Chalk & Chainmail

Chapter 6

After the chem lab, Castiel grew distant again. His eyes flicked away whenever his gaze met Dean's in the hall or during classes they shared, and during tutoring sessions he was almost non-existent, either texting Balthazar or staring out the window while Dean did what he could without help. If Dean had a question on a problem, Cas would work through it with him, commend him on doing a good job, and then retreat back inside his own head. His fingers were usually stained in black artist's chalk, and Dean forced himself on more occasion than one not to reach out and wipe away the smudges Castiel left behind on his face after touching it with his fingers.

On the fourth day of this stilted pattern of Castiel's, Dean grew worried. Castiel was looking more sullen and robotic than usual. His answers to Dean were clipped and distant, and Dean felt like he'd get more done on his own than with the other boy sitting across from him practically ignoring him.

"I'm gunna finish at home. I think I understand it," he finally said closing his book. "Thanks for your help, Cas."   

"Hmmmm?" Castiel murmured looking from the window to Dean. He glanced to Dean's closed chemistry book. "Oh, right. I apologize for not being entirely invested today. I've just got a lot on my mind. You know, Oxford and all that," he replied mostly to the table. It was the most polite Castiel had been to him all afternoon. And even though Dean wanted to shake Cas and tell him college was still a couple of years away and not to worry about it, he just nodded, something telling him Castiel may be hiding behind Oxford as an excuse.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see ya, Cas," Dean said hefting his backpack onto his shoulder. Castiel nodded slowly, still not making eye contact with Dean. At the library door, Dean looked over his shoulder once more. Castiel had made no move to leave but had pulled a tattered sketch book out of his bag and was scowling at it as if it had personally offended him. Dean shook his head and left the library.

Later that night, a light knock sounded on Castiel's bedroom door. When he didn't answer, Anna poked her head in. "Are you clothed?" she asked, not looking into the room.

"Despite what you may do in your bedroom with the door closed, I usually prefer to maintain a clean and sanitary environment in mine," Castiel responded dryly from where he was laying on his back on his bed. His arm was flung over his eyes, and he was still in the clothes he'd worn to school. He had at least un-tucked the plaid shirt he wore under his button down, sweater vest but that's about as relaxed as he'd gotten before flining himself down on his bed and drowning in his own thoughts.

"You have a visitor," Anna said ignoring her brother's snide remark. Castiel sat up and looked toward the doorway, but instead of Anna, he saw a grinning Dean.

"Hey-a, Cas," Dean said with a little wave. He looked nervous.

"Dean?"

Dean stepped into the room and took in his surroundings, eyeing all the artwork—Cas's artwork, he assumed—hanging from nearly every available wall space. "You did all these?" he asked admiring the work. Castiel nodded shyly. "They're really good."

"Dean, why are you here?" Castiel asked. He had stood from the bed when Dean had come in and was now following him like a shadow around the room. Dean was still examining Castiel's paintings and sketches, and Castiel felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. No one was ever allowed in his room as of late and certainly not to scrutinize his artwork. It was the one place he felt he could truly express himself, and now Dean was here. Observing. Finally, Dean tore his eyes away from the art-covered walls and looked at Cas.

"The place looks different from when I was last here," he explained before telling Cas, "I just came to say hi." He turned and rested his butt against the desk that was tucked up neatly against the wall and folded his arms across his chest as he offered Cas an easy smile.