Burned - Destiel

VI

        "Done already?"

        Dean looked up to see his father standing on the edge of the stairs. He stopped in his tracks in surprise, his eyes traveling from his father's jacket, to the clean, polished shoes, not forgetting the hole-free jeans he was wearing and his gelled hair. If his appearance hadn't been slightly curious, the fact that he was here in the first place, was.

        Dean knew that his father only dressed up like this for two occasions. He was either going on a date or he was getting ready for a doctor's appointment. Judging by his presence, Dean concluded that it was the latter.

        Great.

        He nodded, signing that he was free to go to work on his non-existing history essay. His father seemed the slightest suspicious, but didn't question any further. Thank God. He raised his eyebrows at his father once, before looking down at his style of clothing again and shaking his head.

        "Oh, come on, Dean. You don't even know why I'm here," John said, clearly frustrated by his son's lack of understanding. Dean scoffed quietly.

         'You're leading me to another disappointment. No offence, but spare me the pain and just stop,' he signed back, not even angrily. He just didn't want it to hurt emotionally like it always did. His father sighed and put his arm around him.

        "I'm trying to do what's best for you. Your condition is rare, but it must be treatable. This man is an expert when it comes to throat issues and an amazing surgeon. Please, keep an open mind." Dean didn't feel like attempting to reply so he just walked off. When he was just a few feet away from the front door, ignoring his father's complaints, the door opened from th outside.

        "Hey, Dean! You didn't tell me-" Castiel, who was the owner of the voice that spoke out, quickened his pace and stopped right in front of the disturbed boy. He gently touched the rough leather that touched Dean's arms. He couldn't give himself to push him off. "Hey, what's wrong?"

         Dean shook his head a few times, before looking at the apparently concerned boy who was still holding his arms. And he didn't mind. He gently pulled his arms off so he could communicate.

        'Doctor appointment. I really don't want to go.' Castiel frowned.

        "Why not?"

        "Because his condition is rare and nobody has ever been able to treat him. Call it a loss of hope." Dean closed his eyes for a second when he realized that his father had seen and heard all of that. When he opened them, Castiel's eyes met his for a second before they diverted towards John, whose steps were obvious behind him. "Forgive me for forgetting your name. Do you go to Mr. Edlund as well?"

        "It's Castiel Novak, sir. Don't sweat it. And No, I live here. Chuck's my dad." Dean watched in awe as his father and his - something shook hands for the second time in less than a week. Could he even call Castiel his friend? He did manage to make him laugh, but was that enough to trust him? Maybe he was just the boy who was able to make him laugh. That sounded good. Distant but friendly.

        "Oh really? Must be a nice place to live in," John said, impressed. Deep down, Dean knew that the comment was the result of jealousy, since they could barely afford the place they lived in.

         "Eh, it's alright. You're kind of mandatory to keep everything spotless and with a bunch of teenagers, that's kind of impossible," Castiel replied, chuckling as if he remembered something.

        "I'm sure it is. Now, Dean and I need to go, but I doubt that I'll never see you again," his father said, surprisingly having a smile on his face. Dean watched him suspiciously as Castiel nodded slowly.