Chalk & Chainmail

Chapter 7

Dean waited all weekend for a text or phone call or anything indicating things had changed between he and Cas, but when Monday rolled around and his phone had remained disappointingly silent, Dean went to school with a case of hurt pride and feeling more confused than ever. While he had made no attempt to contact Castiel either, he had told himself over and over again that it was Cas's move. Castiel had been the one to take things to the next level, and now, it was also his job to follow through. So, Dean waited.

"Something happened," Charlie stated as Dean approached his locker before their first class of the day. She was already leaning up against hers, waiting to hear the news from the weekend. He scowled at her and opened his locker. "Although I can't tell if it was good or bad." She tapped her finger against her lips in mock thought as she studied Dean's angry, hunched shoulders.

"Don't wanna talk about it, Codex," he muttered.

"Right. Because you never want to talk about 'it.' So naturally, that's going to stop me from prying," Charlie pointed out. Dean gave her a look. One that begged her to leave him be. She waved a hand at him. "Fine. I'll be quiet for now. But, we are talking about this. You are my handmaiden and I, your queen. As such, it is my job to make sure you are of sound mind, which sometimes requires talking about 'it.' Understand?"

"Dammit, Charlie, that was one time," Dean reminded her, irritated.

Charlie merely raised her eyebrows at him and repeated, "Understand?"

Dean sighed. "If I say I understand, will you leave me alone?"

"Momentarily."

"I understand," Dean replied. Charlie shot him a satisfied smile and left him to head to her first class. Dean, having loaded his backpack with his books for the first half of the day closed his locker and turned to leave when he caught sight of a pair of familiar, irritatingly blue eyes locked on him. Cas was standing by his own locker, surrounded by Uriel, Balthazar, Anna, Hester, Fate, and a few others, and Balthazar was gesticulating wildly with his hands telling some outlandish story, no doubt. Everyone was laughing, paying attention to Balthazar. Everyone that is, but Castiel.

Dean made eye contact, and the two stared at each other, Castiel's gaze thoughtful, Dean's questioning. It wasn't until the first bell rang that either of them looked away. Castiel headed off in one direction and Dean in the other. But as Dean moved towards his first class, eyes ahead of him, Cas glanced over his shoulder once more to study Dean's retreating form before turning away.

When Dean entered the library that afternoon, he was fairly surprised to find Castiel already sitting at their usual table, his homework spread out in front of him. Dean hadn't been sure whether to expect a tutoring session or not.

As Dean dropped into the seat across from him, Castiel didn't look up from his work but muttered a polite, "Hello, Dean," in way of greeting.

The other boy's calm demeanor, as if nothing had happened between them over the weekend, irritated him, and he wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing at all. He studied Castiel's form as the other boy solved trigonometry equations in his head, his seemingly endless fountain of knowledge never ceasing to amaze Dean.

Castiel looked up after a few moments, probably when he realized Dean wasn't unloading his backpack, and asked, "Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but so many questions were vying for attention that all he could manage was a strangled cry of frustration. Castiel was the most confusing person he'd ever encountered in his entire life, and everything he'd been feeling for the past several years was now boiling at the surface. Elation, confusion, hurt, anger, loss, hope all bubbling beneath his skin, clouding his thoughts, overtaking his mind. Castiel studied him intently, but his otherwise welcome gaze caused Dean's skin to crawl. The worst of it was, when Castiel looked at Dean with his wide blue eyes, swimming with questions, Dean realized Castiel had no idea the effect he had on Dean nor had any idea why Dean was so upset. With the weight of it all suddenly crashing down on top of him, Dean stood from the table in a huff, his chair rocking back on two legs before toppling over, and marched away without even bothering to collect his things. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew he had to get away from Castiel Milton, so he retreated into the book-lined shelves and didn't look back.