Chapter Text
“So you’re telling me that you’re going to miss dinner every Tuesday and Thursday night, all term long?” Dean snaps at his younger brother, who’s tearing around the house throwing books into a backpack. Kid’s a giant now. Dean’s not too sure when that happened, but him running around the house is truly something to behold.
Sam sighs in exasperation. “Dean, I’m not a kid anymore. It’s just twice a week, it’s not a big deal. Look, we can do a big breakfast every Sunday to make up for it, ok?”
But it is a huge deal, to Dean anyways. They’d been having family dinners together since, well, as long as Dean can remember. Granted, in their house “family dinners” originally meant Dean reheating something while their dad lay passed out on the couch, but he and Sam always ate dinner together. It hadn’t always been meals like that though. When he was really young Mom cooked, preparing delicious meals that made you feel loved right down to your toes, and steaming desserts that tasted like home. Even when Dad had battles to fight he always made sure he was home in time to join them at the table. Nice thing about civil war re-enactment battles in the 1980s was you could be home in time for dinner. Then everything changed, and dinners stopped for a while, but as soon as Dean was old enough to open a can of soup they began again, and he never let them slip through his fingers again. Over the years Dean learned to cook rather than just reheat, and soon their dinners were elaborate, delicious meals, casseroles and homemade burgers and chilli from scratch. No matter what else was going on, every weeknight they took time out to spend with each other, to be a family, even if that was just the two of them, and about once or twice a month they did dinner on Sunday over at the salvage yard.
So ya, Sam casually mentioning that he was going to be skipping damn near half of them was a pretty big deal. But he was right, as much as Dean hated admitting it. He isn’t a kid anymore, he’s starting university and looking at law school after that, and Dean has to start wrapping his head around that. He looks at the hair that’s too long and the innocent hope in his brother’s face, and he caves.
“Alright, if you make breakfast Sundays, fine. And it can’t just be cereal either!” He warns, eliciting a giant smile from his oaf of a brother, and a quick hug before he runs out the door for class.
* * *
When Dean realized later that week that Thursday nights Sam has a class from 7-10 pm, he suggested they compromise and do an early dinner together on campus. That way Sam doesn’t have to worry about timing, and they only miss out on Tuesdays, when Sam has classes from noon till 8:30 almost non-stop. That’s the problem with first year, and taking classes from a variety of departments: the scheduling sucks. Dean tried to point this out to Sam during registration but the big nerd didn’t hear one word and signed up for the most random cross section of courses. But Sam did agree to Dean’s idea for Thursdays, so they make it the official plan for the term.
He doesn’t have to wander around campus much to find the place Sam described, since it’s thankfully right near the parking lot he was told to use. Alright, Sammy, you got that one right, he thinks, though he’d never say it out loud. He enters the place and sees that they have a burger and beer special Thursdays for just 7 bucks. Ok, two points Sam. As he checks out the crowd, they seem more chill than most of the kids Sam’s age he’s seen around. He sits down at the table Sam’s waving from and mentions it to him.
“Right? I knew you’d like it. So get this, there’s a campus bar where the undergrads hang out, but this one is mostly grad students and profs, so I thought you’d be more comfortable here. Fewer obnoxious drunk 18 year olds, which I’m pretty sure you only like when they’re on your laptop, despite what you say. Plus they apparently have incredible bacon cheeseburgers,” he’s grinning ear to ear, and Dean can’t help but appreciate how thoughtful Sam’s being. Like hell he’s going to say something though. Maybe this new arrangement won’t be too bad after all.
“Well, as much as I love feisty drunk co-eds, I think I’m feeling more like a burger tonight.” Sam beams at his brother’s approval, and Dean just chuckles, shaking his head at how ridiculous his giant baby brother has become. When the food comes there’s a brief pause in the conversation while Dean moans around his burger, which really is pretty awesome. Plus the fries are out of this world. Ignoring his brother’s scandalized face Dean keeps shovelling down his meal, washing it back with something local and organic and whatever that Sam asked the waiter to recommend and which Dean only accepted because it was on special.
They spend the evening casually chatting, Sam gushing about all his new classes and teachers, what assignments he’s already looking forward to completing, and debating which extra-curriculars he’s going to join. Dean has to hand it to him, kid knows what he’s doing. Just because Dean’s never applied for university doesn’t mean he doesn’t get the game. Hell, he spent most of high-school careful constructing an identity that was basically the exact opposite of That Guy, so he had to do some research to make sure he played the part convincingly. Regardless, he knows that Sam’s doing this right, making sure he’s got a well-rounded application and the whole nine. He listens to him chatter away, takes a swig of his beer, and smiles, actually content, and so stupid proud of his dumb brother.
* * *
True to his word, Sam wakes Dean up Sunday to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee, and Dean starts to think maybe Sam should take more night classes, cause he could get used to this. Granted the eggs are a bit runny and the bacon’s a bit burnt, but hey, Sam’s still new to this, and for a beginner it’s not bad. Next weekend he’ll supervise and make a couple of gentle suggestions in his thoughtful, subtle way. What else are big brothers for, right? For now Dean just asks Sam about his first week as they sit at the table armed with more food than two normal humans could eat and Sam starts gushing. Even though he talked Dean’s ear off with this crap on Thursday, he’s somehow got a new arsenal of nerd news that he can’t wait to share.
“Right, so there’s this class on Greek and Latin in scientific and legal terminology, but I didn’t think that would be in-depth enough, so I’m taking pure Latin too, and it’s awesome. And I’m taking Psych, and the prof seems totally insane, so that should be cool. And then Intro History is already fascinating, I can’t wait to get further into that. And of course Sociology is the best!” Dean’s trying to process this onslaught of information, trying to grasp how exactly it’s possible that his brother is this huge a nerd, when he suddenly remembers a conversation they had in the spring when Sam was picking classes.
“Wait a minute, a few months back you told me Sociology was dumb, that there’s no way you’d ever take that, and how soft sciences are, and I quote, the lamest. And now, “it’s the best”?” Dean shoots Sam the incredibly condescending look that older siblings are taught by some mysterious stranger the day their parents bring a new baby home.
Sam sighs exasperated, like Dean’s so dense he could never possibly understand. Assuming patented Bitch Face #17 he enunciates extra clearly. “I can change my mind, ok? I was talking to this girl who made it sound really interesting, and she-”
“Ooooh,” Sam can’t finish due to the increasing cackle of his brother’s chuckle.
“Dean what’s so funny, why are you being so-?”
“ I was talking to this girl? Really Sammy? And you can’t figure it out?” Sam just sighs again, as if somehow deflating will force Dean to surrender. It doesn’t work. “99% of all the decisions a man ever makes are to get laid. Looks like you just found your motivation.”
“Dean, that’s disgusting. You’re so immature, oh my god! Jessica’s really smart, ok, and super friendly, and she’s helping me with our first assignment and WHAT?” Sam interrupts himself in response to Dean’s ridiculous face. He’s wagging his eyebrows at a rate that is frankly alarming and poking Sam in the ribs, which is apparently more than his little brother is willing to endure.
“Jessica.” Dean snorts out, bursting into peals of laughter again. He can see how worked up Sammy’s getting, and it’s just so easy. Kid has no idea he’s already totally smitten.
“Know what? I’m done anyway.” And with that Sam lets his dish clatter into the sink and stomps up to his room, clearly demonstrating to Dean how a mature adult should handle an altercation.
* * *
Next Thursday Dean gets to the bar a little early, and as he’s waiting for Sam to show up he notices a box of trivial pursuit cards on the table. He starts idly flipping through them, and doesn’t notice Sam until he’s right there in front of him and suddenly hears him talking to someone else.
“Thanks professor, I’m just having a tough time with the irregular verbs,” he hears him say, and he rolls his eyes. How on earth is his brother such a nerd? He’s about to make fun of him when Sam says “Oh, Professor Novak, this is my brother Dean.”
Dean looks over on cue, and suddenly finds himself at a loss for words. The man standing in front of him is basically his age, with the most intensely ruffled dark hair and piercing eyes that seem to shine despite the softly lit room. He’s wearing dark slacks, a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and a loosened cobalt tie that basically forms a giant arrow pointing to the matching eyes that bore into him.
“Hello Dean,” he says, sticking out his hand. Dean tries pretending like that voice isn’t low and incredible enough to actually send a shiver down his spine. He gets a hold of himself, realising he’s being a bit too awkward.
“Uh, hi. Nice to meet one of Sam’s profs.” Dean shakes the proffered hand and feels incredibly vulnerable under the intense gaze of those piercing eyes.
“Dean, Professor Novak is my Latin teacher, he was just clarifying some grammar for me.” Sam’s beaming as he sits down across from Dean, and Dean can’t understand how on earth Latin grammar can be so exciting, but whatever, Sam’s weird.
“Cool. Thanks for, ah, helping him out. Lord knows I wouldn’t be able to help him with that crap.” Dean gestures towards Sam with his head, noticing that this guy is still holding his hand, still staring at him. Dean’s getting increasingly uncomfortable and isn’t sure how exactly to fix this. Then he realises what he just said. “Not that what you do is crap, just, uh, I’m not much for the academic type, I mean, stuff, and, uh, I just. Crap. Thanks?”
Professor Novak is looking at him with a nerve-wracking combination of judgement and bemusement, but finally lets go of his hand and answers “Of course.” Of course what? What had he even said? Was he an ass? Oh god that voice. What the hell is up with him? Dean tries to shake it off as Sam and his prof part ways, and Dean notices he wanders off and sits alone a few tables over, rests his trench coat and briefcase on the chair beside him and pulls out a book.
“I love him, he’s the best!” Dean’s wrenched back to his reality by Sam’s gushing. “He just makes everything so clear, it’s really helpful.” Sam’s beaming at Dean as he opens a menu, and is still clearly waiting for a response when he reaches for his water glass. Dean can feel the expectation weighing on him and finally caves.
“Ok, awesome!” Dean says, with as much sarcasm as he can fit into two words. He tries to focus on Sam’s updates, on everything that happened today, but it’s harder than usual. They manage to eat dinner with the usual amount of chatter, but Dean can’t help glancing at the man eating alone, reading, three tables over and a million miles away.
* * *
It’s late September, and they’ve fallen into a comfortable routine of dinners on campus every Thursday and bonus breakfasts Sunday. They honestly used to do that most of the time anyway, but now Dean doesn’t have to cook, so win-win. Thursdays they usually bump into Professor Novak, and Dean always tries to nod and say hey to the guy. He’s often nervous as hell for some reason, probably cause the guy’s a big fancy professor and he’s just a two-bit mechanic, and that’s actually pretty fucking intimidating. But if he’s honest he also kinda feels sorry for him, sitting alone week after week while he and Sammy are having a great time just feet away.
Apparently Sam’s noticed the same thing, at least the solitary part, hopefully not the intimidation part, because goddamnit there are things little brothers do not need to know about. Anyway, tonight Sam enters the pub with his prof as usual, but as they approach the table Sam’s still talking the guy’s ear off. When he gets to the table Sam sits down across from Dean, except not directly across, and then to Dean’s horror gestures to the bench beside him and asks “Professor, if you’d like to join us, I’m sure my brother wouldn’t mind. I mean, if that’s not a conflict of interest or anything?”
The man looks from one brother to the other, appraising the situation. Dean prays the panic he’s feeling doesn’t show on his face while he tries to play it cool, pretending it’s no big deal. He tries to force his muscles to form an approximation of Ya, I totally don’t mind. You’re just way smarter than me and I’m sure I’ll have absolutely nothing to contribute to this conversation but you seem not totally horrible so ya, join us. Maybe not all that. Maybe he actually managed to shut his expression up before it ran away like that, even if he couldn’t silence his brain. Maybe he even succeeded, since the man finally answers in that incredible baritone “No, I can eat with you Sam. Just don’t think I’ll give you an A because of it."
Dean chuckles, thinking this might not actually be too bad. Dude seems alright. Sam slides over and his teacher sits down beside him, ending up directly across from Dean. He looks up at him and says simply “Castiel,” then nods once. Whoa, thinks Dean, that’s a pretty awesome name; sounds like the kind of name some badass lone wolf hero would have in a dystopic novel. He wonders if Castiel can fight, whether he’d be able to hold his own in some kind of apocalyptic showdown, and kind wants to ask him. But he realises that’d be random as hell so all he does is nod back, take a swig of beer, and tell his brain to shut the fuck up.
Most of the evening passes with Sam and Castiel nerding out about Latin, but Dean’s content just to hang out with his brother, even if it is shared. He’s so damn proud that the kid understands all this nerdy crap that he can sit there enjoying him enjoying it, even if he doesn’t understand most of what’s happening. At the end of the evening Castiel goes to leave, and Sam actually stands up and says “Well, we’re here every Thursday if you ever want the company.” Dean cannot believe his brother is such a suck up, but he lets it pass and just adds his agreement to try and save the kid some face. Professor Novak – Castiel – smiles and leaves.
“What the hell, Sam? Why would you do that?” Dean runs a hand over his face like he can scrub away how nervous the man makes him feel. Unfortunately, no such luck.
“Guy told me his family all live abroad, and he’s new to town. I just thought it would be nice. You don’t mind do you?” Sam looks at him with those sweet puppy dog eyes and Dean just melts, even though he doesn’t dare let Sam know.
“No, it’s fine, I just…It’s fine.” And Sam nods, as if that’s that. Son a bitch, Sammy.