I Don't Talk Much (Destiel fanfic)

Chapter 1. Look at the new kid.

Castiel leaned over his notebook, sketching across a sheet of paper. He vaguely heard his home room teacher say something about a new kid. He glanced up at said kid, then looked away. Then did a double take, looking back up. This kid was HOT! Ms. Song told everyone to say hi, and was met with silence. The kid looked at his feet, not having said a word throughout this statement.
When the teacher was done, he walked as far away from the other students as he could. Which meant next to Castiel. There were five rows of desks, with five in each row. There were only 14, now 15, student in his home room, and all the desks around him were empty. Until now. The kid sat down, and slouched in his chair, slinging an army green nap sack on the back of his chair. Castiel read DEAN WINCHESTER on the back of his bag, and looked away. Dean slouched further in his chair and started writing on a sheet of paper.
The teacher ignored him and Castiel, knowing she wasn't going to get anything out of either of them. When she had been called to the front office to meet her new student, the principal had notified her that Dean was a selective mute after his father had abused him from the age of 9 and he had watched his mother burn to death at the age of 4, and avoided social confrontations. His younger brother Sam had been with him, and was starting at the connected middle-school. The younger boy had patted Dean on the shoulder and walked out, and Dean turned after him and walked the other direction. And that was the end of that. And Castiel was a similar matter. He had been abused by his father and older brothers, and from that was a selective mute, too. The only one he ever talked to was his younger brother, Gabriel. Ms. Song had hoped that they would at least get along together, but so far, they hadn't said a word. Or slipped notes, or anything.
Castiel drew in his notebook, hunched over it with two inches to spare. Dean wrote, scribbling chicken scratch across his paper. Neither of them paid attention to the teacher, until she called their names.
"Castiel, Dean? Would you pass out these papers?" She asked. One boy in the front laughed.
"They're not gonna do anything!" He taunted. Dean scowled at his paper, but did not answer.
"Crowley, be quiet," Ms. Song snapped. Crowley snickered and slid back in his seat. Castiel slid out of his seat and Dean followed, walking to the front. The teacher handed them stacks of paper an they passed them out. As Dean passed Crowley, the other boy grabbed his arm, making Dean flinch visibly. Crowley laughed and slid back in his seat. Dean dropped the papers and walked back to his desk, shaking. He vaguely heard the teacher yelling at Crowley, but ignored it. He went and sat in his seat, leaning over what he was writing. One sentence, over and over, in different variations.
/They cannot hurt me/ /they can't hurt me/ /they can't injure me/ /they can't wound me/ slowly, it morphed into one large picture. A hand, holding a knife. Darker words formed the hand and knife, and Dean began to slowly trace each word. Castiel came and sat back down, looking over his sketch and continuing. It was a pair of wings. In each curve, a sentence was written in graceful cursive.
/I am invincible/ /I am invincible/ /I am invincible/ /I am invincible/
He began to trace the wings enclosing each sentence into a feather, or bone, or curve. Finally, when he finished, he glanced at Dean. He looked at his writing, and realized what it was.
Dean felt eyes on him, and looked at the boy sitting next to him. The kid looked at Dean's writing, and then his own drawing. Dean looked at his drawing, and stared at it intently. Castiel inwardly smiled at the new kids interest, and passed him the paper. Dean passed Castiel his own paper, and they looked at it with a small sad smile.
Ms. Song noticed the interaction, and grinned widely. They were getting somewhere, at least.

___________________________

VOTEVOTEVOTEVOTECOMMENTCOMMENTCOMMENTCOMMENT