tessa had still managed to make her own. "I know that both of the Winchesters were in Chicago all that week with the Novaks, but they're not behind in any of their classes so I'm sure they will have no trouble catching back up-"
"Not Sam," Tessa interrupted, settling behind her desk with a tired sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I went by his homeroom to make sure he was here before I came to find you, I thought that maybe something had happened with the family and that their father was pulling them both out for some reason or another. But Sam is here and the message that I walked into find on my phone this morning is just too strange, especially since Dean just took the SATs and Castiel said they were both applying to the University of Kansas. I had already started looking for scholarships and work studies for him because we both know that their father isn't going to help him with anything-"
"What is going on with Dean, Tess?" Naomi asked, stopping the rambling that the other woman only ever did when she was really agitated about something.
"He called over the weekend and left a message," Tessa explained, reaching towards the office phone that was sitting on her desk and turning it towards the principal who had sat down across from her in one of the hard plastic seats that students usually used. "Noams, he said that he's dropping out."
Author Note: So some Chuck/Naomi resolution, at least a little. Everything isn't always dark, it will be for Dean and Cas for a while, but I promise that this fic will get brighter after a good long while. Thanks to everyone for the reviews and favorites and such, I've had some computer trouble but it's been taking care of so hopefully I will get back on track with posting in a timely manner. Much love everyone for your patience. :*