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It wasn't often that Gideon and the Bureau sent Reid by himself to an FBI recruiting seminar. It wasn't because they thought he was incapable, but more so because of his age; the rowdy college students didn't tend to listen to someone who was probably younger than they were.
Given the fact, Reid was understandably nervous. His hand was shaking as he pushed open the door to the lecture hall he would be presenting in. It was, strangely enough, in the theology department.
The professor - the plaque outside the door said Doctor Castiel Novak - was sitting behind his desk when Reid entered. He looked up and smiled slightly. "Hello," he rumbled. His voice made Reid think of whiskey and night. "The lecture doesn't start for an hour."
Reid colored. "Ah, no," he said, "I'm Doctor Reid, actually."
Doctor Novak's eyebrows shot up before he smiled bashfully. "My apologies," he rumbled again, "I wasn't expecting you to be so young." He stood and approached Reid. He waved. "Doctor Castiel Novak, but please, call me Castiel."
Reid, delighted, waved back. "Then it's only fair for you to call me Spencer."
Castiel smiled again and Reid was starting to realize what a wonderful thing it was. "Make yourself comfortable on the stage. I'll be here if you need me." His eyes were wonderful too, large and blue and expressive.
"Thank you," said Reid with a red-cheeked smile.
...
The seminar went smoothly, except for a few attempts at insubordination that were silenced by Castiel's harsh glare and thundering voice. It affected Reid more than he would like to admit.
(It was standard, of course, for someone to ask his age and credentials before he started. When he told them that he would be turning 23 in October and he already had 3 doctorates and one BA with another in the works, looks were exchanged, words were whispered, and a large man with long hair in the third row shot several looks at Castiel, which the professor didn't seem to notice.)
People were filing out slowly two hours later. Castiel approached him with a bag slung over his shoulder, now donning a trench coat. "Would you like to get coffee with me?" he asked. His voice still had a tingling effect on Reid's spine.
"O-okay," he stuttered, flushing with pleasure. He finished packing his bag before following Castiel to the door, which the man was holding open for him.
They were halfway down the hallway before they heard the pounding footsteps of a giant running after them. "Cas!" the giant called, "Wait up!"
Castiel stopped and turned to stare at the giant. "Sam, you are nearly half a foot taller than me," he said blandly. "I could run as fast as I wanted and you would still overtake me."
The man - Sam - made a face with "you bitch" written all over it. "Where are you going? I thought we were going to go eat with Dean and Bobby?"
"Change of plans," replied Castiel with a shrug. "I'm on a date."
Sam slanted his eyes to Reid. "Um," he said.
"Save it for your brother," said Castiel, glaring now. "If you don't mind, I'd like to continue my date." He lightly placed a hand on the small of Reid's back and led him away.
"What should I tell Dean?" the giant yelled.
"Whatever you like," Castiel replied loudly. "I am on a date."
...
"I met Jason Gideon once," Castiel said, surprising Reid once again. "He investigated my second oldest brother in a serial murder case, back in '94."
Reid thought for a second. He had read all of Gideon's past case files; he knew this one. Illinois, Pontiac, 32 year old male, older victim... "The Blue Rose Stalker case? Your brother is Lucifer Novak. He was having an affair with the first victim's wife."
Castiel smiled and raised a dark eyebrow. "Impressive," he said. "How did you do that?"
Reid coughed and flushed again. "I, uh, I have an eidetic memory. That case file was one of the last I had finished during my first year."
The professor shook his head fondly. "Jason Gideon was very...intense, I should say. It seemed like, as soon as he saw Lucifer and my family, he know that it wasn't him." He smiled sadly. "If it had been anyone else working that case, Lucifer would have gotten life without parole."
"I think intense is an accurate word to describe him," Reid said, smiling. "Another would be 'dedicated'."
"From what I can tell, 'dedicated' would describe you as well."
Reid felt hot from head to toe. "Well, yes, I mean-" a ringing cellphone cut him off. He dug through his bag until he pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "Reid," he said.
"We have a consult in Alexandria. Come back to my office."
Reid repressed a sigh. "Got it," he said, then hung up and released his sigh. "I have a case," he told Castiel, frowning. "I'm sorry."
Castiel waved his words away. "It's your job," he said, "I understand." He pulled out a pen and scribbled his number on a napkin. "Call me when you can."
Reid almost blurted his appreciation in a very embarrassing fashion, but he repressed it and leaned forward to kiss Castiel's cheek. "Thanks," he murmured earnestly, then swept out the door.
Castiel remained in his seat, a dopey smile growing on his face. A student from his Thursday theology class stared at him in confusion.
...
Castiel was home for half an hour before Dean was busting in the door and raiding his fridge.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel said from the couch, where he was nursing a cup of coffee and the Russian equivalent to the Shawshank Redemption in his lap.
"Did you seriously blow us off for a boy?" Dean asked, sounding for all the world like an angry father. He had a beer in one hand and half of a leftover burger in the other.
"I did," he replied, sipping his coffee. "It was worth anything you have to say."
Dean stopped. "This must be quite the man to have you tied up like this already."
"He is." Castiel pulled his laptop over to his side of the coffee table and started typing. He turned the screen so Dean could see. Reid smiled back at the two of them from a scientific journal article about geographical profiling and its applications.
Dean whistled. "Isn't he a bit young for you?"
"Look at his credentials."
Another whistle. "Hell, and I thought you were an overachiever." Dean rounded the couch and sat next to Castiel. "So you're telling me that you blew us off for a 22 year old genius G-man?"
"G-man?"
"Federal agent."
"Ah." Castiel set his now empty mug on the table. "Then yes, that is exactly what I'm telling you."
"You're awful, man," Dean said. Then he grinned. "So are you going to see him again?"
Castiel grinned back. "I believe I am. He's on a case at the moment, with his mentor, but he'll call me when he can."
"Speaking of cases," said Dean, "I'm getting another beer."
...
The call came when Castiel was going to bed that night. It was eleven PM and everyone in Castiel's neighborhood was asleep, besides himself and the Barnes'. The phone rang just before he shut his lamp off. He wouldn't admit that he rushed for it.
"Hello."
"Uh, hi, Castiel. It's Spencer."
"I know. I thought you were on a case."
There was a small, nervous cough from the other end. "Oh, yeah, I am, but Gideon's in the shower and I have time. I, um, I think he knew I wanted to make a phone call."
Castiel smiled. "Regardless, I'm glad to hear from you."
A nervous chuckle, this time. "Uh, what're you doing?"
"I was just about to turn in for the night when you called."
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I'll let you get to bed, I'm sorry-"
"Spencer." The babbling stopped. "Spencer, it's fine. I don't have a class until one tomorrow. I can talk."
And talk they did. Castiel asked about the case, Reid told him about previous cases that were no longer confidential. They were in the middle of discussing The Parliament of Fowles ("My mother read it to me when I was younger." "Really? My surrogate father has a copy from England. Mint condition." "I'd love to see it sometime." "I'd love for you to see it.") when Castiel heard Reid sigh.
"Gideon's out of the shower, I have to go."
"All right, Spencer. I'll talk to you later."
"Castiel, wait!"
"Yes?"
"Your birthday is next month, right? Do you want to, uh, to do something with me?"
"Only if we do something on your birthday."
A muffled "Reid?" came from the other end of the line. "That sounds wonderful. I'll see you later."
"Good night, Spencer."
"G'night, Castiel."
...
September 18 landed on a Saturday. Reid spent the night for the first time. Castiel met his match when it came to morning functionality, or lack thereof.
...
October 9 was also a Saturday. Castiel took Reid to Bobby's house while Bobby was gone and let him browse the library for hours. Reid spent the night again. There was less sleeping this time.
...
It was more than a year after they met before Reid was called back to the BAU.
Castiel was packing up from his last class of the day when his phone rang. It was stuffed somewhere in his bag and it took him four rings to find it.
"Doctor Novak," he answered, now searching for his car keys. It was perfectly respectable, no matter how many times Dean called it a "pimp mobile".
"You need to start checking caller ID, Cas."
Castiel smiled. Reid really wasn’t one to speak. "Hello, Spencer. How are you?"
"Pretty great, actually. Gideon and I just got called back to the BAU. There's a case in Seattle that we're needed on."
"Oh." Castiel straightened and frowned. "How long will you be there?"
He could hear the smile in Reid's voice. "As long as it takes. I promise I'll call whenever I can."
"I know," sighed Castiel. "Be careful."
"I'm don't even carry a gun, Cas. Nothing to worry about."
"That's exactly why I worry." He sighed again. "I love you, sweetheart. Don't leave me a widower."
"I love you, too," Reid answered softly. There was a thump on a door on his end. "I need to go. I'll be careful. Bye, Cas."
"I'll talk to you tonight," Castiel said, then hung up. Worry ate at him for the rest of the day.
...
"I got a break in the case because of you."
"Really? How did that happen?" asked Castiel, bumping the fridge closed with his hip. Sam watched from the table with a raised eyebrow, sipping his beer. Dean was listening from the living room.
"Our unsub's computer password was 'Enter Sandman'. Tell Dean, 'Thank you for listening to heavy metal' for me."
Castiel chuckled and pulled the phone away from his mouth. "Hey Dean," he called, "Spencer wants to thank you for listening to heavy metal; it helped him solve the case."
"My pleasure," Dean called back. "Hear that, Sammy? Next time you bitch about my music, remember that I helped catch a murderer with it."
Sam sighed all-sufferingly.
"He's pleased," Castiel said into the phone. "Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Gideon got shot, but it's just a flesh wound."
Castiel was quiet for a moment. "Are you okay?"
"...the unsub was playing himself in Go. Using the extreme aggressor strategy."
"Spencer."
"Okay, okay. Maybe I was a little worried about Gideon. I know he knows what he's doing, but he's being reckless. PTSD does not justify recklessness."
"You're coming home tomorrow, right?" He got an affirmative. "I'll pick you up from work and we can spend the night in my room."
"That sounds fantastic." Someone called for Reid on his side. "We're going back to the station now. I'll call you when we leave."
"See you tomorrow, Spencer." Castiel snapped his phone shut and sat on his couch with his beer. "Neither of you are welcome here tomorrow."
"Ew," said Dean.
…
“How’s Lucifer?”
Castiel turned to look at Reid. He wiped a drop of sweat from the man’s jaw. “He’s fine. He has a daughter now. Hastur.”
Squirming away from the wet spot, Reid asked, “With Mrs. Masters?”
“No,” said Castiel, “with their daughter.” He turned himself onto Reid. “Enough about my brother. There’s more interesting things to do at the moment.”