Slipped Angles Chapter 3: Tea, a supernatural fanfic

Chapter 3

"Oh, there he comes, mi fiel amigo Dean!"

Bobby El Cantante exclaimed with a satisfied grin spread all over his wrinkled, sweaty face.

When everything else failed, Dean visited Bobby. And right now everything was failing. The school's heating room, which was located in the school's main building's basement, was where the Mexican janitor Bobby spend most of his working time at.

"Hey, Bobby, how are you doing", Dean greeted, grumpily.

He couldn't help but grin back at the old man, though.

Bobby was one of Dean's few buddies, and Lisa had once jokingly called him his father replacement. Dean hadn't found her joke very funny back then, but of course he'd never forgotten about it. Dean started their usual greeting ceremony, uselessly watching Bobby carry some heavy wires around.

"Damn, man", Dean mocked him, sighing. "Those Mexicans don't bring anything better than Burritos to us, if you ask me."

"Yeah, gotta hate them Mexicans", Bobby agreed, mumbling into his beard.

"What are you doing, anyways, Bobz?"

"Well, my little Trump, I certainly ain't practicing for my Salsa class."

Dean's grin died. "You're working. Obviously."

"Tryin'."

Dean pointed at the freshly-rolled joint lying on Bobby's working table.

"Working, eh?"

Again, Bobby's grumpy look killed Dean's cocky grin.

"Why don't you mind your own business and tell me what's going on with your ass instead. Whatcha doing here at this early hour, mi hijo? And don't tell me you're here to apply for an internship."

"And there goes my chance at having a future."

"Well, you won't have one at all, unless you spill the beans on what's up with you this mornin' right about now."

"Nope. Sorry."

Bobby sighed, getting back to work on some wires, humming La Cucaracha as he did so. He was obviously proud of his pleasantly warm singing voice. After a while he stopped humming and turned to Dean again.

"So nothing's changed over the summer, sí?"

Dean grabbed the old, ragged sombrero that the janitor hardly ever took off and placed it on his own head.

"What do you mean?"

He tried to sound careless. Unfortunately, I-don't-give-a-fuck–Dean generally seemed to be off to greater adventures today.

Of course Bobby didn't fail to notice. "Mi hijo, what y'think I mean?"

"Yeah, well, what can I say. Don't like digging deep. Never will. And I actually went to class this morning, for your information. But as soon as I entered the room, everyone started complaining that I would just outsmart them." Dean paused and shrugged. "So thanks to my overwhelming intelligence I'm left on my own devices again."

He fiddled with the sombrero, secretly hoping for one of the janitor's barking laughs. Sadly, Bobby didn't seem to be in the mood. In response, Dean only got a long sigh and an indistinct pinche idiota before Bobby got back to work. Well, at least he didn't throw Dean out.

Whistling, Dean made himself comfortable—or as comfortable as possible—in a car tire lying about on the dusty concrete floor. So what. He didn't feel like sharing the events of the day with anyone. In fact, Dean hardly ever felt like sharing his feelings or whatever. And what had happened today—and over summer—was without a doubt a matter of feelings. A blue-eyed, annoyingly gorgeous matter that had haunted him all the way into the classroom. Once appeared out of nowhere, and now following him everywhere.

After a long while of silence and several naps later, Dean half-heartedly initiated a conversation.

They spent the afternoon chatting about the janitor's latest delivery from Mexico, and things were back to normal.

At least for the moment.

Class had almost finished by the time Dean began his walk back home.

He left the school building, brushing off dust from his jeans and leather jacket, and was glad to find the schoolyard empty. Relieved, he looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. Overall, it'd been a sunny day, and yet now, clouds were crowding in.

Dean didn't want summer to end.

He should text Lisa. With a sigh he dug out his phone.

u mad at me? sorry bout this morning. can we meet later?

Lisa replied instantly, had probably been waiting for some kind of explanation all day.

dean, idk why u ditched school 2day. again. u promised me not to. anyway, should we meet at 8? dying to know why the hell our new math teacher knows ur name. XXX

Why, why did Cas have to acknowledge him in front of everyone? He could have waited until after class with approaching him.

Dean, what a funny coincidence meeting you here! The world is so small! Hahaha!

Except that Cas would never say such a thing, Dean thought.

Finally Sammy's, his and their Dad John's cottage slowly appeared at the end of the road. It was further away from the street than the other few homes settled down in Fleeing Deer Street. Their middle-sized wooden cottage lay on a small hill, directly adjoining the wild Green Forest of St. Tipper. Dean paced along the sand path leading to his home, not really wanting to be there. But he knew he had to.

A few footsteps back, Dean had passed another cottage, a very special one, one that he knew pretty well from the inside, too. His thoughts floating around in unknown atmospheres, anywhere but around his troubled presence, Dean had passed Cas' home mindlessly. He hadn't noticed the brown Chevrolet Pickup parking in the entrance. And he'd perceived Cas standing in the front yard, staring right at Dean, only as a scheme, if at all. Nothing relevant to his life right now.

Except that it was.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean spun around and found himself face to face with Cas. Mr. Novak. His neighbor. And his math teacher. If you put it like that, it didn't even sound that complicated.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Dean blurted out.

The question seemed to hang between them for a moment. Dean had the strong urge to slap himself.

"I mean. Obviously, I'm not there either", he added quickly, not daring to meet Cas' eyes.

Dean had known Cas for more than two months now, that strange man who walked and talked as if the world meant something else to him. And yet today, he had met a different Cas. Mr Novak and Cas just didn't really match in Dean's mind. Cas was dorky. He wore ugly sweaters, hardly ever shaved, and sometimes forgot to shower for an entire week without noticing. Mr. Novak, however, was hot stuff. Seriously hot stuff. So hot that it couldn't be ignored anymore.

Look, I'm sorry for leaving class. I know I said I'd stop ditching school. Was feeling sick, s'all.

"Do I have to call you 'Mr. Novak' now?" Dean heard himself ask instead.

Cas seemed to ponder over Dean's question for a moment, looking down at his feet.

"I made you uncomfortable today", Cas then stated matter-of-factly.

"Huh? No, you didn't. Sure, I was surprised, but so were you, right? I mean, you kind of had to be. It was—weird."

Cas gave a small nod.

"I was relieved, actually. Seeing you, Dean, eased my stress level." Cas smiled weakly, finally looking up at him. Dean's heart began beating faster. "You looked sleepy, though. I had to get up very early, too. Teaching is hard."

Now Dean smiled too, shyly.

"Yeah. School sucks."

"I agree to some extent." Cas rubbed his stubble. "I would've liked it better if you'd stayed."

For a second Dean was struck dumb, guilt pinching his stomach. Then he started stuttering. "I—I was just not feeling too great. Guess I ate something bad, or something."

Cas ran his fingers through his wild curls and shrugged. "I can't say I was feeling too well, either. I'm always quite nervous when I meet a new class."

Dean tried a compassionate smile.

Suddenly, Cas froze, staring at a spot just under Dean's chin. Maybe at his lips. Then Cas stepped forward, with a determined look on his face, and Dean's heartbeat went out of control. Cas grabbed Dean tight and—

—pushed him a few steps aside. A choked laugh escaped Dean's lips.

Cas let go and left Dean's upper arm ache from the strong grip.

"What—what was that?" Dean breathed, unsuccessfully searching Cas' gaze, whose eyes hectically wandered anywhere but into Dean's.

"My apologies", Cas said.

He didn't back off, though.

"Cas, uh. Personal space?"

"Oh. Right. My apologies." Cas took a tiny step back.

Finally Dean could breathe again. "What was that? For a second I thought you were about to—uh, nothing."

"There. There was a bee. It nearly landed on you. Sorry, Dean. I'm—I'm afraid of them. Traumatic memories."

"Bees?" Dean repeated, one eyebrow cocked.

He watched Cas shift uncomfortably.

"Yes", Cas made, face to the ground. He continued quickly, as if to change the subject. "Dean, I don't want you to call me anything different. I like how you shortened my name."

"You mean… Cas?"

"Yes. It's… nice. I have grown quite fond of it."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, uhm. Me too."

"So. Please don't change it, Dean."

"No, I… I won't." Dean smirked. "Cas."

I don't want anything to change, neither of them spoke out.

They exchanged a glance, both lapsing into silence and looking away. Cas was still way too close, Dean thought, and Dean had trouble focusing on anything other than the three top buttons of Cas' white shirt, specifically the chest they were revealing, because they'd popped open during Cas' life-saving action. Cas' shirt was tight.

Cas was sort of staring down at Dean's jeans, because apparently he didn't know where else to look, either. Dean could feel himself blush. The silence was getting awkward. Normally, Dean wouldn't have minded silence, and he knew that Cas didn't even realize there was an awkward pause. But Dean felt like he still needed to say something, needed to set things straight.

"It's just—", Dean began. "It's just that we've hung out a lot over the summer, and I know you're almost old enough to be my dad, and hell, now you're my friggin' teacher, but I just like spending time with you. So, no matter what we're gonna do, study math, stare at the wall or whatever, I'd just like to keep that up. Because you're my friend. And I like talking to you. I like being with you. I like—you."

Dean finished breathlessly.

After three horrible seconds he dared looking up to see Cas' reaction.

Cas smiled one of his I just stepped out the door and wow, the world is a beautiful place - smiles.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Dean?"

Cas turned around and started walking towards the house.

Dean felt the aftermath of Cas' smile everywhere—everywhere—and was unable to move for a second. Then he threw one look over to his home, figured that Sammy probably wouldn't immediately die without him, and hurried after Cas. Briefly, he thought about greeting his classmates tomorrow.

Hey guys, guess what I did yesterday? Had tea with our new math teach. Yeah, that's right, with Mr. Novak. We hung out.

Just like we did all summer.

„Dean, would you mind not running around the house like Speedy Gonzales? It's been hours. Don't you have some TV show to binge-watch or something? I'm trying to do my homework here."

"Well, one of us has to clean at some point, right, Sammy? Or would you prefer living like some rat in a dump?"

"No, Dean. But I'd prefer getting my homework done in peace."

"Well, sorry, Buddha, but I've got work to do. Take a look around! It's gross."

"It's literally sparkling."

"You are sparkling. I'm not done yet. Face it."

"Then how am I supposed to concentrate? Latin, Dean. I'm trying to translate Cicero here."

"Dude. You're in 8th grade. Where did you go wrong?"

"Just do me a favor and sit down already, jerk."

"Nope, thanks", Dean refused, throwing a look at Sam over his shoulder. "Nerd."

Sam bitch-faced at Dean and loudly slammed his text book shut. Furiously, he started collecting his school stuff from their small dining table.

Dean threw the collected pieces of dirty clothing in the washing machine and started the load. He closed the bathroom door behind himself. The washing machine got going, and Dean leaned against it, recharging for a moment. He was exhausted. But he couldn't stand still. Just couldn't.

After drinking tea with Cas everything had been a blur. Dean had gone directly home to his brother. That much he remembered. Ever since then the adrenaline had been rushing through his veins like crazy, turning him into a flustered, unstoppable mess.

Because Cas had touched his arm. Squeezed it. Gently.

Dean was very aware of his suspiciously untypical behavior. He didn't usually care that much about their home's looks. But anything distracting him from overthinking what had just happened with Cas was fine. And if that meant cleaning every single damn surface he could find in their two-room-cottage, scrubbing and wiping and washing the whole night like a maniac, then that would be the way he'd spend this Monday night.

Dean took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

Sam, backpack flung over his shoulder, glared at him.

"Damn, Dean", Sam finished, turning around. "You're making me sick."

"Where do you think you're going, Sam?" Dean shouted, sounding more determent than he'd intended.

Halfway out of the house, Sam stopped to give his brother another deathly stare.

"Out. Somewhere I can concentrate. And stop acting like Dad, Dean."

The following silence was broken by the shattering sound of the door slamming shut.

He's probably just running to Jess, Dean thought, hoped, and swallowed hard.

He stood still for a long moment, taking an expert look around the room.

Sam had been right. It really was sparkling. There wasn't anything left that Dean hadn't cleaned within the past two hours. He needed to stop. With all the will in the world. Maybe he should just—take a nap. Yeah, that sounded manageable.

Yawning, Dean simply placed himself on the wrung-out, still quite comfortable couch standing in the middle of the cottage's gloomy living room, which also functioned as Dean and Sam's bed room.

He closed his eyes.

"What do you mean, you don't have time tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Lis. My private tutor asked me over and we really need to go through some stuff."

"That's the third day in a row, Dean."

"Yeah—I know. But he's already waiting for me, so…"

"So what? Just call him and put it off until tomorrow! You've been going through stuff with him every single day. And that's great. But one day off won't hurt. And I really want to see you!"

"Yeah, but—I've already promised him I would come over. He's already ordered pizza for us and all."

"Oh, he's ordered pizza. Well, then."

"Lis—"

"Seriously, Dean? You put math first? Math? Before me? What kind of math is it that you two are doing exactly? I'm really starting to wonder."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! I'm starting to wonder if your so-called private tutor really is some hot older girl that you're screwing!"

"C'mon, Lis, don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, now I'm ridiculous. So, tell me, Dean. What's the second binominal formula?"

"Uh—"

"I thought so. You know what, Dean?"

"Lis—"

"Maybe I'll just go to the club with the girls tonight. Have some fun for once. And you—you can do whatever it is you're really doing with your summer affair!"

Dean awoke to the ring of the doorbell.

Exhaustion must've literally knocked him out. He couldn't even remember falling asleep on the couch. What he did remember though was the dream he'd just had. Maybe reoccurring nightmare was more fitting. Except that this conversation really had happened. Dozing, he'd been going through Lisa's and his argument for the thousandth time.

Summer affair.

He thought about Cas' hand on his arm earlier. Squeezing. A little too long to be a casual touch between friends.

Dean shuddered.

He rolled off the couch and sleepily trotted to the door.

"Your Dad's not home?"

Lisa stepped in and kissed him on the cheek.

Dean was baffled for a second. He'd totally forgotten about their date.

"Uh—no, he isn't home", Dean said, closing the door. "He's been out hunting for a few days now. Should return by the end of the week. At least that's what he said the last time he called from god knows where."

"So, we're home alone." Lisa winked at him. "That's convenient."

"Heh."

Automatically, they both fell into their happy-couple-routine. Dean's spontaneous idea of the evening involved watching some kind of chick-flick Lisa was desperate to see, while stuffing his face with some popcorn. And afterwards they'd have the obligatory make out session. Maybe more. He repeated his plan in his mind, trying to make it sound less like I got up, brushed my teeth, had some toast and left for work.

They sat down on the couch and Lisa started talking about some argument with her Mum that she'd had this afternoon. Dean didn't really listen. It wouldn't be long until she'd start asking questions about what had happened today. After all that was why she really was here. She friggin' loved gossip.

And really, as the evening progressed, the only thing Dean found himself unable to do on autopilot was keeping Lisa's curiosity towards Cas at bay.

"So our math teacher is your new neighbor. Wow."

She paused to munch on some popcorn, head resting comfortably on Dean's shoulder.

Yup, he answered in mind. And by the way, he's also the guy you unknowingly accused me of having a summer affair with.

"Actually—why have I never noticed him over the summer when you and me met at your place? Not like we've met a lot." She playfully nudged his shoulder. "You've been too busy with your math guy."

Dean winced. He remembered desperately shoving his math notes in Lisa's face to prove to her that he'd really been doing math all along. She'd believed him after quietly reading them. From there on they'd referred to his private tutor simply as Dean's 'math guy'. Now she really didn't need to know that said 'math guy' that Dean had continued to put before Lisa was actually hot as fuck.

"Well." Dean cleared his throat. "As far as I know Cas—uhm—Mr. Novak rarely leaves the house. Probably busy studying books or solving some kind of high-fashioned math problem all day. You only could've seen him work in the garden. He does that a lot. Even though he's scared of bees. Which is a little weird, I guess. But that's just how he is. He's a weird, dorky—"

"And what about a wife? Doesn't he have kids?"

"Uh, not that I know of."

"Huh. Strange."

"Yeah."

Lisa put her focus back on the movie. After a while she turned to Dean, full-bodied. Dean knew what was coming now.

"So—why did you run away from class today? You promised me to stop with that this year. I'm disappointed, Dean. You could have showed Mr. Novak what you've learned from your math guy."

Dean blushed and rubbed his cheek. "Uh—yeah. That would've been cool."

"So? Why did you do it?"

"I—I." Dean thought hard. He should've prepared something. Why hadn't he prepared something? Now he had to improvise. "I—I had a situation, Lis."

Lisa stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"God, it's not that hard to understand, okay? Gabe's been going on and on about your red panties and exploding ass and what not and I just—had a situation, okay!"

"Dean!" Lisa snorted with laughter. "Okay—first of all, I will personally kick Gabriel's butt tomorrow. And secondly—why didn't you just tell me?"

"Yeah, sure. 'Lis, sorry for letting you down, but my dick comes first'. You would've liked that?"

"Yes?" She grinned at him and kissed his nose. "I would have."

Dean only grumbled in reply.

"Why didn't you come back, though? After you—you know—took care of your situation?"

"Dunno. Didn't want to answer any stupid questions, I guess."

She smiled, contended. "That's okay, Dean. I've told anyone you didn't feel good, anyway. There will be no stupid questions." She turned to the screen again, snuggling against his chest. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Y—yeah. You're welcome."

They didn't talk much for the rest of the evening. The movie bubbled on and Lisa was enjoying Dean's presence with a sweet smile, gasping at all the dramatic plot twists and telling some crazy gossip about one of her girlfriends during the boring parts. From time to time, Dean dozed off.

Later on Dean's attention was temporarily revived by Lisa's naked legs warped around his body. They lay on his bed and Dean was ready to go all the way. But he wasn't entirely ready. Though he tried his best to cover up the obvious non-excitement downstairs with an overly extended foreplay. Lisa had spent many nights with Dean, and even though during summer holidays there'd been some problems, he'd never taken that long before.

"We don't have to", she breathed between two lazy kisses. "It's been a long day, Dean."

And Dean had no choice but to swallow down his manly pride. Though of course he'd done a fair amount of protest before that. She'd assured him that everything was okay before turning herself around to sleep next to him in his narrow bed, leaving Dean to his embarrassed, confused feelings. She was wrong.

Nothing was okay.

As Dean slowly nodded off he had no chance of fighting off the images of steaming hot cups of tea.

Cas and his three opened buttons. Intently listening to Dean's stories about Bobby El Cantante, whom the teacher no doubt would meet sooner or later at school. Every now and then Cas had given an amused huff or he'd giggled. Suddenly Dean had found himself telling one funny story after another. Just to chase after that smile appearing on Cas' face every so often.

"That one time when Bobby made Sammy a what he called herbal tea, and it turned out to be—"

And those blue, blue eyes gazing at him.

"—which made Sam all funny. Never seen him so high before."

"Of course you can still visit me, Dean", Cas had assured him later. "I do consider you a close friend."

He had even met Dean's eyes in that firm way of his, but Dean—

He just didn't buy it.

When they'd said good-bye at Cas' door, Cas had reached for Dean's arm and held it for a long moment. It had not felt as tight as when he'd pulled Dean aside, but more cautious and hesitant, a gentle touch that had made Dean smile like some 12-year-old girl talking to its crush for the first time, and had made him actually feel kind of sick in his stomach for a moment. It may have been nothing but an ordinary good-luck-moment between two friends, but it sure had been something else to Dean.

Basically Dean's heart had stopped. Dean had suddenly remembered his own words. I like being with you. I like you. He'd wondered if Cas had gotten that the wrong way. Or what even the right way was. Dean liked Cas a lot. Strange enough, in that moment part of him hoped Cas had gotten it wrong. And that he'd been acting out on it.

That small gesture of comfort had deeply surprised Dean, because usually, Cas didn't seem all too familiar with physical contact. Had he meant to soothe Dean's concerns towards the upcoming school year? Had he thought of Dean's mostly absent father and had wanted to reach out to him?

Dean was pretty sure he hadn't meant to make him get hot all over.

It wasn't healthy that Cas' touch had agitated Dean into a state of adrenaline-rushed confusion.

It wasn't right that Dean couldn't get the feeling of his grip out of his mind and it was virtually hysterical, a product of Dean's overused nerves, that he in conclusion wondered what it would feel like to be hugged by that man.