Chapter 1: Nerdy Fight Club
Chapter Text
"Dude, come on. It's my last night of summer before hell starts all over again. You really want me to spend it at another one of your little nerd battles?" Dean complains. Instead of getting ready like he should've been doing 20 minutes ago, he's still sat on Sam's bed playing with the same football he's had since he started middle school.
"School is not hell. Learning is important, Dean. You should be the one telling me that, not me telling you. And it's called robot combat. It's cool." Sam repeats himself for probably the fifth time tonight. He's currently doing some last-minute tweaks on his robot that he's been preparing for months now. So far, he's won two tournaments and is determined to win his third. Tonight will dictate whether or not he goes to the semi-finals.
"Yeah, cause spending your whole summer in your room building robots is what cool people do." Dean scoffs, throwing his ball in the air and catching it one handed.
"Whatever, jerk."
"Bitch." Sam quickly turns his attention back to the task at hand rather than at his childish older brother so as to not show him the betraying smirk on his lips. As he finishes tightening some screws, Sam thinks of another point to help persuade his brother into not backing out of this event.
"Charlie's probably on her way over right now, you know? You don't want to leave your best friend of 13 years to watch me destroy everyone all by herself, do you?" Dean scoffs and holds onto his ball as he contemplates Sam's point.
"She's geeky just like you. I'm sure she wouldn't even notice if I were there or not." And just like that, it's as if the Winchesters summoned Charlie because there's a knock at the door.
"Why don't you ask her." Sam offers, basically telling Dean to go get the door. Dean rolls his eyes in response and sets his ball down on the floor before heading down the stairs, skipping one or two steps with his big strides. He opens the door and is met with a very cheery redhead.
"What's up, bitch?" Charlie raises her hand and splits her fingers into the Vulcan salute. Dean chuckles at her crude greeting and opens the door wider to let her in.
"Nothing much. Just trying to get out of going to Sam's nerd battle." Sam's voice can be heard in the distance as he once again corrects Dean.
"Robot combat!" Dean only laughs some more while Charlie punches his shoulder.
"You have to go, man! You need to support your brother!" Dean cocks a brow.
"I support him! Besides, he already won the last two fights he did. I bet this won't be any different." Charlie folds her arms over her chest and gives Dean a judgemental glare.
"He's your brother. It's important for you to show up. God knows John never does, for anything."
"Hey. He's got a lot on his plate, alright?"
"Yeah. Hunting poor innocent animals for fun is way more important than watching your sons achievements in life."
"Charlie, drop it. You know that's not all he does. His job is very high maintenance, and he does it anyway to provide Sammy and I with everything we need to survive this shitshow. A little hunting trip to relax here and there is more than okay."
"Dean, you're also a mechanic, and your paychecks are the ones going towards half the bills in this place, yet you still manage to make time to go to Sam's robot fights."
"Charlie." Dean's voice is stern and protective. Sure, his family's way of living may not be the same as every other family with a white picket fence, but it works. If they've got food, water, and shelter, then what's there to complain about?
Charlie sighs. Despite wanting to continue on with this conversation, she already knows that it won't lead anywhere groundbreaking. Trying to tell Dean Winchester his father isn't the ultimate hero he claims him to be is like talking to a wall. So, she puts her hands up in defeat and drops the subject. For now.
"Okay, Winchester. I'm just saying that if he won't be there, at least you could be. Do it for Sam." Dean scoffs.
"You just don't want to be there all alone for hours." Charlie smirks.
"Well, that too, but mostly do it for Sam." Dean stares at her cheesy smile and can't help smiling back. With a reluctant sigh, he nods his head. At this point, Sam has been waiting at the top of the stairs and with confirmation that his big brother is coming to watch him fight surges lots of excitement through him. He hurriedly makes his way down the steps, robot in hand as he rushes for the door to put on his shoes.
"Come on! I can't be late!" Sam exclaims. Dean chuckles once more at his brother's oddly excited attitude and glances at his father's car keys. He knows John strictly told him to not even think about driving his baby anywhere before he left with Bobby to go hunting, but there's no other way to get to Sam's nerdy little fight club. He chews on his bottom lip in contemplation. He doesn't want to disobey his father, but he also doesn't want to disappoint Sam.
"Dean! Come on! We need to get going now! If I'm even 10 minutes late, they'll disqualify me!" Sam proclaims. Dean looks at his little brother's anxious face and he just can't say no to him. He's a good driver anyway. It's not like anything bad will happen. John will never find out. He grabs the keys, and the three of them head over to the impala currently parked in the garage. With Sam in the backseat and Charlie on the passenger side, Dean puts the car in reverse and gets this show on the road.
.....
When they arrive, the place is packed like a can of sardines. Dean places a protective hand on Sam's shoulder to ensure he doesn't lose him in the sea of people as they maneuver their way over to the ring. They're about 30 minutes early, giving Sam enough time to prepare his bot and make sure everything is still working and operating smoothly. While Sam settles in, Charlie drags Dean over to a large poster showing every battle that's happening tonight.
"Looks like Sam is in the third battle." Charlie points to his name on the sheet. Dean moves a step closer to read the name more clearly. He looks at the name beside Sam's to see who he's up against.
"Who's Castiel Novak?" Dean asks with his voice raised so Charlie can hear him over all the loud chatter that surrounds them. Charlie squints her eyes as she reads the name herself and shrugs her shoulders.
"Dunno. Must be new." Dean nods his head. When they finish looking, The two of them head over to the concession and put some change together so it's just enough to buy a bag of popcorn for them to share, plus two fountain drinks. They head back over to the ring and sit in their front row seats, a perk to having your brother as one of the contestants in this robot combat.
As Dean looks around at the swarm of people, he can't help but smirk and lean into Charlie's ear. "Who knew so many nerds lived in Lawrence, huh? I mean, you'd think this is for the WWE or something." Charlie shakes her head and chucks a piece of popcorn at Dean's face.
"You're here. What's that make you?"
"A supportive older brother who's only here to watch Sammy kick ass and then I'm out." Charlie shakes her head again, this time with a laugh. Dean laughs along with her and they continue to go back and forth with their banter until the M.C. starts to introduce the first fighters.
It's best 2 out of 3 and so far pimples as Dean calls him is losing profusely to glasses. Despite Dean having not wanted to go to this "nerdy fight club," he seems to really enjoy himself. He's cheering for glasses, and to his approbation, he wins. Dean instantly flies out of his chair, arms flinging upward as he shouts at the top of his lungs. Charlie stays seated, clapping for the boy while also laughing at Dean's enthusiasm. Dean doesn't even realize she's laughing at him since her laughs get mixed in with all the other loud cheering. Soon enough, though, things settle down as they prepare for the second battle of this evening.
The two fighters place their bots in the ring and Dean carefully assesses both of their robots. Neither of them are as impressive as Sam's in his opinion, but he still bets his money on the one with flames painted on the side. It looks badass he has to admit. Especially compared to the plain lime green one it has to face. Charlie also thinks that the one with flames has a better chance of winning, though her reasoning for it is that it's much larger than the lime green one.
The two of them sit silently, yet fully intrigued and on the edge of their seats as they wait to see who wins. First round, flames wins. Dean and Charlie cheer loudly. The second round is a little dicer, with lime green ending up taking the win. Dean and Charlie pout, but it's not the end. It is now the tie breaker.
Both contestants are very skilled and put up a good fight, but in the end, to lots of people's surprise, lime green wins. This time, Dean stays seated and only claps for the winner. Charlie does the same, and now they shift in their seats with anticipation. It's time for the fight they've been waiting all night for.
When Sam comes into view, carefully placing his robot in the ring, both Dean and Charlie are screaming at the top of their lungs along with many others in the arena who seem to remember Sam from past tournaments. A flustered Sam's cheeks flush as he gives everyone a quick wave. His eyes settle on Dean and Charlie, and he instantly seems to relax a little. That is until his opponent walks over to the ring. Sam instantly tenses up as he stares at the much taller, much older fighter.
"That must be Castiel." Charlie shouts into Dean's ear. Dean looks over at the guy. He has got to be around the same age as him. Dean looks over to Sam and notices his nervous expression, clearly not expecting someone so much older. When Sam locks eyes with Dean, he gives him a reassuring nod, trying to tell him not to worry too much. Sam gives a little smile, seemingly understanding what Dean's trying to convey, and he takes a deep breath, focusing on his own bot again.
Dean turns his attention back over to Castiel. He seems entirely focused. Clearly, he knows what he's doing. His robot is pretty impressive. It's about the same size as Sam's, but unlike Sam's robot, his isn't painted. It's just all silver metal, the only colour being blue, which is from his logo. It's got a big scorpion-like tail curled over it, which is a little worrisome for Sam's bot, but Dean's sure he'll stick it out in the end no matter what.
Everyone in the building falls silent as the M.C. starts to announce the third fight this evening. "Alright, in the left corner here we have the scorpion!" The M.C. is very enthusiastic and puts a lot of emphasis on the name of the robot. "The scorpion was designed and built by Castiel Novak. Castiel is the robot combat champ back in his hometown in L.A. He has won 3 tournaments and the championships. That's pretty impressive for a 17 year old, I'll say!"
Many eyes widen at this intimidating information, including Sam, Dean, and Charlie's. Dean and Charlie share a wary glance at each other before looking over at Sam, who currently seems to be taking many deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.
"And in the right corner is Fairfax's own little champ! His robo fighter isn't called the terminator for nothing! With two tournament wins under his belt, this kid, just 13 years old, is seeking out his third win, which would advance him to the championships! Give it up for Sam Winchester!" The crowd goes wild. Dean and Charlie are out of their seats again, hands cupped over their mouths in an attempt to make their shouts louder.
Sam has a genuine smile on his face. He's a little flustered with all of the overwhelming attention, but he somehow manages to ease his discomfort with it. When the crowd settles down, Sam and Castiel get ready for their epic combat battle. It starts out slow with each of them getting a feel for the ring and trying to figure out how their opponent operates. Once they're more comfortable with what they're working with, both of them attempt to make some moves.
Sam, cautious about Castiel's robot's scorpion tail, tries to attack him from behind. It fails and he quickly pulls back. Castiel quickly turns his bot around and charges at the terminator. Dean holds his breath as the scorpion makes its way over to the terminator with quite a lot of speed.
"Noooo!" Dean, Charlie, and many others shout as Castiel's bot rams right into Sam's. Sam gasps and quickly catches his balance. He's still in this. Sam turns his bot so it faces Castiel's, and he clicks a few buttons on his controller. It activates an arm to shoot out of his bot. The arm swings and chips off a piece of Castiel's robot. The crowd cheers, and Castiel gasps.
"Yes! Way to go, Sammy!"
"Kick his ass!" Dean and Charlie yell so loud they're definitely going to have sore throats in the morning. Sam gains some confidence and goes in for another jab. Big mistake. Castiel whips his bot around in perfect timing. It crashes into Sam's, and the terminator spins out of control.
Sam's eyes widen in fear, and Dean bites down on his finger in fear of spitting out something he'd regret later. Castiel smirks and charges for Sam's bot again. Sam can't get in control. Castiel knocks over Sam's robot like it's nothing. The terminator flips onto its top side. One point for Castiel.
Half of the crowd cheers while the other boos. "It's okay, Sammy! You've got this next round for sure!"
"Yeah, no doubt about it!" And he does. As the second round goes on, Sam has a better feel for how Castiel's bot works, what his moves are, etc. It takes a while and a lot of sweat and tears, but Sam knocks this one out of the park. As Castiel's bot flips over, his head bows down. The crowd once again goes wild for the kid. Dean and Charlie jump out of their seats for the millionth time this evening.
"See, Sammy? I knew you could do it!"
"Yeah! Take it home, kiddo!"
The bell dings. Round 3 begins. The pressure is on. This is the tie breaker. Both contestants lock in, fully focused with one goal in mind. Winning. Castiel carefully drives his bot backward, avoiding Sam's. Sam takes that as a hint that he's nervous. He gets cocky. He follows Castiel in a little dance, going for the punch and instantly getting dodged. Some people get impatient, yelling at Castiel to fight back already. Castiel pays them no mind. His eyes are completely focused on his robot.
Sam decides to try and get another jab at the scorpion. He charges head first for Castiel's robot and Castiel grins. He's got Sam right where he wants him. No one realizes, but in an instant, Castiel pushes a red button on his controller, and it's all over. His tail contracts at the speed of light and drops heavily, stabbing right through the middle of Sam's robot all the way down and into the floor below.
Sparks fly before Sam's robot drops dead. The crowd gasps along with Sam, and the room falls silent. Castiel Novak just won. He just won the battle Sam had been preparing months for. Wasting his whole summer by working on this one robot that is now completely destroyed and unusable thanks to the scorpion.
After a minute or two of a complete pause from the crowd, they soon erupt into a loud cheer. There's clapping and hollering and people getting out of their seats. No one had expected this. Sam, especially. He just stands there, mouth hung wide open, staring at his now broken robot. Castiel has a wide shit eating grin on his face as he walks over to Sam's side of the ring and offers the boy a handshake.
"Well, there you have it, folks. Looks like Fairfax's two-time tournament winner, the terminator just got a taste of its own medicine from the Scorpion! Give it up for Castiel Novak! He is now going to the semi-finals!" Sam's heart shatters. His dream just got absolutely crushed, and Dean is furious about it.
"Oh, come on! That's such bullshit! That Castiel guy is my age! He shouldn't be fighting Sam in the first place!" Dean complains aloud to anyone willing or not willing to listen. Charlie pats his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down as she doesn't want to cause a scene.
Castiel overhears Dean's complaints and turns his attention over to the boy. He can only purse his lips in response. After all, it isn't like he chose who he went up against. There's nothing he can do but celebrate his well-deserved victory.
After grabbing their robots and robot pieces, both boys exit the arena and head down a private hallway for contestants only. Dean's mood is completely ruined for the rest of the night. He barely even pays attention to the last fight and doesn't realize it's over until Charlie wacks him on the back of the head.
"Hey!"
"Clap for the winner!" Dean rolls his eyes but does what he's told anyway. Soon enough, Dean and Charlie leave the arena and head out the building. They lean against the cool brick wall right outside the front doors as they wait for Sam to exit through there. It's about 11p.m. and the night air is cool and crisp. Charlie shivers as the cold wind attacks her bare skin. Dean glances down at her, noticing the goosebumps that form all over her skin.
"You forgot your jacket again?"
"I didn't forget. I just didn't want to wear it." Dean rolls his eyes.
"Why not? It's September."
"September 2nd."
"So? Still September." Dean shakes his head. Sometimes, he just doesn't understand what goes through Charlie's head, even if he's known her all his life. Charlie rubs her hands over her arms in an attempt to capture some heat through the friction as she subconsciously keeps eyeing Dean's leather jacket. It looks pretty warm if she does say so herself. Dean notices her ogling and scoffs. With a smirk, he leans closer to Charlie's ear so she can hear what he has to say better than she would with his current distance.
"God, I'm so warm and cozy in this jacket! It's so nice and soft and thick and-"
"Shut up, jerk!" Charlie punches his shoulder, earning an "ouch!" From Dean. She smirks as she takes that as a win and looks through the glass doors in search of Sam. Dean shakes his head with a sigh and takes off his jacket, placing it over Charlie's shoulders. Charlie smiles appreciatingly. "Well, aren't you just a gentleman?"
"Oh, save it. Next time, bring your own jacket cause I'm not doing this again."
"Funny. You said that last time, too." Dean playfully shoves her to the side, and just with their luck, the door opens, causing Charlie to fall right into some stranger. "Oh! Sorry!" She quickly gets a hold of herself and backs away from the poor guy.
"No worries." Woah. That's a deep voice. Dean looks up at the man who caught his best friend, fully expecting to see at least a father, someone old for sure, but it's not. It's a boy. Not just any boy, either. It's Castiel. Dean swallows a lump in his throat as he takes the guy in. He looks him up and down. He's a rather scrawny guy who seriously needs to tame his hair. He's dressed rather fancy for competing in robot combat. He's got a white button-up on with some slacks and a tie. Dean looks down at the guys shoes and releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding because damn. Even his shoes are nice. Who does this guy think he is?
"Um, can I.. help you? Sir?" There's his voice again. It's so deep and gravely for a teenager. Something in Dean's stomach flips. He must've had bad popcorn or something. Dean quickly composes himself and stares right into the guy's eyes to give him a piece of his mind.
"Blue." Shit. What?
"Blue?" Mr. L.A. tilts his head in confusion and squints his cerulean eyes as if trying to read Dean or hear his thoughts. The nerve he has.
"You. I said you." Dean clears his throat. Castiel only responds with a nod, seeming to believe that he misheard the mystery guy in front of him. As Castiel stays silent, waiting for Dean to continue, Dean attempts to make himself look somewhat menacing.
"You shouldn't have won. He was just a kid." Dean points a finger into the guy's face. Castiel squints his eyes again, trying to understand what he's talking about, but he quickly understands.
"I'm sorry, but I don't determine who I'm up against. I just play the game."
"Yeah, well, this wasn't a game to him. He prepared for months just for this moment, and you destroyed all of his hard work!"
"And you think I didn't also prepare for months?"
"I don't know, hotshot. Coming from L.A. you probably just paid someone to make your robot." Castiel tilts his head again. Dean's stomach flips again. Damn popcorn..
"I don't understand. That's against the rules. Why would L.A. make me pay for a robot?" Dean furrows his brows. Is this guy for real? Just as he opens his mouth to elaborate, a rather loud man in shades stumbles out of the building.
"Eh! These some fans of yours, little brother?" He asks, slapping his hands down onto Castiel's shoulders. Castiel winces at the unexpected force of his brother's hands, but he doesn't move away. He looks a little annoyed by his noisy presence, but that's not out of the ordinary for siblings.
"No. They were just-" Sam walks out of the building looking pretty glum.
"Leaving. We were just leaving." Charlie pipes in. She smiles at the brothers before grabbing Dean's arm and dragging him over to Sam. The jackass in shades watches them as they walk over to Sam.
"Ohhh, I see what's going on here! You're upset this little guy didn't win." Sunglasses presumes as he crouches down to Sam's level. Castiel looks heavenward before looking back to his brother.
"Gabriel, stop it." He whispers. Dean hears his words crystal clear.
"Gabriel, huh?"
"Oh look, the fella's got ears. Bravo." Gabriel claps and laughs at himself. Castiel only sighs and swats at Gabriel's hands, trying to get him to stop. Dean clenches his hands into fists.
"You got a death wish or something?" Dean trudges forward. Charlie tries to hold him back, and Gabriel only laughs harder at his angry tone.
"Relax! So what? The kid lost. So does everyone else! He'll just have to wait for the next tournament and hope my brother isn't there to kick his ass again."
"Gabriel!" Castiel warns again, trying to get him to shut his mouth. Gabriel only ignores him. Dean gets all up in his face now.
"You might wanna back off the kid, alright?"
"Or what, bud?"
"Oh, I am not your bud."
"No? Aw, too bad." Gabriel makes a pouting expression that Dean just wants to punch off his face.
"Dean, come on. He's not worth it. Let's just go." Charlie tries to diffuse the situation, but Dean doesn't back down.
"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, pal. Go home." Gabriel shoves Dean backward. Dean smirks and lunges forward, throwing a punch right across the guy's smug face. Castiel, Charlie, and Sam all gasp at the same time.
"She's not my girlfriend, dick." Gabriel's on the ground at this point and looks up at Dean, still grinning.
"So she's up for grabs then?" Dean hauls him back up to his feet and punches him again. And then again. And then again.
"Dean, stop! He's learned his lesson! Dean!" Sam shouts, still keeping a safe distance as he doesn't want to accidentally get hit in the crossfire. Dean doesn't hear him. Or he just doesn't care. Gabriel's on the ground again, and Dean's on top of him. There's blood on his knuckles, on Gabriel's face, on both of their clothes, and the street. It's an ugly scene. Castiel tries to pull Dean off of his brother, but it's no use. Dean's stronger.
"Please stop! My brother's an idiot, and we're sorry! Please!" Castiel pleads. Dean pauses, his fist held high in the air. He looks at the very scared looking Castiel. He looks right into his very blue eyes. Dean never knew there was such a shade. His breathing is heavy. He glances down at the man beneath him, a bloody mess. He's no longer smiling but rather groaning in pain. Dean swallows. With a hesitant sigh, he lowers his fist. Everyone is relieved.
"Thank you. Once again, I am so sorry. For his behavior and crushing Sam's robot. If I got to choose to go against someone my own age, I would have." Castiel stutters as he tries to form a quick apology. Dean gets up off the ground and walks back over to a very shocked Sam and Charlie. Castiel scrambles to help his older brother up off the ground.
"Uh, thanks." Dean quickly mumbles before walking away and over to the impala. Sam and Charlie hurry to catch up to him without uttering a single word. The three of them get into the car and silently drive home. It's an uncomfortable silence, but no one dares to try and break it. Dean just looks straight ahead, face stone cold. His knuckles are bruised and bloody, and they sting, but he barely pays mind to it. He parks in front of Charlie's house and clears his throat.
"Uh, thanks for coming tonight."
"Yeah, no problem." Her voice waivers. She smiles at Dean, but it's not completely genuine. Dean gives her a sorry smile back.
"Sorry about.. you know. I uh, I got carried away." Charlie shakes her head.
"It's okay. Just try not to do that too often, okay?" Dean lets out a humored huff and nods.
"Yeah, I'll try. Sorry again, though. I shouldn't have done it." Charlie nods. She opens the car door and takes off Dean's jacket, quickly folding it and placing it on the passenger seat.
"Make sure you ice that when you get home." She points towards Dean's hands. He smiles appreciatingly and nods.
"I will. Thank you, Charlie."
"No problem." With one final wave to Sam and a quick goodnight, she shuts the door and turns on her heels, walking up her driveway. Dean waits until she's safely inside before driving off towards their own house. It's not a far drive. It's just the next street over. Dean parks the car into the driveway and they head inside. Sam hurries off into his room while Dean does his usual rounds, making sure every door and every window is locked. He also makes sure all the curtains are closed and so on and so forth.
When he's done double-checking everything, he finally heads upstairs. He throws his jacket onto his bed before heading into the bathroom to wash the blood off of his hands. Sam now comes out of his room, ready for bed and leans against the doorframe. He silently watches Dean as he tries to think of something to say.
"I'm okay, you know?" He suddenly blurts out. Dean furrows his brows but doesn't look back towards his brother. He stays focused on getting his hands clean.
"What?"
"I'm okay. With losing. If you think about it, it's kind of an honor for me to go up against someone so much older. It means my skill level is above average for my age group." Dean scoffs, still not looking back to his brother.
"Coulda said something a little sooner, don't ya think?" Sam only shrugs in response. They fall into silence once again. Dean sighs.
"I'm uh.. I'm sorry, you know? Sorry you had to see that." Sam shrugs again.
"You were looking out for me."
"Yeah, well, I coulda done it in a better way."
"He pushed first. Dad said-"
"Never start a fight. Always finish it. I know what he said. That doesn't mean you gotta use fists. Words work just fine most of the time." Ironic, he's trying to teach a good lesson as he wipes the blood of someone else off his fingers. Sam nods in agreement.
"I know."
"Good."
Silence. Again. This time, it's comfortable. Dean turns off the tap and dries off his hands, the smell of iron still lingering in the air. He turns towards the door and Sam moves further into the hallway to give Dean some room. He walks out of the bathroom and into his own room. Now it's his turn to get ready for bed. He pulls off his shirt, undoes his belt, and takes off his pants as well. Finally, he peels off his socks, and all of his clothes get dumped into his hamper.
Dean takes off his necklace that Sam had gifted him many years ago for Christmas and places it over his lamp on his bedside table, ready to be worn tomorrow. Lastly, he heads back into the bathroom and brushes his teeth. Sam has retreated back to his own room at this point, so when Dean finishes his nightly routine, he opens Sam's door.
"Hey, bud. Uh, sorry you didn't win tonight. I know how badly you wanted to."
"Thanks."
"Sorry about your robot, too. That was a shitty move from.. Chris? Cam? Whatever." Castiel. Dean knows his name. It's a hard one to forget. So why is he acting like he doesn't remember?
"Yeah, thanks. And it's Castiel, by the way."
"Right, yeah. Well, anyway, goodnight, bitch." Dean smirks. Sam does the same.
"Goodnight, jerk." Dean closes the door and walks back over to his room, his smile never leaving his face. He shuts his own door, turning off the light as well. He walks over to his window and opens the curtains. He stares at the empty street down below. The occasional car driving by or person walking down the sidewalk makes Dean wonder what their lives look like. What they did to get where they are now. Where they're going. Who they are.
He doesn't know how long he stands there, but eventually, he gets drowsy and climbs into bed. With the calming light of the moon casting over him, Dean sighs contently, slowly drifting off to sleep for the night.
Chapter 2: The New Kid
Notes:
Hello again!!
So I've been thinking about what my update schedule should look like. So far I'm thinking every Monday, but with me starting my senior year of high school myself, it may have to change to every second Monday. So I'll keep you updated on that but so far I'll be posting weekly.
Also, in this chapter Dean and Charlie talk a little about their class schedules and if you were wondering what theirs + Castiel's look like, I posted them in the end notes :)
That's all I have to share for now so thanks for reading and have fun!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
7am. Dean's alarm goes off. He quickly smashes the snooze button and groans, not wanting to get up just yet. He flips over to face away from his clock only to get hit in the face by bright sun rays. With a surprised grunt, he flips back around, his back to the window. He tries to get at least a few more minutes of sleep, but it's no use. He's awake, and he isn't going to fall back asleep.
With a sigh, he accepts defeat and sits up in bed. He rubs his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep and is quickly reminded of last night's activities. Dean hisses, immediately pulling his hands away from his face. He looks down at his bruised and scratched up knuckles just shaking his head. This is exactly what he needed for the first day of school. Rumors getting spread about who the Winchester boy beat up this time.
Dean climbs out of bed and clumsily makes his way out into the hall, somehow managing to find the bathroom without bumping into anything. He quickly uses its facilities and carefully washes his hands, wincing as the heat of the water causes his injuries to sting.
After quickly washing his face, Dean heads back into his room now fully awake or, rather, awake enough, and walks over to his closet. He decides on his usual outfit. Blue jeans, olive green T-shirt, grey flannel, and his infamous brown leather jacket.
After finishing his little morning routine, Dean puts on his necklace and heads downstairs for some breakfast. Sam is already in there, fully awake and making himself a plate of eggs and toast. Dean notices the half filled coffee pot and heads there first.
"Morning, Sammy." He grabs a mug from one of the top cupboards and pours the brown liquid into it.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" Sam turns off the stove, his scrambled eggs fully cooked and ready to be plated.
"Until you give up because I'm never going to stop." Dean answers. He takes his mug and sits down at the island. When Sam's toast pops, Dean rushes over to the toaster, taking the two pieces for himself.
"Hey! I didn't make those for you!" Sam exclaims, trying to take back what's rightfully his. Dean shrugs, holding up the pieces of toast and laughing when Sam jumps to try and grab the toast, but failing miserably considering he still isn't tall enough.
"Well, you snooze, you lose, Sammy." Sam grumbles, giving up and just putting two more pieces of bread in the toaster. Dean wears a shit eating grin as he grabs a plate and puts his pieces of toast on it before going over to the fridge and grabbing the jar of grape jelly. He lathers a good amount of the jelly onto his pieces of toast before putting the jar back and finally biting into his stolen breakfast.
"You ready for school today?" Dean asks his little brother in between bites. Sam nods his head. "Everything's packed and ready to go? You have everything on your school supply list for sure?" Sam rolls his eyes and nods again. "Did you double-check?"
"Yes, mom. I have everything." Sam answers, his voice laced with sarcasm. Now, Dean's the one rolling his eyes.
"I just don't wanna make any last-minute trips, alright? And I'm not gonna keep turning around because you forgot your calculator and your pencils and textbooks and whatever else." Dean rambles on before taking another bite of his toast. Sam gives him bitchface #15 (the shut-the-fuck-up-you-know-I-won't-forget-anything look)
When they both finish their breakfast, Dean puts their dishes in the sink to be washed later and goes back upstairs to finish getting ready for school which just consists of grabbing his bag, doing one last once over in the mirror, and heading back downstairs to put on his shoes and wait for his slowpoke brother.
"Come on, Sam! I'm not getting any younger down here!"
"I'm coming!" Dean shakes his head as Sam is, in fact, not coming yet. There's suddenly a knock on the door, and Dean goes to open it. When he's met with a familiar redhead, he smiles and steps to the side so Charlie can come in. Now Sam starts stomping down the stairs.
"Morning bitches!" Charlie, all cheery, greets the Winchesters with a Vulcan salute (this🖖). Sam gives her a normal wave and a small smile as he rushes to put his shoes on. They all head out of the house, and Sam's already walking ahead while Dean locks the door.
"So. You ready for senior year?" Charlie asks with a big grin on her face. Dean looks at her from the corner of his eye before facing forward and walking down the front steps of his house.
"I'll be ready like I have been every other year, yeah." Charlie sighs at his answer.
"But this year's different. This year, things are going to change!" Dean laughs at her as they make their way over to school.
"Change how?"
"I'm gonna put myself out there. I've been thinking, and I haven't been going out very much these past few years-" Dean cuts her off.
"Charlie, you don't like going out. I've asked you to come with me to so many parties and you always said no."
"Because I always thought they were lame! But the other day, my mom was telling me stories from when she was a teenager, and she said these years are the ones you're going to remember the most, so make sure they're worthwhile. Which got me thinking, what have I done that's worth remembering? Nothing!"
"Oh, come on. You've done things!"
"Nothing worth remembering!"
"What do you mean? Remember that, uh.. that one time we snuck into my dad's alcohol cabinet, huh? And then at the pool.."
"Stop! No more! That's not something I want to remember. I want to remember things that were actually cool. Not things I thought were cool in the moment, and turns out it was not. Like, at all." Charlie shivers just thinking about the pool incident. Dean only laughs at her harder.
"No, this year, we're going to crash all the high school parties and.. maybe I'll try smoking! Or weed. Or-"
"Okay, I think you want to calm down a little, Char. And for the record, you would be the only one crashing parties. I'm pretty sure I'd have an invitation." Charlie rolls her eyes and punches his shoulder.
"Whatever, quarterback. You aren't even that good."
"That's not what coach thinks." Charlie rolls her eyes again. Dean laughs again. Now Charlie joins him.
"Okay, well, maybe I won't smoke, but I'm definitely getting all the ladies this year. And you are finally gonna win over Lisa. Unless I get to her first, of course." Charlie smirks and Dean lightly shoves her, making her stumble over someone's lawn.
"You stay away from Lisa. I called dibs back in seventh grade, remember?"
"Yeah, well, if she still doesn't want you at this point, maybe you need to take a hint."
"Weren't you just telling me that I'll win her over this year like not even 2 minutes ago?"
"I say a lot of things."
"Well, I can't deny that one."
"Hey!" Dean once again laughs loudly. Charlie giggles beside him and eventually, all three of them make it to school. Sam's already disappeared to look for his first class while Dean and Charlie sit down at an empty park bench. They each pull out their schedules and sigh at their assigned classes.
"Only having one class together is such bullshit." Dean announces. Charlie nods in agreement.
"And it's in the second semester! But, hey, at least we have our spares at the same time."
"Yeah, I guess." They sit there talking for a few more minutes before the bell rings. Once inside, they bid their farewells and decide to find each other at break.
.....
Charlie heads for the theatre on quick feet, maneuvering around all the confused and slow freshmen. When she walks inside, the familiar atmosphere puts a smile on her face and she quickly spots her friends in their usual seats, waiting for the teacher to begin class.
"Hey guys! How was your summer?" Charlie beams, setting her bag on the ground beside her and taking a seat. Her friends, Steve and Kyle, pause their conversation and turn to Charlie.
"It was good! I got the new Mortal Combat 4. You should come over and play sometime."
"Well, actually, what Steve means is that it was good until you ditched us last night for the football guy again."
"Oh, yeah, right. We needed you for DND last night. You missed a lot."
Charlie rolls her eyes at the boys in front of her. She sits back in her chair and gets comfortable as it seems their drama teacher is going to be fashionably late as per usual.
"The football guy has a name. And I didn't ditch you for him. I ditched you for his younger brother. He had another tournament last night. And, I specifically remember me telling you guys that you could join me. You said no." She folds her arms over her chest as she runs the both of them right into a corner.
"We said no because Dean was going to be there. You know what people like him do to people like us. He's probably only friends with you cause you have boobs." Kyle speaks up. Charlie scoffs at him. She knows for a fact that's a lie because one, her and Dean have been best friends since before they could talk, and two, because she came out to him and he couldn't care less. In fact, he and Sam are the only ones that know.
"No, he isn't. I told you he's different from the others. You just have to give the guy a chance to prove it to you."
"Well, he does come to all the school's plays." Steve interjects. Kyle tilts his head at the guy.
"Because Charlie's in them. Not because he actually appreciates the art of theatre."
"Kyle, you're reading too much into this. Trust me, Dean's a good guy." Kyle only scoffs and shakes his head, mumbling under his breath. Charlie shakes her own head at his behavior and looks ahead towards the stage.
"I promise to come to the next campaign. Just tell me ahead of time when it is, okay?"
"Okay! We will." Steve smiles his usual gummy smile, causing his glasses to ride down his nose, making him adjust them. Charlie laughs at his cheery demeanor before suddenly, the theatre door swings open with so much force it slams against the wall, the sound echoing and making Charlie jump in the process. All heads turn towards the entrance to find their drama teacher, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, ready to start the day.
"Okay, class! On stage. Quick feet, quick feet!" Everyone gets up, leaving their bags behind in the seats, and they file up onto the stage, sitting in a circle, already used to the usual routine. The teacher goes over to his desk to grab the attendance sheet, and Charlie looks around the circle to see who's all in her class. She recognizes everyone except for the odd one here and there, but when her eyes land on the new student, she audibly gasps. Both Steve and Kyle give her a confused look, but she ignores them, her attention fully fixated on the very familiar, still well-dressed, blue-eyed robot fighter from last night.
The teacher walks over to the circle, finding a gap in it for him to sit at. "Okay, class! Welcome to Drama 30. If you're in the wrong class, I suggest leaving now, nice and quietly please." He pauses, waiting to see if anyone gets up. No one does. "In case you don't know, my name is Mr. Hamburg. No, not like the food. Yes, like the place. Though, I recognize almost all of you, so I'm sure you already knew that. Before we begin I'd like to introduce our new student.." He trails off, looking at his papers to find the name. "Castiel Novak. Castiel, why don't you give the class a little wave?"
Castiel does as he's told and waves to the class sheepishly. Most of the class waves back to him, but his gaze is fixed on Mr. Hamburg. Must be introverted. Charlie focuses her gaze back to Mr. Hamburg as well as he explains the lesson plan for this year, and goes over what the class will be doing today.
He explains that the class will start with a few get to know you games to get comfortable around their peers and truly let themselves go creatively and all that. He first gets the class to form two circles. The first inner circle stays unmoving while the second outer circle shifts over one spot every 3 minutes and starts up a conversation with a new person.
Even if Charlie already knows most of her class, this exercise is still nerveracking and extremely awkward. Mr. Hamburg starts the timer and Charlie's on the outer circle while both Kyle and Steve sit beside each other on the inner circle, which makes her first two partners easy to talk to.
6 minutes go by quickly, and now Charlie is onto her third conversation. It's awkward at first since she doesn't know this girl very well, but they soon find out they share a common interest in Harry Potter and the Philosophers stone and they just eat up their three minutes talking about that. The next few people Charlie talks with don't go so easily. It's awkward, and long pauses are what eat up their time. Eventually, Charlie notices that Castiel is sitting on the inner circle. She takes a few deep breaths. If she thought the last few interactions were awkward, this next one has got to be astronomical.
The timer runs out. The alarm goes off, and people begin to shift over one space. Before she knows it, Charlie is sitting face to face with Castiel. His eyes widen, only seeming to now know that she's in his class. Charlie clears her throat. Neither of them want to talk first, but sitting in silence is almost worse than just clearing the air, so Charlie speaks up.
"Uh, hello, Castiel, was it?" He nods.
"I'm Charlie. Um.. congrats on your win last night." Castiel gives her a small smile. His heartbeat must be racing right now. He doesn't know what she's going to do or say to him.
"Thank you." He gives her a nod and she gives him a nod back. They fall into an awkward silence again and Charlie can't take it. He seems like such a nice guy.
"I'm sorry for my friend's behavior last night. He shouldn't have hit your brother. It was extremely unnecessary." The boy only nods his head, listening intently to her every word.
"It's okay. He's an ass." Charlie blinks, not expecting such a blunt forgiveness. After a pause to allow herself to catch up with what's happening, Charlie laughs. Castiel smirks, happy to ease her nerves.
"Even so, violence is not the answer. I want you to know that he does regret what he did. My friend, I mean." Castiel nods.
"You can let him know he's forgiven. Gabriel is going to be fine." Charlie nods. She can't believe the guy in front of her. He is so kind, and for what?
"Thank you. I'm sure he'll appreciate it." Castiel nods once again. They fall into another silent patch, but this time, it's more comfortable.
"Uh, do you have any pets?" Charlie suddenly speaks, getting back to the actual purpose of this exercise.
"No."
"If you had a pet, what would you want?" Castiel thinks. He takes every animal into careful consideration before answering her.
"I wouldn't mind having a cat." Charlie smiles.
"Cats are adorable. I don't have any pets either, but if I could, I'd have a dog and two cats."
"Why don't you have any pets?"
"My mom's allergic. Why don't you?"
"My dad doesn't want any." Charlie laughs at his answer. Castiel doesn't really understand why, but he smiles anyway.
"Um, what interests do you have? Other than robo combat."
"I like to learn. Sciences, languages, mathematics, things like that." Charlie nods along, thinking of any TV shows he might have seen with those interests.
"Do you like sci-fi?" Castiel tilts his head, furrowing his brows in confusion, clearly not understanding what she means.
"Science fiction. You know, Star Wars, Alien, Ghost Busters. Shows like that." Castiel raises his head in understanding and shakes his head. His smile returns.
"I don't really watch television."
"Do you read?"
"Yes. I love to read."
"What books are you into?" Castiel pauses to think again.
"I recently bought this book called, 'Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil'. It's written by John Berendt. I think it's quite interesting so far."
"What's it about?" Charlie asks, genuinely intrigued by this guy. Sure, maybe she should hate his guts, considering he broke Sam's robot and his dreams, but he's just so interesting and very different compared to the other kids she's met here at this school. She wants to know his story.
"It's a non-fiction story about the eccentricities and scandals that happened in Savannah Georgia. I haven't read very far, but there's a lot of interesting true crime cases in it." Charlie smiles.
"So you like non-fiction, huh?" Castiel nods in agreement.
"Yes. I do." Charlie wants to ask further questions, but the time runs out. Her shoulders slump. Castiel's smile flickers for a moment but he still remains neutral.
"Thank you for your apology, Charlie. I had a lovely conversation with you." Charlie smirks at him. He is definitely different from every kid she's ever met at this school.
"You're welcome, Castiel. I enjoyed our conversation too." She moves onto the next person. The rest of her conversations seem dull compared to hers with Castiel. When the exercise finishes, Mr. Hamburg gets everyone to stand up. There are still 20 minutes left of class, so it's time for another game. This one requires you to find a partner, and of course, Kyle and Steve team up together. Charlie shakes her head and looks around for someone else who doesn't have a partner.
It's not surprising when she spots Castiel standing awkwardly to himself, his back to the far wall. She shakes her head as she watches him watch everyone else partner up. It's hard to tell what he's feeling with his blank expression, but Charlie happily walks over to him anyway. When Castiel realizes she's walking over to him, his face seems to light up.
"Hello again, Castiel."
"Hello, Charlie." She looks around.
"Do you need a partner?"
"Yes." There's a pause. This guy isn't really one for words.
"Can.. I be your partner?" He smiles and nods.
"Please." Charlie giggles at his behavior and links her arm with his, dragging themselves over to the rest of the group. Once she's happy with where they stand, she let's go and stands in front of him. For this game, the goal is to perfectly mirror each other's movements. One person must be labeled A, and the other, B. Charlie is A, so Charlie is the one making moves, and with Castiel being B, he must mimic her actions.
The two of them start out with small movements. A wave or a crouch or even a stomp before getting into weirder, more awkward stances. They both seem to be having a good time as do all the other pairings. The room fills with laughter at this exercise. Eventually, it's time to switch roles, and now A is mimicking B. The same thing happens. Everyone falls into a fit of laughter.
The class moves on to play one final game before the bell rings. During the last 5 minutes, the teacher gives a few announcements before letting the class be free and wait patiently for the bell. Charlie walks up behind Castiel and pokes his shoulder. He turns around and tilts his head downward to look her in the eye.
"Hello, Charlie."
"Hello, Castiel. I have a question."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Uh, do you have a phone?" Castiel tilts his head, not knowing where this conversation will lead.
"Yes, I do. Why?"
"Well, I was wondering if I could maybe have your number?" Castiel's eyes widen. He doesn't know what this means. What her intentions are. He doesn't want to hurt her feelings. She's the only person who actually seemed to want to get to know him. Charlie can see the worried confusion flare in his eyes, and she immediately diffuses any assumptions.
"Not like in a I like you way. Well, I do like you, but I don't like like you if that's what you were wondering. I just want to be friends. If you know, last night didn't taint anything." Charlie nervously rambles on. Castiel releases a relieved breath, and his whole demeanor calms down.
"Last night did not ruin things. I would like to be your friend, too." He smiles reassuringly. Charlie releases a shakey breath and nods.
"Okay, good. Uh, so can I have your number?" Castiel nods and pulls out his phone. They exchange numbers and go their separate ways over to their backpacks. When Charlie walks back over to her bag and friends, Kyle and Steve give her knowing looks. She cocks a brow at them, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulders.
"What?" Charlie finally asks, basically calling them out for their staring.
"Nothing. Just.." Kyle starts off before getting interrupted by Steve.
"You seem pretty friendly with the new guy." Charlie rolls her eyes at the two morons sitting in front of her.
"I want to be his friend. Is that a crime?"
"Course not. We were just wondering if that was your actual intention or if you wanted to, maybe.." Kyle trails off, and Steve finishes his sentence by making smooching sounds and looking like an idiot. Charlie grimaces at the mere image of making out with a man.
"No! I just want to be his friend. Stop being gross." Both boys put up their hands in surrender. To be fair, it's not like they know Charlie's a lesbian, but the mockery still disgusts her to her very core anyway.
"Okay, okay. We were just wondering." Charlie rolls her eyes at the two knuckleheads while they laugh at her. Soon, but not soon enough, the bell rings, and Charlie heads off to her next class. English.
.....
Dean's first two classes go by quickly. Or at least Woodworking did. His first class, English, went by so slow it could've been considered torture. When the bell rings, people finish up with their safety tests and hand them into the Woodworking teacher up at the front before they head out for break.
As Dean walks out, he takes one last deep breath through his nose, relishing in the smell of the room. The scent of freshly cut oak fills the air and now his nostrils. It's such a calming scent. It's much better than the B.O. Dean instantly smells as soon as he's out of his classroom. The gym is right beside the Woodworking room and a line of guys who either don't know what deodorant is or don't know when to stop spraying their axe file out into the hallway. Dean fights the urge to cover his nose as he walks into the open area of the school where all hallways connect, which their school calls the hub.
Dean takes out his phone and stands at a rather empty part of the hub to text Charlie and tell her where to meet him. It's not long before he sees the familiar redhead amongst the sea of brunettes and blondes, and he waves at her to grab her attention. She waves back once she spots him and speeds up her walk.
"Dean! You are not going to believe who I saw in my drama class today!"
"Hm, let me guess. A nerd?" Charlie rolls her eyes. He isn't entirely wrong, but that's not the point.
"No. Well, technically, yes, but no. We got a new kid today, and it was.." She pats her thighs at a quick pace to represent a drum roll for dramatic effect.
"Charlie. Charlie." Dean grabs her arms to stop her from drum rolling on her thighs. "Just spit it out, would ya?"
"It was Castiel! The guy who's brother you beat up." Dean quickly looks around, slightly panicked.
"Jeez, tell the whole school why don't you! Keep your voice down when you talk about that." Charlie gives him a bitch face, clearly learning some from Sam as it looks just like Sam's bitch face #23. (The are-you-seriously-this-stupid-or-are-you-just-messing-with-me look.)
"Your knuckles alone are a huge hint, genuis. Did you even ice them like I told you to?" Charlie cocks a brow. Dean looks sheepish. He forgot. Charlie knows that look. She just shakes her head.
"Well, whatever. That's not the point, right now. The point is that Castiel goes to our school now!" Charlie's words cause Dean to swallow a lump in his throat. Mr. L.A. is here? Right now? Just walking around these halls with his oddly hyperpigmanted blue eyes piercing into everyone's soul that he makes eye contact with?
"Dean? Dean? Hello?" Charlie waves her hand in Dean's face. It jolts him out of the apparent zoned out state he was just in.
"Huh? What?" Charlie scoffs.
"I said, Castiel told me to tell you that he forgives you for what happened. He understands that his brother was being a jerk."
"O-oh. I uh, I see." Dean clears his throat. He forgives him? That easily? There's no way. There has got to be something severely wrong with this guy. I mean, he moves Lawrence Kansas from freaking Los Angeles out of all places. He shows up out of nowhere and beats the two-time tournament champ of Lawrence like it was nothing. Then his smug older brother brags about how much better he is compared to Dean's brother, and Dean beats him up for it, and this Castiel guy just forgives him? Just like that? He doesn't even know the guy. No. Something has to be up. And Dean won't let his guard down for a second until he knows what it is. No matter how nice this guy seems to be.
The warning bell goes off, telling the students it's time to get to class. Dean and Charlie sigh, saying a quick goodbye and promising to meet up for lunch later. Dean truds up the stairs as quickly as possible, with like a thousand students crowding the staircase all at once, and once he's upstairs, he quickly spots Sam amongst the swarm of people. He grins, deciding to say a quick hello.
"Hey, Sammy!" He shouts as he gets pulled in the opposite direction his little brother goes in. Sam pokes his head up, looking for where the source of the sound came from. When he spots Dean, he smiles and waves at him. Dean waves back, flashing a charming smile before turning back to face what's in front of him in search of room 215. His Spanish class.
As Dean steps inside, his attention is immediately brought to the whiteboard as the names of all the students in the class are written there, showing the seating arrangement for the semester. Dean searches for his name and when he spots it, a prominent frown finds its way onto his face as he sees who sits right next to him on the left side. It is none other than L.A.'s Castiel. And just to his luck, Dean is the last seat on the end of the table, so there is no one else for him to talk to and get answers from. Great. Just great.
Dean turns to find his assigned table, and relief washes over him as Castiel isn't there yet. Maybe he even went home? Dean goes and sits down in his seat, immediately slumping into his chair, not at all excited for spanish. He's never been good at it, so he doesn't even know why he decided to take it 4 years in a row. Dean pulls out a notebook and pencil, and as he waits for class to start, he twirls the orange utensil in between his fingers.
He's quite skilled with his movements, not dropping the pencil once. Well, of course, that is until he shows up to class. The pencil drops onto the table as Dean looks up to see the strangely well-dressed nerd look up at the board, searching for his assigned seat. Once he spots it, his attention turns to the tables, and his eyes go wide when he sees Dean sitting in his assigned spot. Dean swallows a lump in his throat as the two of them make eye contact.
Castiel cautiously makes his way over to his seat and Dean can't pull his eyes away from him. His stomach does a nervous summersault the closer Castiel gets. There's no popcorn to blame this time. Dean furrows his brows. He must just be nervous to see what the guy has to say. It's not every day you get stuck sitting next to the guy whose brother you beat to a bloody pulp for an entire 5 months.
Castiel takes a seat, dropping his bag down beside him and also pulling out his notebook and pencil, ready to start class. Dean stares down at Castiel's green notebook. The guy's full name is scribbled onto the front. It's pretty nice cursive for a guy, Dean thinks. He now stares at his own blue notebook. His full name is also scribbled onto the front. It's not written in cursive, though, and it doesn't look as pretty as Castiel's. He sighs. Castiel clears his throat. Dean clears his. They both look straight ahead to the front of the class.
"Hello, Dean." His voice is still deep and gravelly. Dean begins to wonder if maybe the guy has a cold and is suffering from a scratchy throat or if that's just his natural voice.
"Hello, Castiel." Dean replies. His voice is also deep, but Dean makes it that way. He doesn't know why, just does. Maybe in an attempt to sound more intimating than him? Who knows..
They sit in an uncomfortable silence. Neither one knows what to do. They just continue to stare blankly up at the front, shifting in their chairs every once in a while. Dean barely even registers when the teacher starts talking. Yeah, this is going to be a long year.
Notes:
Dean
Sem 1
• ELA 30
• Woodworking 30
• Spanish 30
• Phys. Ed 30
• History 30
Sem 2
• Founds 30
• Foods 30
• Physics 30
• ELAB 30
• SpareCastiel
Sem 1
•Drama 30
• ELAB 30
•Spanish 30
• Photography 30
• History 30
Sem 2
• Calc 30
• Foods 30
• ELA 30
• Bio 30
• spareCharlie
Sem 1
• Drama 30
• ELA 30
• Foods 30
• Photography 30
• Computer Science 30
Sem 2
• Drafting 30
• History 30
• Band 30
• ELAB 30
• SpareAlso fun fact: I'm from Canada!! So I'd assume the education system works differently in America but to make it easier on me I'm just going to have their schedules work like the ones in Canada do even though they live in Indiana just to clear any possible confusion that may come up. Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter and I'll see you next week<3
Chapter 3: Football Tryouts
Notes:
Uhh, hey guys! It's been a hot minute... or... year... I have no excuse other than I had absolutely no motivation whatsoever to continue writing. I just completed senior year myself and it was way more eventful than I thought it would be. Same with this summer actually. I have been more busy than I have been the last three years combined I swear. It's been difficult to try and figure stuff out for uni but I'm finally finding some time for me to just relax and get going on this story again. I'll be honest, I recently got a comment on my story that really helped me get officially started so thank you so much for the feedback I honestly really need it♡♡ Anyway, I know when I get to uni my schedule will most likely be quite busy still, but hopefully I'll still have just enough time to get some writing done. And my earlier schedule when I said id post on Mondays is definitely a total lie lol. I think I'll just post whenever the next chapter is ready and go from there. Anyway, if you read this far, thanks! Now, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It literally took me a year to complete.
Chapter Text
When the bell finally rings, Dean is quick to pack up his things, not caring about keeping it all neat and tidy before he's up and out the door. Once he's out and in the hallway, he releases a deep breath. He's pretty sure that was the most awkward class he's ever been in in his entire life, and he once had a class with an E.A. he made out with and never called back.
Dean makes his way over to the cafeteria and meets up with Charlie at their usual table by the window. He puts down his tray of school food on the table and compares his school lunch to Charlie's as she pulls out her PB and J sandwich, apple slices, and two Rice Krispy squares from her brown paper bag. She hands Dean one of her Krispy treats as they've always done for years now. As he eats it, Dean wishes his dad would be around long enough to buy things so he could make his own lunch, but that'll never be the case. At least John can manage to leave money out for his boys. That's better than nothing at all.
"That Castiel kid? He's in my Spanish class." Dean strikes conversation in an attempt to forget his family issues for a moment. Charlie's eyes widen.
"No way."
"Yes, way. Not only that, but we have Mrs. Gonzales, and you know how she assigns permanent seats for the entire semester?" He waits for Charlie to nod before continuing. "Well, now I have to sit beside the guy for half the school year and I'm at the end of the table so there's no one else for me to talk to!" Charlie smirks as she grabs her water bottle, drawing a sip from it.
"Did you guys say anything to each other?"
"No. We said hello and that was it."
"Really? You didn't apologize to him?"
"You said he already forgave me!"
"Well, it's still a nice thing to do, Dean!" Dean scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat, though he doesn't go too far, considering they're sitting on benches that have no backings.
"Maybe so, but Mrs. Gonzales would've had an aneurysm anyway cause God forbid that someone talked in her class for two seconds." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head just thinking about all the lectures he got in the past for talking in her class. Charlie only laughs at him.
"I'm glad I never had her."
"You should be. I swear she has it out for me, man. I've gotten straight C's and D's in her class for the past 3 years."
"Maybe you're just that bad at Spanish?" Dean shakes his head.
"No. Once, I copied every answer that smart kid, Ricky put on a test. I made sure she wouldn't notice me cheating, right? Well, we get our tests back, and what do you know? Ricky gets an A while I get an F." Charlie smirks at her poor, clearly lost friend.
"You do know she's known for giving half her students a different test from the other half, right? To prevent cheaters like you from getting a mark you didn't earn." Dean's jaw drops slightly. No, he did not know that. Dean goes to open his mouth to speak but closes it again. When he sees Charlie's smug face, he just decides to play it safe and change the subject. He turns his head and looks around their table before looking through the whole cafeteria.
"Uh, where's Sammy? He should be at our table by now." Charlie shakes her head, knowing what he's doing but decides to go along with the new topic anyway.
"He's probably sitting with his own friends somewhere. Just because you both go to the same school now doesn't mean he has to sit with you again."
"Well, why wouldn't he? I'm pretty popular around here in case you didn't know." He flashes her a cocky grin while she just rolls her eyes in return.
"Maybe he doesn't want to be known as Dean's little brother, and instead just wants to be known as Sam." Dean looks at her with squinted eyes. He opens his mouth to speak again before getting interrupted by Charlie's favorite people, fellow football players. She immediately turns her attention towards the window, trying to make herself as invisible as she possibly can with her bright red hair that the whole team has unfortunately become quite familiar with. Damn Dean and all his pleas for Charlie to go to every single one of his games.
"Hey, Winchester!" The captain of the team slams his hands down on Dean's shoulders to massage them, probably attempting to soothe the ache that comes with the force of his hands. Dean winces but tries to cover it up with a bright smile. Charlie still notices despite the believable act.
"Hey guys." Dean looks at the others who now surround their table, almost as if they were the captain's henchmen or something.
"You're trying out for the team again this year, right? We need our star quarterback." The usual captain of the team shakes Dean's shoulders. Dean just continues to put on a bright smile for the guys.
"Oh, you know I wouldn't bail out during senior year."
"Good. Tryouts are after school today. We need to get in as much practice as possible before the first game."
"Man, I never understood why they made the first game happen so soon." One of the captain's henchmen chimes in. The captain finally releases Dean's shoulders to turn so he's facing the guys.
"Who knows, but regardless, you all need to bring your A game." He points at every single jock near him. They all give a nod of understanding before the captain turns his attention over to Charlie, who's tried so hard to go unnoticed by them. "Hey, Red." He grins from ear to ear. Charlie reluctantly faces him, that smile of his haunting her dreams.
"Hey, Chuck." She gives him a quick smile back, not at all enjoying this interaction.
"Are you gonna watch us practice today?" Chuck wiggles his eyebrows at her. This guy has been trying to get in her pants ever since she went to Dean's first football game back in 9th grade. To no one's surprise but his own, he's failed to do so for 3 years now, and it's about to become 4.
"No, sorry. I've got plans." Chuck shakes his head, not expecting an answer he'd like anyway.
"That's a shame. I worked out so much this summer." He winks, making Charlie scrunch up her face in disgust. Chuck laughs, thinking this is just their usual banter. He couldn't be more wrong.
"Really? Cause it doesn't look like you did." Charlie points out, making it obvious that her gaze falls to Chuck's rather long and skinny arms. A couple of the guys behind Chuck try to hold in their laughter, save for the couple of chuckles that slip out which cause Chuck to turn around and give them a deadly glare before turning his attention back to Charlie.
"I was working on my waist down, alright? I can show you proof of that under the bleachers anytime.* He smirks, throwing poor Charlie another wink. Charlie pretends to throw up, making the guys laugh even more. Dean finally decides speaks up, having had enough of this scene three pick-up lines ago.
"Alright, Chuck, we get it. You've got the hots for Charlie." He pulls on Chuck's arm to back him away from his poor friend. "I'll be at tryouts, I promise." He says again, hoping it'll end this conversation and the guys will finally leave. Chuck nods his head and gives Dean a final pat on the back before parting ways, flashing Charlie one last not-so-charming, charming smile. Once the football guys are out of sight, Charlie shivers.
"They are so gross! I don't understand how you can put up with their behavior for so long."
"Well, it helps when I'm not wearing the pants they wanna get into." Dean smirks. Charlie throws an apple slice at him.
"Gross!" She repeats louder to emphasize how very disgusting it is that Chuck wants to get her in the sack. Dean laughs at her antics and they continue eating their lunch with some mindless conversation in-between.
After the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, they both sigh, knowing they'll have to part ways yet again until dismissal. With one last wave goodbye, Dean heads to the gym while Charlie climbs up the stairs to head to photography.
Once in the locker room, Dean quickly texts Sam to let him know he'll have to walk home with Charlie today since he'll be at football tryouts after school. After that, he places his phone in his assigned locker and begins to change for gym. The guys around him are doing the same, and it's almost as if their bodies are magnets for his eyes with the way he's pulled into sneaking glances at them. Dean bites the inside of his cheek to force his cheeks to stay their normal peachy colour rather than bright red. It's not like he wants to look. He knows it's wrong and weird, it's just that they're right there, flaunting everything about. Everywhere he turns, there's a guy in just his boxers. It isn't his fault!
With a swift turn, Dean finishes changing with his eyes glued to the red locker doors. He squeezes his eyes shut one final time before he has to turn around again to get his peers' abs out of his mind. 'It's not weird.' He tells himself because he's just admiring their hard work. On himself, Dean would say that he has a good body that he likes to keep fit. He's just happy to see others taking good care of themselves, too. That's all.
Dean grabs his water bottle and heads back out to the main gym for warm-up. Some of his friends on the football team are already out there stretching, so he decides to join them. With a few quick scans of the place, he can see that Castiel is not in his gym class, thank God. 'Hopefully, he's only in Spanish..' Dean thinks to himself as he and his friends toss the ball around, waiting for class to officially start.
Once it does, the class starts with some light work since it's only the first day. The kids play some easy games where Dean easily kicks ass, they go over boring rules that Dean never pays attention to, and soon enough, the class comes to an end. Just one period left. History. Dean's favorite! Not. As Dean dreadfully changes to get ready for his next class, he makes sure to do his very important after-gym routine in order not to stink. The stench of B.O. does NOT win over the ladies, so he is very serious about this routine.
1. Quick shower. He has a nice-smelling bar of soap to use for good measure.
2. Dry off fast and change even faster.
3. Deodorant and cologne, but not too much. Just enough for perfection.
4. Dry the hair and do one last once-over in the mirror before the next class.
He does this every time without fail, and what do you know? The ladies are all over him. As he finishes putting everything away and starts heading for history, Chuck, the team captain, spots him in the hallway. He sneaks up on Dean and smacks his ass. Dean jumps and just as he's about to clock the person who did that, Chuck flashes him with his dirty grin, and Dean quickly calms down.
"Little handsy there, princess!"
"Ah, I know you enjoyed it, fag." And just as quickly as the word came out, Chuck disappears into the sea of students around them. Dean stops in his tracks for a split second. What did he just call him?
'It's just Chuck, calm down Dean. He's your friend. He didn't actually mean the word literally.' Dean thinks to himself, yet his fists still bunch up, and his steps are still a little heavier as he walks into his last classroom for the day. His mind starts to drift over to Charlie now. He wonders what she would have done in that situation. A memory flashes in his mind. It was from the fifth grade. Charlie had this big sleepover she was so excited for.
"All of the cool girls are going to be there, Dean! Tonight is going to be perfect."
"It better be. Then you'll finally hang out with girls and Sam and I can stop having stupid tea parties."
"Shut up! I know you secretly love tea time!" Charlie pulls Dean's shirt over his head and laughs at him as he struggles to pull it back down.
"Jerk." Dean sticks his tongue out to the giddy redhead once he fixes his appearance. Later that night it was around eleven o'clock. Once again John was out of town on a hunting trip and had no one to watch the boys for him so Dean had to be the "man of the house" as he would put it. This didn't surprise little ten-year-old Dean since it happened quite often. Currently, he's seated on the couch watching cartoons when he suddenly hears loud and rapid knocking at the door. He quickly gets up and looks out the window to see who it is. To his surprise, it's Charlie. He opens the door.
"Charlie? What happened?" Tears are streaming down the poor girl's face. Without a word she throws herself onto him, crying on his shoulder. Confused, Dean pats her back comfortingly.
"I'm never going to another girl sleepover ever again!" Charlie shouts in-between sniffles and hiccups. Dean furrows his brows and pulls back from the hug to look at her face and see why she feels this way.
"Why not? You were so excited for tonight." Charlie just sighs and fully steps into the house now instead of just awkwardly standing in the doorway. Dean closes the door, locking it shut before following Charlie into the living room to get some answers.
"They didn't want to be my friend. They invited me just to make fun of me." Charlie sits on Dean's couch, hugging one of the throw pillows as she hunches over in sorrow. Dean's never seen her look so small before.
"How did they make fun of you?" Dean takes a seat beside her and patiently listens, something he doesn't do very often.
"They didn't like how I dressed because they thought it wasn't girly enough. And when we talked about the toys we used to play with when we were younger, everyone talked about Barbies and dress up but I didn't do that. I played with random bugs I saw outside and with my Star Trek action figures. They laughed at me and wouldn't stop saying that I was a boy in disguise." Dean's fists bunch up tight. This is why girls are gross and he'll never marry them. How that aged fast.
"Well, being a boy is pretty great." He tries to lighten the mood. Charlie doesn't laugh. She just stares up at him with glassy eyes and a pouty lip. "Sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. Girls are mean. I'm sorry they said that to you." They sit in silence for a minute, save for the cartoons still playing on the TV in the background.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better... I think you're a pretty girl." Dean blurts out, heart pounding. He hopes he doesn't get punched for saying something so cheesy.
"You think so?" Charlie wipes her eyes, no longer crying. Dean shrugs.
"Yeah. Really pretty." Charlie's face finally splits into a small smile. She's never been called pretty by someone other than her parents before.
"Thanks." She removes the pillow from her arms and instead puts them around Dean. He hugs her back. When they pull apart, Charlie looks around the room and slumps her shoulders again.
"I forgot my stuff at the house." Dean's smile turns serious and he stands up.
"Oh, I'll get it back for you." And that's exactly what he does. He marches his little feet all the way over to where the sleepover was held and he bangs on the door loudly with his fist. Once the door opens he immediately shoves his way through and asks where Charlie's stuff is without any explanation whatsoever.
"Why couldn't she come get her stuff herself? Too busy playing with her boy toys?" The girl hosting the sleepover says with a snooty expression. Dean just ignores her and checks to make sure all of Charlie's stuff is in her bag. Once he's sure that it is, he walks back up the stairs and towards the door. The girls follow behind him, chatting amongst themselves about their assumptions on Charlie.
"I heard she pees standing up like a boy!"
"I had her over at my house once and my dad said to stay away from her because she looked queer." That comment. That word specifically makes Dean stop in his tracks. He whips around so fast and charges at the girl.
"What did you just say?"
"I said Charlie's a queer!" Dean's rage boils over. This will be the first and last time he ever hits a girl. He punches her square in the nose, causing it to bleed instantly. When he sees the blood drip down he quickly runs out the door to avoid consequences from the parents.
He can't believe she just said that. He also can't believe her dad said that about a kid. He storms back over to his house, still angry, and gives Charlie all of her stuff back.
"Did they say anything?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes." He never told Charlie what they thought about her. Not even after she saw his hand was bruised. Not even when the girls didn't make fun of her anymore, at least not to her face, and especially not when Dean was around. Not even in seventh grade when she told him she liked girls. Not even to this day. He'll take it to his grave. He never wants to see that girl cry again. She's his best friend in the whole world aside from his brother.
With a loud drop down to his seat, Dean isn't even aware that he's accidentally startled the kid beside him.
"Jesus." A voice Dean barely registers beside him whispers under their breath.
"Sorry." He mumbles, mind still focused on the wretched memory.
"You must really hate history, huh?" The voice beside him chirps up again.
"What?" Dean finally starts to snap back to reality, turning his head to the side to see who's talking to him. His eyes go wide with surprise. It's Castiel. Why the hell is this guy talking to him of all people?
"The way you sat down. You do not seem very excited for this class."
"Well who would be? It's fuckin' history. Been there done that, you know?" Dean is still slumped down in his seat. He crosses his arms over his chest as he talks to this nerd.
"Well, actually, I think history is very important because it teaches us about our past so we know not to repeat our mistakes and-"
"Dude. I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now, okay?" Dean eyes this kid up and down, trying to figure out what his deal is. He must think he's better than everyone else, dressing up in his sunday best all the damn time. Castiel just stays quiet and silently looks back to the front of the classroom, waiting for class to start.
"What's with the button up anyway?" Dean suddenly asks, his face still scrunched up at the thought of this kid being a rich snob who's trying to one-up him on knowing more about the fucking birth of America than he does.
"I'm sorry?" Castiel turns to face Dean again. He tilts his head to the side, brows stitching together as he tries to read the boy beside him.
"I said, what's with your fancy ass clothes? This isn't private school."
"I know this is not a private school. I just like to dress appropriately."
"Appropriately? Dude, this is a high school. Not a business meeting." Castiel's brows furrow even further. He doesn't understand what this boy's problem with him is. First, he doesn't like that Castiel beat his little brother fair and square in a robot combat tournament, then he doesn't say a word to him in Spanish class, not a single apology or anything, then he doesn't like how he talks about history, and now his clothes are an issue? He can't win with this guy.
"This is just how I like to dress. You do not see me making fun of your clothes, and your jeans have holes in them." Dean scoffs. Seriously, what is Mr. Blue-Eyes deal here?
"It's a style." Just when Castiel is about to create a counterarguement on that, the teacher walks in, ready to start class. He immediately turns his attention to the front and Dean raises an eyebrow. He calls Castiel a nerd under his breath then also turns to look at the front. Neither of the boys say a word to the other for the rest of the period.
When the bell rings Dean quickly gathers his stuff and heads back down to the gym for football tryouts. Castiel on the other hand, takes his time putting things away and says a quick farewell to his teacher before walking out of the room to then head over to the bus to take him home.
When Dean reaches the locker room, he quickly changes into his gym clothes again and heads out to the gym to warm up with the guys. He and his main group of friends, Chuck, Raphael, and Gadreel, all start jogging around the perimeter of the gymnasium while they wait for their coach to officially start practice. After about twenty minutes or so, the two coaches for this season walk to the center of the room, arms folded over their chests because they mean business.
"Alright boys, line up! It's time to turn you all into men. Keep in mind that some of you won't make it. Don't take it personally." Coach Simmons starts. The boys are now all in a line, facing forward to pay attention.
"Our school has been undefeated for twenty-three years now and we are not about to lose that streak. We gotta get you boys tough fast so don't be shocked by the drills we will throw at you." The other coach, coach Jeffords explains. His hands are now neatly folded behind his back as he walks back and forth in front of the boys.
"There will be early morning practices. There will be long-distance running. We will push you to your limits and beyond. We will not be easy on you guys. We take football seriously here, so if you aren't fully committed to this sport, you may leave now." Jeffords now stops walking and stands up straight, waiting to see if anyone will leave the gym. When no one does, he nods and hands the floor over to Simmons.
"Alright. Let's get going. Come on, boys! Jog to the field." The boys immediately turn towards the door, and in a single-file line, they jog their way out the door and towards the playing field. If one were to just glance at these seemingly well-behaved boys, they'd think they were in military training. That is until they reach the grass.
"Dude, you think anyone's gonna throw up during practice this year?" Chuck asks, now jogging beside Dean. Dean releases an airy laugh as he thinks about the past years he's been on the team. There have been at least three chronic pukers every year. He nods with a cheeky smile.
"Oh yeah, for sure." Chuck laughs along with him now, and they scan their possible fellow teammates to see who those chronic pukers will be this year. There's Chubby zit face guy way at the back who could most definitely puke. Maybe even today. There's a tall, skinny kid who seems to have never eaten a day in his life. He's another possibility.
"Okay, boys! Line up!" Coach Simmons shouts as he walks over to the field. He gives the boys a minute to collect themselves, and once they're ready to start, he speaks up again.
"Alright, since it's the first day of tryouts, let's start with something easy. 50 push-ups, go!" The boys groan, but neither Coach wants to hear it. They quickly snap out of it and plop onto the ground. Dean mutters under his breath.
"Easy my ass."
"Right?" Chuck whispers with a smirk, having heard Dean's little remark. They share a laugh before getting back to business and trying to ignore the burning sensation in their arms.
Tryouts go on for an excruciatingly long hour. The coaches really weren't kidding when they said they were going to push the boys past their limits. But just when everything seems almost too grim, Chuck's face breaks into a big smile. He nudges Dean's shoulders, who is currently trying to watch out for the football coming his way in a perfect arch.
"Bro, four o'clock!" Dean catches the ball before turning to see what Chuck's fuss is all about. A smirk forms on his lips when he sees it. The cheerleaders are coming out to practice.
"Why are they out now? Don't they have tryouts?" One guy who's new to this sport asks the boys when he catches them staring. Dean only scoffs.
"Dude, who cares? They're hot! They can practice out here all they want." Chuck laughs at Dean's utterance.
"Exactly. But if you must know, the ladies start their tryouts before school even starts since they have this whole ass routine they need to perfect for us in just two weeks!" Chuck slaps his hands onto his cheeks and mocks a shocked expression, causing the other two to laugh. Though, once his eye catches one cheerleader in particular, he quickly picks up his act and taps Dean's shoulder.
"Dude, don't look now, but Lisa is totally looking at you." Despite Chuck's efforts, Dean turns around anyway and Lisa is indeed looking at him, though now she quickly turns back to face her friends once she's been caught looking. That causes a bright smile to appear on Dean's face.
"Dude! I just said don't look! Now she turned around!" Dean only laughs and turns back to face Chuck. Now Chuck's the one with a smirk on his face.
"Ooo, you're as red as a tomato now!"
"Shut up I am not."
"You are too!" The boys get into a fake brawl filled with laughter and teasing. But once both of their coaches shout at them to cut it out, they smarten up real fast. Dean sneaks a quick look at the cheerleaders again and notices Lisa and her friends are laughing. He wonders if they heard him get into trouble.
Eventually, both the football tryouts and the cheerleaders' practice end, and the kids can now go inside to get changed and head home. Before they all head in though, Dean separates from the boys and jogs over to where the girls are. He has his water bottle on hand with a plan in mind.
"Hey, ladies!" His charming smile and gentlemanly attitude activates. "Thirsty?" He asks, walking closer to Lisa and her girlfriends. Lisa's friends cheer at the mention of water while Lisa gives him a skeptical look, knowing what he's up to.
"Yes! Dean, our savior!" The blonde one exclaims, taking the bottle out of his hand and immediately chugging it. Lisa laughs at her then places a hand on her hip, turning to Dean again.
"You just so happened to have extra water lying around did you?"
"Yep. Ice cold and everything." Lisa shakes her head with a big smile on her lips.
"Oh, who cares if it's another poor excuse to ask you out? This water is delicious!" Lisa's other friend chimes in, having stolen the water from the blonde chick. Lisa softly chuckles at that and stares at Dean expectantly. He's been trying to get this girl since grade seven and has never once been close to achieving his goal, ...until now?
"Um, well.. Lisa-"
"The answer is still no, Winchester." Nope. Not until now. Didn't even let him finish. Dean chuckles softly, already knowing that would be the answer and he just shakes his head.
"One day, Lisa. One day."
"Well, it's not today. I'll see you tomorrow Dean." She gives him a smile. Not just any smile, but the smile. The one Dean knows means that she's playing hard to get. Only, this game has been going on for a little too long, but he won't give up. He can't. She's the most popular girl in school, and he's the most popular boy in school. That means they are literally the perfect match. He's the star quarterback, she's the cheer captain. He likes dogs, so does she. She loves yoga, he loves to watch her do yoga. Clearly, it's a match made in heaven. At least, that's what the entire school thinks, even some teachers!
Dean watches Lisa's silhouette get further and further away and he sighs. His friends catch up to where he is and tease him some more.
"Didn't get the girl yet?"
"She's warming up to it, trust me."
"Oh sure. Maybe she'll finally give you a handy when you're eighty."
"Hopefully sooner than that considering we'll be married at twenty-five." Chuck laughs at that.
"Dude, what?" Dean nods as if that's the most sane sentence to ever come out of his mouth.
"Yep. It was in a fortune teller that I made her do in seventh grade."
"Oh! Well if it was in a fortune teller then it must be true!"
"Exactly. It's set in stone." The boys laugh at the stupidity of the current conversation and finally make their way to the locker room. They quickly change into their regular clothes with Dean trying his hardest not to make it obvious that he's been staring at Chuck's six pack almost the entire time. He swears he's just jealous. I mean, they're so pronounced. Deans are just starting to show. He thinks he needs to lay off all the Sonic burgers.
"Alright, I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"See ya!" With a final wave goodbye, the boys go their separate ways. Dean takes a deep breath once he's far enough away from them. He starts to think he should've taken drama with the performance he constantly perfects around them. Around everyone, really. His dad, Sammy, even Charlie. He always has a certain persona for certain people that he sometimes forgets himself and who he really is on the inside.
The walk home always feels way longer for Dean when he's alone. His mind can't shut up like it usually does when he's with Sam. Then he can just focus on him talking about his day and trying to comprehend all of the big words his younger brother throws at him. No, this is different. Much different. This uncertainty of himself looms over him like a demon's shadow, always casting a negative light.
That light soon dies out though once his home comes into view. The confusing part now is whether his bright light is getting even brighter or dimmer seeing Bobby's rusty old Ford parked in front of his house. That can only mean one thing...
Dad's home.
Chapter 4: Rainy Days
Notes:
Hey, guys! I'm officially all moved into my apartment and finished my first week of classes! It's been pretty easygoing so far but I don't know how much freetime I'll have moving forward, my professors seem pretty serious and like to make us read a bunch so I hope i can still find time to write. Also, I originally set this story in Lawrence but after doing some further research, I found out that during this time frame the boys are actually in Fairfax, Indiana! Whoops.. so I just edited the story to accommodate that but we're going to pretend it was always like that, okay? Okay!! Anyway, I hope you like the chapter, It's extra long :)
Chapter Text
Dean's breath hitches at the realization. He quickly hides behind the old truck to sneak a look inside. He peeks his head up slightly over the rusted metal of the trunk's edge to get a good view of the window into his home. The curtains are open and the lights are on. He checks everywhere in the house where he has visibility, but he can't find John. He must be somewhere else in the house. Dean sighs. Of course he loves his dad, and of course he's happy that he's home, but he also knows what home is like with his father present.
The first couple of days are always the greatest, which is what makes them the worst. John is happy and loving. He makes the boys' lunches with everything Dean bought before his unexpected arrival. They have movie nights and catch up on everything they've missed with each other. It's all a big, happy reunion. But Dean knows better. It's only a matter of time before his dad starts drinking more than he did before. He starts to stay up later and mutter in his sleep, always something about Mary. Mary, Mom. She passed when Sam was a baby due to a house fire started by John's cigarette. He was never able to forgive himself for it, but of course that blame had to fall somewhere, and it always fell onto Dean.
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Why didn't you warn your mother of the smoke?"
"You're supposed to be my strong, eldest son. Where was your strength that night? You couldn't have taken Sammy and your mother to safety at the same time? You're so selfish! So selfish."
John only says those things when he's very drunk, but the words still sting all the same. After all, aren't drunk words just sober thoughts? Dean shudders at the dark memories. He knows it's going to happen all over again, he just doesn't know when. That part of the cycle varies, but it always happens.
With a couple of deep breaths, Dean finds the courage to go inside. He once again needs to pull a master performance because no one can know the effect John has on him, especially not Sam. Sam still idolizes his father and Dean is not about to take that pride away from him. He's just a kid, he's allowed to be naive. God knows Dean never got that opportunity.
He walks through the front door with caution. So far there's still no sign of John so Dean just heads upstairs and before going to his room, he knocks on the door of Sam's. "Sammy? You in here?" It takes a second or two before Sam opens the door.
"Yeah. You need something?"
"Is Dad home?" Sam's face lights up at the mention of their father. Dean tries not to frown because of it.
"Yeah, he is! I think he and Bobby are in the basement." Dean nods while biting the inside of his cheek.
"Thanks, Sammy. Hey, did you have a good first day?" Sam shrugs.
"It was fine. You?"
"Also fine."
"Did you know that guy who beat me at the robot combat tournament goes to our school now?" Sam asks, now leaning against his door frame. Dean sighs as he starts to think about Castiel and how he has to deal with him for two classes all semester.
"Yes, unfortunately. How did you know that?"
"Charlie told me on the way home from school. Do you have any classes with him? Charlie has one with him."
"I've got two classes with him."
"Two?"
"Yep."
"Did he yell at you for hitting his brother?"
"Surprisingly no." Sam nods at Dean's answer.
"You must be lucky."
"Must be." They stand there in silence for a moment longer before Dean decides to go to his room so he can put his stuff away and take a proper shower. When he opens the door he jumps a little, not expecting to see his dad standing in his room, staring at the pictures he has on his wall.
"Dad? I thought you were downstairs?" John turns around, almost startled to have gotten caught. He puts a smile on his face and walks over to Dean.
"Hey, son. Long time no see." John opens his arms to go in for a hug but Dean steps back. John gives him a confused look making Dean feel guilty and he folds, hugging his father back. It's brief and awkward and doesn't get any better once they pull away.
"Yeah. Been a while. Um, did you and Bobby have a good hunting trip?" Dean asks while nervously scratching the back of his head. Really, he just wants his father to leave so he can finally be alone, but this is happening instead.
"Oh, it was great! Got lots of meat for you boys to eat."
"What kind of meat?"
"Deer and rabbit mostly. But we got a couple of wild pigs too."
"Dad that sounds like a lot of meat.."
"Because it is son! You can cook it for school lunches and supper. We even made jerky so you and Sam have something to snack on." Dean sighs. Of course he forgot. He always forgets.
"Dad, Sam is a vegetarian. He doesn't eat meat. He's told you that at least a hundred times."
"He still hasn't grown out of that phase yet? Oh well. More for us then."
"'Til you leave in a week.." Dean mutters under his breath. John furrows his brows.
"Excuse me, boy?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? It sure sounded like something."
"Just forget it."
"Don't you start giving me lip, boy. You should be happy your old man is back. Some don't even have a father."
"Well, I don't have a mother so it evens out." Dean crosses his arms over his chest. John clenches his jaw, his hands balling into fists.
"And whose fault is that?" John's voice goes eerily deep. He's holding back his anger just as Dean does the same. While Dean wants to speak his mind, to shout at his dad that it's his fault, he doesn't. He knows it'll only lead to a black eye and a fat lip, which would go perfectly with the bruises on his knuckles, but he'd rather those rumors die down quickly instead of spreading like wildfire. Dean takes a deep breath like Charlie has told him to do when dealing with his father. She's good at calming people down even when she's not physically in the room with you.
He takes a deep breath in through his nose, one, two, three, then out, one, two, three. He does it a couple more times before looking up at his father to see him eye to eye. "I'm not doing this with you."
"Oh, you're not are you? Why? The second our conversation doesn't go your way you chicken out like a pussy, is that it? Huh? Answer me, boy. Whose fault is it, huh? Whose?" John shoves Dean's shoulder a little.
"Mine." Dean whispers, almost inaudibly which isn't good enough for tough old John Winchester.
"What was that?"
"I said it's my fault." Dean mumbles. He can feel the back of his throat tighten and his eyes start to tear up. He quickly looks up to avoid the tears falling. He will not cry in front of his father. Ever.
"I still can't hear you, boy! Quit mumbling."
"It's my fault, alright?! Mine!" Dean breaks. He shouts at his father which doesn't help with his teary eyes at all. They fill to the brim and Dean quickly whips around, his back facing his father. It's out of his control. A tear rolls down his cheek. Then another. And another. Suddenly, Bobby's at the door, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the doorframe.
"I think that's enough John. You should be starting dinner about now anyway." The three men stand there silently, unmoving. It isn't until Bobby gives John a more serious, stern look that he finally backs off. Without looking at each other, John leaves the room to go downstairs and into the kitchen. Bobby looks at Dean who is just heartbroken. This is not how he thought today was going to go. Bobby gives him a sympathetic smile and slowly walks further into Dean's room.
"Hey, kid. You know not to take what he said too seriously right? He's had-"
"A few too many, I know. I smelled it on his breath." Dean cuts him off. He quickly wipes his eyes, refusing to let any other tears fall, not with someone watching. Bobby sighs and nods, knowing Dean probably doesn't need this talk, but he decides to give it anyway.
"Dean, your mother's death was not your fault." Bobby places his hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze for reassurance and hopefully some comfort. "You were only four years old."
"I know, Bobby. You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine." Dean gives him a smile that they both know is only for show and Bobby purses his lips, looking deeply into the boy's once bright green eyes. They always seem to dull when John's around.
"I'll always worry about you, boy. You're like a nephew to me." Dean's once fake smile turns into a genuine smirk, though it's small, it's still there. Without a second thought, the boy wraps his arms around Bobby's torso tightly. Bobby breaks into a genuine smile, letting out a surprised laugh. He's quick to hug him in return, patting his back.
The words, 'I love you' hang on the tip of Dean's tongue. He wants to say it, but something holds him back. He's never been one for sappy, "chick flick" moments. It's just not his thing. Instead of saying them, Dean just hugs Bobby tighter until Bobby forces him to let go so he can catch his breath. When they pull apart, Bobby ruffles Dean's hair.
"Come on, let's head down and get you some grub, yeah?"
"In a minute. I had football tryouts today and wanna hit the shower first."
"Oh, so that's what that smell was." Dean laughs, his earlier fight with his dad forgotten.
"Shut up!" Dean tosses his school bag towards Bobby, but Bobby dodges it.
"Idjit." Bobby says as his parting words before leaving the room. Dean just shakes his head. Once Bobby is out of sight, Dean's smile fades into its usual resting frown as he grabs a new outfit to slip into once he's ready. He hops in the shower, turning the nozzle way over into the red zone, quickly causing the room to fog up with steam.
He releases a sigh of relief as he tips his head back towards the hot stream. He just stands there for a minute, taking in the heat, letting it burn his skin, almost like it's burning away his anguish too. After a minute of peace, Dean opens his eyes again and grabs his two-in-one shampoo and conditioner with a soft chuckle. He thinks back to the multiple arguments he's had with Sam and how he thinks two-in-one should be illegal. Dean shakes his head as the words of his brother loom over his head.
"It literally just saves time and space." Dean says under his breath as if Sam were actually in the room telling him to just borrow his separated hair products for his peace of mind. Once that's over and done with, Dean grabs his mountain-fresh scented bar soap and begins to lather it onto his skin which now has a pink tint to it due to the high temperature of the water.
Once his shower is over, Dean steps onto his bathmat and dries off. He slips into some Grey sweats and a navy blue t-shirt as pajamas since he doesn't have any plans on going out tonight. He steps in front of the bathroom mirror so he can fix up his quickly drying hair before heading downstairs for whatever his father managed to make for supper.
Sam is already at the dinner table reading a book to help him put together a new and improved robot for his next match. Dean ruffles his hair before heading over to the stove where his father is currently cooking something up. He stands there awkwardly, not knowing where to put his hands or what to say. He looks out the window to see if maybe the answers are out there, but they aren't. What he does notice is that Bobby's truck is gone. He must've left shortly after Dean got in the shower. After a moment of contemplation, Dean turns his attention back towards his father and clears his throat.
"What are you making?"
"Macaroni." His father's answer is sharp and simple. He doesn't even turn his head to look at his son while he speaks. Dean can sense that John is still annoyed with him so he just turns to go sit at the table with Sam to avoid entering another screaming match with his father tonight.
"How's that going?" Dean nods towards the pile of robot parts in front of Sam. His little brother only shrugs.
"It's going, I guess. I'm trying to figure out how that guy made his scorpion tail move like that. I want to do something similar but everything I try doesn't do shit."
"Language." Both Dean and John remind Sam in sync. Dean glances at his father out of the corner of his eye, vexed. He knows John is the adult here, the father, but he can't help but hold a small grudge against him for attempting to be a parent during the odd time he decides to come home, only for him to leave soon afterward anyway. Dean quickly turns his attention back to Sam before anyone can notice his irritated expression.
"Maybe Charlie can help you later? She's pretty smart." Sam smiles at Dean's suggestion. He likes hanging out with Charlie. She's cool and super funny.
"Okay!" Dean chuckles at his brother's new positive attitude before his dad walks over with a pot full of cheesy goodness. He places the pot in the middle of the table then hands his boys each a bowl and then places one in front of himself. He scoops up a share for himself before handing the spoon over to Sam. After Sam, Dean takes his share and then adds ketchup to it. Sam does the same which makes John raise a brow.
"Sam, you don't like ketchup."
"Yes I do." John chuckles, assuming he just wants to be like his big brother.
"Since when?"
"Since he was twelve, Dad. Two years ago." Dean answers for Sam, giving John an unimpressed look. Of course he doesn't even know what his own kids like, why would he? John gives Dean a stern look that says to knock off the attitude.
"My mistake. I haven't been around very often in case you haven't noticed." John's voice is laced with sarcasm. Dean quickly meets his tone.
"Oh, don't worry. We noticed." John drops his spoon into the bowl harder than necessary.
"Is there something you want to say to me, boy?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." The tension in the air is thick and Sam swears he struggles to breathe because of it. He clears his throat to hopefully clear the air.
"Uh, this mac and cheese is really good, Dad!" John doesn't answer him. He doesn't even so much as glance at the boy. His stare is set on Dean and it is stone cold. Dean's glare is just as menacing as they sit in a very uncomfortable silence. Sam suddenly can't sit still in his chair. He just wishes that those two could get along for once. John says they're only like this because Dean's being an angsty teenager, but Sam can't help but feel that there's more to it than that. It's just frustrating that neither of them will give him the full story.
"Eat your food." John breaks the silence, still staring at Dean who's barely touched his bowl.
"Since when do you have the right to tell me what to do?"
"Since you took your first breath. Stop talking back to me, Dean." He ignores his father's demand.
"How does that give you the right to boss me around? You're never here and I'm seventeen now, almost eighteen! I can make my own food, clean up after myself, and Sammy. I go grocery shopping, I work at Bobby's salvage yard, and I pay the bills all without your help!" Dean marks off all of his responsibilities on his fingers, his voice rising at each one listed. John is furious now. He slams his hands down on the table with a loud boom as he stands up.
"Enough! I am still your father and you will do as I say! This house is still under my name, meaning this is my roof, and as long as you live under it you will abide by my rules! No matter how many chores you do you are still a teenager. You know nothing about being an adult!" John's voice is much louder than Dean's. It's deeper and sounds like it scratches his throat painfully but John doesn't quiet down for a second. He is livid. He just wanted to come home to a clean house and two well-behaved sons, but of course with Dean Winchester as his son that could never happen.
"Chores? I'm the one who ensures this house is still under your name! Without me, you would've lost it years ago!"
"I said don't you talk back to me, boy! You're being a brat!"
"And you're a deadbeat father who's playing pretend!" John sees red. How dare his son disrespect him this way? He doesn't even realize what's happening until the moment passes. In a quick, hard motion, John connects his fist with Dean's face in a mean right hook. Sam gasps, eyes wide. He can't believe his father just did that. He's never seen him so angry before, but Dean has. He turns his face to look back at his father's angry eyes. His own eyes fill with tears, unable to help it. They don't fall yet, giving him just enough time to say his parting words, "Wow. Father of the year." Before running upstairs. He slams his bedroom door shut and his tears fall.
"Dad?" Sam asks, still in shock at what he just witnessed. His voice is quiet with a small tremble on his lips. John balls his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white.
"Go to your room."
"But I'm not done with my supper?"
"Take it with you then and go. Now." His voice is eerily calm now. Sam swallows a lump in his throat and decides it's better for him if he listens to his father right now. He takes his bowl, his robot parts, and his book, and quickly heads upstairs to his room. He pauses in front of Dean's door. He wants to go in and see how he's doing but decides against it, knowing he'll probably just get turned away anyway.
Meanwhile, Dean is currently angrily pacing around his room. He pauses and looks at the picture on his nightstand. It's an old picture of him, John, baby Sammy, and his mother before the accident. They're on a boat and he's holding the biggest fish he's ever seen. Everyone looks happy with genuine bright smiles on their faces. It infuriates Dean to the point where he lashes out. He grabs the picture frame and throws it against his wall, causing the glass to shatter and the picture itself falls to the ground. His fit of rage doesn't end there. He totally trashes his room out of madness. His pillow gets tossed across the room. His trinkets fall on the floor and he kicks anything in his way trying to relieve himself of all this pent-up energy.
Finally, when he takes a moment to catch his breath, he looks around his room which is now a complete mess, and he can't take it anymore. His macho facade crumbles completely as he falls to his knees, crying. It isn't just a single tear either. Dean's tears fall in an endless, salty stream. He needs to calm down. It's hard for him to breathe. There's only one thing that can calm him down when he gets like this. Without a second thought, Dean stands up and leaves his room in a blur. He goes downstairs, not paying his father any mind. He quickly puts his shoes on and leaves the house, slamming the door shut behind him. He runs all the way over to Charlie's house and frantically knocks on her door. Thank god it's her who answers and not her parents.
"Dean? Are you okay?" The first thing she sees is Dean's tear-stained cheeks with one side looking bright red. Dean bites his lip nervously. It's almost like he's five again when John hit him for the first time. He had been crying hysterically, wanting his mom, but she was never going to come. John couldn't take the loud screechy noise any longer so he slapped Dean right across the face, telling him to smarten up.
"My dad's home." Those three words are the only ones he can manage to muster up. His voice cracks and you can almost hear his heart physically breaking with each word. Charlie's only seen Dean like this a handful of times, but no matter how many it may be, it'll always scare her to death. She quickly pulls him into a strong hug and he follows suit, holding onto her like a lifeline. He cries into her shoulder as she whispers assurances in his ear.
"It's okay. You're safe here. Everything's going to be fine." Neither of them knows how long they've stood there for. Minutes? Hours? It's hard to tell, but when they finally do pull away, Dean's quick to wipe the tears from his eyes, wanting to look like a man again, not some whiny little bitch as his father would put it. He clears his throat and his eyes fall onto the wet spot on Charlie's shoulder, which would be from his tears. He points at it.
"Sorry about that." He sniffles and silently curses himself for it. Why can't he just man up? It is not that serious. Charlie gives him a soft, reassuring smile.
"Don't worry. I don't mind. I've got other shirts. Do you want to come inside?" Dean nods and Charlie lets him in. He takes a sigh of relief. It's always refreshing to be around Charlie. She doesn't judge you for anything, and is always so understanding, even when you don't deserve it. It's the most frustrating and amazing thing about her.
They head for Charlie's room and she leaves him alone for a moment so she can go tell her parents that Dean is staying over. They're really easy going which is a stark contrast to Dean's family. He sits cross-legged on Charlie's bed, facing her wall. She's taped a bunch of pictures right above her headboard of all her friends over the years. Dean's in the majority of them. Sam's in a few, and her drama nerds are in the rest. He smiles with amusement as he looks at the pictures, recalling what was happening during the moment each one was being taken.
In one, someone captured the perfect moment of Dean, Charlie, and Sam standing together, ice cream in hand, with a seagull that takes a huge bite out of Sam's cone. In a different one, it's just him and Charlie together at the skatepark. This picture was taken with a Polaroid. Dean laughs out loud, remembering Charlie's little phase that ended almost immediately after she fell off her board and scraped her knees, hands, and chin. He told her not to let go of his hands yet, but she got too cocky.
"What are you laughing at?" Charlie asks, now behind him, and looking at al of her photos with him. Dean has a toothy grin on his face as he turns to look at Charlie.
"Just thinking about the time you tried to skateboard to impress that one girl, what was her name again? Tulip?" Charlie rolls her eyes, but can't hide the bright smile growing on her lips. She's happy that Dean's finally looking like his usual self again.
"Talia was her name and I'd prefer if you didn't remember that time in my life thank you very much." Charlie now sits beside him on the bed and Dean laughs at her some more.
"Right! Talia! And no, I will never forget that phase until the moment I die." Charlie groans, shaking her head at this dork. Dean turns so he's facing Charlie and when the laughter dies down it gets really quiet. He knows he should probably give her some explanation as to why he suddenly stopped by tonight looking like a complete wreck. Charlie knows that look all too well and she shakes her head.
"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, Dean."
"No, no, it's fine, really, I'm fine. I just got into a fight with my old man again, that's all." He shrugs his shoulders and looks off to the side, trying to act as if it's no big deal, but Charlie sees right through him.
"What happened this time?" Dean looks into Charlie's eyes. His once insouciant attitude crumbles as he realizes that he's here with his best friend. He can always be real with her. It's Charlie.
"I really don't think it was a big deal," he caves. "My dad just overreacted like he always does."
"What did he overreact to?" Charlie listens quietly and attentively to Dean. She knows it takes a lot for him to be so open about his family and what really goes on there. He doesn't like to share his private life very much, for fear of not being able to control how people perceive him.
"Well, it started with supper. He just thinks he can walk in here whenever he wants and automatically become a dad again which is such bullshit. I know his job requires him to leave town for a bit, but come on. Does that really mean you have to be gone all year and come back for a weekend every few months? Get real." Dean rolls his eyes. Charlie purses her lips. There are so many things she could say about John Winchester, but decides that it's best to stay silent for now.
"Anyway, he comes home, right? Well, when I get home I find him snooping around my room and then when we talk for the first time in months he immediately blames me for my mom again. Some nerve he has. But, when things escalated, Bobby was there to cool it back down. So, after that I went in the shower and that's when Bobby left so when it's time for supper which is just macaroni, mind you. He's been home longer than me, he could've tried if he really wants to be a dad but anyway, we're at the table, right?" Charlie nods along, paying close attention.
"And Sam puts ketchup on his mac and cheese." Charlie chuckles.
"Did he put in too much again?" Dean cracks into a smirk for a moment.
"Yes, he did. But my dad didn't even know that he likes ketchup now. So I gave him lip for it and he got pissed and talked about how he hasn't been here and I said whose fault is that basically and then we started screaming and he-" Dean cuts himself off. It still stings too much to admit it out loud, but Charlie gets the picture. She points to his still reddened cheek. Dean nods.
"Yeah. Then I cried like a bitch and came here." Dean tries to lighten the moment a bit with his crude language, but Charlie isn't laughing.
"You aren't a bitch for having feelings, Dean. Everyone's allowed to cry."
"Not when you're practically an adult man."
"You're seventeen. Of course you can still cry." Dean looks at her again. They pause. She wants to get into that thick skull of his and get rid of all the toxic things his dad has taught him, but she's unsure if that's even possible. She'll never stop trying though. After an agonizing minute of this silence, Dean can't take it anymore. He breaks the quietness.
"Well, anyway, that was my night. How was yours?" Charlie gives him a small smirk at his attempt to change the subject.
"It was the same old thing. My mom made hashbrown casserole again." Dean nods and then remembers his conversation with Sam before his father interrupted it.
"Oh, hey, Sammy wants your help with his little robot thing later."
"Help with what exactly?"
"I dunno. He wants it to have a tail or something."
"A tail?"
"Yeah, like that Castiel guy's robot."
"Oh. Well, what makes him think I know how to do that?" Dean shrugs.
"You're smart?"
"I've never made a robot before?"
"So? It can't be that hard."
"You know who could help." Dean's brows furrow as he tries to think of who she could possibly be thinking about.
"Who?"
"That Castiel guy." Dean immediately frowns.
"That's not funny, Charlie. No way."
"I'm not trying to be? What would be so bad about getting his help?"
"Because, Charlie! He broke my little brother's dreams. The last thing he would want is that guy gloating at how he can make robot tails when Sammy can't." Charlie gives him an unimpressed look.
"He would not gloat in Sam's face."
"How do you know? We barely know the guy."
"Actually, I got his number today."
"What?" Dean asks, completely shocked. The betrayal of this girl.
"Yeah. And we were talking a little and I don't think he's that bad. He's a little weird, but good weird." Dean shakes his head. He can't believe she actually talked to the guy.
"You're seriously friends with this guy now? I beat up his brother!"
"So? I didn't. And I already told you Castiel forgives you for that." Dean folds his arms over his chest.
"Well, his brother probably didn't."
"Probably not." Dean scoffs but can't help smiling at the situation.
"You're crazy."
"Yet you love me anyway."
"You wish." Dean playfully rolls his eyes and the two share a laugh.
"Just because you're friends with him doesn't mean I will be too."
"No one said you had to be."
"Just keep him away from me."
"You have Spanish with him?"
"And history." Charlie laughs at that.
"Really? Do you sit next to him in that class too?" Dean nods and Charlie laughs even harder. "Well, aren't you lucky?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, nerd." He lightly pushes her to the side and Charlie just laughs. They spend the rest of the night giggling and planning out their senior year together.
"I think I wanna go to Stanford." Charlie admits. It's around two in the morning and she is now lying down with her head on her pillow as Dean lies the opposite way, his head resting on one of her plush toys.
"Stanford? Why?"
"They have a really good computer science program and I'm pretty tech savvy as you know." Dean groans as he physically cringes at her words.
"Please never call yourself that again." Charlie laughs.
"Whatever, dude. What do you want to do with your life?" Dean shrugs.
"I never really thought about it before."
"Well, what are you good at?"
"I'm pretty good with cars. Bobby taught me a lot at work."
"Become a mechanic." Dean thinks about it. He can easily see himself fixing up cars for a living, but is it really what he wants to do?
"Maybe." Charlie looks over at the clocks and yawns.
"We should get some sleep."
"What time is it?"
"Two twenty-six."
"Shit." Dean sits up with a grunt and rubs his tired eyes. He steals a throw blanket and a decorative pillow off of Charlie's bed and makes his way onto the floor.
"You don't want a sleeping bag or something?" Charlie asks, leaning over her bed to get a better look at Dean's setup on the floor.
"Nah, I'm good. Your carpet's fluffy."
"Pfft, okay weirdo."
"Goodnight, Charlie."
"Goodnight, Dean."
"Thanks for letting me stay over."
"Anytime."
They both fall asleep shortly after that. In the morning, Charlie wakes up first at six on the dot. Despite the lack of hours she got, she's quite ready to start the day. Dean is still fast asleep on the floor so she takes her pillow and throws it at him. He groans in response.
"What the fuck?"
"It's six a.m. wake up."
"It's too early Charlie."
"No it isn't? You still need to go home and get ready for school." Dean groans again before reluctantly getting up and stretching. "Will you be okay to go home alone?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. Don't worry. We're still gonna walk to school later, right?" Charlie nods at his question, and he nods back. "Okay, good. I'll see you later then."
"See you later, Dean." He quietly slips out of her room, careful not to disturb Charlie's parents as he heads out the door. The sun is just beginning to rise as he walks over to his house. He can see his breath in the air and sighs, not wanting winter to come early. The thick coats clash with his style. When he reaches the front door, Dean peers into the window of the living room, wanting to make sure his father isn't up yet. He doesn't see any lights on and decides to go inside. He tries the doorknob but it's locked. He rolls his eyes and lifts the doormat, grabbing the extra key to let him inside.
He locks the door behind him and quietly heads up the stairs, avoiding the steps that creak on his way up to his room. He quickly gets ready for school and makes himself breakfast so he can bring it up to his bedroom and hide there until it's time to walk so he can avoid his father at all costs. His plan works perfectly. He grabs Sammy once Charlie arrives and they all head off with Dean not having to say a single word to his father.
The walk to school is rather quiet this morning. Once they reach the building, Dean doesn't even want to sit at their bench. Charlie understands and agrees to see him at break. Dean heads over to his first-period class which is unfortunately English. He sits at the back silently and pulls out his notebook to scribble in it until class begins. Even during class, Dean just zones out, drawing random doodles on the side of his notes.
It feels like time stretches out for the Winchester boy, especially because the sun he saw earlier is now completely covered by the dark clouds rolling in. It's probably going to rain and Dean wonders if tryouts will get cancelled because of it. The coaches do seem hardcore this year so they may make the boys play anyway.
After what feels like an eternity, class is over and Dean sighs in relief. Now it's time for woodworking and he's just glad to be heading to a class he actually likes. When the familiar scent of sandalwood fills his nostrils, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He takes a seat next to one of the popular rich guys and he extends his hand for Dean to take in a "broshake". Once again his mask is up and he puts on a bright smile as he slaps his hand against the rich kid's.
"Ay, buddy! How are you doing this fine morning?" The rich blonde asks.
"Oh, I'm doing alright. You?"
"Oh, I'm doing quite alright. My girl told me to meet her behind the bleachers in about fifteen minutes so.." The Blonde's smirk grows as he alludes to what that means.
"Oh, lucky you." Dean chuckles, happy for his buddy. He nods.
"Mhm. And what about you? Are you any closer to scoring Lisa Braeden?" Dean chuckles again and looks down at the chipped wooden table they're sitting at as he shakes his head.
"I don't know man, I hope so. She's still playing hard to get."
"Hard to get for six years now. Rough." Dean shrugs at his friend's calculations.
"I'll get her one day. I know it." The blonde chuckles at that and slaps Dean's shoulder, squeezing it firmly.
"I hope you do, buddy. I hope you do."
Class soon begins and Dean's friend is eagerly watching the clock. Once it's time, he immediately raises his hand and asks to go to the washroom. The teacher allows it and he tosses Dean one final look that shows he's a winner before rushing out the door. Dean chuckles and can't help but hope he gets excited like that for someone someday. All the girls he's been with were purely just hookups. Nothing to be too excited about. Not like that, anyway.
When there's only about ten minutes left of class, Dean's friend returns. The teacher gives him an unimpressed look as the kid walks in soaking wet. Must've started raining, Dean thinks to himself as his friend walks over to his seat.
"Mr. Mennen. Do you mind informing the class on why you took thirty-five minutes using the washroom?"
"Uh, I was taking a shit?" The class chuckles at that. The teacher is clearly not impressed.
"And that requires you to wash your entire body?" The teacher refers to the soaking-wet boy beside Dean who is creating a puddle on the floor below him. Mennen just flashes a bright smile.
"Of course."
"Office. Now."
"But sir-"
"I don't care who your family is. Just because your pop-pop created Jiffy Pop does not mean it gives you the right to skip class. Go to the office young man."
"This blows!" Mennen grabs his bag and stomps out of class. Dean chuckles quietly to himself and soon enough, the bell rings. He goes to his and Charlie's usual spot and waits. It isn't long before he sees her approaching.
"Hey, Red."
"Hey! How was your morning so far?"
"Entertaining. Bradly left class to go hook up with his girlfriend and got in trouble for taking so long and talking back to Mr. Keith." Charlie laughs at that.
"Well, he had it coming. He's such a snob."
"Ain't that the truth. How was drama with your new best friend?" Charlie laughs.
"Oh, don't be jealous, but it was pretty boring. Every year we always play warm-up games for like the first three days before we finally get into projects."
"Warm-up games? Like what, it's drama class?" Dean asks, his face scrunched up with confusion. Charlie shrugs.
"Just some get-to-know-you stuff. It's so we feel more comfortable on stage with each other." Dean nods, now understanding the concept.
"Well, did you play any with Castiel?"
"Yeah. Steve and Kyle always partner up together so I'm left alone and since Castiel is the new kid he doesn't have anyone else either and boom, now we're partners for life. Or, until the end of semester one."
"I see."
"Yeah. Are you actually gonna talk to him in Spanish this time?" Dean smirks as an opportunity arises.
"Why would I talk to him in Spanish? He speaks English just fine." Charlie rolls her eyes at the poor joke.
"You know what I mean." Dean smiles at her, thinking he's just hilarious.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I probably won't talk to him."
"Why not?"
"There's nothing to talk about? I don't know the guy, Charlie."
"So get to know him. I think you'd like him." Dean scoffs.
"A total robot geek? Sure, sounds like I'd love him."
"Sam's a robot geek."
"That's different Charlie, and you know it. I still think he'll grow out of his phase so we're fine." Charlie shakes her head.
"Whatever. I have to get to class now. I'll see you at lunch?"
"Yep. See you at lunch."
"Bye, bitch." Charlie does her signature Vulcan salute and parts from the Winchester. Dean gives her a wave and goes upstairs to class. This time Castiel is in there before him and Dean takes his seat beside the boy. Castiel is currently reading and doesn't look up at Dean at all, unbothered by his surroundings. Dean pulls out his notebook and starts scribbling in it again. He thinks about what Charlie said and maybe he should say something. If Castiel is Charlie's friend then the least he could do is make an effort.
"What are you reading?" Castiel immediately looks up from the page he's on and stares at Dean. He's honestly a little shocked that he's talking to him.
"Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil." Dean waits a second to see if he'll maybe say what the book is about, but he doesn't. He just sits there, silently staring at him, getting a little too close for comfort. Dean backs up a little.
"Uh, cool. Is it interesting?"
"Yes." Dean looks to the side to see if anyone else is seeing this. Castiel is so peculiar compared to anyone else he's ever met. And he's met some weirdos.
"Uh, cool." Castiel blinks. Dean doesn't understand what's wrong with himself, he's never been this awkward talking to anyone before. Are his palms sweaty?
"Are you always such a freak?" Dean accidentally blurts out. Why? Why would he say that? His eyes widen. He just meant to break the awkward silence, not break it with an even more awkward conversation. Castiel's brows furrow.
"What?" Dean clears his throat. He doesn't know what to say. Should he just go along with it, or apologize?
"Well?" Shit, wrong move. Wrong move. Castiel's face changes from confusion to irritation. He's barely said a word to this guy and now he's a freak? What the hell? He doesn't answer Dean, he just goes back to reading, his brows never relaxing. Dean bites his lip. Now what does he do? He watches Castiel read, hoping an idea will come to him, but it doesn't. He zones out, forgetting that he's still watching the poor boy read.
"Stop staring." Castiel mumbles, causing Dean to immediately jerk out of his trance. He immediately turns to face the front, and for the first time ever, he can't wait for class to start.
When class ends, Castiel is quick to get up out of his seat and out the door. Dean sighs, shaking his head, knowing he screwed the pooch on that one. Maybe he'll try again in history. Dean walks down to the cafeteria to meet Charlie for lunch. They sit at their usual table and start conversation as usual.
"So.." Charlie starts. Dean looks up from his tray of food to see what she has to say. "Did you talk to him?" Dean sighs again.
"Sort of." He takes a bite out of his crinkled French fry.
"Sort of? What do you mean?"
"Well, I talked to him, but then my mouth moved faster than my head so-"
"Ugh, it always does!"
"Hey."
"What? I'm not wrong."
"Yeah, well, now he's mad at me so whatever." Charlie shakes her head. Lunch goes on and after a bit of bickering and a lot of laughing, Charlie and Dean give each other one last wave before going to their fourth-period class.
Today, Dean is a lot quicker in the locker room. He faces his locker the whole time and changes as fast as possible while still looking normal to the people around him. He grabs his water bottle and heads for the gym floor. Chuck slaps him on the back when he spots Dean.
"Hey, buddy! Did you hear about the party on Saturday?" Dean turns to look at his friend, intrigued.
"Not yet, no."
"Oh, man! Everyone's gonna be there. It's at Mennen's at seven. BYOB." Chuck laughs, shaking Dean by the shoulders. Dean smirks. A party at Mennen's is always fun. Full of girls too.
"Well, I'll be there then."
"Oh, you better! It's the first party of the year; you can't miss it."
The boys share a laugh and talk about who's going to be at said party. Dean's mind drifts to Charlie. She did say she wanted to go to parties this year, maybe she'll actually go to this one.
Gym class goes rather slowly for Dean today. He really just wants to see if Charlie's bluffing or actually wants to go to parties, either way her reaction is going to be good. But, when it is over, he quickly changes out and sends Charlie a quick text, asking the very urgent question before heading to his final class of the day, history.
He sits in his seat and looks out the window, picking at his lip. It's still raining pretty hard, but of course practice can't be cancelled do to a little rain. His knee begins to shake, knowing Castiel will walk in at any second. He seriously does not know how to talk to this guy. It's like, whenever he tries to say something, the words get jumbled up and he says the wrong thing every time.
The second Castiel sits down in his seat, Dean's leg stops shaking. Castiel doesn't look at Dean. He seems to still be annoyed from earlier. Dean can't help but steal glances at the poor guy anyway, knowing he shouldn't be "staring" but unable to help it. He doesn’t understand why he can't get along with this guy. It's always so easy for him to get along with anyone. Why is he so difficult?
The teacher is late to class today so everyone but Dean and Castiel are chatting this free time away. Castiel is currently sitting up straight and proper, facing the front as he waits patiently while Dean is slouched back in his chair, twirling his pencil between his fingers, bored out of his mind. With a small sigh, Dean looks up at Castiel, this time deciding to stare at him until he finally says something.
Castiel bites the inside of his cheek, refusing to give in to this childish game, but Dean doesn't back down. He starts to repeatedly poke Castiel's arm with the eraser end of his pencil. He doesn't say anything, just continues to be a nuisance for the poor boy. Castiel's jaw tightens, he tries so hard to keep quiet, but he just can't.
"Stop that."
"Oh, he speaks!" Castiel rolls his eyes. Dean smiles widely, feeling victorious.
"Of course I speak. I just chose not to, until now."
"Yeah, yeah. Alright, nerd-" Dean starts talking about some nonsense Castiel is very much not interested in. He turns his head towards Dean despite this and really gets a good look at him. He starts with his hair, which, surprisingly, looks much more tame than his own even though Dean's the sporty one. Then, he moves to his annoyingly cheerful eyes. He didn't realize until now that they're actually green. Really green. Like a toad. An ugly, annoying toad who doesn't know when to stop croaking. Castiel smirks to himself, thinking of Dean as a toad full of warts. Dean sees his smirk and thinks that what he's saying is making Castiel ease off a little.
"So, you forgive me then?" Dean asks, pulling Castiel out of his own head.
"What?"
"Do you forgive me now?" Castiel furrows his brows and shakes his head.
"No?" He says, confused as to why he'd suddenly just forgive this guy for being an ass.
"What? I just gave you like the best apology of the year and you still won't forgive me?"
"I was not listening to you if I am being honest." Dean's eyes widen. Seriously, who does this guy think he is?
"You weren't even listening?"
"Well, you could repeat your apology now and I will listen."
"No! If you're not going to appreciate the effort I make to apologize to you for literally nothing then you don't get to hear it again."
"You are acting like a child."
"No, you're acting like a child with all of your petty grudges!" Dean raises his voice and the students around the two boys stop talking, intrigued by their argument. Castiel's eyes widen with shock. How dare this rowdy football guy say he's immature?
"You are the one name-calling and shouting and-" Castiel's voice rises too and soon they're just arguing to no end, or so it seems. When the teacher finally walks in, he's quick to walk over to their table and slam his hand down onto it to get their attention. Both of the boys jump at the sudden loud smack right in front of them. They quickly shut up and turn to face the teacher.
"Boys, what the hell is wrong with you? You are seventeen years old! Act like it!"
"But sir he started it." Dean blurts. Castiel looks at him appalled.
"No I did not! He started it!"
"No! If you would just get your head out of your ass and accept my apology-"
"Oh, I am forced to accept your half-assed apology just because you said so?" The boys start arguing again, making the teacher shout over them.
"Boys, enough! We are in a classroom, and in this classroom, there shall be no childish bickering, no raised voices, no petty grievances of any kind from either of you, or anyone else here." The teacher stands up fully, now addressing the other students.
"I will give you one last chance. If I hear another peep out of you two that isn't so much as polite, you will both be sent to the principal's office." Dean and Cas open their mouth to argue but the teacher gives them both a stern look that says he is not playing around. The teens understand immediately and shut their mouths. Both of them angle their bodies so their backs are mostly to each other for the rest of the period.
The sweet, sweet sound of the bell ringing is like the call to freedom as everyone gets up quickly and rushes out of class. Even nerdy Castiel is out of there as soon as possible.
It's still raining heavily as Dean changes into his football gear and heads outside for day two of tryouts. Tomorrow is the last day and come Monday the school should announce who is officially on the team, and who isn't. That excites Dean. He's pretty certain that he'll be on the team, but there's always that small possibility of him not getting in that always looms in the back of his mind. It's the only reason why he can't wait for Monday. His head will finally be a little quieter.
As Dean and the others jog out to the playing field, being careful not to slip, they notice that there are a few people out on the bleachers. They must be there to watch the guys play. Why in the rain is something Dean will never figure out. The coaches start practice with a warm-up and the boys have to run from one end of the field to the other and back again three times. As Dean does this, he looks up at the bleachers, wondering if he'll see anyone he knows. Lisa perhaps? Maybe she skipped cheer practice to see him.
He scans all the people there and even under their umbrellas, none of them look like Ms. Braeden. Oh well. Dean runs back to the starting line, takes a quick five-second break, and runs back out there again. This time, one group on the bleachers catches his eye. The emo girls and what appears to be a beige trench coat? That's odd for Gothic girls as their wardrobe strictly consists of just black. As he gets closer to the other side, Dean gets a better view of the face hidden beneath the Umbrella.
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me." The girl in the trench coat isn't even a girl at all. It's Castiel. He appears to be reading while the girls beside him cheer the boys on. One of the girls looks familiar. Dean rolls his eyes when he realizes it's Meg. He always thought she was a creep. Always talking about witchcraft and eyeing him up like he's candy, or maybe a goat in her case. He shivers at the memory. His eyes go back to focusing on Castiel. Why the hell would a fancy pants nerd like him be hanging out with a crazy girl like her?
Distracted by this, Dean doesn't notice the puddle right in front of him and slips, falling right onto his ass. The goth girls shout, "Oh!" And then laugh at him. He rolls his eyes, annoyed as he gets back up and brushes himself off. Castiel looks up from the page he's on to see what the commotion is all about. When he sees that it's because Dean fell, he smirks and chuckles a little.
"Fuckin' bag of dicks." Dean whispers under his breath as he turns around.
"Ay, Winchester! Get your head in the game, boy! You're falling behind!" Coach Jefford's shouts from across the field, causing the group on the bleachers to laugh even more. Dean groans, clearly pissed off as he runs back over to do his third and final run. This time Chuck runs with him and shoves his shoulder a little.
"Hey, cheer up, man! Everyone makes themselves look like a doofus in front of girls at some point, right?" He laughs and Dean rolls his eyes.
"Sure."
"Oh, I'm sure they'll forget all about it come Saturday when all they want is a piece of Truman High's finest quarterback."
"We don't find that out until Monday."
"Oh, come on, Winchester! You get it every year!" Dean smirks at that. It is true. Why would this year be different? They do want to win after all.
For the rest of tryouts, Dean thinks about the party, or tries to only think about the party. His mind constantly goes back to questioning what the hell Castiel is doing with Meg. They have no similarities at all. She's dirty and dark. He always cleans up nice. Maybe Charlie knows since apparently Castiel is her new best friend in the whole wide world. Dean rolls his eyes again. Grade twelve is definitely going to be a long year.