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It’s the twenty-fourth of January again, and Castiel’s sitting in his bedroom, working on a problem set. He’s always done well in math—it’s logical and doesn’t require any social skills, so it really was the perfect subject for him, growing up. Multivariable calculus has been interesting so far. School’s only been in session for one week, but this first problem set is pretty straightforward.
“Cas?”
“Yes, Anna?” he responds without looking up—Anna’s sprawled out on his floor with a giant atlas, surrounded by scraps of paper.
Last semester, she transferred to KU Lawrence. The first class that caught her interest was a two-semester geography course, and right now she’s scrambling to finish up a project about topography—the students are supposed to choose a place and carve a three-dimensional topographical map of it out of a large book. Castiel has his own room in the apartment that he and Dean are renting, so Anna’s claimed a spot for her project here.
“Um, you know that anthropology seminar that I signed up for this semester?”
“The one you chose because of the small class size?” Castiel recalls. He puts down his pencil and looks over at his friend.
“Yes, that one. Will Dean be unhappy if I have to skip on tonight?”
Castiel frowns. “You said that you could go.”
“Yes, but that was last week. Yesterday was the first meet-up for that Anthro seminar, and the professor’s taking us all out to dinner tonight. I really, really don’t want to start off the semester by missing that.”
“And you’re worried that Dean would be angry.”
“Yes. I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding him.”
“Anna, you spend plenty of time at our apartment. I doubt he’d think—”
“Well yeah, but I spend most of my time in here with you.”
Castiel shrugs. “It’ll be fine. If anything, you could offer to get dinner with him another time to make up for it.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. Dean’s a reasonable human being ninety-four percent of the time. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”
“Okay, great,” Anna says. “When’s he gonna get back?”
“I don’t know. Forty minutes from now?”
“Hmm. I’ll have to leave before that,” she says.
“I’ll tell him for you,” Castiel says, looking back down at his homework.
As he picks up his pencil, Anna says, “Cas, I just…” she sighs. “About Lisa—”
“Don’t,” Castiel interrupts—this isn’t the first time Lisa’s come up since Anna got back from break, and Castiel doesn’t want to hear it. “She’s having a hard enough time as it is.”
“Well whose fault is that?”
“Anna.”
Anna sighs. “I don’t understand how—I mean, I’m trying, Cas. I swear I am. But I just—it’s one thing for it to happen, for her to maybe forget once, but for her to not even know who the father is? I mean, I’m not trying to be all archaic about this. I’m all for female empowerment, and taking the power back. But Lisa—”
“I understand your disapproval of her choices, but she doesn’t like some of yours, either. If you don’t have anything supportive to say, don’t say anything.”
Anna looks a bit hurt. “You say it like I’ve tried to put her down.”
“I know you haven’t. And I agree with you—it was foolish for her to be so careless. But she’s going to deal with the consequences, and the least we can do is be supportive.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Anna says. She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you accepted that so quickly. I’m still… still wrapping my head around it. I’ll get there, I guess.”
“I trust you will.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then Anna looks down at her watch. “I should probably go,” she says, getting to her feet. She looks around at the messy state of the floor. “Sorry about this—I’ll clean it up when it’s finished, I promise.”
“For the hundredth time, it’s fine. Go on. I’ll let Dean know you won’t be with us tonight.”
“Thanks, Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Castiel nods and turns back to his homework, only half-listening to Anna as she moves through the living room of the apartment, picking up her things. The front door slams a moment later, and Castiel’s left alone—Dean shouldn’t be back for about another half hour.
Anna and Castiel had invited Lisa over for part of winter break, but she’d declined, saying something about how her family wanted her to stay home for the entire break. Anna had gone home for a week, and she’d caught a glimpse of Lisa, belly round. Half an hour later, Castiel received a long call in which he was made to understand that Anna’s reaction was decidedly unsupportive, and that Lisa didn’t want to talk to her until she apologized.
Castiel likes to think of himself as a good friend, and he will defend Lisa from anyone, even—or rather, especially—her friends, but privately, he still doesn’t like that Lisa was so careless with her own body, enough so that she doesn’t even know whom the father of her child is…
Shaking his head, he returns to his homework.
Dean doesn’t actually get back until an hour and a half later.
Castiel’s lounging on his bed, reading Eugene Onegin for his Russian literature course. It’s translated to English, of course. He doesn’t really have any prior experience with the genre, but he’s got a pretty good grasp of it so far. Pushkin definitely seems to have been influenced by Lord Byron—he references Childe Harold, even—and, having taken a course on English literature in the past, Castiel is familiar with his work.
When the front door of the apartment bangs open, Dean sounds like he’s already halfway through a shouted apology. “—Cas, meant to get back earlier, but Victor talked me into playing CoD, and yeah, I know you don’t get videogames, but—”
As this point, Dean’s standing in the doorway to Castiel’s bedroom, and Castiel decides to cut him off. “Dean, it’s fine. It’s your birthday.”
Dean raises his eyebrows. “Well, yeah. But I’m a whole freakin’ hour late, Cas.”
Castiel smiles at the surprised expression on Dean’s face. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m trying to let you off the hook easy. Would you prefer to be in trouble, Dean?”
“Ah, Cas. So uh, did Anna get pissed off and leave?”
“Oh. She’s at dinner with her anthropology seminar, and she wanted me to extend her apologies to you for having to cancel tonight.”
“Okay, at least there’s that, I guess. So, you ready to head out?”
“Yes.” Castiel glances at his book to check the page number before putting it down and getting up. “Shall we?”
Dean heads back out to the sitting room. “Dude, you’re such a neat freak. How can you stand Anna making that giant mess in your room?” he asks as he heads toward the front door, which Castiel notices is still open from when Dean entered.
“I’m not a neat freak,” Castiel denies. “I just keep my things in order. You wouldn’t understand, seeing as you’re allergic to organization.”
“Hey, is that any way to talk to the birthday boy?” Dean says, stepping out into the hallway.
Castiel follows, pats his pockets to ensure his keys, wallet, cell phone, and Dean’s present are all there, and then pulls the front door shut. “It’s only the truth. I wouldn’t wanna lie to the birthday boy,” Castiel responds as he locks the door.
Dean chuckles and throws an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, steering him down the hallway. “Yeah, yeah. I can always count on you to be straight with me.”
“You might want to rethink your wording, Dean, because I am certainly not straight.”
“Shut up, bitch, you know what I mean.”
Castiel still doesn’t understand how Dean manages to make that foul word sound so affectionate, but the beautiful grin that accompanies his use of the word definitely doesn’t hurt.
As they’re exiting the apartment building, Dean speaks up. “So uh, I was wondering—does Anna have anyone back home?”
“I assume you’re asking whether or not she has a boyfriend,” Castiel says. Dean nods, and Castiel frowns. “Dean, I know you think that I’m innocent and perhaps a bit naïve—”
Dean snorts. “Perhaps?”
Castiel ignores his interruption and continues, “—but I’m not stupid. I know what you’re out doing on those nights when you don’t make it home.”
“And?”
“And Anna’s not going to be… she’s like a sister to me. You are not going to treat her that way.”
Dean pulls open the door to the Impala but doesn’t get in, choosing to watch Castiel walk around the car to the passenger side. “What, you’re forbidding me from going after her?”
“If you’re serious about her, then I have no problem with it. But if this is just another…” Castiel pauses, trying to find the right word, “…fling, then I highly discourage it.”
“Highly discourage, eh? So it’s not forbidden.”
“The only reason why I wouldn’t forbid it is because I trust that Anna’s strong enough to stop you from taking advantage of her.”
“Oh come on, Cas. You really think I’d be going after her for just a one night stand after all this time?”
That’s a good point—Castiel is familiar with Dean’s habits, and he usually picks up girls at parties, people with whom he’s not particularly close socially, so that ties are unlikely to form. Casual sex is something Castiel hasn’t experienced first-hand yet, but he’s learned quite a bit vicariously through Dean.
“Just get in the car,” Dean says before ducking in himself.
Castiel gets into the passenger seat and shuts the door. “So I’m to believe that you’re serious about her,” he says.
“Dude. Can you just answer the question?”
“That’s right, I forgot. You’re incapable of talking about your feelings.”
Dean rolls his eyes and starts the car. “Cas,” he says impatiently.
“No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Castiel says.
Dean’s reluctance to speak freely indicates that he actually might have genuine feelings toward her, and Anna hasn’t exactly been subtle with her attraction to Dean. Castiel’s never seen her worried about whether or not a guy would think she was avoiding him; in fact, Castiel’s known her to go out of her way to avoid people who took an interest in her.
“Okay. Was that so hard?”
“Yes. It was very difficult,” Castiel responds dryly. He can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy—he’ll never get the chance with Dean that Anna will. Their mutual attraction is good for them, and Castiel knows that he should logically be happy for his friends, but he can’t get that sour taste out of his mouth.
“I don’t know,” Dean says suddenly, and Castiel turns his head to look at him, curious. He sounds hesitant, not at all the way he normally sounds, and Castiel’s willing to be patient, won’t interrupt to ask what Dean’s going on about. “I haven’t… I don’t know, Cas. It’s been a while since I actually wanted a girlfriend.”
Castiel can’t hold back a small smile. Dean doesn’t keep secrets when it comes to his past, and Castiel knows that Dean’s only had one steady girlfriend: a beautiful girl—Dean likes to call her a “babe”—named Cassie. But though Dean told Castiel about this, he never talks about his feelings for her, isn’t good with sharing, he says.
Castiel nods. “Yes, I gathered that from your typical interactions with the opposite sex.”
“You talk like a freak sometimes, you know that?” Dean comments.
“So you’ve said.” After a pause, he asks, “Is there any particular reason why you’re interested in Anna?”
Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. I just…” he shakes his head and repeats, “I don’t know.”
And it seems the short-lived sharing part of the evening is over, so Castiel changes the subject to a more immediate, though admittedly more trivial, concern of his. “Is there any chance that you’d be willing to watch a different movie?” he asks.
“Aw Cas, come on. Give it a chance,” Dean says.
“I disliked the first movie,” Castiel says—indeed, there were few merits to Underworld, a film about vampires and “lycans,” which were apparently just werewolves. “I do not see how experiencing more of the same will make it any better.”
“Oh, so you’re saying that you’ve never liked a sequel better than the original?” Dean says as he turns into the parking lot of the movie theater.
“I wouldn’t say never, but it is rare. No examples come to mind.” He glances at Dean. “Can you think of any?”
Dean frowns. “Okay, maybe not. But too bad, we’re watching it,” he says.
Castiel sighs. “You just think that Kate Beckinsale is attractive.”
“Well, yeah. She’s hot.”
They pull into a parking space and get out of the car. Castiel starts toward the building, and Dean jogs over to catch up with him after locking the car.
“Uh, Cas,” he says. “You’re gonna get your ass over to my house for your birthday next year, got it?”
“It’s technically going to be this year,” Castiel deflects.
“Whatever. You’re coming, okay? Sam won’t get off my case for not making that clear with you.”
Castiel smiles. “That’s very kind, but—”
“For Sam’s sake, okay? Kid needs someone to geek out with, anyway. Dad and I don’t like all that musty ancient crap.”
“All right,” Castiel says reluctantly. He doesn’t like to take charity, and he doesn’t want to impose on the Winchesters’ family time, either—he understands that Mr. Winchester isn’t home for his sons very often, and the winter holiday is one of the only guaranteed times that he’ll be with them. He managed to resist last month, but if Sam and Dean both insist, it’d be rude to keep declining.
They head over to the box office to purchase tickets, and if Castiel spends their time in the line looking a bit resentfully at a life-sized cardboard cutout of Kate Beckinsale in skintight leather and black combat boots, it has nothing to do with the fact that Dean finds her attractive.
About fifteen minutes later, they’re seated in an already pretty crowded viewing room, despite the fact that the previews won’t start rolling for another half an hour.
“If we’d chosen a different movie, the theater wouldn’t be so full,” Castiel says when Dean complains that he can’t put his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles. He stuffs his mouth of popcorn, and Castiel chooses this moment to ask—
“Should I give you your present now?”
Dean chokes but—thankfully—doesn’t spray, and Castiel laughs and pats his back until he stops coughing. “Dude,” Dean says when he’s done spluttering. “You know I was kidding when I said you had to get me something, right?”
“Yes, but I chose a gift for you nevertheless.”
“Okay, and why here?”
Castiel shrugs. “We celebrated your birthday here last year. I thought it fitting.”
“Okay,” Dean says, eyeing Castiel. “So what is it, a hug? I don’t see you carrying anything.”
Castiel pulls a small, black box out of his pocket. “I didn’t wrap it—” he begins.
“That’s fine. You didn’t have to,” Dean says, passing the popcorn to Castiel and taking the proffered box. He frowns. “This isn’t—this isn’t a ring, is it?”
Before Castiel can answer, Dean opens the box. He stares at the ring for a long moment, and Castiel feels uneasy, has the impulse to snatch it back. Maybe it is a little strange to give your male friend a ring, regardless of the reason.
“Well gee, Cas,” Dean finally says, “I knew you liked me, but you didn’t have to put a ring on me.”
Castiel wants to catch Dean’s eye, but Dean’s still looking at the ring, so Castiel doesn’t really have a good way of gauging his reaction to it; he knows that Dean uses humor as a means of deflecting, but he can’t tell if that’s what Dean’s doing right now. “I—if you don’t want it—”
“Wait, this isn’t your ring, is it?” Dean interrupts, eyes lifting from the ring to rest on Castiel.
“Ah, no. It’s a replica.”
“What—Cas, you had a ring made?”
“Yes. I ordered ones for Anna and Lisa as well, though their versions had to be restyled so that they were more effeminate,” Castiel explains. He sees that Dean’s about to speak, so he hurries on, “There’s meaning behind them. The inscription on the inside is an ancient sigil, for protection against evil.”
Protection against evil, indeed—Castiel’s worn that ring ever since his finger was large enough to bear it, and while it never protected him from his uncle or his brothers, he certainly hasn’t run into any real danger. It was left behind by his mother, who vehemently believed in the power of that sigil—believed it so strongly, in fact, that she designed a unique ring carrying the inscription for each of her children.
Castiel’s ring is a wide band made of fourteen karat white gold, mostly plain on the outside but for a thin chain-link design that extended around the full circumference of the band. Besides the white gold itself, the most expensive part of ordering Dean’s ring—and Anna and Lisa’s, for that matter—was the inside engraving. Most jewelers rejected the design on account of its complexity, but Castiel managed to convince one craftsman—Ferguson—to make it work. The downside, of course, was the extra cost.
Dean shakes his head slowly. “But… Cas, why? You’ve known Anna and Lisa for years and years. You and I have only known each other for what, not even two years, yet. Why—”
“If you don’t want it, you don’t have to keep it,” Castiel says, reaching for the box.
“Hey, you can’t take it back,” Dean protests, batting Castiel’s hand away. He pulls the ring out of the box and peers at the inside, clearly trying to see the inscription.
“I don’t think it will be visible in this lighting,” Castiel comments. Then Dean looks down at his hand, and Castiel says, “I wasn’t sure of your ring size, but I did my best to estimate.”
Dean shrugs. “That’s fine.” He tries it on his middle finger, but it’s a tight fit, so he works it off and puts it on his fourth finger instead. “There—perfect.” He grabs Castiel’s hand and holds it next to his to compare. “It really is exactly the same. Huh.”
Castiel nods. Ferguson may charge a lot, but his work is of outstanding quality. Dean releases Castiel’s hand, and he allows it to fall back into his lap, but when he looks back up, Dean’s frowning.
“Cas, how did you even pay for this?”
Oh. Castiel hadn’t exactly anticipated having this conversation, but he’d realized that this could come up at some point, as Dean knows about his financial struggles. “I saved up.”
“How much did it cost?”
“That’s something that the recipient of a gift isn’t supposed to know.”
“Tell me,” Dean presses.
“The cost was of little importance.”
“Little importance?” Dean repeats, incredulity coloring his tone. “You don’t exactly have a ton of money lying around. And most of what you have goes to paying your half of the rent. You haven’t missed any payments, so how exactly did you ‘save up’? Did you just stop eating?”
He’d only skipped a few meals, really. “Dean—”
“Oh, shit,” Dean says, and Castiel realizes belatedly that it must have shown on his face. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I never went hungry,” Castiel says, avoiding outright lies. Because he did skip some meals here and there, but a severely limited food supply was one of the most common punishments that Zachariah applied, and Castiel knows how to make food last.
Dean’s shaking his head. “Cas, how could you—you can’t just—”
“I didn’t go hungry,” Castiel emphasizes. “Please, believe me. I know you, Dean, and I know how easy it is for you to start blaming yourself for the choices that others make. For this reason, I made sure never to stop myself from eating when I was hungry.” Dean’s looking at Castiel like he’s crazy, like Dean will never understand him, and Castiel decides to just be frank. “This friendship is important to me. You are important to me, Dean.”
And Dean just scoffs, shakes his head, and stares back down at the band around his finger, like this is impossible for him to believe. “Yeah. Right.”
“Dean,” Castiel says softly, and his friend turns his head to meet his gaze. “You don’t believe me. You don’t think you deserve this.”
He can tell from Dean’s expression that he’s right, but Dean shakes it off, manages a tight smile. “Hey, just don’t do it again. Okay? You can’t go skipping meals to buy me a ring, of all things.”
Castiel considers telling Dean that this was nothing to him, that he suffered through a period of enforced starvation during a particularly rebellious phase in middle school, and no hunger he’s felt since has ever really come close to that. But he doubts that this knowledge will help Dean’s conscience, so he keeps it to himself.
“It is important to me,” is what he eventually says.
“Yeah, I get that.”
“So accept it.”
Dean meets his stare for a long moment before nodding jerkily. “Thanks, Cas.”
Castiel smiles. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Dean.”
The movie is every bit as unremarkable and just plain bad as Castiel expected it to be. And he’s not going to budge on this opinion, no matter what evidence to the contrary Dean attempts to present.
“Come on, there’s gotta be at least one thing you liked about it,” Dean persists as they walk out of the viewing room and down the long hallway, following the crowd.
Castiel frowns, really thinks about it. “I honestly can’t find anything redeeming about the film.”
“You didn’t like any of the back story?” Dean asks, and Castiel shakes his head, glances at the refreshments counter as they pass by it. “Okay, Markus?”
“I found his acting not entirely convincing. I suppose his death scene was pretty satisfying. William’s death was anticlimactic. Really, Lucian was the only character I liked in the first movie—he’s the only one in the franchise, at this point, but he’s dead.”
Dean rolls his eyes, and Castiel stops himself from going over Lucian’s death in the first movie again. It’s just that… there were so many ways things could have happened, so many ways that they could have saved him, yet they didn’t. He accepts character death when it can’t be helped, but Lucian didn’t have to die. If they’d really wanted to kill him off, the least they could’ve done was write a better cause of death for him.
As they head for the huge glass doors, a kid who isn’t watching where he’s going barrels right into Castiel. Castiel’s arms instinctively go out to steady him, but the kid was moving too fast, rebounds too hard, and crashes into that cardboard cutout of Kate Beckinsale.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Dean asks, but he’s grinning, like he knows he can’t hold it back and won’t even bother trying.
The kid just gets back to his feet and takes off again, and Castiel frowns. “Wonder what his hurry was,” he says.
Then Dean is elbowing him. “Dare you to take that cutout of Selene right there.”
“Selene?” Dean jerks his chin at the knocked-over sign in lieu of a verbal response, and Castiel looks at him. “Why?”
Dean shrugs. “‘Cause I dare you to.”
Castiel glances back and forth before taking two steps over to the fallen cardboard and lifting it up. Interesting—it actually folds up rather easily. As he’s folding the cardboard up, Dean shoves into his back.
“Move, move, move,” Dean breathes into his ear, and Castiel catches a glimpse of theater security looking at him suspiciously before Dean’s dragging him toward the exit.
They jog for about two and a half blocks before stopping to catch their breath, and it’s only then that Castiel realizes he’s still clutching the folded, life-size cutout of Kate Beckinsale in his hand.
“You fucker, you actually went for it!” Dean says, laughing.
“You told me to,” Castiel answers.
Dean claps a hand on Castiel’s back, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I actually thought you might turn out to be a boring roommate during that first month.”
Castiel opens up the cutout. “We are not putting this in our room,” he declares, and Dean starts laughing again. His expression is so open, so charming, so sincere, and Castiel’s sure that he wouldn’t be able to emulate it even if he spent hours practicing in front of a mirror. It comes so goddamn naturally to Dean that Castiel can’t help but be jealous.
“No. No, we won’t,” Dean says when he stops laughing. He’s still grinning when he takes Kate, so Castiel counts this trip to the theater as a win.
Even if he wasn’t at all fond of the movie.