Chapter Twenty-Six

Is Dean sick agen?

Castiel paused his garlic chopping for a moment to read the note Claire was holding in front of his face. His heart clenched painfully. "No, sweetheart. Dean's fine. He's just spending some time with Sam. You'll see him tomorrow."

Claire looked mostly reassured. She went back to her homework, kicking her feet in their brand new sparkly purple sneakers while she ran through her multiplication tables. Castiel had taken her shoe shopping after school. They'd barely left the store before she made him send a picture of her in her new kicks to Dean. Dean sent back, Awesome đź’ś, which made Claire beam proudly.

The oven beeped and Castiel got up to take out the peppers. He covered them with plastic to sweat off the charred skins. Then he poured a little olive oil in the bottom of the soup pot and set it on a low flame to preheat while he chopped the onion. When he returned to the kitchen table, there was another note waiting for him beside the cutting board.

Did Dean have ades?

Castiel froze. That… that couldn't say what he thought it said. Right? He had to be misinterpreting her attempt to spell something else. "I, um… I'm not sure what you're asking, Claire. Where did you hear this word?"

Claire took the notepad back and scribbled a lengthy paragraph. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she concentrated. She reminded him so much of Jimmy in that moment. It was a bittersweet feeling.

You'll never really be gone from me, will you, Jim? Not as long as she's here. Is this how you felt whenever you glimpsed a little piece of Amelia in her? In the way her hair curls or the way she laughs?

Finally, Claire passed the notepad back to him. His heart sank all the way to the pit of his stomach as he read.

Alex at school said that her mom said that boys who kiss boys catch ades and die. She said its a punishmint from God becus he dusent like boys kissing boys. And then Dean got sick but he dident die.

For a long time Castiel just stared at the childish scrawl on the paper, a window into the tangled thoughts and feelings Claire had been struggling with in silence for weeks. It had never occurred to him that she might encounter homophobia from children. Children innocently parroting the words of adults who should know better.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the smell of scorched oil. The pot on the stove was smoking. He jumped up to turn off the burner, then returned to the table.

"Alex. That's the kid you had a fight with. Was this why? Did you push her because she said these things about me and Dean?"

Claire nodded.

"Oh, Jesus," Castiel muttered under his breath. No wonder. She must have been so angry. Another kid would have yelled back, called Alex's mom a stupid liar or whatever cutting insult a nine-year-old could come up with in the heat of the moment. But Claire's anger had no verbal outlet. Her choices were to lash out physically or stand there in silence.

Castiel took a breath. Priorities. They could discuss anger management later. Right now, he had to soothe Claire's fears.

"Okay. First of all, no, Dean does not have AIDS and neither do I. And even if we did, we wouldn't necessarily die. There are treatments. Medicines. Second, AIDS is not a punishment from God. It's just a virus, and anyone can catch it, not just gay men. What Alex's mom said is something a lot of people used to believe. Years ago, when I was a little younger than you are now, there was an epidemic. Do you know what that means?"

Claire shook her head.

"It means that the virus started to spread very quickly. A lot of people got sick, and the medicines we have now hadn't been invented yet, so a lot of people died. It was a scary time, and when people are scared, they look for someone to blame. They blamed men like me and Dean. Men who fell in love with other men. They said that God was punishing us for being the way we are, and punishing them for allowing us to exist among them. But they were wrong. Science proved them wrong, and science developed treatments that allowed people with AIDS to live long, healthy lives. So you don't need to worry about it, okay? Dean and I will be just fine."

Claire absorbed all this for a moment. Then she turned the notepad to a fresh page and wrote, But what if you die like Daddy and Mommy died?

The fact that every single word was correctly spelled made it all the more heartbreaking.

Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat. He desperately wished that Dean was here to hold his hand and make him a cup of tea, but he powered through. He considered his answer very carefully. Claire might be only nine, but she was intimately acquainted with the reality of death. She had lived with the ghost of a dead mother for her entire life, and then the car accident… Who knew how much she remembered from that night, what trauma might be locked away behind her wall of silence. She didn't need adults tiptoeing around the d-word and making empty promises. She deserved honesty.

"You're right," he said, and by some miracle his voice held steady. "I can't promise you that nothing like that will ever happen again. I wish I could, but that's not how life works. Your father understood that, and that's why he made a plan just in case he was taken from you before you were grown up. The plan was that you would come live with me, and I would look after you and keep you safe. And that's exactly what happened, right?"

Claire nodded. Castiel couldn't quite read her expression, but she was clearly listening and absorbing every word, so he kept going, channeling all the things he wished someone would have told him and Jimmy when they were her age, newly orphaned and with no clue what the future held for them.

"And I know it hasn't been easy, moving to a new city and going to a new school, but we're figuring it out together. You and me and Dean. We're making a new home and a new family for you. And that's exactly what your dad wanted." Well, maybe not the part with Dean, but that was a conversation for another day, hopefully many, many years from now. "That's why he made the plan. So you would always be safe and provided for and surrounded with love, even if he couldn't be here with you." Castiel reached out to gently tip Claire's chin up, meeting her eyes. Jimmy's eyes. "I have a just-in-case plan too, Claire. If I die, then Dean will take care of you. And if something happens to Dean too, then you'll go live with Anna and baby Rosie. You remember them?"

Claire nodded, and she actually did look less worried. Not sugarcoating it was the right call.

"I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen again, Claire. But I promise that I will always make sure you are taken care of. You will never be left alone in the world."

Claire put down her pencil, stood up, and climbed into Castiel's lap, laying her head on his chest. He held her and rocked gently from side to side the way he'd seen Jimmy do when he was soothing her after a nightmare or a scraped knee.

"It's normal to be scared of losing people, sweetheart," he said to the top of her head. "Especially after everything you've been through. I get scared sometimes too, thinking about all the bad things that might happen. But do you know what helps?"

She looked up at him curiously.

Castiel lowered his voice like he was imparting a great secret. "Cuddles." He playfully squeezed her in his arms and was rewarded with a giggle. "Whenever you're scared and you can't stop thinking about the bad things, come find me or Dean, and we'll have a cuddle until you feel safe again. Okay?"

Which was exactly what she'd been doing, he realized as he said it. Getting into bed with them after her nightmares. Sleeping right between her parents, the safest place she knew.

Claire nodded against his chest. Castiel rocked her in silence for a few more minutes. He was willing to hold her like that for as long as she needed, but it wasn't long before she sat up and signed, 'eat'.

"Yes," Castiel agreed with a chuckle. "Let's finish making dinner."

When their soup and sandwiches were ready, Claire put away her homework and dug in like she hadn't eaten in a week. Castiel watched her with a smile as he ate his own food at a more civilized pace. He always loved to see people enjoying his cooking, but there was an extra sense of pride and accomplishment when he made something that Claire liked. She polished off three bowls of soup and two and half turkey sandwiches, so he assumed the growth spurt was still going strong. He should make an appointment with a pediatrician soon. He seemed to recall reading somewhere that children should have an annual checkup around their birthday.

"You know you'll be turning ten in a few weeks," he said as Claire scraped her bowl clean one final time. "We could have a little party if you like. You could invite your new friend Tasha."

Claire's eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. Grabbing the notepad, she scribbled two words in all capitals. STITCH PARTY!

"You want a Lilo and Stitch themed birthday party?"

Another vehement nod.

"Okay. I think we can make that happen." He could find Hawaiian shirts and silk flower leis at the party supply store. And he knew a baker who could create a cake version of any cartoon character in any flavor requested.

Castiel felt a brief flash of envy. Claire's enthusiasm for her birthday seemed completely untainted by grief. Of course, he knew that wasn't really true. Children lived in the moment most of the time, but she would remember before too long that it was her first birthday without her dad. Castiel decided to buy her an extra present and label it from Jimmy. Something meaningful. Maybe another photo album, this one documenting the story of Jimmy and Claire.

"Who else should we invite besides Tasha and her dads?"

Claire signed a letter D.

Castiel laughed. "Yes, obviously Dean. How about Sam?"

A nod. And Missouri, she wrote on the notepad.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, and I'm impressed that you can spell her name. That's a tricky one." It helped that it was also the name of a state and a river, so she'd probably seen it written out in some of her school books, but Castiel was still impressed.

Claire wasn't done with her guest list. On the next line of the notepad she wrote, restarant peepul.

Castiel blinked. "What? All of them?"

Another moment of scribbling. Exept the mean lady.

He didn't have to work too hard to figure out who that was. "Naomi. The lady who gave you the cake?"

A nod.

Castiel chose his next words very carefully. "Of course we don't have to invite her if you don't want to. It's your birthday. But I'm curious. Why do you say she's mean? Did she do something or say something to you?"

For a moment, Castiel was sure Claire was going to clam up, but then she started writing again. It was a relatively brief sentence, but when he read it, Castiel's blood boiled. She said mean things about Dean.

"The night you were in her office? When she gave you cake?"

A nod, followed by more writing. She said he dusent realy luv us and wer just a wayst ayshun for him. She said men cant be trusted and they brake yor hart after they get what they want.

"Waystation?" Castiel asked with forced calm, pointing to the word.

A nod and a quizzical look from Claire. She clearly didn't know what it meant any more than she knew how to spell it.

"It's…" Castiel gritted his teeth. He hated Naomi so much in that moment. He didn't think he'd ever been angrier at anyone. Not even his cheating ex-boyfriend. "It's like a stopover on the way to somewhere else. She meant that… that she thinks Dean is going to leave. But she's wrong. I promise you she's wrong, Claire. Dean does love us, and he's not going anywhere. He's not going to break our hearts. I'm so sorry she scared you like that."

Claire looked surprisingly unconcerned. She took the notepad back and wrote, I know. I dident beleve her.

Castiel wasn't sure if that was really true. He thought that a part of Claire had probably wondered deep down. The same part that worried about illness and arguments and accidents breaking up her family all over again. And that part came out in nightmares, clinging behavior, bursts of anger, and burnout. She didn't want to think the worst, but Naomi's words had gotten under her skin just like they had Castiel's.

"Good," Castiel said, his voice a little strained. "If she says anything like that to you again, please tell me about it. In fact, if any adult says such things to you, tell me. An adult shouldn't be talking that way to a little girl. It's very inappropriate." He hoped that Naomi's vague allusion to Dean 'getting what he wanted' was the closest she'd come to discussing sex with a nine-year-old.

Claire nodded her agreement.

~o0o~

Once Claire was in bed, Castiel made himself a cup of tea (still not as good as Dean's) and wrote an email to Principal Mills summarizing the evening's revelations and requesting a meeting later this week to discuss an appropriate response. He copied Dr. Bradbury on the email, then sent another one just to her with a few more details he hadn't felt necessary to share with the school, including the part about Naomi. It was after eight, so he knew he wouldn't get any response until tomorrow, but the act of sending the emails made him feel marginally better, like part of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Anger still seethed under his skin though. How could Naomi do something like that? Did she actually believe that in some twisted way she was protecting Claire since Castiel had refused to heed her warnings about charming men? Or did she just want so badly to break up Castiel and Dean that she actually didn't care if she traumatized Claire in the process?

Castiel's first instinct was to march into her office tomorrow and have it out with her, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he already knew how that conversation would go. He could have recited Naomi's lines for her: refuse to acknowledge any wrongdoing on her part, accuse Castiel of being dramatic and hysterical, and insist that she was only looking out for his best interests and Claire's. If he talked about quitting, she would dismiss it as an empty threat because it always had been in the past.

Well, fuck that. Castiel remembered what Dean had said to him on Valentine's Day. "There are dozens of restaurants in this city that would jump at the chance to hire the Castiel Novak to run their kitchen, and they would treat you a hell of a lot better than she does." He didn't have to put up with Naomi's bullshit. He had made Paradis' reputation just as much as it had made his.

Castiel sent a few more emails, this time to contacts in the restaurant business. People he trusted to be discrete. There was no sense in tipping his hand just yet.

By the time that was done, it was still not quite nine, and the thought of laying down in his bed without Dean was not a pleasant one, so he made another cup of tea and put The Great British Baking Show on Netflix. Halfway through Bread Week, he fell asleep.

He woke an indeterminate amount of time later, groggy and disoriented. When he blinked the sleep from his eyes, Dean's face came into focus above him. "Dean? When did you get here?"

"Just now. I let myself in with my key since I assumed you'd be asleep. Why are you sleeping on the couch, babe? Did the wife kick you out of bed?"

Castiel snorted. "Yes, she found out about my boyfriend and was very angry."

"Damn. I knew I shouldn't have left my panties under your bed."

They both laughed. "We're ridiculous," Castiel said, gazing fondly up at Dean.

"Yup," Dean agreed, "and the couple who's ridiculous together stays together."

"Here's hoping." Castiel dragged himself into a sitting position to make room for Dean on the couch. "How was Sam's party?"

"Surprisingly fun despite the lack of alcohol. They're a great group of guys. Sammy's got a good support system there." Dean sat next to Castiel, smiling when Castiel immediately snuggled up to him. "How was your evening?"

"I had a very… enlightening conversation with Claire over dinner. It began with her asking if you were sick again since you weren't here, and then… well, it's probably easier to show you." Reluctantly, Castiel left Dean's side to retrieve the notepad from the kitchen table. He turned it to the correct page, handed it to Dean, and collapsed on the couch again. He so didn't want to do this right now, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to really relax until he did, and Dean would pick up on his bad mood pretty quickly.

The color drained from Dean's face as he read. "What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She… she heard this stuff from a kid? Jesus, I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

"I felt the same. I did my best to allay her fears, and I think I mostly succeeded. I guess only time will tell. I'm working on setting up a meeting with the school to address the issue. Based on my previous interactions with Principal Mills, I'm reasonably confident that she will take this seriously, but I'd still like you to come with me for moral support if you're willing."

"Of course," Dean said without hesitation, and another piece of the weight lifted from Castiel's shoulders.

"Thank you. I'm afraid that's not all."

Dean blanched again. "There's more?"

"The second part is mostly unrelated to the first except that I think they've both been feeding into Claire's anxiety and fear of abandonment, triggering this latest round of nightmares. Turn the page over."

Dean turned the page carefully as though he was afraid the words might bite him. He frowned in confusion. "Stitch party?"

"Yes, we were discussing her birthday. It's two weeks after mine, by the way, and she wants a Lilo and Stitch theme."

"Of course she does," Dean chuckled.

"Then we got to discussing the guest list. She wanted to invite everyone from the restaurant… with one notable exception. Bottom of the page."

Dean's lips moved silently as he deciphered Claire's writing. This time his face turned tomato red. "I'm gonna kill her," he growled. "I'm gonna fucking kill her." He obviously didn't mean Claire.

It was probably wrong to get turned on by your boyfriend making death threats against your boss, but Castiel didn't care. The idea that Dean would literally kill to protect him and Claire and their little family was undeniably hot, at least in theory, but in the real world, "I would be in favor of that plan if it didn't inevitably end with my boyfriend in prison for a very long time."

Dean looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, fair point."

"There is another way we can have our revenge though. I've already started looking for a new job. I've been thinking about it for weeks, and this pushed me over the edge. Obviously, you need to make your own decisions and I won't be mad if you—"

"Are you kidding? Of course I'm not staying there without you, Cas!" Dean looked at him like Castiel had suggested he go skinny dipping in a shark tank. "Hell, you're the only reason I took that job in the first place."

"Ah, yes," Castiel chuckled. "You wanted to cook with the great Castiel Novak. How's that working out for you?"

"Pretty damn great actually," Dean said with a grin, but then he sobered. "You know the odds that we'll be able to find jobs in the same restaurant again are practically zero."

"I know," Castiel sighed, "and that does make me a little sad. I love working with you. But we can still cook together at home, right?"

"Yeah, of course we can." Dean put the notepad down on the coffee table and gathered Castiel into his arms.

Castiel laid his head on Dean's shoulder with a contented sigh. They cuddled in comfortable silence for a while. The clock above the TV said it was just after midnight.

"I'd move for you, you know," Dean said quietly. "If you found your dream job in Chicago or California or something."

"What about Sam?"

"Sam's doing really good these days. He's nine years sober. He's got friends and a job. He's not gonna fall apart without me. Obviously, I'd miss him, but we could come back to visit."

Castiel smiled into Dean's shirt. "We, huh?"

"Yeah. We," Dean said with conviction. "You and Claire are part of the family now."

"I like the sound of that," Castiel said, which might be the understatement of the century. "But I'm going to try to stay in New York if at all possible. I'd rather not uproot Claire again so soon."

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm just saying… we'll do this together, okay? Even if we have to find two separate jobs and work around two different schedules, we'll figure it out together. This right here," Dean took Castiel's hand, lacing their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze, "is my number one priority."

With his face still hidden in Dean's shoulder, Castiel let a few of the tears in his eyes fall. "Thank you, Dean," he whispered. "That means the world to me."

They lapsed back into comfortable silence. Castiel was just about to suggest they move this cuddle party to their bed when Dean suddenly went stiff in his arms.

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked, lifting his head to look at his boyfriend. Dean was staring blankly at the dark TV. "Dean? Are you okay?"

"I have an idea," Dean said, turning to look at Castiel. "It's kind of crazy."

"Most of your ideas are," Castiel said with amusement, "yet somehow they usually work. Tell me."

"Okay, so… you remember the night we met?"

"Difficult to forget the night I fell in love with you."

"Shut up. You did not," Dean laughed.

"Well, fell in lust at least."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean's grin turned mischievous. "Were you having naughty thoughts about me, chef? How unprofessional."

"We're getting off topic," Castiel said sternly. "You were telling me about your crazy idea."

"Fine," Dean pouted, "but you're gonna tell me more about those unprofessional thoughts later. I want details."

"Of course. The idea?"

"Right. So you remember when we were talking about how we got into cooking, and I told you I never opened my own restaurant because I didn't like being tied down? Well, that… wasn't completely true."

"I know," Castiel said.

Dean blinked. "You do?"

"Yes. Sam told me how you drained your savings to pay his medical and legal bills."

"Oh." Dean looked crestfallen.

"Should he not have shared that with me?" Castiel asked, suddenly nervous.

"What? No, it's fine," Dean said quickly. "It just… kinda ruined my dramatic moment."

Castiel laughed. "I'm sure you'll recover. Please continue."

"Well, that was nine years ago. And I started saving up again as soon as I could. I actually have more now than I did back then. It's still not enough on its own, but… if we went in together…"

Castiel's breath caught in his chest. "Are you… are you suggesting we open our own restaurant? Together?"

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine. I know it's a huge financial risk, and you have a kid to feed, and I don't even know how much money you have, so if you don't—"

Castiel shut him up with a kiss.

Dean melted into it like he always did. When they came up for air, he said, "Was that… a yes?"

"Yes, Dean. I would love to open a restaurant with you."

This time it was Dean who initiated the kiss. When they moved to the bedroom, it wasn't to sleep. And by some miracle, they weren't interrupted. In fact, there wasn't a peep from Claire all night.

~o0o~

The rest of the week was uneventful in the best of ways. Claire still had the occasional nightmare, but it wasn't every night anymore, and Castiel dared to hope that they were out of the woods. He knew it wouldn't be the last time something triggered her anxiety like that, but he was grateful for the reprieve.

Castiel and Dean celebrated by fucking like horny teenagers every night that Claire wasn't in their bed, and in the afterglow, they made plans for their restaurant. Dean wanted to call it Claire's which made Castiel melt, but after he finished kissing his boyfriend stupid, he reluctantly reminded Dean that there was a rather popular chain of stores by that name and it could get confusing.

"Oh. Right." Dean pouted adorably.

"You know," Castiel said, resisting the urge to suck on that plump lower lip, "Claire is actually a French word meaning light. Maybe we could do something with that."

"Like that old song. Claire de… something."

"Claire de Lune. Moonlight."

"Café Claire de Lune." Dean rolled the words around in his mouth, tasting them. "I like it. Sounds like a cross between a small town diner and an underground club for artists and queers."

Castiel laughed. "I think we just found a name and the theme for our décor."

"Ooh, maybe we could split the space in half," Dean said, eyes shining. "One room for sit-down dining with a quiet, romantic ambiance, another for dancing, live music, and a bar."

Castiel didn't have the heart to tell him to slow down. The cold shower of reality would come later. Right now, it was good to see Dean daring to dream of his own restaurant again.

At work, it was business as usual. Dean was frigidly polite to Naomi. Castiel bickered with her by rote as she second-guessed his every decision about the McLeods' party, but there was an undercurrent of gleeful victory even when he lost an argument. He held the trump card, and she didn't know it yet.

On Friday, Dean and Castiel walked Claire to school together. They had informed Naomi that they might be a few minutes late to the staff meeting due to a family matter. She was less than pleased, especially since it was Dean's turn to cook, but he'd put up a large batch of chili in a crockpot the night before and arranged for Benjamin to bake fresh cornbread. She really had no grounds to object other than her general resentment that anyone should have a life outside of work.

Dean, Castiel, and Claire climbed the steps of the school and navigated the halls to the office, Claire holding tightly to one of Castiel's hands and one of Dean's. The secretary waved them through to Principal Mills' office, but Castiel paused and knelt down to look Claire in the eye.

"Remember what we talked about, sweetheart. You're not in trouble. All the people in that room are Team Claire. They just want to figure out how to help you feel safe and included here at school so that you can learn. And the final decision on what we do is yours. If someone says something you don't agree with, what do you do?"

Claire gave him an emphatic thumbs down.

"Good girl."

As Castiel stood up, Dean squeezed his arm. Castiel gave his boyfriend a look of gratitude deeper than words, and then he knocked on the principal's door.

"Come in," Ms. Mills called.

There were four people already in the room: Ms. Mills, Dr. Bradbury, a blond woman Castiel recognized as Claire's teacher Miss Donna, and a tall lanky man he'd never seen before. The man appeared to be wearing a sock puppet on his right hand, complete with googly eyes. Before Castiel could ask what that was about, Claire darted away from his side to hug Sock Puppet Man tightly around the waist. Castiel blinked in shock. Since Jimmy's death, he didn't think Claire had hugged anyone but him and Dean.

"Hey, Claire," Sock Puppet Man said, hugging her back. "How are you today? Did you eat a good breakfast and store up lots of energy?"

Claire gave Sock Puppet Man a thumbs up.

"That's good. Mr. Fizzles is so excited to meet Claire's family."

It took Castiel a moment to realize that Mr. Fizzles was the sock. It finally clicked when Claire grabbed Sock Puppet Man by his sock-clad wrist and dragged him over to Castiel and Dean.

"Hi," Sock Puppet Man said, greeting them with a disarming grin. "I'm Garth Fitzgerald, school counselor. The kids call me Mr. Garth. And this is my buddy, Mr. Fizzles. He's a really good listener. Aren't you, Mr. Fizzles? I sure am!" The last part was said in a high pitched voice and was clearly meant to be from the puppet.

Castiel glanced over at Dean who seemed to be struggling not to laugh. "Uh, well, it's nice to meet you… both?" Castiel hazarded.

Dean lost it, doubling over with silent laughter. "I'm sorry," he gasped between bouts of giggles.

"Hey, it's all good, amigo," Mr. Garth assured him. Then in the voice of Mr. Fizzles, "Yeah, Mr. Fizzles loves making people laugh! Laughter is good for your body and your brain!"

"Well, now that we've broken the ice," Ms. Mills said, clearly fighting a smile of her own, "shall we sit down and finish the introductions?"

Chairs had been arranged in a circle. Claire sat between Castiel and Dean. The rest of the adults took the remaining places.

"So, I'm Jody Mills, principal," Ms. Mills began. "This is Donna Hanscum, Claire's teacher."

The blond woman gave a cheerful wave.

"And you already know Dr. Charlene Bradbury, and our school counselor, Mr. Garth Fitzgerald. Oh, and let's not forget Mr. Fizzles, a valued member of our team."

"His official job title is 'communication facilitator'," Garth said with a perfectly straight face. "Sometimes kids feel more comfortable telling things to someone who's not a teacher or a parent. Someone like Mr. Fizzles."

Castiel could see the logic in that. Sock puppets didn't judge you or put you in detention, and something about Mr. Garth's approach must be getting through to Claire if she felt safe enough to hug him and his puppet buddy.

Castiel cleared his throat nervously. "Thank you all for sitting down with us today. My name is Castiel Novak. I'm Claire's uncle and guardian, and this is my partner Dean."

No one showed the least bit of surprise or judgment.

"As I stated in my email, Claire has shared with me some more information about the playground incident a few weeks ago. The other child apparently said some unkind things about Claire's family. Specifically things about gay men. I know this is a public school, and you can't control the things students hear at home, but–"

"But," Ms. Mills cut in smoothly, "all our students should feel safe at school, and we do not tolerate any mean or hateful speech here. Rest assured, we have talked with Alex and her mother. There have been consequences, and if there is another incident, there will be more severe consequences."

"Thank you." Castiel had a suspicion that these consequences hadn't gone over well with Alex's mother, but the details were none of his business. Managing that side of things was Ms. Mills' job. His one and only concern here was Claire.

"Now," Ms. Mills went on as though reading Castiel's mind, "let's talk about how we can help Claire feel safe. Dr. Bradbury has been telling me a bit more about Claire's difficulty with words." She looked directly at Claire. "When you feel stressed, scared, or angry, you find it hard to even sign words or write them down. Is that right?"

Claire nodded.

"So we've come up with a system to help you communicate when you need a break. Remember the bathroom card we gave you on your first day?"

Claire nodded again. Castiel too recalled the laminated card printed with, I need to use the bathroom please. Claire kept it in the side pocket of her backpack and always checked to make sure she had it before she left for school.

Ms. Mills held up an almost identical card, but this one said, I need some quiet time please. "If you show this card to Miss Donna or the teacher supervising recess," Ms. Mills explained, "you'll be allowed to go to Mr. Garth's office. Now, remember when we gave you the bathroom card, we talked about how important it is that someone knows where you are at all times?"

Claire nodded and did something with her hands. It looked like a karate chop followed by a squiggly line drawn in the air and finally the sign for no.

"That's right," Miss Donna said. "You need to go straight to the bathroom and come straight back. No wandering around. That's not safe."

Castiel was impressed. It would have taken him at least a minute to decipher that little bit of improvised sign language.

"So if you need to take a break in Mr. Garth's office," Miss Donna continued, picking up the thread of Ms. Mills' explanation, "you're going to go straight there, and when you get there, Mr. Garth is going to send me a text to let me know that you're safe. If I don't get that text, then I'm going to have to come find you, and that's not something I want to have to do. I want to be able to trust you, right?"

Claire nodded solemnly.

"So straight to Mr. Garth's office, but once I know you're there and you're safe with Mr. Garth and Mr. Fizzles, then you can stay there as long as you need to."

"And if you want to talk to me or Mr. Fizzles about how you're feeling," Garth chimed in, "you can, but we can also just do puzzles and draw pictures until you feel better."

Castiel thought this sounded like a great system, but his opinion wasn't the one that really counted. He turned to Claire. "Do you like this idea, Claire? Thumbs up or down?"

Claire smiled and gave them all an enthusiastic thumbs up.

~o0o~

"Mr. Fizzles the communication facilitator," Dean was still chuckling as he and Castiel walked down the steps of the school. "That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time."

"If it works with the kids," Castiel said.

"Oh, I'm not knocking it. It's brilliant. Hilarious but brilliant, and Claire clearly loves the guy and his weird puppet, and if she has a safe place to go to get away from the bullies, I'm thrilled about that. Actually, they're all great. Miss Donna is like sunshine personified, and Principal Mills is… would it be weird to say I kind of wish she was my mom?"

"A little weird, but I know what you mean, and I kind of feel the same."

They reached the sidewalk and Castiel started to turn towards home when Dean suddenly said, "Hey, let's play hooky."

Castiel blinked at him. "What?"

"Come on." Dean grinned. "We'll tell Naomi that the meeting with the school ran long and we couldn't make it back in time. Instead we'll have a lunch date. Just you and me."

That actually sounded like the best idea Castiel had heard all week. "Okay," he laughed. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Let's just walk. It's New York. You can't go more than two blocks without passing a restaurant or a food cart."

So that's what they did. They walked down through Washington Square Park and into the East Village, holding hands in comfortable silence. They passed multiple restaurants but nothing struck their fancy until they stopped outside an adorable little place called The Creole Kitchen. There was a small courtyard with tables that was probably a pleasant place to eat in the summer, but it was deserted for now, the winter cold still holding the city in a death grip. By unspoken agreement, they went inside.

There was no one seated at the indoor tables either, and for a disappointing moment Castiel thought they weren't open yet, but the pleasant faced woman at the reservation desk smiled and said, "Table for two?"

"Yes, please," Dean said.

"Well, you have your pick," the hostess laughed, gesturing at the empty restaurant. "Would you like a booth?"

"That sounds perfect," Castiel said, already knowing that Dean would insist on sharing a bench just as they had on their first date. "Slow day?"

"We're busier at dinner time," the hostess said, leading them to a cozy, private booth at the back. "We do more takeout and delivery this time of day."

"Lucky for us," Dean said. "We get the whole place to ourselves."

The hostess smiled. "Your server will be with you shortly."

They used the other bench for their coats and sat on the same side of the table, Castiel tucked into the corner. "This reminds me of our first date," he said. "Hard to believe that was in January and it's only February now. I can barely remember what it was like to be a single parent pining after my impossibly hot sous chef."

"Pining, huh?" Dean chuckled. "You had it that bad for me?"

"From the second I laid eyes on you. And when I saw how good you were with Claire, I was a lost cause."

Dean got a soft look in his eyes and he lifted a hand to touch Castiel's cheek. "Funny. Seeing what a good dad you were was part of what made me fall in love with you. Everyone talks about you like you're this… superhuman being, god of the kitchen."

"Well, I kind of am," Castiel said with a completely straight face.

"Mmm. Modest too. My point is that you're more than that. That's only one side of you. A side I find incredibly hot as we've already established, but what made me really love you was the way you were with Claire. Patient and gentle and protective. You're a great chef, but you're an even better man."

Castiel had no idea how to respond to that, so he kissed Dean instead. They got lost in the kiss until their server arrived, clearing his throat pointedly. "I can come back if you need a few more minutes," he said with an amused smile. They hadn't even opened their menus.

"That's okay," Dean said, his ears turning an adorable shade of pink. "How about you tell us the specials and we'll go from there."

The lunch special, it turned out, was crawfish étouffée which was apparently one of Dean's favorite Creole dishes, so they ordered two of that and a couple glasses of the house white since they were either walking home or taking a cab. "Best crawfish étouffée I ever had was at this little gumbo shack in middle of nowhere Louisiana," Dean said when the server left them alone again. "I was moving to Austin for a job, and I was road tripping it because I hate planes and also I gotta bring my Baby with me."

"Of course," Castiel agreed.

"Anyway, I stopped for gas in this town called… Crowsville? Crow something. And right next to the gas station was this run down little restaurant. I mean it was a literal shack, and you know those kind of places always have either the best or the worst food, so I decided to risk it."

Castiel happily listened to his boyfriend wax rhapsodic about the meal he ate in this tiny Louisiana town. He had just reached dessert (cherry pie) when their lunch arrived.

Dean declared this étouffée almost as good as the one he had in a literal shack in middle of nowhere Louisiana. Castiel thought this one was pretty amazing, so the shack food really must have been out of this world. While they ate, they chatted idly about Claire's upcoming birthday party. Castiel was planning to get the invitations printed up next week so he could mail them in plenty of time. Passing them out at work seemed ill advised if they were excluding Naomi per Claire's request.

"Hey, we should invite Miss Eileen," Dean said as he sopped up sauce with a piece of crusty French bread, "and then we can sort of nudge her and Sammy together, real casual."

"I love it," Castiel laughed.

A woman in a white chef's coat, her blond hair pulled back off her face in a neat French braid, approached their table. "Hi," she said with a bright smile and a hint of a Southern drawl. "I was just coming by to see how everything was, but… are you, by any chance, Castiel Novak?"

"I am," Castiel said in surprise. "How did you know?" He wasn't used to getting recognized in restaurants if he didn't already know the chef.

"Oh. Long story. My ex-boyfriend took me to Paradis a couple years ago for Valentine's Day. I saw you from across the room, talking to some couple. Okay, I guess it's not that long a story." She laughed a little nervously. "Anyway, I'm Elisabeth, and I'm just so honored that the Castiel Novak is in my restaurant. Sorry. I'm having a fangirl moment."

"Well, I may have to come to your restaurant more often," Castiel said with a smile. "My boyfriend really likes your crawfish étouffée."

For some reason, Elisabeth's face fell. "Oh. I mean, I'm so glad you liked it, but… we're not going to be here much longer."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Is business that bad? Your food is amazing. Maybe if we told our friends about this place…"

"You're sweet, but it's not that. I'm moving back home to take care of my dad. His health isn't good, and I can't afford to keep this place and pay for his medical care. It'll break my heart, but I'm putting the building up for sale next month."

Castiel looked at Dean and knew without a word spoken that they were thinking the same thing. He turned back to Elisabeth. "What's your asking price?"