A week passed and Dean was still failing social theory, so he opted to set up a tutoring session with the strange sociology professor who had literally came crashing into his life.
Charlie said they'd spent about 20 minutes talking after he and Jo left that day at lunch, that Castiel had actually opened up a little bit, indicating that his first impression might not be his best. It turned out he and Charlie shared a passion for terrible, ear-shattering music and they both were artists (Castiel painted and drew, Charlie was into graphic design). It also appeared that Charlie, despite being gay, had a man-crush. Dean could tell because she wouldn't stop talking about Castiel and actually asked if she could come with Dean to his tutoring session.
After begrudging the notes from all of his missed classes from Charlie and convincing her that, no, she could not come with him to watch Castiel teach him the difference between classic and post-modern social theory, Dean set up a time to meet .
The two of them met in a study room in the library. Castiel had insisted that they would get nothing done at the cafe or at one another's apartments. Dean admitted it to no one but himself, but he was actually curious to see the decor of Castiel's apartment, wondering if it'd match his odd personality.
Castiel came in to the room, once again sporting the baggy trench coat. He was wearing glasses, which made Dean wonder if his saucer-eyes had been an effect of poor vision. He threw his stuff down on the table and sat down.
"Hey Cas." Dean said, grinning at him.
"Hello Dean." Cas said, staring him down with those x-ray vision eyes of his.
"Dude..." Dean began, ready to ask him about that stare.
"What do you have for me?" Cas interrupted. I need to see your notes, textbook, graded tests, and any study materials so I can glean how much time this will take for the two of us."
Dean blinked. Castiel sounded so confident. It wasn't intimidating like the first time he met him either. Castiel actually sounded like he was ready to get down to business, like he actually knew what he was doing.
Dean pulled out everything from his bag and set it in front of Castiel. Castiel's eye actually twitched when he saw the mess of papers and the textbook that still smelled new, indicating it hadn't been cracked too many times.
"Well." Castiel murmured. "I guess can work with this."
Over the next two hours, Castiel attempted to teach Dean social theory. He taught it from a political perspective, which Dean appreciated, since he had to put it all in the context of "political thought." By the end, Dean actually could DEFINE social theory and the first two weeks of notes were clearer and not just a bunch of chicken scratch on a page. Castiel assigned him reading and exercises from the book, which the professor had been doing too, but Dean had never really put much effort into, since none of it made sense.
"I hope this helps." Castiel said as they left the library. "I honestly thought you were just lazy and skipping class, but it appears you really don't understand it."
"I'm not lazy. It might seem that way, but seriously, I ace my biology classes, I rock at history, and I even really like analyzing and writing fiction. It's just this social science crap I don't get."
"You like science?" Castiel asked.
"Yep. I love it. I love science, whether it's chemistry, physics, or biology. Physics is actually my favorite, but it's almost too abstract for a guy like me. Plus, biology? I can cure diseases and shit." Dean said, puffing out his chest a little bit.
"Cool." Castiel said, actually sounding like he meant it.
Dean became serious for a minute. "That's what I want to do when I'm out of here. Grad school, maybe med school. Then I want to go into research. I can't wait until I'm working in the lab all night long, analyzing samples, splicing genomes, or whatever they need me to do when I finally get there."
"You want to work in research? That's rare. I hear it's boring. Most people in your situation want to become doctors." Cas said.
"I don't want to be a doctor, at least not in the traditional sense. Doctors save people, but they don't find cures, they aren't at the forefront. That's where I need to be. I need to be at the front lines. I need to help people. There is so much we can do. So much I have to do." Dean said. He felt his voice rising and he knew he was getting carried away, so he shut up.
Castiel glanced at him, looking surprised, but didn't say anything. "Wow. So we need to get you out of here, then." He said.
"Social fucking theory isn't keeping me in this school for another semester." Dean said, staring at his feet. "So, that's why you need to help me, at least once a week. Until I get my D."
"I'd be happy to." Castiel said.
Dean and Castiel started meeting once or twice a week at the library. Dean started waking up at 7:30 instead of 8:00, so he could make it to social theory by its 8:10 starting time. His other classes were cake. Sensory neurobiology? Simple! Human genetics? Fascinating! His capstone class next semester, the Advanced Study of Molecular Biology of Human Disease? It was going to be absolutely fucking wonderful. A 200-level political science class? It was his downfall, which Dean found almost embarrassing. Bit by bit though, Castiel was helping Dean understand the pointless rhetoric of this introductory political science course.
Castiel also started eating lunch with him, Charlie, and Jo on a semi-regular basis. Charlie was creepily obsessed with Castiel, which Jo and Dean found hilarious. Castiel didn't reveal much about himself in the three weeks that he spent integrating himself into their lunch circle. They knew he liked screamo and that he liked to paint. They knew he was smart: he'd started college when he was 16 and that he was Jo's age and already had earned a master's degree and a job teaching. They knew that he liked to sit on the quad in the morning, where he'd drink coffee and grade papers. Otherwise, Castiel Novak was a mystery.
It was a Tuesday and Dean and Castiel had just finished yet another social theory tutoring session. Dean was already so bored with the material that he felt like crying every time he opened his textbook, but at least it made some sort of sense now.
"Well, I suppose I will see you on Wednesday for lunch." Castiel said, pushing his glasses up his nose as they walked out of the library.
"It's only 8 o' clock. I don't have class until noon tomorrow and I know you have the day off." Dean said, glancing at his phone to double check the time. "How about a beer?"
Castiel grimaced, "I don't go out much." He said.
"A beer isn't going to kill you." Dean said. "Neither will going out at 8pm on a school night."
Castiel thought about it for an unnecessarily long time and finally agreed to one beer. Dean took him to his favorite bar in town, a pub that was known for its cheap pitchers and totally awesome jukebox. Dean ordered them a pitcher of Killian's and the two of them sat down in a booth near the back.
"So, Cas, what's your story?" Dean asked, taking a swig of his beer. He'd been dying to ask this since he had met him.
"Not much to tell." He muttered.
"Oh come on, man. You're like this super genius who I literally ran over on the quad. Now you're saving my grade, yet you refuse money for tutoring. You like screamo and you draw the most bizarre shit I've ever seen. Not to mention, you have a lesbian who is head over heels in love with you. You're mysterious." Dean said, chuckling a little bit about Charlie.
"Charlie isn't in love with me. She just likes outsiders." Castiel said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
"Charlie is not an outsider. Girl has more friends than anyone I know. She's in a freakin' band that once opened for Tom Petty, dude." Dean said.
"Charlie appreciates my otherness." Castiel said quietly.
"Your otherness? What do you mean by that?"
"Well, come on, Dean. I'm an odd duck, I know that and so do you. I know I come off as strange to people. I've always known that. I think Charlie sees that in me and appreciates it for what it is. One of the things I like about her is that she doesn't try to figure out why I am the way I am. She just… appreciates it." He said, looking into the depths of his beer.
"Do Jo and I make you feel uncomfortable? Do your other friends?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling guilty about always watching Castiel.
"Everything makes me feel uncomfortable." He said, smiling a bit.
"Why's that? You're a cool guy, Cas."
"It just… does. I see the way you watch me, Dean, like you're expecting me to do something outrageous. I feel your eyes. I feel everyone's eyes. I know I'm weird, especially when you first meet me." He confessed.
Dean softened. "You're not strange. You just have this way about you, this wide-eyed, intense look, and when you talk, it's nothing like that. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable around me. We're friends, right?"
"I'd like to think so. I don't have many friends." He murmured.
"Well, buddy, you've got us! What's your family like, then?"
"I don't have any family." Castiel tightens the grip on his glass and takes a long swig, waves of resentment suddenly coming off him like heat.
"Oh God, man, I am so sorry. I had no idea."
Dean is horrified with himself. For some reason, he views Castiel in almost a voyeuristic way. He's so curious about his new friend, so intent on getting to know him, that he never really considered why he might be keeping everything so close to the chest. He can't help it; Castiel fascinates him, in almost a morbid way. Admitting this to himself doesn't make Dean feel any better.
Castiel is quiet for a long time and then he finally sighs raggedly and opens up.
"I grew up in foster care." He admits. "I never knew my parents. I was only 6 months old when they disappeared from my life. I lived with my grandmother until I was 5 and then she died. She was the only family they could find. I spent the rest of the time in different foster homes."
Dean doesn't know what to say that. One of his friends at home in Kansas was adopted, but she was adopted when she was a baby and actually met her biological mother when she was 16. He has never met anyone who grew up in the system. And he thought his family life was rough.
"A lot of bad things happened to me when I was young." Castiel said. "Things I won't talk about. There are other parts of myself too, things I don't want to discuss, but that's why I'm so… I don't know, guarded."
"How many places did you live when you were a kid?" Dean asked, trying his best to ignore the comment about "bad things."
"I guess... seven, not including living my grandmother? Seven different homes and a stint in a rehabilitation center." He said, actually laughing a little. "Luckily, when I was 15, I had foster parents that actually gave a crap. They got me an IQ test, helped me get caught up in school, and well, here I am now."
"School was your escape." Dean said carefully.
"School is the only element of my life that has ever been constant for me. It's the only escape I've ever had from, well, the shitty hand I was dealt." Castiel said, laughing some more.
"Are you still close with your foster parents?"
"They send me cards and money on birthdays and Christmas. If I'm in Boston, we'll get dinner, but otherwise, I don't see them." Castiel said, shaking his head. He poured himself another beer.
"God, Cas. I had no idea. You don't seem like you've been through all that. You're not as strange as you think." Dean said, settling back in the booth.
They spend the next couple of hours chatting over beers, the conversation becoming more natural and less depressing as the pitchers are refilled. Dean discovers that Castiel was offered a full ride to attend Parsons, but turned it down to attend school in a small Oregon town because he hates big cities. Dean tells Castiel a little about his brother and his mom, but not everything. There is a mutual love of baseball, something that surprises Dean because Castiel is so bookish. Castiel votes Democrat and thinks pot should be legalized and Dean admits that he's a Libertarian. They argue over the validity of Ron Paul and over whether or not SNL is still funny, all these years later. Castiel is a good conversationalist and as he loosens up, Dean discovers that he has a sharp and funny sense of humor that he had only witnessed in sparks before. Around 11, they are both pleasantly buzzed and Dean realizes that he genuinely likes Castiel, almost as much as he likes Charlie and Jo.
"Dean, what is the deal with you and lesbians?" Castiel says halfway into their third pitcher, an easy smile playing on his lips. It is probably the most natural smile that Dean has ever seen on his face.
"I don't know. Jo is my oldest friend. I thought I was in love with her all throughout middle school and part of high school. Then Jo was gay and I realized it wasn't happening. Charlie, well, there aren't many lesbians with dudes' names around here, so she and Jo bonded. She was Jo's friend, and now she's my friend, and now we're a package deal." Dean babbled, thinking fondly of his friends.
"How did you and Jo meet? I've always wanted a childhood best friend." Castiel said wistfully.
"Her parents, Bobby and Ellen, own the auto shop where my mom worked as the clerk/accounting person. Her family kind of looked out for me and Sam when we were growing up. Ash, Jo's younger brother, is actually Sammy's best friend." He said.
"You are so unbelievably lucky."
Dean frowns when he sees the regretful, envious look dancing across Castiel's features. Dean had always considered himself unlucky. An absentee, drunken father, a mother who tended to bail when life became too rough, and a younger brother with enough problems to keep Dean occupied until the end of time. He had never considered it from another perspective. This made him feel even worse for Castiel.
"Don't feel sorry for me." Castiel commanded, as if he were reading Dean's mind. "I'm happy where I am now. Happy to be sitting here with you, more buzzed than I have been in months, happy not to feel like a fucking freak for once."
Dean couldn't help it; he reaches across the table and takes Castiel's hand. It's warm and surprisingly calloused, probably from all of the drawing, and surprisingly, Castiel doesn't pull away.
"Cas, you're not a freak." He said softly, staring at this enigmatic, strange new friend of his.
Castiel smiled serenely. "You don't know the half of it."