Chapter Text
Castiel never got a note back from Winchester.
Maybe he wasn't supposed to? Castiel wasn't sure. He had only ever passed notes once during class two years ago, but that note wasn't for him. And it ended up being a spell that turned the recipient completely pink from head to toe.
Alfie was still a faint shade of pink to this day.
So Castiel had no idea if that social interaction with Winchester even went correctly. Maybe he should've written down his name after all. Had he wasted his chance? Should he write down a proper answer and pass it back or would that be considered acting out of turn? Should he wait to get poked again?
Maybe he should've been more careful when giving back Winchester's pen, but he’d panicked. Ms. Tessa was turning his way when he was passing it back, and calling attention to their interaction was the last thing he’d wanted to do, but that had clearly backfired.
Maybe Winchester was upset about it? Should he apologize? Dean seemed to have handled the situation with grace, so Castiel didn't think an apology was needed.
His wandering thoughts came to a halt at the sound of Ms. Tessa's book clapping shut, her signal that class was over.
Castiel made a move to get up and quickly leave, but a tall form blocked the side of his seat, preventing his exit.
"Hey."
Castiel pulled his gaze up along the body blocking him and squinted at the face it belonged to, saying nothing.
"Can we talk?"
Ah, so he did mess up on the note-passing. He deeply wished for Meg's guidance now. He couldn't decipher what expression Winchester was making at him, especially from where he sat. He wanted to leave.
"Do we have to?" he asked, dropping his eyes to the lone open notebook on his desk. He'd have to catch up on some notes later. For now, he closed it and stacked it along with his other books.
"No," Winchester answered after a moment, taking a step back to give Castiel room to stand. But he was still too close, and finally standing face-to-face, Castiel got a better look at the furrow of Wincheter's brow and could better make out what he guessed was hesitation in his tone. "But I want to."
Castiel tightened his grip on his books as he tried his damndest to figure out what Winchester meant by that. Why would he want to talk to Castiel, given that they have no reason to speak whatsoever?
Was Meg right? Did Winchester like him?
No, she couldn’t always be right. That was statistically improbable. He just had to find out what exactly Winchester wanted, 'clear the air' as they say, and put this whole thing behind him.
It seemed Castiel took too long to answer, because the boy in front of him let out a huff and scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes to the side. "Look, I swear I ain't gonna cause ya trouble. I just … " he grumbled, rubbing his hand down the side of his face, squishing his freckled cheek. He looked into Castiel's eyes, seeming to contemplate something before his entire body deflated. "Look, I ain't good at this shit. Sammy put me up to it, and I'd rather get it over with now than deal with the aftermath later."
And I would very much like to know what you mean by that , Castiel thought.
Before he could further ask what Winchester meant, Ms. Tessa's kind voice shattered their not very private conversation.
"Winchester. Novak. You can go now. I have another class to prepare for and I don't appreciate stragglers."
"My bad, Ms. T. We'll get out of your hair."
Castiel felt a strong hand grab at his forearm before he was suddenly pulled towards the exit and down the hall.
Not that he’d been given much choice in the matter, but he might as well see where this went.
---
Novak .
Alright, so Dean had half a name now. Good. That was progress.
And, look, as much as Dean would love to deal with this the old-fashioned way his dad taught him, he (for once) thought about the consequences of future actions and getting his ass handed to him in wizard school sounded like rolling an instant Nat 1.
Yeah, that's right, Dean could speak nerd too.
The only way to solve this — and, god, this was so uncool to admit —was to talk it out. And if things went south, Dean's fists could keep the conversation going.
See, mom, I'm taking the peaceful route to life first .
With that thought firmly settled at the front of his mind, Dean continued to pull Castle Novel—er, Novak —down the hall towards the closest thing to a private stairwell that he could find, which was ironically not a stairwell, but the side of a giant-ass doorway leading to the outside hallway.
Because evil castles needed outside hallways.
Dean let go of the boy and finally got a good look at the asshole his brother so badly wanted as a mentor, only to be met with a glare so frigid, the kid might as well have zapped him with his wand.
Alright, bad start. Wind it back.
Taking a deep breath and trying not to blurt out the first words that came to mind, Dean held up his hands in surrender and took a step back. "Alright, so we got off on the wrong foot. Lucky for us, I can square dance, so I know how to get back into the groove of things." He punctuated his little declaration with his classic charming grin. That one always worked.
Or not. Novak seemed to just glare at him harder, and tilted his head to the side like some bird.
Salvage it. Salvage it. Dean held out his hand. "Name's Dean Winchester. I'm new around here, if you couldn't guess."
Novak didn't shake his hand. He just kinda... stared at it, like it disgusted him.
For the love of Led Zeppelin, do NOT be one of THOSE people .
"This is usually the part where you say your name," Dean prompted. Good lord was he trying here, grinding his teeth in a forced grin, hoping he didn’t have to test whether or not this kid was as good of a broom flier as Sam claimed.
Fortunately, finally , the guy met his eyes and (rather hesitantly) reached over to shake his hand in an unusually firm grip. "Castiel Novak."
So Dean wasn't just hearing things; the guy really did sound like puberty had punched him in the throat.
Taking the handshake as a challenge, Dean squeezed Castiel's palm to try to indicate that he was stronger (probably), and then decided to hurry things along.
"Now that we know each other, I'll cut to the chase." Releasing Castiel's hand, Dean leaned against the stone pillar beside him. "Like I said, I don't want any trouble. My brother, Sammy, told me he saw you looking my way a little funny. I'll apologize for whatever I did if you tell me what it was, and I promise not to do it again. So, we frigus ?" he asked, trying to be funny about it.
But Castiel just kept on glaring at him. Like if he stared long enough, he could make his head explode.
Pretty sure there's a spell for that.
"I don't understand," was the only response he got.
At this point, Dean was getting fucking frustrated with these short-ass answers. Like Castiel didn't wanna waste another breath more on Dean.
With a long, exasperated sigh, Dean ran a hand down his face and leveled a look at Castiel. "Alright, sunshine. Let me give it to you straight…”
---
Sunshine
Sunshine
Sunshine
The cogs of Castiel's mind ground to a halt. For a moment, he thought it might be some sort of delayed spell effect from Dean's use of Latin. The whole world had turned into a fuzzy haze as his mind played the term of endearment on repeat.
Castiel didn't know much about romance. His basic knowledge of it stemmed from what Meg told him, his brief talk about it with Hannah, and the one time Balthazar made him watch Titanic (and tried to convince him to hate it, but that was neither here nor there).
But he knew one thing.
Terms of endearment like 'sunshine' were rooted in meaning. For some reason, despite how often Castiel had been referred to as 'cold' or 'chilling,’ Dean Winchester thought of him as warm as the light of the sun.
The taller boy was still talking, but whatever else Dean was saying was getting lost in the mental replay of that simple nickname.
Castiel didn't know what to do. This was too unfamiliar. This was beyond anything he'd prepared for. Unlike his situation with Hannah and Meg, Castiel was all too aware now, all too present and knowing, and it terrified him.
It frightened him because suddenly, the solid ice of his thoughts was in deep contrast to the heat he was probably radiating from his face.
He had to go.
"I have to go," Castiel rushed out from between his teeth before side-stepping Dean and walking past him. Ungracefully, at that. In his panic, he shouldered the other boy hard, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around and apologize. He felt too flustered, too embarrassed, too much.
Meg was right.
Dean Winchester liked him.
---
Was Dean going on a bit of a rant? Yes. But he was entitled to it! He was frustrated, dealing with a guy who hated him for reasons that shouldn't even be an issue in the 2010s!
Maybe insulting Castiel with a demeaning nickname was a little mean, but it was either that or outright calling him a Douche-Broom-Multitool.
Not his best, but he was angry, so sue him.
Regardless, his little rant had clearly fallen on deaf ears because the next thing he knew, Castiel was telling him he had to leave, then shoving past Dean and storming off.
For all that Sam saw in the guy, Dean thought his brother ought to get glasses.
Ah shit, Sam!
Dean just knew that little bitch was gonna throw a fit if Dean didn’t fix this. He’d made the mistake of promising Sam that he'd get Castiel to talk to him Friday afternoon. And to be honest, now he was debating whether it would be more worth it to let Sam cast a spell on him as payback instead.
But Dean was nothing if not stubborn.
It was the Winchester way.
"Hey, Novak!" Dean shouted down the hall after Castiel in a last-ditch effort to salvage this mess. He saw the guy stop for a second but not turn around, so he called out, "Are you at least free tomorrow morning?"
Dean couldn't see much from where he stood. Hell, he didn't much care if the other students around him were paying attention.
He could , however, make out Castiel's tense shoulders. And before Dean could think to run after the guy, Castiel yelled "FINE!" in a deep, frustrated tone and stomped off like some kid trying to get the last word after a tantrum.
Okay, so the signal was definitely clear:
Castiel Novak hated him.