Dean had a problem with philosophy, specifically he had a problem with Castiel’s philosophy, which in essence would come in bouts of mental musings, discussion that acted as dissection and accompanied by the occasional lecture that more so brought a background to Castiel’s study rather than adding texture to his work.
Castiel supposed Dean was jealous in a way, his own degree bearing down on him like the world upon Atlas’ shoulders. Oppressive; with its exceedingly high (and irrational) expectations, bludgeoning its students into a convoluted mass of law jargon regurgitation automatons. (but that was just Castiel’s own opinion…)
The law, in the larger scheme of life and the metaphysical, was subjective, based on a morally-unsound system of …show more content…
“Cas,” he barked, green eyes red rimmed and set with deep bags, “when’d you get here?”
“Ten minutes ago-” Castiel answered, flicking the socket switch down by the wall. He stood up and regarded Dean across the room. “You need to shower.”
Dean blinked, the small smile that had been working his lips upward sagged. “Shit.”
Castiel came forward, putting more distance between them than usual (for truly Dean did smell a little less than fresh) and placed a hand on Dean’s cheek feeling the hair there for himself (ticklish). Dean closed his eyes to the touch and hummed a low note, as though it was the first physical interaction he had had in days.
“Dean,” Castiel began gently, “when was the last time you ate, or left this room?”
“Umm- Wednesday.” said Dean hesitantly. With Castiel’s silence he opened his eyes peering up at him. “What?”
Castiel stared at Dean a moment, his chest tightened a little with worry. “It’s Saturday.” he explained. Dean’s mouth fell agape. …show more content…
“Fuck.”
“Indeed.” said Castiel. “I’m never one to state the obvious but you’ve been studying too hard.”
An annoyed glint flashed within Dean’s eyes. He pulled away from Castiel, not harshly, but just enough to be able to gesture to the room at large. “If you haven’t noticed my future is kind of dangling before me on a single, incredibly thin thread Cas. I don’t have time to waste this chance I need to ace these exams to get the scholarship for another term. And if you look at some of the guy’s I’m competing with-”
Castiel had heard this triad many times and was never usually one to dismiss Dean’s feelings or worries, but in this Dean was just bringing unnecessary anguish on himself, hashing and rehashing impossible odds, running himself haggard because no matter what he never thought himself good enough- despite all proof to the contrary.
Dean didn’t even realise Castile had left the room. It was only when Castiel returned, armed with a large box from Freshly Baked, that Dean
Castiel supposed Dean was jealous in a way, his own degree bearing down on him like the world upon Atlas’ shoulders. Oppressive; with its exceedingly high (and irrational) expectations, bludgeoning its students into a convoluted mass of law jargon regurgitation automatons. (but that was just Castiel’s own opinion…)
The law, in the larger scheme of life and the metaphysical, was subjective, based on a morally-unsound system of …show more content…
“Cas,” he barked, green eyes red rimmed and set with deep bags, “when’d you get here?”
“Ten minutes ago-” Castiel answered, flicking the socket switch down by the wall. He stood up and regarded Dean across the room. “You need to shower.”
Dean blinked, the small smile that had been working his lips upward sagged. “Shit.”
Castiel came forward, putting more distance between them than usual (for truly Dean did smell a little less than fresh) and placed a hand on Dean’s cheek feeling the hair there for himself (ticklish). Dean closed his eyes to the touch and hummed a low note, as though it was the first physical interaction he had had in days.
“Dean,” Castiel began gently, “when was the last time you ate, or left this room?”
“Umm- Wednesday.” said Dean hesitantly. With Castiel’s silence he opened his eyes peering up at him. “What?”
Castiel stared at Dean a moment, his chest tightened a little with worry. “It’s Saturday.” he explained. Dean’s mouth fell agape. …show more content…
“Fuck.”
“Indeed.” said Castiel. “I’m never one to state the obvious but you’ve been studying too hard.”
An annoyed glint flashed within Dean’s eyes. He pulled away from Castiel, not harshly, but just enough to be able to gesture to the room at large. “If you haven’t noticed my future is kind of dangling before me on a single, incredibly thin thread Cas. I don’t have time to waste this chance I need to ace these exams to get the scholarship for another term. And if you look at some of the guy’s I’m competing with-”
Castiel had heard this triad many times and was never usually one to dismiss Dean’s feelings or worries, but in this Dean was just bringing unnecessary anguish on himself, hashing and rehashing impossible odds, running himself haggard because no matter what he never thought himself good enough- despite all proof to the contrary.
Dean didn’t even realise Castile had left the room. It was only when Castiel returned, armed with a large box from Freshly Baked, that Dean