this was written today right after school aND ANGSTY CAS I CANNOT IT PHYSICALLY PAINS TO WRITE

serendipitousfinds - working on your prompt, thanks for the review!

"Dean," Cas said harshly, letting out a frustrated sigh. "If you're not going to pay attention I'd rather not waste my time." He started packing up his things, textbooks and folders going into his bag.

"Cas, wait," Dean tried, grabbing Cas' hand.

"Dean." Cas simply stated, quietly but very forceful. Dean, stunned, let go of his hand and watched Cas pack up the rest of his things. He got up and left the library, but Dean wasn't letting his best friend go that easily.

Dean raced after him, calling Cas' name and receiving no answer. Eventually, Dean caught up to him.

"Dammit, Cas, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked, he too becoming frustrated.

Cas laughed crudely. "Thanks, Dean, that's exactly what a person likes to hear."

"Dude," Dean said, feeling words fail him. "I just meant that you're acting weirder than usual."

Cas tilted his head, debating on whether Dean's words were an unintentional insult. Dean seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Dean, it's nothing," Cas tried, talking slow and looking straight into Dean's eyes.

"Bull shit," Dean countered. Cas let out an air of breath and averted his gaze, looking at the floor.

"I am fine Dean," Cas said forcefully. "I'm just…tired."

Cas turned to leave, but that answer didn't seem to be good enough for Dean. He grabbed Cas' arm before he could walk away and spun him back around.

"Dean!" Cas protested, for Dean was dragging him into an empty janitor's closet. Dean shoved Cas in, following suit and shutting the door behind him. The place was spacious enough, sunlight beaming from the only window in the room.

"Cas, you're my best friend," Dean said. "I know you. I know that the way to tell if your happy is through your eyes. I know that when you really, like honestly smile you wrinkle your nose. And I know that when the outer edges of your eyebrows dip down and there are subtle creases around your eyes something is wrong."

Cas' mouth hung agape. His heart thumped almost painfully in his chest because since when did Dean know just as much about him as Cas did about Dean? Cas recalled studying Dean's slight expressions when he wasn't looking, but had Dean done the same to Cas? It made his chest feel very, very tight.

Cas snapped his mouth shut, realizing there was no way in hell Dean was letting this go without getting a straight answer. He swallowed hard and looked away, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

"Home life isn't that great right now." Cas said weakly. His eyes were closed and he was afraid to open them. Afraid to see Dean's reaction.

"Cas," Dean said. "You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right?"

Cas furrowed his brow and tilted his head.

"I just mean that, uh, we can, you know, talk or whatever. I mean if you want to we don't have to." Dean stuttered.

Cas stared. Dean Winchester, willing to talk? Willing to talk about feelings? Willing to be engrossed in a chick-flick moment he always tried to avoid? Cas couldn't help himself, he laughed.

Dean scrunched his face up. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Dean," Cas said. "It's just that you aren't the most gregarious person I know when it comes to talking."

Dean huffed indignantly, and Cas would have laughed at that too if he didn't think Dean would get angry. "Well you're my friend and I'm willing to talk about them with you. So either you can start talking, or we can go back in there and try to keep studying."

Dean crossed his arms, and Cas sighed. As much as he wished to keep this is own problem, he had a feeling going back in to study might make him homicidal.

Besides, behind that stubborn look that Dean now wore, he looked actually…concerned. Worried about his friend. Maybe he could tell Dean. Maybe Dean wouldn't think any differently.

Maybe.

"Can we sit down?" Cas asked. Dean plopped right down on the floor, receiving a questionable look from Cas.

"Dude," Dean said. "You're not going to die by sitting on the floor."

"The janitor's floor," Cas added. Dean waved his hand dismissively while a reluctant Cas sat across from Dean.

"So, what's up?" Dean asked. Cas smiled in spite of himself.

"My father hasn't been very busy lately." Cas started, looking down at the floor. Dean remained patient as Cas took a deep breath. "He's usually his best when he's busy." Cas explained.

"He's a lawyer," Cas went on, still not looking at Dean. "My mother is a journalist, and she is away with work a lot. My father likes to keep busy, so he doesn't have to…dwell on it."

Cas took a breath and dragged his tongue over his chapped lips. "When he doesn't have a case to keep his mind busy, he finds other pursuits to occupy himself. Namely alcohol."

Dean sat back. He thought he knew where this was going, and he didn't like it. Dean's own dad had been known to drink more than he could handle on occasion, and it was never pretty. His mother kept him in check, though, and Cas didn't have a mom to protect him.

Cas sighed. "My father does not handle alcohol very well. Especially with the quantity in which he takes it. He…he is not fun to be around when he is intoxicated." Cas paused, trying to figure out what to say next.

"Cas," Dean said. This talking thingy was never fun. "Just tell me if he's ever been, uh... violent." Cas' hesitance said it all. "CAS!"

"He isn't violent per se." Cas defended, hearing Dean's irate voice and heavy breath.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Cas?" Dean demanded, standing up and throwing his arms around.

Cas exhaled. In all honesty, even he didn't know what he meant. "Dean, he cannot be held accountable for his actions while under the influ-"

"Accountable my ass, Cas!" Dean shouted. He got back down to eye level with Cas. "Just give me a straight answer. Has. He. Hurt. You."

Cas bit his lip. Why was he being so hesitant with giving Dean the truth?

"He…" Cas began. "He may have previously inflicted upon me certain actions that could be considered-"

"Dammit, Cas, that's not a straight answer!" Dean snapped, standing back up, and turning around. Dean ran his fingers through his hair.

Dean takes several deep breaths. Cas hangs his head, afraid of what he's said. Afraid of how Dean's reacted. Afraid of what Dean might do next.

"Did he hit you today?" Dean asked, careworn eyes resting on Cas. "Last night when you left my house?"

"No, Dean," Cas assured, looking straight at Dean. "He's just been abnormally aggressive lately."

"Abnormally aggressive," Dean repeated. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Cas sighed. "It means that he's just taken up a fondness for shoving and throwing various objects around."

Dean couldn't think straight. This stupid closet smelled like cleaning fumes and it was giving him a headache and his chest felt tight and what the hell, Cas?

Just the thought of someone hurting Cas, and Dean not even able to stop it made him flare with a red, hot anger.

"Cas," Dean breathed. "Listen to me-"

"Dean, please." Cas said, his eyes shut tight. He wore a grimace on his face that Dean wished he could get rid of. "This is my problem. Just let me deal with it on my own, and-"

"If you think for one second," Dean snapped, "that I am going to sit on the sidelines while I know someone's hurting you, you don't know me at all."

"Dean it's under control," Cas assured. "Anna and I can handle it."

"CLEARLY," Dean exhaled, suddenly feeling very aware of everything. His breathing increased, and what the hell were those fumes? He sat down, holding his head with his hands.

"Dean?" Cas asked, crawling towards him. "Dean, are you alright?"

Dean nodded his head, then shook it before nodding it again. His head hurt to say the least, thoughts swimming in and out. The room is getting smaller. Why is the room getting smaller. Wow, Cas is awfully close to me. Why is Cas' hand on my shoulder. Somebody open the window. Cas, go open the window. Wait, he's saying something to me.

"Dean, I'm sorry I troubled you with my conflicts. I didn't mean for-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, buddy," Dean said, head still throbbing as he made his way to the fresh air coming from the window. "You didn't 'trouble' me any. I'm pretty freaking glad you told me."

"Just promise me you say do anything," Cas pleaded, eyes worried on Dean. "To anyone."

"Cas I-"

"Promise me, Dean."

Dean looked up at Cas. "You realize that's a lot to ask. I mean-"

"Dean please," Cas begged. "Trust me when I say you'll only make it worse."

Dean wanted to ask how in the hell he could make it worse that it already was, because Dean could never think of something worse than this. But he didn't. He just pursed his lips in a thin line, and tried to push the pain out of his head.

"Fine," he growled. "But if I think for even a second that you aren't safe in that house, don't expect me to leave this alone. You hear me?"

Cas let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, Dean, I hear you. Thank you."