Chapter Text
I Know I’m Getting Nowhere (Uncharted)
Castiel is mortified. He looks between the plastic trays on his table containing herbs and vegetables and pasta, then around the room at the other students beginning to work on their dishes. He had read the class bulletin carefully, as always, and it had clearly stated that novices were welcome to attend. Of course, even describing himself as a 'cooking novice' was stretching the truth just slightly, but he hadn't expected to feel entirely out of his depth the moment the session began. Sometimes he feels so out of place at the university that he may as well not be from this planet, he muses, shoulders drooping.
He hesitates until he feels he can wait no longer and raises one hand into the air, willing the teacher to notice him and not kick up a fuss. Naturally, his luck is not that good and she teases him about raising his hand, compelling some of the other students to focus on him. As he explains his predicament, he hears the others' snickers and wishes he could crawl under the table and disappear. Damn Michael and his insistence that boiling water without ruining the pot should be a basic life skill. Castiel most certainly will not be transferring to the remedial course next fall -
“I can help him out, if that’s OK,” someone says from the back of the room.
Castiel whips his head around so fast he feels his neck twinge and he is met with the sight of an attractive young man who is offering to share his table and presumably his cooking expertise as well. Looking intently at the man’s face, Castiel attempts to discern if he looks like someone who will turn around and judge him for his odd way of speaking and his eccentric habits, like the people he thought were his friends in high school. The man - Ms. Harvelle addressed him as Dean - appears nice enough, so Castiel accepts his offer and carries his supplies to his new partner’s table.
Once he’s settled as best as possible on the uncomfortable stool next to Dean, the man extends a hand and introduces himself as “Dean Winchester, Chef Extraordinaire”. For a split second Castiel is taken aback by Dean’s sheer arrogance, but the smirk on his face signals that he’s joking. Castiel allows himself a small smile and returns with a little jest of his own as he shakes Dean’s hand. "Castiel Novak, utter kitchen disaster.” It’s the truth, after all.
The last thing Castiel expects Dean to do is throw his head back and guffaw - surely his response hadn’t been funny enough to warrant a full-body laugh. What surprises Castiel the most, however, is the fact that he doesn’t get the sense that Dean is laughing at him, but rather with him. He begins to catalogue this intriguing man’s expressions and mannerisms, hoping that he’ll have plenty of opportunities to interact with him. Up close, he can tell Dean’s bright green eyes are kind and he finds himself delighted by the handful of freckles scattered across Dean’s cheekbones.
Damn it - he’s staring again. He’s been told he stares too much and it makes people uncomfortable. But Dean doesn’t appear to be troubled by his scrutiny; in fact he’s carrying on like Castiel is acting completely normally and pushes bunches of parsley toward him. Castiel resolves to focus on the task at hand, taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves, then wielding the knife carefully. Attempting to make conversation, he asks Dean if he knows their teacher, as he had noted they seemed well-acquainted.
After confirming that he does in fact know the teacher quite well, Dean coaches him on the correct way to hold a knife. The new arrangement of his fingers feels strange and he finds himself continually looking at Dean’s hands until the other man admonishes him for cutting so slowly. He grumbles inwardly at the expectation that he chop correctly and quickly at the same time, but again he feels that Dean is not being patronizing.
"Why're you takin' this class anyway, if you don't like to cook?" Dean asks. Of course he would ask that and force Castiel to admit to his embarrassing situation with his roommate, which causes Dean to laugh uncontrollably again, as well as earning him a reprimand from the teacher. Feeling a flush creep up his neck, Castiel frowns and is on the verge of insisting that Dean stop laughing at his expense when Dean surprises him by kindly promising to continue instructing him so he doesn’t get kicked out of the apartment.
The familiar assertion that Dean’s statement about being evicted was “just a joke” exasperates Castiel until he realizes that Dean had shortened his name to ‘Cas’. He’d given him a nickname, but it wasn’t ‘Cassie’ as he had commonly been called in high school, as if being a girl would better explain his odd personality and fluid sexuality. Not that he’d ever discussed his sexuality with anyone, but it was well known he wasn’t straight. A moment later, when Dean states that he gives all his friends nicknames, Castiel is astonished. Dean considers him a friend, after knowing him for a mere half an hour! It seems too good to be true, he thinks, as he studies Dean’s expression. He’s beginning to trust that Dean is a kindhearted person who isn’t going to mock him.
A rare smile forms on his face as they continue to cook and his heart feels as light as a feather. Once their dish is in the oven, he attempts to make progress on his assigned reading for his class Angel Myths and Interpretations, but is too distracted as his eyes are drawn to where Dean is standing, talking to his friends. He had never imagined that this class, which had started out so terribly, would turn out this way: finally meeting a person with whom he could connect and perhaps form a deeper relationship. Castiel is not certain he’s ready for any kind of romantic attachment even if Dean were interested, but he’s accustomed to appreciating the beauty in others from afar, whether they are men or women.
When most of the other students are cleaning up and starting to head out the door, a woman approaches Dean and Castiel’s table to talk to Dean. Castiel is immediately aware that she is not a nice person as Dean is; in fact she is entirely unpleasant. Dean is obviously of the same opinion and seeks to reassure Castiel that he doesn’t agree with anything she says.
As they clean up their own station and prepare to leave, Castiel thanks Dean sincerely for helping him. He has to resist adding “and for being a wonderful person” because he knows that’s not appropriate to say. He ducks his head to hide a light blush as it spreads across his cheeks and smiles as Dean tells him he doesn’t mind helping him.
He shivers as they walk outside; it's definitely getting colder again. He stares for a moment at Dean’s huge, black car in the parking lot, then gets into his own car which is not nearly as impressive in comparison. He hadn’t pictured Dean driving such a vehicle, but he discovers that it fits him after all. As Castiel and Michael share the lasagna that night, he barely hears Michael’s effusive (and somewhat skeptical) praise as his mind is occupied with thoughts of brilliant green eyes and a warm smile.