TEN YEARS GONE - 3
Ten Years Gone
spn fic
part 3
Pairing:Dean/Cas
Rating:t
WC:4000
Summary: Dean just wants to pretend that everything is normal - that Cas' compulsive need to be near him is due to your average teen crush and not a neurotic fixation that has already garnered him a juvenile record...
Warnings: Dean is ableist as all hell
Prev: [1] [2]
Then:
They only made it to second grade before the other shoe dropped. Mrs Wilkinson was handing out permission forms for an upcoming field trip, and she had no more than put the sheet in Cas' hands before he signed and handed it back to her.
"Castiel," she said, frowning. "Your parents are supposed to sign this."
He shrugged. "I always sign them."
Mrs Wilkinson's face fell as she probably considered that Cas' entire personality was the opposite of comedic. It made no sense that he was causing a scene now.
"This is not a laughing matter, Mr Celestine. Permission slips are to go home to your parents," she insisted, holding up the slip.
"My father isn't home."
"Then, whoever your guardian is at the moment."
"My brother is my guardian. He is not home either," Cas replied, totally serious. Everyone was staring by now, rapt. Cas had never received a scolding before.
The teacher was quickly losing patience. "Who is, then?"
"No one."
"No one? No one is home?" He nodded. She put her hands on her hips. "Then tell me, where on Earth is your family, Castiel?"
Dean could tell that something was wrong then, as Cas busted out the biggest grin Dean had ever seen on him.
"Not Earth. Heaven," Cas said gleefully.
Mrs Wilkinson didn't see it for the warning it was. She just snapped, "This is ridiculous. Up," she gestured for him to stand.
Cas obliged, standing beside his desk obediently.
"You will report directly to Ms Sands and explain to her what this -" she handed him the form - "is all about."
He took it. "Yes, Mrs Wilkinson."
---
Now
---
Dean wasn’t necessarily avoiding the talk with Benny, but it wasn’t exactly by accident that they weren’t alone together until Benny actually cornered him. When Cole discovered that Cas had never used an Xbox, not a single generation, Dean feigned some measure of surprise and decreed that Cas’ initiation commence immediately. They stayed in the common room, with Sammy and even a couple of his friends, right up until curfew. Even then Dean tried to slink away unnoticed.
Benny wasn’t having any of that. He was waiting in Dean’s room, sitting on Richie’s bed with his arms folded. He was risking the RA finding him here.
“What’s up?” Dean pretended not to know.
“Well, Cas, I guess.”
“Unreal, right?” Dean tried.
“Did you know?” Right down to business.
Dean shook his head. “Just as surprised as you were.”
Benny frowned, as if trying to choose his words. “You haven’t mentioned him since the mural. But you’ve been in touch, haven’t you?”
“Emails is all,” Dean shrugged. “And it was months before I even replied - you remember what a headache that was with the school board.”
Benny nodded.
“I was so mad,” Dean looked up at the window. It was hard to look Benny in the eye while talking feelings. “Being the ‘angel mural guy’ - you know I still get that shit sometimes. Especially Gordon, he can be such a dick.”
“He knows better.” Benny moved to lay back, looking at the ceiling instead of him. Dean was grateful. “Most people don’t know Cas, how snide he is. But Walker knew damn well it was a joke.”
“Yeah,” was all Dean could say in reply. He lay down, too, putting his hands behind his head. He felt a little guilty; he should have given Benny more credit. Benny could ease even the most awkward of conversations.
So it came out. “Well, Cas did show up at my place yesterday. I guess he was trying to tell me in person, but I sent him away. Didn’t even hear him out.”
“Hmm. You were right to do it.”
“Still feel like an ass.”
“You’ve always been an ass, Deano.”
Dean told him to shut the fuck up, but there was no sting to it. After a moment, Benny asked again.
“Are you worried about what he might do?”
“They sent him here, Benny. They wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t totally balanced,” Dean replied, assuring himself too.
“Yeah. Sittin’ his own classes and everything.” Benny only said it to commiserate.
“Like, he’s got professional support. He doesn’t need us sitting here biting our nails about his mental state, right?”
“Yeah, man, you’re right,” Benny agreed. “It’s not on us.”
“Yeah,” Dean enthused. He wished he felt half as sure as he sounded.
Benny left pretty soon after that; Richie didn't even make an appearance until morning. He woke Dean up by kicking the end of his bed. It jerked Dean right out of a very intense dream where Cas was quite talented with his tongue - but whenever he tried to speak, Dean couldn’t hear him. He didn’t need to, anyway, the longer he kept Cas’ mouth busy elsewhere -
"Rise and shine, Deano! You won't believe what resurfaced this morning."
Dean had jumped upright. "The fuck, man?"
Richie was holding his phone up, and Dean blinked blearily at the screen. "The Dean in Majesty piece. I've gotten it four times just this morning."
The Michael mural.
"Fuck." Dean reached for his phone. No one had bothered sending it to him, which was not a good sign. One message from Benny simply said 'Gordon.'
Richie just laughed as Dean groaned, reiterating the old, "You should be loving it. Cas made you so much less ugly. You can use this as your Tinder pic."
Dean told him to screw off.
"Your Grindr pic?"
"Fuck off, Richie."
He did, cheerfully. Took up the bathroom for the next half hour, which Dean would usually seize as a chance to lie in. Sleep would not come back to him now, though.
Dean could deal with this. First period today was gym class, where the only one in his group who hadn't seen it before was Cole. Without Gordon or the Campbells around, it should be a piece of cake.
He didn’t wait for Cole to ask, knew he wouldn’t anyway; that much was evident by the way he avoided eye contact as Dean crossed the gymnasium to where three of his teammates had collected on the bleachers..
“So,” Dean said loudly as he dropped himself beside them.
Cole had to look over and greet Dean, casting a suspicious gaze. “What’s up?”
Dean bared his teeth in a fake smile. “The ol’ masterpiece is going around again. You seen it yet?”
“You mean the giant Dean Winchester homo tribute?”
Dean scoffed. “Yeah, whatever you do, just don’t get into a prank war with Cas. He’ll definitely outdo you.”
Cole didn’t laugh. Sid spoke up, though. “Outdo? You got your ass handed to you, Winchester.”
“Hey, at least he got my good side,” Dean shot back, giving a Blue Steel mug.
The three of them rolled their eyes, Cole made remarks about Dean not having a good side, and mostly the topic got brushed under the rug. Dean counted it as a win, and just in time too: Cas appeared not a minute later.
“Hey, Michelangelo,” Cole said, not as friendly as Dean would have hoped.
Cas nodded at him. “I don’t paint anymore.”
“Really? What’s the new thing?” Ennis asked.
“Gardening.”
The guys gave amused huffs - the perfunctory recognition of sarcasm, a form of humour second only to sexual innuendo. They thought Cas was joking.
Dean knew better, only because he got lengthy emails about flowers. Cas truly wanted to do beekeeping, but he wasn’t allowed to at the group home. He was, however, allowed to have the garden bed out front, and nurtured only plants that promoted honeybees.
“It’s quite therapeutic,” Cas insisted. Dean was just glad he didn’t start on about the bees.
“Okay, Cas, you’re going to put us all to sleep, come on.” He gave an exaggerated groan, and turned to grab a ball for warm ups.
Even if Cas wasn’t performing well socially, he could definitely prove himself physically - or at least Dean hoped. It had been a couple years since Dean had seen him in action, and it was possible he'd gone rusty in the meantime, from all that studying.
Sid and Ennis didn't have short memories, either.
When Dean suggested, “Horse?” he got twin glares and a “Fuck you, Winchester.”
Dean wanted to laugh, but in the same second Cas had asked, “What's that?”
It was jarring. Dean was accustomed to his memories of Cas being called out, though, so he glanced to his friends to see if they were as confused. Sid seemed to be, looking right back at Dean with the same question on his face, but Ennis was laughing.
“It was Cas Says, with you.”
As soon as he said it, Dean recalled everything - although “recall” wasn't the right word. He had suggested the game because he knew his teammates would hate it; and of course, they hated it because Cas was so unbeatable that they’d named it after him.
It was like a word on the tip of his tongue, missing until it was right there. Like it was never actually missing.
Cas didn't miss a beat. “Ah. Five points, you're out?”
“That's it.”
Sid piped up, “You're not the only one with trick shots anymore.” He snatched the ball from Dean's hands and no one argued.
He strode a ways away, stopping with his back to the hoop. He called out, “One bounce.”
Dean didn't really expect it to go in. Sid often missed this shot, and he seemed too casual as he tossed the ball over his head and behind him. It bounced. It went in.
“Lucky,” he jeered.
“Interesting,” was all Cas said.
Ennis was closer so he caught the ball but didn't bother moving to copy Sid’s throw. He passed directly to Cas, no doubt eager to see if he could make it. Dean knew for a fact Ennis would probably miss if he tried.
Cas lined it up, standing in the same place and glancing back to study the distance before turning his back and throwing. The bounce was right, the ball sailed for the hoop - Dean found himself shocked when the it hit the backboard. Maybe Cas had let himself get rusty after all.
Ennis and Sid were disproportionately happy about this, wooping and high-fiving.
Dean took the ball next, trying an under the leg shot that would usually trip his teammates. But he didn't even make it.
Cole made a closer shot, throwing with his hands behind his back, which Ennis made after him. But Sid missed it.
Cas caught the ball, strode back out to the same place he'd missed from, calling out, “Sid says, one bounce.” It was meant as a nod of respect, but Dean wasn't sure anyone took it that way. In Cas’ grumbling tone it sounded so begrudging.
Cas didn't even turn to watch as it bounced once, and went right in.
Dean couldn't help himself. “That's what I'm talking about!”
Ennis crowed and clapped Sid on the chest, who looked dejected. Cole swore.
Cas didn't miss a single shot after that. By the time Mr. Ackers called for everyone to gather for drills, the name of the game was once again Cas Says.
Phys Ed was probably the best thing to follow up a fresh circulation of the stupid mural. Of all of Cas’ talents, athleticism was probably the most effective at winning the favour of high school boys. When first period ended and they left to hit the showers, Dean’s teammates were begging Cas to try out for the next basketball season. Lauding his height.
Dean guessed he had grown considerably. With beansprout Sam as a point of comparison, Dean often forgot to give credit to others. Anyway, he still couldn't contribute on the topic of Cas’ body so he walked ahead, pretending not to hear.
Dean made a point of getting in and out as quickly as possible - not that he expected anything inappropriate - not that anything inappropriate would surprise him - he just didn't want to bait an end to Cas’ great performance in front of the guys.
Cas, it seemed, was way ahead of him. He was at their lockers when Dean arrived, books already in hand. Waiting. Here, instead of at the change rooms. Maybe he really had learned a lesson after Gordon started making crap up. Maybe he was more aware of appearances than he used to be.
“Did you even shower?”
The quirk at the corner of Cas’ mouth made him regret asking. Dean’s face flushed as he considered just how many other ways there were to comment on Cas’ speed.
Cas didn't answer. “I have calculus now.”
“Oh. Not me -”
“English. Mr. Fletcher.”
“Yeah,” Dean breathed, shifting. Had he mentioned that? One of the guys?
“I'll see you at lunch,” Cas said, staring hard.
“Yup.” Dean knew he could say more, that with anyone else there would be more words. He added, “Lunch.”
Cas clapped him on the shoulder, left without another word. Dean told himself to be glad. Cas had learned to tone it down. Way down.
But Cas had not learned.
-
Dean should have known not to trust the Campbell cousins with anything other than stirring shit up. It was kind of a good thing, in the end. Dean had been in denial a little bit so far, about Cas’ ability to cause a scene. Christian Campbell was here to rectify that.
Mark and Johnny had the entirety of second period to mess with Cas, and by the time lunch had rolled around he was an official member of their robotics team. He was huddled with the pair of them and Christian, the senior of the trio, when Dean arrived at their table. Christian’s grin was wicked as he glanced up.
“Deano.”
Dean remarked, nodding at the plans on the tablet in front of them, “Doctor Badass is still going to hand your asses to you.”
Ash Miles was a kid in public school - rumour had it, he was nearly nineteen years old and had long ago stopped actually attending classes - who preferred the ridiculous monicker Doctor Badass. It bothered Christian enough, probably as a source of wounded pride, that Dean made sure to find excuses to use it.
It was true anyway; recruiting Cas was a smart move, but Ash won every year.
“Miles will have to learn to fly,” Christian accompanied this with a takeoff gesture. “Cas is giving us wings.”
Dean looked to Cas, who looked like a particularly bad smell had just wafted by. “I have proposed a rotary system.”
“Can you do that?” This was Benny, who looked more amused than truly skeptical.
Cas narrowed his eyes at Benny all the same. “It can’t be that hard.”
“No, I mean - are drones allowed?”
Mark and Johnny both shrugged. Johnny said, “Nothing in the rules against it. Just power limits that make flight a pain in the ass.”
Mark said, “Probably didn’t think anyone would be ambitious enough to try.”
Cas looked at his hands. “They might make a new rule after this.”
“We’ll be immortalized.” Christian sounded way too pleased, like maybe that was his goal all along.
Dean just laughed. He was way too relieved to see Cas mingling so effectively to think anything of it. Gordon started bets on whether they’d actually be able to get the thing airborne, Colt agreed that they wouldn’t because he didn’t know any better, and Roy and Walt argued for a bit before agreeing with everyone else that they definitely could. Cas piped up with etymology on the word drone as a male bee, and Dean distracted him with food to stop that rant from getting out of control.
The whole thing seemed so innocuous, Dean let it slip his mind that they didn’t usually hang out with the Campbells outside of practice for good reason. They were assholes.
There was a lull at the table, and Christian struck out of nowhere.
"So I am having a hard time figuring out who tops here."
It took half a beat for the team to take in his casually explicit gesture between Cas and Dean. Someone sprayed their drink.
"I mean, my first guess is that Cas would bend right over for you, but I don’t know these things."
Unfortunately, Cas was faster than Dean. "Dean and I are not having sexual relations, Christian." Dean kicked him in the ankle and Cas didn't know that was meant as a shut up. "Why are you kicking me, Dean?"
Christian leaned forward, drawing Cas' eye again. "If you were, then who would top?"
"Your fucking mom, obviously," Dean snarled, pulling Cas' elbow as if he could keep Cas from engaging again.
"He means us, Dean."
"Does he? He must have some messed up fantasies."
Christian feigned innocence. “Not me. Cas here says you guys are soul mates.”
It was like the ground opened under him; Dean felt like he was falling.
Nothing has changed, he despaired. Cas was supposed to be past the soul mate thing. It was supposed to be buried in the murkiest memories of their childhood, from a time when neither of them really knew what they were saying. When Cas’ condition had fixated on Dean because he was the only person in Cas’ life.
Christian must have pulled this one out of Cas. He hadn’t talked this bad in two years.
There was snorting going around the table, but Dean couldn't register who.
He knew he was supposed to manage this situation, but he couldn’t tell if he was supposed to shut Cas down or make a joke out of things. He stood from his seat, dizzy, words refusing to come to him.
Tell Christian to fuck off.
Yes, he could pick a fight. He could haul Christian from his seat and pummel that stupid smirk off his face. That was definitely a possibility.
But this didn’t originate from Christian. It wasn’t even just Cas’ fault.
Dean needed out. “I just remembered I have to go.”
“Where -” Cas was getting up.
“Stop,” Dean snapped, a little louder than he meant to. “Just stop.”
He left the cafeteria in a daze, pulling out his phone and texting Richie because he didn’t know what else to do. He needed some weed. He needed it right now.
- - -
Then
- - -
Cas did not return from his trip to the counsellor’s office. Dean knew that they were not supposed to be separated, that bad things would happen if they were. When recess came around and still no Cas, he went down to look for him, but Ms Sands' door was closed.
Dean had no way of knowing that he would not be allowed to speak with Cas for the rest of the day, so he sat down and waited in vain outside Ms Sands' office. Eventually they did come out; she spotted Dean immediately and manoeuvred between the two boys.
Not before Dean could see that his best friend had red eyes and wet cheeks. Cas looked grief-stricken.
"What- ?"
Ms Sands shushed him before he could even ask. "Dean," she said sternly, "skipping class is not tolerated. With me."
She brought him to the office, gripping his wrist in one hand and Castiel's in the other. Dean tried to meet Cas' eye around her legs, but the only glimpses he caught of Cas showed him staring dejected at the floor. He did not look up at Dean.
They were separated immediately, Dean left in a waiting chair for disciplinary, and Cas brought directly into the principal's office. Cas glanced at Dean only once, his eyes rimmed red still and his face unreadable, before the door closed behind them.
Dean was written up, received a pink note to bring to home for his parents to sign, and sent on to the lesson he was missing. By the time he left the office, both Cas and Ms Sands still had not emerged from the principal's office.
He was not at school the next day. Dean marched straight to Ms Sands' office at first recess.
"Did Cas get suspended just for signing his permission slip?" he demanded. "That's not fair."
Ms Sands looked up from her work, surprised, then sad. "Dean... Castiel has had a family emergency. He will be back at school as soon as he can."
"What emergency?" Dean asked, thinking only of Cas' eyes red from crying.
"It's a personal matter," she said gently. She studied Dean carefully before speaking again. "Dean, have you visited Castiel at home recently?"
"Yes. I was there last weekend."
"And was anyone else there at the house? An adult?"
Dean shrugged. "Of course not. No one is ever home at Cas' house."
She must have pretended not to be too surprised, because Dean didn’t think there was anything wrong. She sent him off to recess, smiling and friendly as ever. But that must have been the moment that the adults realised just how late this whole discovery was.
It's not like Cas was clearing anything up for them.
Dean didn't make it the rest of that morning before being pulled from classes. His mom was at the office. She asked him if he'd like to go visit Cas, if he didn't mind answering a few questions about Cas' house. He was ecstatic.
Cas was in a big building in downtown. Outside had grand pillars and giant windows. Inside it was clean as a hospital, but it looked much more like the lobby of the bank where Dean sometimes had to wait for Mom, with scattered sitting areas throughout. Dean followed his mother, grasping her hand as he gazed around, down a hall to the side that lead them to the elevators.
Up many floors - Dean got bored trying to count - and down another, smaller hallway with carpet and fluorescent lights, was a waiting room with a big desk. There was only one occupant on the set of long bench couches.
"Cas!" Dean ran up to him.
Cas didn't shout in reply, didn't jump up like Dean would have, but Dean knew he was no less excited. The corners of his mouth were turned upwards in a rare expression of happiness.
"Dean," he said. He looked up at Dean's mother, still smiling. "Mrs. Winchester."
"What happened to you yesterday?"
"I signed my own permission slip," he confessed, addressing Dean's mom instead of him.
"You can't get suspended for that!"
Cas looked back at him again. "No, I'm not in trouble for that anymore."
"Of course not, Cas, sweetie," Mom said, too gentle. Like she was scared of breaking him.
"Are you here to answer questions too?" Cas asked.
Dean nodded, but it was his mom who answered. "We're just hoping we can help shed some light on things."
She had to go talk to the lady at the counter, so Dean and Cas stayed at the couch, pretending to play with the toys that were there for little kids. They pushed giant beads along a maze of wires that was too easy to be fun.
"Are you okay, Cas?" Dean asked quietly. He wanted Cas to be able to answer truthfully, and he always acted like everything was fine in front of adults. They didn’t understand.
"You are here now.” They were holding hands.
“It’s going to be alright.” Dean squeezed so he’d understand. “Mom says she’s going to get you out of here. It will all go back the way it was.”
“Just don’t let go of my hand in there, okay?”
Dean promised, “Never.”
Next: [part 4]