Chapter Text
December 14, 1988 (Wednesday)
Dean gazed out at the dim sky through the passenger side window of his Dad's black 1967 Impala. A sigh of rare contentment emanated from him as he rested his head against the cold glass. He was lost in idle thoughts as he basked in the warmth blasting from the heater. He smiled lazily in response to the faint rattling from Legos he had shoved down the vents a few years before. He wondered why his dad hadn’t killed him or why his old man had never pulled the dash apart to remove them. Not thinking of the consequences, he had done it on a dare by his lil' bro. He could never tell the kid ‘no’ and Sam used it to his advantage- often.
Strong gusts of winter wind rocked the car at random intervals; a telltale forewarning of Indiana snow on its way. It was the kind of omen that curved the corners of Dean's mouth into another listless smile. His fingers tapped contentedly on his thigh to the beat of Neil Young's 'Ohio' which played faintly through the speakers, and another contented sigh released. Yeah, it was definitely starting to look like an early release day from school, and he was getting excited about that prospect. This was an enthusiasm his lil' bro didn't seem to share if his disgruntled groaning from the back seat was anything to go by. Sam's sixth grade class was slated for a field trip to the State Museum of History and Science. If what the Meteorologist said on the morning news panned out, that trip simply wasn’t going to happen.
“Dude, you get stoked over the lamest stuff.” Dean teased his younger brother on his twentieth groan since leaving the house.
Sam rolled his eyes, and sighed as moved his long shaggy bangs off his face with the sweep of a broad hand. It proved a futile effort because the tresses fell right back where they had been. Even the jerk his head made trying to shift them was to no avail.
“It’s not lame Dean. You’re lame.” he replied through narrowed eyes that focused on the passing trees beyond the glass.
Dean’s mouth opened and then closed. The comeback for his bratty ass brother was halted in his throat when another voice cut in.
“Stow it boys. That’s enough.”
“But Dad!” Dean attempted to protest.
John Winchester turned his head to look at Dean, his eyes making direct contact with his son's. He shot up an index finger and made a short point in the air in Dean’s direction before returning it to the steering wheel. “That’s an order.”
Dean didn’t bother to try to push his petitions since all of them died at the look in his dad’s eyes. When their old man said something was an order, it was simply a done deal. Saying anything else would mean pressing for an ass whoopin' when they got home. Even though Dean was turning fifteen next month, he was pretty damn sure he wasn’t beyond corporal punishment. Even if he had doubt, he sure the hell wasn’t about to test the waters over something like this at any rate.
Dean’s shoulders sank under more weight than just defeat. “Yes Sir.” Dean replied as Sam echoed the same response from the back seat.
Their father was loving. He never spared the hugs or chastised them for their tears, but he was strict. John had been a Marine who had done a harrowing tour in Vietnam that he couldn’t talk about without weeks of drinking and nightmares following. Now, being one of the top homicide detectives in the state, experience had shown him the world wasn't just ugly, unjust and brutal on the field of battle. That weighted truth ensured John’s 'tight leashed' approach to raising his sons. Dean remembered when his dad changed. He knew the precise moment the leashes became a necessity for their dad's peace of mind, when their mom had died.
Mary
Sam had no memory of their mother, of course. He had just been a baby, but Dean having been four at the time seemed to be damned to just one rememberance. Every detail about his mother during better days were becoming faded patches of memory. Her smile that lit rooms; how her hugs felt as they enclosed him when he was sad or scared; the sound of her voice when she soothed or encouraged- all of it, gone. The counter weight to that? He would never be allowed to erase how her death mask looked as it contorted in anguish and pain, nor what her screams sounded like. The scent of her flesh and hair as it burned away from her bones and turned to ash. Even now, that scent was there with his every inhalation in all its vivid glory.
In a knee jerk reaction, Dean reached into the pocket of his jacket that was draped over his leg closest to the door. He fingered the joint that was secreted away in a ziplock baggy there. What he wouldn’t give right now to be able to light it up and numb the memories so instantly crushing his chest. Just a stolen moment with the heady incense of herb to chase away the phantom rancid scent lingering somewhere between the back of his nose and his mind. Dean’s thoughts broke when John moved his hand to adjust the heater settings and turn on the windshield wipers.
Dean turned his attention to the road ahead taking notice of the droplets of rain beginning to tap against the windshield; finding himself praying for the thoughts to go back to where they had come from. Not that that God was listening to his prayers. No, that ol’ Killjoy had walked out of his life on tongues of flames, never bothering to looking back. As much as he probably should be angry at God over the abandonment, he knew he was guilty of a worse crime. It had been none other than himself who had failed her. Dean glowered and sighed; adjusting his focus to the lines in the road as they speed towards them only to vanish under the car. It was a piss poor attempt to loosen the grip his thoughts suddenly had on the past, he knew it. His thoughts only scattering when his eyes caught hold of a dark form far ahead at the right hand side; just at the edge of the road.
At first, Dean thought it might have been a small tree; even though he had no recall of there ever being a tree this close to the road before. As they got closer, he noticed the form was moving and human. ‘Who in the hell would be walking in this shit weather?’ After all, the homes on this particular stretch of road were mostly farm houses with lots of acreage between them. It was too damn cold for someone to be walking in it, and they were completely insane if they were trying to walk into the city. Dean’s curiosity was peaked as he righted his slouching frame, bringing himself up tall and straight. He craned his neck; squinting into the gloom in an effort to see more of the figure through the back and forth of windshield wipers.
When they were roughly thirty feet away from passing the figure, Dean noticed the frame was of a boy about his height with a dark colored backpack slung over his right shoulder. The headlights of the Impala lit the ground; the beam making its way up the line of boy’s body as they passed him. The only thing he was wearing to shelter him from the weather was a denim jacket and a grey hoodie underneath, and pulled up over his head. His hands were firmly tucked into the pockets of the jacket. “What the hell?” John said to himself more than to his sons as he quickly pulled over in front of boy’s path. Dean glanced over to his dad who was looking in his rear view mirror when the car came to a rough stop; tires skidding on the loose gravel. His dad’s brow furrowed and lips parted. Dean knew that look. His dad was concerned and pissed at the same time; protective instincts fully engaged. In all likelihood, someone on down the line was going to catch hell and Dean was grateful it wasn't going to him. John rolled down his window and the frigid conditions outside quickly filled the car making Dean shiver as he looked out at the side mirror trying to get a better look at the boy. Sam was doing the same as he got on his knees to look out the back window. John reached over Dean and pulled the latch to the glove box which fell open against his son's knee. He bypassed his service issued Glock and grabbed the long wallet that housed his badge. Closing the glove box, he looked in his rear view once more.
~*~
The rumble of the engine startled Castiel and he shivered as frigid air whipped around him. His layered denim jacket and attached hoodie was no match against it. He should have worn something more on a morning like this, but he was almost always too hot with anything more than a tee-shirt. Plus, he refused to wear anything big and bulky just on principle alone. When the car pulled off the side of the road just several feet ahead, Castiel stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t fear that had stalled his steps, it was curiosity. Call it a failing or simply the consequence of being a Novak, but there wasn’t much that Castiel feared.
He stayed still until he saw a small hand rubbing at the foggy back window of the car. The face of a boy younger than him peered out and smiled at him. Even at this distance it was infectious and Castiel couldn’t help but return it with a tilt of of his head, forging a timid one of his own. He noticed the shadows of two figures in the front seat of the car, one clearly an adult and the other likely a teen. The adult leaned over towards the person in the front seat like they were reaching for something and then righted themselves again. The young boy staring and still smiling from the back seat waved; beckoning him to come closer. So, Castiel did just that without giving it another thought. He walked past the back of the dark, long bodied car as the boy in the back seat followed him with body and eyes until he was sitting again with a bounce that rocked the car. When Castiel got to the driver’s side, he nodded slightly to the man staring back at him.
“Sir?” Castiel asked cautiously.
“Hey son. Don’t mean to alarm you.” John looked down to his lap, opened his wallet. He glanced back up displaying his badge to the young man. “My name’s John Winchester. I’m a detective for the Bartholomew Police Department. Off duty. Can I ask where you’re headin'?" Eyes still stead on the boy's, he put the badge down beside him and returned his hand to the steering wheel, his wrist resting on the edge of it lazily.
“Bus stop.” Castiel answered simply.
John frowned, “Nearest is a mile ahead.” His brow tightened. “Where do you live?”
Castiel shrugged, “Just off East County Road.”
John shifted in his seat and nodded. “That’s two miles back.” He rubbed his salt and peppered beard as he milled something over.
Castiel watched John's brows tighten further. The detective was obviously bothered by the distance. Before Castiel could reassure the man he was fine, the detective nodded as if making a decision. He reached toward his door handle and pulled it. Castiel stepped back as the long door opened with a crack and a drawn out creak. John stepped out and stood to the side, “Come on. I’m giving you a lift to school. Northside Middle, right?” John smiled warmly at Castiel.
Castiel nodded confirming the school and adjusted his backpack on his shoulder. “Thank you for the offer, but I can manage.”
John nodded, his smile unchanged, “Son. That wasn’t an offer. It’s colder than a coal miner’s crack out here. With what you're wearing, by time you reached the bus stop you’ll not only have missed the bus, but will have frozen to death. I’m taking you to school. Now, hop in.”
Castiel could tell John wasn’t going to let him continue alone and the warmth flowing out the open door was too welcoming so he conceded with a nod. He slid cautiously into the back seat. The the young boy who had been watching him from the back seat, moved over to allow him room. He was still smiling at him when Castiel released his backpack to the confines of the floor board before pulling his hoodie from his head. The boy offered his hand to Castiel.
“Hi! My name’s Sam. Sam Winchester!”
Castiel took his warm hand and shook it, “Castiel. Castiel Novak.” he responded in kind.
When he turned away from Sam to face the front, he noticed another hand in front of him. He looked at it, allowing his eyes to follow up the slope of a bear arm which was a path that led to green eyes and a warm smile. Castiel's lips parted slightly in an attempt to say something, but he lost the words somewhere between his heart and his lungs.
The teen in front of him appeared about his age with shaggy, just-below-the-ear dirty blonde hair. His features were gentle, handsome and his mouth perfect. His eyes, though, were by far the most compelling thing about the boy. Lashes, long and thick, were dark halos which accented the green flawlessly.
Dean was making observations of his own within those frozen seconds that sat heavily between them. The slightly smaller framed teen before him had pointed features and dark brown- just out of bed mess of hair that stopped mid neck. He was staring at him with the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. Even in the dark cabin of the car, they shined. ‘Intense’ was the word for them. As they continued to stared back at him, Dean felt like they were peering straight into him and examining even the dark places he never let touch the light of day. The possibility the other boy could, caused goose-bumps to rise over the flesh of his arms.
And damn the guy was beautiful. Dean flinched mentally at his brain’s choice of that word but it really was the one word to describe him- ‘beautiful’, and the bow of his lips fascinated Dean. He had never seen lips like Castiel's and odd thoughts started to flood in on their own accord. ‘What would those lips feel like if I touched them with my finger tips or even with my own lips?' Dean’s tongue slid between his own lips, licking over them in some strange reflex at the thought.
Castiel watched the teen’s reaction and realizing he was staring at the boy’s mouth, flickered his eyes back to meet green eyes once again. Dean observed all this curiously, hand still out stretched towards Castiel. When Castiel recovered a split second later, he took Dean’s hand and shook it. Dean suddenly felt relieved that perhaps his thoughts hadn’t betrayed him and offered, “Name’s Dean.” Castiel nodded once and let his hand go, but Dean’s eyes and smile lingered on him for a few moments more until John pulled the car back onto the road.
They sat in comfortable semi-silence for a few miles. Castiel tuned his ear to hear the music coming from the speakers, and a faint but pleased smile spread over his mouth as Neil Young’s 'Old Man’ began to play- his fingers automatically tapping his leg to the beat. Finally, John spoke breaking the silence. “So, Castiel? You’ve just moved here?”
He glanced up at the back of John's head and answered, “Yes Sir. How did you know?” his head tilting curiously.
John chuckled, “Cop?” He looked up into the rearview, shooting him a smile before turning his eyes to the road again. “I know everyone in Elizabethtown and nearly everyone in this county. Your last name’s new and your first name is unique enough I’d remember it if you were already a resident.” John saved going into the details about how he was also aware the house that had been for sale on the road Castiel mentioned was now sold. Deductive reasoning was John’s strong suit and it made him great at his job.
Castiel nodded and shifted his gaze to his hands, which rested on his lap. When his eyes came back up again, they touched on Dean who was turned slightly, looking at him. He shifted in the seat, responding evenly despite how exposed Dean’s gaze was making him feel. “We moved here a few weeks ago.” Castiel stopped there, not wanting to get into any more details about his family than he had to. To Castiel's relief, John merely nodded in response asking no further questions. Dean was still looking at him with an added soft upturn of lips. Castiel met the smile with one of his own and they stayed like that until Sam’s voice made them both jerk.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Castiel reluctantly turned his sight from Dean’s to the younger boy whose eyes were wide, expectant and excited. Sam oddly reminded Castiel of a hyper puppy. He would have reached out and patted the boy’s shaggy head if he had known him better.
“Yes. Two brothers and a sister. I’m the youngest.”
Sam looked a little down at the news that none of them were his age, but he perked right back up. “What’s their names? Do they go to school too?”
Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle at Sam’s enthusiasm. “Michael, Gabriel and Anna. Michael is no longer in school, but Gabriel is a senior and Anna a freshman in High School.” Castiel answered.
Sam nodded, “Awesome.”
“Sometimes.” Castiel replied.
When he turned his attention back to Dean, he found the other boy had finally turned to face the front. Castiel spent the rest of the ride shifting his eyes from looking out his window to stealing quick glances at Dean’s side profile. Something about the other boy was drawing Castiel in. If the other teen’s prolonged stares were any gauge, the feelings were likely mutual. It was a strange and completely foreign sensation that Castiel frankly had no name for. There was no point of reference for the inability to keep his eyes off the guy and the word ‘attraction’ just over simplified it.
Their first stop was to drop Sam off at his school. As they drove up to the building, Castiel was impressed. Southside Elementary was a massive square building of concrete, jutting parapets and slanted glass windows which surrounded the top perimeter of the monolithic building. In all the places he had lived and gone to school- even overseas, this was the most impressive architecture for a school he had ever seen given its simplicity. Dean was craning his head to look up at it as they passed by to find a parking spot.
“This place still looks like a prison to me.” Dean remarked. Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother in response. Castiel was willing to wager they had this disagreement before.
“Actually, it looks like a castle to me.” Castiel amended quickly.
Sam’s brow relaxed and he smiled at Castiel. He shifted fully to face the older boy and replied, “Yeah! Like a castle. See, I told you Dean!”
Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Castiel smiled back at Sam and added, “I believe they call this style of architecture ‘béton brut’”, he said in perfect French.
Dean turned to Castiel with one eyebrow raised sharply. Castiel looked at him in kind, his furrowed brow quietly questioning what Dean's look was about. 'Had he said something wrong?' Dean said nothing though and turned back to the front.
Castiel suddenly felt a little out of place which always happened at some point when speaking around people his own age. He was always ahead of most his age in life experience and knowledge. He used to try really hard to appear on the same level so he could relate, but it eventually showed through despite his efforts. The resulting alienation was always predictable. His sister, Anna, always called him an 'old soul’. She said those two words like they meant something special- a gift, but it wasn’t a gift to Castiel. Those two words meant he was doomed to be different which often left him feeling and being utterly alone in ways it mattered most.
John parked next to other parents who were ushering their children from their cars. “Need to speak to the coach about Sport Camp this summer." John informed.
John didn’t ask if Dean or Castiel wanted to go inside with them, instead they piled out and John didn’t protest. For Castiel, it was curiosity about seeing the inside of the structure. For Dean it was a need to get out, stretch his legs, and to get a better look at the other teen.
They made their way up the concrete steps, Dean adjusting and buttoning up his jacket along the way that he had put on before getting out of the car. John grabbed the door hurriedly, holding it open for a woman and her young son. She smiled at him sweetly, “Good morning, detective!” John smiled back with a nod, “Mornin', Mrs. Martin.” he responded as she walked in ahead of them. John Winchester hadn’t been over exaggerating when he said he knew everyone. Castiel wondered how long it would be until the officer grew curious enough to dig up information on his family, and found out just who he was. So far it seemed that no one was the wiser. Castiel wanted to fit in for as long as possible. If John dug, he hoped the man wouldn’t go to the press. Fortunately, he didn’t seem like the type that would.
Once inside, Castiel marveled at the interior which was light and airy. Various world flags attached to the cieling above them moved slightly, most likely from the activity of students going to and from. The centerpiece of the building was a concrete staircase that led to the second story. The ceiling above almost all open skylights. Castiel was pretty sure that if the sun had been out, it would have lit the light colored concrete work of the stairs, making it reminiscent of some sort of stairway to the Heavens. This was not at all what Castiel had been expecting, and he mentally gave a bow to the architect.
John put a supportive hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. “Come on, Sammy. Get on to class. I gotta hurry here and get the boys to their school before the first bell.” John hugged Sam briefly and then petted his hair playfully as Castiel had the urge to do earlier.
“Aww, Dad man. Not cool!” Despite the complaint, Sam smiled as he shoved the hair back out of his face. Before running to the stairs, Sam turned to Castiel. “Nice to meet you, Castiel.” he said genuinely, and then he was gone.
John smiled after Sam a moment before turning to Dean and Castiel. “You two stay put. I see the coach over there.” John inclined his head towards the cafeteria.
Castiel and Dean stood silently next to each other. Both were trying to distract themselves with the bustle of students scrambling to get to their classes. Castiel snuck a few unseen glances at the other teen and observed Dean was slightly taller than himself and carried a broader frame. Even though his upper body was covered by a light brown, well-worn bomber jacket, Castiel could tell the other boy carried the body of an athlete under it. He noted the bow of his muscular legs hidden under his dark blue, ripped button fly jeans. The bottom of the jeans were pegged just above a pair of black, scuffed military issued combat boots. ‘Yes, definitely an athlete, yet not a jock’ he thought as his eyes scanned back up the length of his legs. Heat began to rise up his neck and he rubbed the back of it as a distraction.
Dean was catching his own fair share of unseen glances. Castiel was smaller framed, and slightly shorter than him by a couple of inches. Dean could tell by how Castiel’s denium jacket hugged him that under it would be lean muscles and a toned chest. He was built like a runner, and Dean mused whether Castiel would want to try out for Track in the spring. Football had wrapped up and Dean was giving serious thought to joining Track just to have something to do. That’s all sports were to him, really. Something to keep his mind off everything else and to make his Dad proud. Castiel turned his back to him for a moment and Dean allowed his eyes to linger on the way Castiel’s dark stone washed jeans shaped his hips and ass. Dean’s eyes flickered quickly to the other boy's high-top black and white converses when the heat of arousal washed over him, the reaction instantly confusing him. This is what he felt when he looked at hot girls, not dudes. 'What the fuck?’
Dean jumped when he felt a firm hand slap on his shoulder solidly. He turned to see his dad’s concerned expression turned down at him. “You okay?” John asked.
Dean nodded, looking away quickly, and then back. “Yeah, sure Dad. I’m cool.” Dean looked over to Castiel who was looking at him with concern as well. Dean ran his hand through his hair, thankful that his dad's old jacket hung low enough he could hide the semi he had just gotten. Feeling exposed somehow, he looked away to follow behind his father to the car.
A few moments later they were back in the car and pulling out onto the road that led to their next destination. Minutes into the drive Dean turned, putting a long arm over the back of the seat as a rest. The expression he was giving Castiel, questioning. Dean licked his bottom lip as he had before and then clenched the bottom lip between his teeth for a second. It was Castiel’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
Finally Dean asked the question, “What does ‘béton brut’ mean?”
Castiel wanted to laugh but only allowed a faint smile that barely moved his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to make Dean feel foolish for having asked the question, or point out his less than accurate efforts to pronounce it correctly by doing so either. Though, Castiel wasn't at all sure why he cared about it so much. “It’s French. It means ‘raw concrete’.”
“Dude, how do you even know that stuff?” Dean asked more amused than sarcastically.
Castiel shrugged with one shoulder and looked out the window. “I read a lot, and it helps that I lived in France for a year.” Castiel turned back to Dean, whose eyes were now wide. John looked over at Dean and smirked, shaking his head at his son’s reaction before returning his attention back to the road ahead.
Dean turned around and nothing more was said. John cranked up the CCR that was playing. Castiel smiled watching Dean’s head bob and sway to the music as he drummed out ‘Up Around the Bend’. It appeared Dean loved music as much as he did, and they had more-or-less the same tastes from the looks of it. It caused Castiel to feel... hopeful. Dean continued to nod his head an air drum through the song changes with John tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel until they reached the school.
They passed a larger school which said ‘North High School’ on the front. A few blocks behind it was Northside Middle. The building was laid out very much like the elementary school had been except this one was made solidly out of brown brick which arched over the two story sets of windows. The windows surrounded three of the four sides, with the backside containing three levels of windows he noticed as they drove around to the front. As John pulled up to the main doors, Dean hopped out and stepped back allowing room for Castiel to follow suit.
Once Castiel was clear, Dean closed the door to the car. John leaned over to crank down the window, and Dean leaned in to the open window allowing this arms to cross and his elbows to rest on the door frame. Castiel remained standing off to the side on the sidewalk observing the bare maples and sycamores that marked the landscape of the area. While he was trying to pretend to give the father and son privacy, he could still hear John giving his son instructions.
“I’ll be at work today, but I should be done in time to pick you boys up. Now, you’re to call Missouri if there's an early discharge. She’ll pick you up in that case.”
Dean nodded, “Sure thing, Dad.”
John glanced back towards Castiel, then back to his son. His concern for the boy firmly fixed in his expression he added, “Make sure you tell Castiel he’s riding home with you, early discharge or not. Capiche?”
Castiel turned towards the car not sure what to make of the protectiveness he was sensing in Dean’s father.
“Yes sir.” Dean nodded, knowing it was an order rather than a suggestion to be made. Dean was not exactly sure why he felt relief at the prospect of the guy riding with them again, but it caused a small upward curl of his mouth to appear. Dean stood up and slapped a hand on the door frame twice as a gesture of goodbye without words to his dad. After rolling the window back up, John pulled out and away. The rumble of the engine could still be heard as they made their way to the main doors.
Making their way up the steps, they reached a small line of windows with a glass door on each end. Dean rushed to grab the handle to the one on the right and open it for Castiel who glanced at him for a brief moment in curiosity at the gesture before walking in without hesitating. Dean followed in behind him.
Castiel was taking in the surroundings when Dean tapped the backside of his fingers on Castiel’s arm as they walked to get his attention. “Hey, uh, do you have your sheet with all your classes on it?” Castiel eyed him questioningly before he reached around to his back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Yeah.”
Dean stopped walking and Castiel stilled with him. He reached out and took the paper from Castiel’s loose grip, unfolding it. He started scanning over it while his index finger traced over teachers, courses, times and room numbers. His expression remained neutral for a few moments, but then a smile lit up his face. He handed Castiel back his paper and informed excitedly, “Kick ass! We have four of the nine classes together. Lunch period too!”
Castiel looked back to his paper. He felt some measure of elation at the news that this wasn't the only time he would see Dean throughout the day. He also felt some measure of confusion. He never cared about sharing classes with someone he was aquainted with, so what was up now? He decided to let it go for now only because Dean looked so amped about it. It gave Castiel yet another possibly probmatic sensation that stirred warm within him, and the heat of it rose to the tips of his ears. He quickly looked down busying himself with studying the paper, but not really seeing it.
Dean tapped his arm again, “You've been in here before? Like, when you got registered?”
Castiel looked back up shaking his head. “No, my father’s assistant took care of it for me.”
Dean’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but then it closed. Instead, he simply nodded his head. He glanced down to his feet for a moment before facing Castiel again. Castiel’s brow tightened, only to relax when Dean’s possible shock turned into a smile.
“Well, all the classes we don’t have together are still on the same floors and shit so, I’ll just meet you. We can just walk together to your next one.”
Castiel refrained from informing Dean that the structure was simple enough he could figure out the room numbers rather easily on his own. Instead, he simply nodded his head in compliance.
Dean looked relieved. “Okay, sweet.” Dean said as he snagged a quick glance at his Swatch, “Listen, we’re a little early so we've gotta gather in the gym.”
Castiel nodded again, following beside him. The gym was noisy since it appeared the entire school had assembled there. Four sets of multi-leveled oak seated bleachers lined the right side. Dean turned to Castiel inclining his head towards the bleacher sets. “This side here's for 7th Grade. The others over there...” Dean pointed to the far right side, “…are for the 8th grade. That’s us.” Castiel had a hard time hearing him, but he got enough of it to get the gist and nodded.
“Dean! Dean! Dean fricken' Winchester! Over here, man!” a boy yelled from over the top of everyone else as they reached the far set of bleachers. Castiel looked up to find a boy waving his arm at the top. Dean shot his hand up in the sign of the horns indicating that he saw him which the other boy returned enthusiastically. That caused Castiel arch a brow in amusement. Dean didn't quite look like the metalhead type and now Castiel was even more intrigued. Dean suddenly grabbed Castiel’s jacket sleeve, tugging him in the direction of the boy who had been waving. Castiel took note of how everyone moved quickly allowing them space to climb. A couple of teens gave Dean high fives with 'S'ups?' and 'Winchester' as they passed. Castiel could easily see Dean was popular- at least on this side of the bleachers.
“Ash! Man.” Dean said smiling at the other teen and giving him a styled hand slap, finger snapping, grip of fingers which they then snapped as they separated the grip and ending with a solid.
Ash, who was wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd hoodie and hair styled in a mullet, looked up at Castiel with hooded eyes. The guy was clearly high as Zeus.
“New guy?” Ask asked, taking out the toothpick that had been protruding from his mouth which was smirking now.
Dean answered before Castiel could, “Yeah, hey- Ash, this is Castiel.”
Ash stuck out his hand and Castiel did the same shake, click, grip, snap, solid combo Ash and Dean had done before. Castiel found himself grateful for his photographic memory when Ash looked up at him, impressed.
"Hola amigo.”
Castiel answered, “Es un placer conocerte.”
Ash smiled and nodded. He was definitely impressed. “Yeah, you too man.” Ash moved over giving Dean and Castiel room. Dean removed his bomber jacket revealing a black TesTamentT band tee shirt that the jacket had been hiding. Castiel arched a brow again. He hadn’t been expecting that either.
A few moments later, two girls who introduced themselves as Jo and Becky came up to sit next to them, and another boy named Garth joined them as well. All of them, easily accepting Castiel into their fold. It was a rag-tag group which had Castiel questioning just how cliques even worked in this school. Dean was clearly the somehow popular Metalhead. Ash, some hairdoged/hesher/stoner combo. Garth and Jo, like Castiel, appeared to be the metalhead/stoners. Becky stuck out the most in the group. She was a nerd, albeit a hyper super-social one who talked like she was from the Valley. As strange as their blurred line mix was, they all seemed to be at ease with one another. When they asked Castiel various questions it wasn’t just idle chatter; they really wanted to know about him. There was such a genuine interest that Castiel felt a little floored by it. After all, he was accustomed to being virtually invisible in most schools he went to despite who his family was.
When the first bell rang everyone began collecting their bags and standing up to make their way out of the gym. Once again, Dean grabbed Castiel’s jacket sleeve and pulled him along. Once they were out of the gym and in the hall, Dean asked Castiel for his paper again, which he produced for the other boy. After looking at it for a moment, Dean nodded his head, “Yeah okay, well. Your first class is English. Mine's Math. They‘re on the third but opposite halls. I’ll take you to yours and when class is over just wait for me.”
Castiel simply nodded as he followed.
~*~
Dean sat through Math class barely paying attention as the teacher explained the ins and outs of what to expect after Christmas break. While that wasn't anything new, where his thoughts were sure was. The reaction he had when they were in the car and then again while waiting on his dad at Sammy’s school which actually felt kinda good. Just like the reaction he got when he saw hot girls, but him to have felt it when looking at certain parts of Castiel? It was confusing as fuck, and it also gave him mixed feelings of shame, fear and want.
He used to watch the news with his dad and remembered when it seemed like everybody was flippin' out about AIDS. It was the first time he'd heard the word ‘homosexual’ and it was made into a really big deal. From everything he'd gathered, not in a good way. From the ‘talk’ his dad had given him when he'd asked, he learned the word meant guys getting it up for other guys. He thought it was weird, but that was all the effort he had put into it after. He wondered now if what he had felt meant he was like that. He was into chicks though, and this was the first time he had ever felt this way with a guy. Well, if you didn’t count the handful of times he caught his eyes lingering a little too long on a guy’s chest or hips or lips; but, he’d just chalked that up to curiosity, not actually wanting a guy in that way. Dean shivered internally as he picked apart every encounter he’d ever had with a guy which only caused the feelings of frustration and confusion to grow. He wished he knew what was going on. Why this one guy, rather immediately, had his head spinning.
What he did know? He wasn’t about to talk to anyone about it. He could always just avoid Castiel, but as much as he was confused, he really liked how being around the guy made him feel other things too.
Dean jumped when the bell rang, marking the end of class. All of the fucked up feelings retreated to be replaced with excitement of knowing the next class was one he shared with Castiel. He smiled to himself as he threw his unopened math book into his bag.
Castiel waited by the door he just exited and sighed. The day was already feeling longer than most. Usually about this time he would be ditching classes the rest of the day. It's not like he had to really study. Superoir intelligence ran in his family. Abstract concepts were easy to break down and a gift at memorization plus application was second nature. He shook his head, amused with himself as he spotted the reason for his change of heart coming his way. Dean completely dominated the hall. His books crooked in the palm of his hand and braced against his leg casually while his peers moved for him without even looking up. It made Castiel feel keenly aroused. He diverted his eyes quickly in an attempt to make it look like he was more interested in the cover of his book rather than the boy heading his way. Dean didn’t stop to say anything. Instead, he grabbed Castiel by the jacket sleeve and began pulling him along. Dean led the way down the hall to the stairway that led to the lower floors. “We’ve gotta be quick! Only have five minutes to get from here to clear on the other side of the building.” Dean told him in a rush.
Castiel felt the need to point out what he thought was the obvious, “I believe five minutes is enough time to get from here to there without jogging, Dean.”
The other boy laughed. “No, duh! I just want us to be able to get seats next to each other. Chuck doesn’t assign seats like the other teachers do. Big believer in the freedom of choice and all that crap.”
Castiel allowed himself to be practically dragged down the stairs and across the building. The whole journey his eyes lingered on Dean; studying him as they moved in between the people in the crowded hallway. The possessiveness Dean volunteered when it came to him both confused and delighted him. They had only met less than four hours ago, but Dean was acting like they had known each other for years. The way Dean felt comfortable touching him even more times than necessary was at odds with everything Castiel had come to know in relating to most people. The implications were making his stomach feel strange which wasn't entirely an unpleasant sensation. If anything, whatever the hell this>/i> was; it was becoming addictive. A neon ‘danger’ sign started flashing in Castiel’s minds-eye, but like a fool glutton for punishment, he ignored it.
Fortunately, they were among the first in the classroom. Dean tugged Castiel towards the back corner of the class next to the line of windows.
Dean didn’t quite understand the drive to hoard Castiel into the privacy of the back, but he refused to question it either. At this point, he was just winging it. He didn’t want to think on everything he was feeling since Castiel climbed into his dad’s car because trying to break it down into smaller things he could wrap his head around just made him feel wrong. Like he shouldn't be so okay, and he didn’t want to feel that. He wanted to feel the exact opposite. All that he was feeling was hitting him naturally, and it made him feel pretty damn good. So, he was going to just go with that. Shit. It wasn’t like he didn’t ignore the angel on his shoulder and break the rules every single day as it was. The problem fell on gauging what this was and was it sick kind of wrong? What did it mean and why he was feeling this way in the first place? Most importantly, was Cas feeling this shit too?
Castiel took off his jean jacket for the first time and slung it over the back of his chair before sliding into his desk. Dean watched him, swallowing nervously before sliding into his own desk quickly. Dean definitely preferred Castiel without his jacket on. Arousal started to rear up again and Dean’s face flushed red. He turned quickly to look out the window while he willed away the heat. Getting a hard on in class just wasn't an option.
After a few moments Dean turned back to Castiel, “A Dead Head huh?”
Castiel’s brow tightened, “A what?”
Dean lifted his chin towards Castiel, “Your shirt.”
Castiel glanced down to the design taking up nearly the whole front of his grey tee shirt; a large skull with two sides in different colors, red and blue. A white lightning bolt separating the two halves. He smiled faintly looking back up to meet Dean's eyes. “Yeah.”
“Awesome.” Dean replied appreciatively. “We’re going to get along just fine.” Dean added with a wide and on the edge of flirting smirk.
The look Castiel gave him was one of relief and shyness which was totally out of character for Castiel. If there was one thing he was not, it was shy. But here was this boy in a TesTamenT tee-shirt, with a smile that lit up the room, and eyes a shade of green that did things to his insides. Again the danger signal flashed, but Castiel’s weakness had always been in staring danger in the face rather than running. Castiel looked down to his desk as the effect of Dean's expression he was sending in his direction, washed over him
Dean could see pink rising in Castiel’s neck and cheeks as it had with himself earlier. There was something comforting in the sight of it. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in the weird way he was feeling. The effects sure looked similar, that was for sure. The hum of uncertainty Dean was feeling completely bolted at the thought of that possibility. Dean couldn’t help but offer a wink when Castiel looked back up at him. It got the reaction Dean was going for as Castiel’s face flushed crimson over the pink.
Castiel smiled despite the foreignness of everything he was experiencing. The wink Dean had just offered had given him fucking butterflies of all damn things. The feeling was short lived when another more repetitive thought came rolling in. ‘This is not going to last.’ Truth was, Castiel had always been a loner and learned early on that getting accustomed to the company of others made it harder when he had to skip town or even the country for that matter. He knew he shouldn’t be getting accustomed to Dean’s attention and friendship even more so. The ‘fuck it anyway’ he’d just said to himself though, was a sign it was already too late for self-preservation anyway.
The classroom was starting to fill up and the noise level had increased quite a bit. Ash and Jo filed in just before the last bell and they grabbed the two spare seats in the back. Jo sat next to Castiel with a smile she sent just to him alone before digging out her notebook and pen from her bag. Dean frowned seeing it, and it only deepened when Castiel gave her one back that was on the side of 'come and get it'. Dean knew Jo's 'you're hot, let's make out' look- intimately too. She must have felt the heat from the evil-eye he was giving her because she glance over at him and with a knitted brow mouthed a silent 'what?'. Ash took the seat in front of Dean, pulling his attention from her. When he slid behind the desk he shot a fist up into the air Bruce Springsteen style to silently celebrate his arrival. Castiel chuckled shaking his head, and proceeded to get his notebook out.
Mr. Shurley entered the classroom behind the last few students to arrive and walked behind his desk while pushing up his glasses. The class quieted quickly as students took their seats.
Mr. Shurley was a short man wearing a long sleeved white button down dress shirt tucked into his skinny jeans. His hair was in unruly curls, and the dark circles under his eyes gave the impression of someone who didn’t sleep much. Despite appearances though, he moved energetically wearing a pleasant smile. Castiel got the feeling he was really going to like this particular teacher.
“All right guys. First, we uh, have a new student. To save him the embarrassment of having to stand up to recite his name in front of all of you, I’ll do it for him.” Mr. Shurley said as he came around his desk and leaned, half sitting on it. He gestured his hand in Castiel’s direction which all the other students followed the direction of as they turned to look at him. “Castiel James Novak. He heralds from New York, is a straight A plus, plus student and appears to have excellent tastes in music.” Mr. Shurley gestured with a point towards Castiel’s shirt with his index finger.
Some of his classmates giggled which had Castiel slumping a little behind his desk grinning like a dimwit under the weight of their attention. There had never been that many eyes on just him at once. Mr. Shurley just smiled wider and added, “Welcome, Castiel, to my humble abode. People of the Kingdom, what do we say?”
Everyone responded at once, “Welcome, Castiel!” Their tone wasn’t at all lifeless, but instead enthusiastic. Castiel wondered if this was just the affect Mr. Shurley had over the class or was this the disposition of the people in this town, in general.
Mr. Shurley pushed his glasses up again as he added, “Please, Castiel…call me Chuck. I prefer hearing that over ‘Mr.’ and please don't call me ‘Shurley’. Seeing the kids didn't catch on to that joke he continued, "I keep meaning to change my name all together to Carver Edlund.” Chuck was now looking up to the ceiling, thinking to himself like there was no one else in the room. A moment later he brought his attention back to his class. In a lower voice as he spoke more to himself, “Write some books... anyway.” Chuck shook his head, rattling himself from where ever he had drifted off to and grabbed a stack of papers off his desk. He stood and made his way to the chalkboard behind his desk. He picked up a piece of chalk and began writing quickly as it made taps, scratches and small squeaks. “I know we have Christmas break coming so I’m going to go ahead and assign this now so you're aware.” He put the chalk down after writing ‘The works of Kahlil Gibran’.
He looked over the class and addressed them, “The Prophet and The Madman. Now, The Madman is way too long for us to study in its entirety, so we are uh, just going to focus on the portions ‘The Greater Sea’ and ‘Faces’.” Chuck licked his index finger to get a better grip when he separated the papers in his hand. He handed small stacks to the students in the first row of desks. “Now pass these back.” As the papers made their way to each student Chuck went to his desk, picked up some books, and began passing them out two per desk.
Castiel scanned over the paper. Typed out on it was a repeat of what Chuck had said and what he was expecting them to focus on while reading the material. The books placed on his desk were The Prophet and The Madman and Castiel smiled as he held them. He knew these works like the back of his hand which was usually the case with any work brought up in Language Arts everywhere he went. He had already read the works and thoroughly understood the subject matter. He glanced over to Dean who was looking at the books in his hands like they had grown legs. As if Dean could feel Castiel looking at him, he met Castiel’s eyes briefly before Dean sighed and put the books down. It was obvious Dean was not at all excited about the prospect of having to read, as his expressions turned from blank to insecure. Dean turned his eyes from him then to stare out the window.
Chuck returned to the front of the class and continued, “What I want you to do is take these books home and at least look over them. On the back of the paper I had you pass back, there’s questions. Not about what you’re reading really, it’s more about how you’re interpreting what you’re reading. While it’s not mandatory you do the worksheet, those who brave the task will not only receive my undying respect and permission to use my name as a reference on your application to work at the local burger shack come Summer, but this could save your hide should you fail the exam. Earn an A or B on this," Chuck held up the paper, “and even if you fail the exam, you just might pass this class." He put the paper down and continued, “We'll begin reading in the class until break and then we will begin again when we start back. We'll discuss the author and the main idea of his work as outlined on the paper I handed out. Don’t lose the outlines and ‘My dog ate it’ will be met with the fullness of my wrath which, at best, will come in the form of a big fat F. Capiche?” He looked around the class over the rim of his glasses that had slipped again and was met with groans.
“Good. I’m glad we're understand each other.” he pushed his glasses back up. “Ultimately, my goal is to have each of you write an essay on a portion of these works at the end of the school year. Just pick a portion that speaks to you on a personal level, outline and go with it. Everything I’m doing has a purpose, I promise you, and if you put your full effort into this work, that essay at the end of the year will be like a walk through the Garden of Eden.”
More groaning and a few 'lame’s sounded around the room and Chuck replied with a chuckle, “What? You actually thought you'd get out of working your tuckus off this year? Come on. We're at the half-way mark guys. I went easy on you the first half, but now we have to get down to business. Not to mention, if I don’t have anything to show for being here I can’t get paid. Not that I get paid all that much in the first place.” The last sentence Chuck mumbled out as if he was talking more to himself again rather than the class, his eyes to the ceiling once more. He seemed to perk back up in a snap when his eyes came back down to meet his students. “All right! Let’s start. Please, open The Prophet and we will take turns reading sections. Tara, you start until I say stop and we will move on down until each one of you have had a turn.” Chuck said to the girl in the front seat near the windows. “Begin.”
The class was over far too soon and at the end of it an announcement came over the intercom that there would be an early release from school after all. The class cheered and everyone started filing out of the class quicker than they probably would have if they were just leaving for another class. Dean stood up and said his goodbyes to Ash. He gave Jo more of the evil eye, but said his goodbyes with his usual nonchalant tone. She still flipped him off before turning harshly, her long hair nearly whipping him in the face. He turned to Castiel who waited patiently with a questioning expression having seen Jo's response to Dean that seemed to come out of left field.
Dean looked nervous all the sudden. He cleared his throat and his voice wavered slightly, “My Dad said you’re to catch a ride from us.”
“Yeah, I heard. That is fine. I hate riding the bus anyway.” Castiel answered. He wondered if Dean was expecting him to deny the offer because the tension Dean was under visibly relaxed.
“I gotta go to the office and call Missouri. She’s a friend of my dad’s. She picks us up from school when one of us gets sick or is needing a ride and Dad can’t make it. She’s cool.” Dean said shoving the paper and books into his bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and suddenly appeared apprehensive again as he added, “You could come to our house 'til Dad gets home. I mean, if your folks are okay with it.” Dean’s cheeks started to turn pink again, “I mean, if you wanna. Whatever.” he shrugged trying hard to play it cool like was was okay either way it went even on the inside he was begging with repetitive 'please say yes man.'
Castiel threw his own bag over his shoulder and answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I would like that.” He didn’t add that not only would he like to, but he wouldn’t be missed at home by anyone who would disapprove anyway.
Dean relaxed again and nodded with a tension releasing sigh. Castiel added, “Though I do need to call and make sure Gabriel and Anna know where I am when I arrive at your place.”
Dean noticed Castiel left out his parents and even his brother Michael from the list of people to call but didn’t ask. Whatever. He was just stoked to be getting more time with the guy. He suddenly felt like he had won some kind of prize.
"Sweet man. Al'right." replied almost too eagerly.
~*~
Missouri pulled up, waving Dean and Castiel towards the car. Sam was already in the front seat, so they rushed through the freezing rain and climbed haphazardly into the backseat together.
“You boys good to go?” Missouri asked them without turning around.
“Yes ma'am.” Dean replied, his teeth chattering and hair dripping wet. Castiel had fared better since he had a hood on his jacket which he pulled from his head leaving his hair all kinds of messed up. He didn't bother to fix it either, and it had Dean stifling a wolf whistle he was a fraction of a second from making.
Missouri turned her whole body half way in her seat so she could face them both. Whatever it was she was going to say was forgotten. Her eyes widened for a moment and her ebony brow tensed. Castiel simply stared back at her wondering if he had done something wrong. Missouri’s gaze passed between Dean and Castiel a few times before her brow got impossibly more pinched. Dean was about to ask her what was wrong, but her face relaxed suddenly like someone had flipped a switch and her lips curled into an affectionate smile. Her eyes came to rest on Castiel, “You’re in good hands sugar. Don’tchu worry.” she said to him and her expression turned weighted as she glance once again between Dean and Castiel. Finally she said, “Buckle up you two.” She turned around and pulled the car out and onto the street.
Castiel looked to Dean who simply shrugged at him. He swiped a hand over his brow before running it through his hair to chase away the rain droplets that were still dripping and running down his face. It appeared Dean was clueless to what Missouri had been saying to him, but Castiel had the oddest sensation the woman knew something about him or even his family; like a secreted away truth he didn’t know himself, but she could read like it was written on his skin. It made him shiver involuntarily. It hadn’t passed his notice the way she had looked from Dean to him either. If he didn’t know better, he would think she could see what was going on between them at just a glance. 'But that’s impossible’
The rest of the ride Sam chatted about school, his friends, and about the rescheduling of his field trip. Dean teased him a number of times to which Missouri had to tell Dean to stop being a bully. When that didn't detour him, she tried to get in a few swats at his legs from the front seat which never reached him entirely, causing them all to laugh and Missouri throwing out the promise, "You know you got to get out of the car sometime." Castiel didn’t speak much, but he enjoyed the bickering back and forth as well as the simple conversations. Several minutes later they turned into a long drive leading off of the main road. The drive was small and there was only enough room for one car. To the right were woods and to the left was a corn field, brown and dried by the winter frost. As they rounded the turn, a two story farm house came into view. Castiel could tell it was very old and from the looks of it, it had been renovated at some point with special attention paid to keeping the white washed panel siding and everything else about the structure in tune with its age. The car rolled to a stop in between the house and a long row of what appeared to be interconnecting garages with a long gambrel roofed barn at the farthest end.
They exited the car and everyone made their way to the porch. Dean opened the screen door and proceeded to unlock the door. Once the lock clicked he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Castiel followed in behind everyone and found himself standing in a small kitchen. Looking to his left just inside the door, he saw two large brown buckets on a shelf with a ladle floating on top of water. Sam took a hold of the handle and scooping up some of the water, sipped from the cup of the ladle and then put it back into the bucket. Sam noticed Castiel watching him.
“Dad's working on the plumbing in his spare time. We have bathrooms but that is about the all of plumbing right now. This house is from like the early 1800s and was in bad shape before Dad practically rebuilt it.” Sam said looking around, “This place didn’t even have electricity when first bought it, but he is good with stuff like that.” Sam finished proudly.
“I love it.” Castiel said honestly and secretly hoped Detective Winchester chose not to change too much about the house. Even the scent of the home was accented by age and it was oddly comforting.
Sam’s smile broadened, “Yeah, it’s pretty gnarly. I’m gonna put my bag up.” Sam turned and made his way up the narrow staircase leading to the second floor. Castiel walked further into the kitchen and turned to his left. Dean was standing just inside the entryway to the dining room staring at Castiel and he stared back. Something silent and invisible passed between them and for the second time that day Dean felt goose-bumps rise under the weight of Castiel’s gaze. A gaze that broke when Missouri came from behind Dean and smacked him on the back of the head.
“Hey!” He exclaimed and rubbed where his head had been offended by her hand.
“Stop staring at your company, boy. It’s rude.” she said as she made her way further into the kitchen and started rummaging in the fridge. “I’m going to get supper started. How about you give Castiel a tour so he can make himself at home? Hmm?” Missouri suggested as she took some things out of the fridge and put them on the counter. She didn’t look at either of them again as she got work, humming a tune as she did.
Dean’s face was red. He knew it, but he motioned with the lean of his head for Castiel to come towards him and Castiel accented. Once he was beside Dean, Dean offered with the roll of his eyes, “This, of course, is the dining room. Over here is the living room.” From the direction of the kitchen Missouri called out, "Don't you roll your eyes at me." While Castiel shot an astonished glance towards the kitchen, Dean simply turned to his left and continued walking. Castiel explained it away as Missouri knowing Dean well enough to predict his next move at being chastised. They entered a spacious room that contained a large fireplace and a large window that covered the expanse of the whole wall, from floor to ceiling. Castiel could imagine what bright the room would be on sunny day as the rays lit the walls painted in a soft shade of peach. A sparsely decorated Christmas tree was in front of it and the only furniture in the room was a long couch that lined one wall and a recliner that sat in front of a small TV with antennas on the top wrapped in tin foil. To the right was another entry way which Dean motioned in the direction of with his hand.
“That’s the way to my dad’s room and the back door. Come on.” Dean started to head back towards the kitchen. Missouri was already stirring something in a large pot on the stove as cubes of meat sizzled in a frying pan. She still took no notice of them as they began to ascend the stairs.
Castiel loved the creaking and moans of the steps beneath his feet as they moved up the narrow staircase. It was blanketed in darkness and as they got to the top, a small window allowed enough light for Castiel to observe his surroundings. To his left was a loft like area where there was another long couch in front of a small TV. On the floor in front of it sat both an Atari and a Nintendo. To his right were two bedrooms which had to be Sam and Dean’s.
“That’s Sammy’s room.” Dean motioned with his hand to the closed door on the left. He could see the movement of Sam behind the door from the shadows his coming and going made in the gap between the scuffed wood flooring and door. “And this one’s mine.” Dean continued as he walked towards the closed door on the right and opened it to reveal a very bright and airy room which was not at all what Castiel had expected considering the darkness of the rest of the upstairs.
The walls of Dean’s room held aged wallpaper but nothing else. No pictures or posters, just faded flower print stained in tobacco smoke and time. A simple dresser lined the left side wall with a lamp and a picture in a simple wooden frame on top. A full sized bed rested close to a large window which allowed for an abundance of light even with the almost dreary weather conditions outside. Dean threw his bag into a corner of the room and plopped himself down on the edge of the bed which bounced and squeaked.
Castiel laid his own bag down on the floor next to the dresser more carefully than Dean had his own bag, as the strap slid down his arm. His eyes pulled to the picture on its top is a simple cherry stained oak frame. The word 'family' in silver plating decorated the bottom half. He picked it up realizing it was a family portrait. Dean, a young boy leaning back against his father, a wide smile and flushed cheeks like his father had been tickling his ribs just moments before the camera clicked. Baby Sam in the arms of whom Castiel assumed was their mother, fingers in his mouth with a blank expression given to the camera which likely had no one behind it to encourage him to smile. A solitary family moment caught and cherished. Mother and father completed the bond with arms around their children and each other. Castiel felt drawn to the woman’s face where kindness and strength radiated behind her eyes. Her smile, warm and nurturing, wrenched at something within Castiel’s own heart- something he forgot he had ever craved.
“She’s beautiful.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he had said them, his fingers touching the glass and sliding down the length of her hair as he thought on his own mother. Something he hadn't done in years.
“She was.” Dean said solemnly and Castiel turned to him then. Dean’s countenance had fallen, and something flickered in his expression, but it was gone before Castiel had time to define it.
“She died when I was four. House fire. Police called it an accident.” Dean said in a flood of words letting the word ‘accident’ trail off like some open ending to a film. The weight of it seemed to push down around them somehow. Dean turned his head to look out the window and wondered why he was even saying these things to Castiel when it took a hell of a lot longer to share this information with anyone else.
“I’m sorry.” Castiel responded sincerely, replacing the picture back where it had been with a reverence he felt was owed. He wondered if this was the only picture of his mother Dean had. There wasn't many pictures of his own mother left. His father had thrown most of them out in a fit of rage one day. He remembered digging the picture of his own mother out of the trash after this father had passed out from downing several a dozen shots of vodka. He had tucked it away in a shoebox and shoved the box to the very back of his closet back at the family's estate in New York where it still sat collected layers of dust. “My mother abandoned us when I was little. I barely remember her.” he offered and turned to Dean.
“I’m sorry too man.” Dean replied turning back to Castiel. They were staring at each other again, but Sam was the one who broke it this time as he came barreling into the room.
“Hey! Wanna see something cool?” he asked excited and hopeful.
Sam really did remind Castiel of a puppy. He could practically see an incorporeal tail wagging with the way his bright eyes were beaming and his smile wide. Castiel nodded with a smile and began to follow behind Sam who was already halfway down the stairs. Dean groaned as they made their way down, seemingly having knowledge of where Sam was leading him. The scents of the stew steaming on the stove top was growing stronger and Castiel’s stomach growled as they made their way out of the side door off from the dining room.
They walked out and into a wall of chilled air. The sound of the screen door slamming shut of its own accord behind Dean. They turned right and for the first time Castiel noticed the dried up stalks sticking out above once freshly tilled soil which was now harden by winter's frost. The vegetable garden covered close to an acre of land and looked like it had yield an impressive amount of tomatoes, beans and cabbage a few months before. Just past it were cages surrounded by chicken wire with bits of straw poking out between the hexagonal openings. He caught sight of movement in one of the cages and as they got closer, Castiel could see the cages housed rabbits. Once they reached the rows of cages, Sam freed the latch of one, opened the top and reached in. He pulled out a fluffy black and white speckled rabbit by the back of its neck.
“You have to be careful getting them out. They do have sharp claws, especially watch their back legs 'cause they can kick those for extra damage.” Sam informed as he cradled it in his arms, letting go of the hold he had on its neck.
The rabbit sniffed the air and then Sam’s hand. The smile on Sam’s face was infectious. “These were left here by the previous owners. Dad said they came with the house, but I think he bought them to keep them from being eaten.” Sam added on with a frown, but then his face lit up again. “Here!” He handed the rabbit out to Castiel.
At first Castiel just looked at the little ball of fur and frowned. He had never held a rabbit before so the prospect of holding one now was a little intimidating. Sam seemed to notice. “They don't bite. Well, Peter doesn’t. Here!” and Sam practically shoved the rabbit into Castiel’s arms.
Castiel fumbled with the rabbit in his hands a little before he finally got a handle on it and was surprised at how soft it was. A moment later he relaxed into a smile and began playing with the rabbit’s ears. Sam seeing Castiel warming up to Peter so quickly had him smiling even wider. “See! Told ya!”
Castiel chuckled. “I’ve never held one of these before.”
Dean reached out and petted Peter’s back. A soft smile on his lips as he spoke. “I’m glad Dad let us keep them and not for food.”
Castiel was aware he was staring at Dean again but there was something about him. A pull that nagged at him and it was confusing. Castiel’s smile faded a tad as he tore his eyes away to look back down at Peter and continued playing with his ears while he watched Dean’s hand continue to rub over and through the animals fur. Something about the movements of Dean’s hands caused heat to rise and suddenly Castiel felt an urge to touch the other boy’s hand. He cleared his throat and he gave the bunny back to Sam who placed it back into its cage. It hopped on the straw and started nibbling on its food pellets. The boy then flipped a switch and a series of heat lamps turned on.
Missouri stuck her head out the side door. “Sam? Honey, time to come on in and wash up!” Sam groaned but complied by running towards the house. Dean stood in place so Castiel did as well. After Sam closed the door behind him, Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and inclined his head in the direction of the garden just before turning to walk that way. Castiel followed him as they passed the garden and made their way to a higher hill on top where chestnut trees stood. In the arm of one of the chestnut tree's thicker limbs hung a swing big enough for two people to sit. Dean took a seat and after a moment of hesitation, Castiel did as well..
The sun was beginning to peek through the grey clouds lighting the hillside and as Castiel followed the hill’s slope down and away with his eyes, he could see a road with cars passing in the distance. Dean was looking out and into the sun. Squinting, he took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. His arms were still crossed in front of him which Castiel took as a defensive posture though he wasn't sure yet what Dean was taking a defense against. Castiel waited patiently and took to observing the sun, defiant against the winter clouds. Its light abated the cold chill that was still present especially when the wind blew.
With a natural accord, they worked together taking turns with their feet to push the swing in comfortable silence. There was something harmonious about moving the swing together. The rhythm of who pushed and who pulled intuitively in sync, an unspoken harmony that persisted for a long period of time until Dean broke the silence. He looked to Castiel who returned his gaze.
“We were born in Lawrence, Kansas. A-after our mom died, it was tough.” Tears began to well and sting Dean’s eyes at that admission and he blinked hoping the other boy would think the sun had caused it. “We moved from place to place. Dad, he was gone a lot. Sam and I were sent to live with our godfather, Bobby for a few years.” Dean blinked the tears back again, trying to dry them before they spilled over. “That is, 'til he and Dad had a falling out over Dad needing to be around more. He chased Dad off his porch with a shotgun he was so pissed. Told him not to come back 'til he sobered up and got his head screwed on straight.” Dean smiled a little at the memory of that and continued, “They're cool now and I think it woke Dad up. He decided to become a cop to feel like he was doing something, helping others and do right by me and Sammy like Mom would've wanted him too, I guess. Dad got promoted and we moved here a few years ago.”
Castiel nodded and instead of asking the many questions Dean’s tale had brought up, he told his own story of absent mothers and neglecting fathers. “I’m originally from New York. My mother ditched us when I was seven.” Castiel swallowed hard, his hands clutching harder at the small space of wood between him and Dean. “There’s no trace of her now. No one knows what caused her to all of the sudden to just up and leave us or even where she went in the end. Last place investigators Father hired were able to track her to was Russia, supposedly.”
Dean’s arms relaxed, un-curling themselves from around his chest to rest on his lap. His eyes squinted a little as his gaze turned to the ground for a moment before turning back to Castiel who was looking at him now. Dean leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “You said you lived in France?” He asked curiously while trying to lift some of the weight from the air around them by changing the direction the mutual sharing was going. It didn't quite work and he wondered how long the other boy had been bottling stuff up.
Castiel nodded. “Yes. France, Italy, Australia, even Ireland for a time. My father-.” Castiel trailed off as if trying to find the right words. “My father would never speak of our mother and instead chose to bury himself deeper into his work after he called off the search for her. He moved us around as he pleased. I haven't seen my father’s face in four years. I haven’t heard his voice in nearly a year. It’s just mostly Gabriel, Anna, and me.” Castiel frowned and continued, “And Michael from time to time when he’s not seeing to business affairs for Father.” Castiel’s jaw clenched and released.
Dean couldn't really believe what he was hearing and his heart went out to the other boy. The first few years in which their dad had been gone was bad enough even though they still saw him every few weeks during that time. Dean’s brow tightened and the words came out without thought, “That has to be tough.”
Castiel looked down at his hand which still rested between him and Dean. “Yeah. Well, no greater cross to bear than your own.” Castiel shrugged and added, “But I can't focus on what can’t be changed. I’ve spent too much time being sad- angry. Now I’m just... comfortably numb.”
Really, that was more or less true. When his mom had first taken off, he had cried out for her almost ceaselessly. He and his mother had been inseparable, him clinging to her and she doted on him ceaselessly. It had worried Gabriel and Anna both while his father would hide away, offering no comfort or reassurance that he was at least there. As much as his siblings tried to make up for the mother he yearned for, it was never enough. It took two years for him to stop missing her, and two more to stop hoping to ever see her again. Everyone assumed he had finally got right with everything when he was really just tired of everyone looking on him with pity. The one thing he couldn't seem to pack away so easily was blaming himself for her leaving him. It didn't matter he had nothing that he did to pin it on.
Dean smiled weakly at the Pink Floyd drop and nodded. At least Castiel appeared to have gotten to a place that utterly eluded Dean. Without thinking through his actions, he allowed his hand to slide off his lap to rest on Castiel’s which sat between them. There was a jolt at the connection that spread warmth through them both as their heartbeats quickened. Dean looked into Castiel’s wide, unsure eyes- worried he might have gone a little too far in trying to comfort the other guy. He began to pull his hand away when Castiel turned his hand up under Dean’s, his fingers gripping around his before it could abandon its position. Castiel smiled shyly at Dean which was returned without any apprehension. Neither of them quite understood the feelings stirring within them or the physical reactions they were generating under shared gazes and now touches. It was terrifying and exciting, yes- but it was also familiar and profound.
“Dean!” Missouri called out from the third door of the house which obviously located off of Dean’s father’s bedroom. “Your daddy will be home in an hour. Best get washed up!”
Dean sighed and called back, “Al'right! Be there in a sec!”
Missouri looked at them for a moment more and then closed the door. Dean slipped his hand from out of Castiel’s now loosened grip but continued to gaze on Castiel. Dean wanted to reach out and touch the other boy’s face as a parting comfort but instead, he got up from the swing while sighing.
“You still need to use the phone?” Dean asked.
Castiel realized he had totally forgotten to call his brother and sister. “Yes. I guess I had better.”
Dean nodded and began walking to the house as Castiel fell into step beside him. Up above, the clouds folded over the sun once again like curtains drawing to a close.
~*~
John arrived home in a little less time than Missouri predicted. When he entered he went immediately to the pot of stew that was almost ready on the stove. The aroma was filling the house now which caused more stomach growling from all present. Missouri whacked John’s hand with a wooden spoon playfully and John snapped it back from the pot.
“John Winchester! You’re as bad as your boys. Wash up!”
John laughed and gave her a tight side hug before affectionately planting a kiss on her temple. “Yes, ma’am.” As he was leaving, Missouri reached out and grabbed his wrist firmly. John turned to her, his expression reflecting the concern he found in her own.
“What is it?” He asked her lowly.
Missouri pulled him further towards the front door and she responded in a hushed voice. “The boy-" She paused to take a look around him to make sure none of the boys were lurking around the corner. Satisfied, she looked back to him shaking her head back and forth slowly.
“There’s darkness all around that boy, John." Her voice wavering at the end.
John knew how gifted Missouri was. She had successfully solved several cold cases over the years before he had come to work with the Bartholomew Police. He remembered the first time he ever met her. She knew everything about him and his wife and he had been floored by everything she had told him- even the details that she had no way of knowing. He used to not believe in psychics or the supernatural until he met her. They became fast friends and she grew attached to his boys. He trusted their lives to her without question.
It was based on some of her information that he started to suspect his wife's death was no accident and that his young son had been telling the truth about that night all along, as improbable as it had sounded and despite the evidence. Unfortunately, Missouri was amazing, but even she couldn't see everything.
It was with the full knowledge of how powerful her abilities were that he asked, “Missouri, I kinda need more to go on. What darkness?”
She wrung her hands around the wooden spoon she still held and John put his hand on her shoulder letting her know he was listening. She stilled, looking up into his eyes and her brow knitted together. “Castiel is a good boy- a sweetheart really. He adores Sam and there’s this powerful bond between him and Dean that’s forging.” Missouri left out describing the energy that surged between Dean and Castiel- a rare and powerful energy. There was something else there as well, but thinking on it too much felt like an intrusion so she pushed it away and repeated, “He’s a good boy, but-” She paused and John fought the urge to shake her because he was growing more concerned. His heart dropped when she went wide eyed and then said her next words, “The darkness that surrounds him. Oh John, sugar. It’s the same darkness I saw shrouding over your wife. I- I don’t know what it means.” She took a deep breath and shook her head as if she was needing to remove the same darkness she referred to from blanketing her own mind.
John let go of her shoulder and nodded. He felt like he had been slammed by something hard and cold in the center of his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.” was his response which was thick with emotion. He started to walk away when she grabbed his wrist again, “I don’t know what it means John. It could mean nothing, but well- I would be a horrible friend if I kept it from you. I fear for that young man in there. That darkness is violence, lies and death.”
John took a deep breath and looked at her again,” You think he's in immediate danger?”
Missouri shook her head, “No. Not right now.”
John looked relieved and nodded as he said, “I know I’m not psychic but, seein’ him walking alone this morning- something just wasn’t right. I checked into my resources for any information they had about his family and really there wasn’t much. His mother was reported missing several years ago. All evidence pointing to abandonment rather than foul play.” John had also found the Novak family were heavy hitters that owned one of the largest oil companies in the world, Empyrean. They were self-made billionaires twice over and had their clutches in influential political circles all over the world. The question that troubled him was- why were they in his small town? He knew Missouri was reading his thoughts so there was no need for him to explain anything else he had found. Instead he added, “I’m going to keep diggin’, but I don’t think I’m going to find much more.”
After all, families like the Novaks make it damn near impossible to know the dirty details no matter how much you shovel out the dirt.
He noticed the chastising look on Missouri’s face and John automatically began defending himself, “Now listen, I’ll watch after the boy, but I promise I’m not gonna obsess over what you told me. I won’t do that to my boys again.”
He knew why she gave him that look. He had a long running history of neglecting his sons when new information would come to his attention about his wife’s death. He and his boy’s godfather had gotten into it over that very thing, and it had strained their relationship almost beyond repair. Which reminded him, he needed to put in a call to Bobby and Jody soon considering it had been a few months since they’d last talked. Bobby and Jody loved the boys and John was pretty sure boys were the main reason Bobby still spoke to him at all.
Missouri smiled, satisfied with his answer. She patted his hand, and he gave her one of his own reassuring smile before turning to go see his boys.
“You do need to call Bobby, sugar.” she called after him and clucked her tongue as she went to set the table. ‘I will.’ was John’s mental response.
He entered the living room where the boys were sitting contently watching the TV set. Star Wars was playing in the VHS player yet again. Dean was on the couch with Castiel and Sam was in the recliner in front of the TV. John walked over to Sam and rubbed his head, making the boy shoot his hands up to correct the damage John was doing. “Dad! Not cool. Stop!” John chuckled and took a seat on the arm of the recliner facing towards Dean and Castiel.
‘There’s a powerful bond between him and Dean.’
John could almost see it now, too. “Castiel, how do you feel about staying to eat and then I’ll drive you home? Your parents be okay with that, you think?” John asked. Even though he knew about Castiel’s absent mother and that his father was on the East Coast, he wasn't about to let on he had been digging. Castiel was looking at John and at the suggestion, the boy’s lips curved into a smile. John noted the hopeful expression that his oldest was adorning as well.
“There’s no one home but my brother and sister at the moment Mr. Winchester. They were fine with me being here so long as I’m not here too late.” Castiel answered. Truth was, neither Gabriel nor Anna cared how late he stayed anywhere, but he knew the man would question not having a curfew.
“Good, good.” John smiled. He rubbed Sam’s head one more time before leaving to get a shower before Missouri came in there to hound him.
~*~
Everyone including Missouri sat down to supper a little while later. It was quiet except for the clanking and scraping of spoons in bowls and hushed requests for the passing of rolls.
When they were close to the end of the meal John finally spoke, “So, how's school?”
Sam answered first, “It was fine except no museum. We’ll go after Christmas break though.”
John nodded, “Good, Sammy.”
“Chuck already has an assignment for us to go over during the break.” Dean offered with a frown. “Who gives you work to do on your vacation? It’s not normal.”
“Reading or actual work?” John asked as he took another bite from his roll.
“Reading and a worksheet.” Dean answered.
“So, not much work.” John corrected.
“Reading is work, Dad!” Dean retorted.
“Then why do people do it to relax, Dean?” John reasoned to which Dean groaned knowing he had been bested.
“We could read it together.” Castiel offered.
Dean turned to him as he added, “That’s if your family won’t be doing anything during the break.”
Dean’s expression brightened. “You’d do that?”
Castiel shrugged. “Sure. I know Kahlil Gibran very well. One of my favorite poets.”
"The Prophet, am I right?” John asked.
“Yes. You know it?” Castiel asked truly interested.
John frowned slightly. “Well, just the portion on lovers. It was my wife’s favorite part.” A faraway look took over John as he began to recite the portion he remembered well. It was a verse she had recited when they had taken their vows. It had taken on a greater meaning after she passed away because he knew what it meant to love with everything you had in you, then to have it taken away. If he had known Mary would be taken away from him and he would experience this searing pain in the depths of him that never went away, he would have loved her just as intense and just as free. No regrets. “When love beckons to you follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.”
The last part John ended with a sad smile with the beginnings of tears clearly present. Missouri put her hand on his and Sam jumped out of his chair and put his arms around his father. John allowed his hand that Missouri was holding to remain and he brought up his free hand to hold onto Sam’s arms that were wrapped around his chest from behind.
Castiel was overcome with an emotion he knew all too well and when he let his eyes search out Dean which found him staring back. The awkwardness Dean was feeling was easily readable and Castiel’s heart ached for him. John sniffed, still smiling and let Sam go while moving his hand from under Missouri’s.
Sam returned to his seat and John allowed his eyes to pass between Castiel and Dean. "Kahlil will be a really good read for you, Dean. I’m glad Chuck gave it as an assignment. You’re also lucky to have Castiel here willing to help you out.” John looked at Castiel fondly and repeated the same observation Missouri had made about him, “You’re a good kid, Castiel.”
Castiel suddenly looked both surprised and shy. “Thank you, sir.”
“John. Call me John, son.” John added as he got up to clear the table of his, Missouri's and Sam's bowls. It was clear by the wide eyed look on Dean and Sam’s face that such a request was totally unheard of. They stared at Castiel as if he was the source of the greatest miracle to ever be performed. Castiel’s comfort came from the way Missouri smiled at him and as she gathered his and Dean’s bowls, she winked at him through the smile. Castiel wasn’t sure how he got so lucky to be accepted so quickly within the fold of this family and as much as it comforted, it also caused something akin to dread to blossom in the pit of his stomach.
~*~
It only took a seven minute commute to reach the drive that would lead to Castiel’s house. Sam had to stay home to get ready for bed in case there was school in the morning, but Dean had been allowed to come along.
As Dean sat in the front with his dad, he could feel Castiel’s eyes on him from time to time and Dean had to suppress a smile. He wished he could turn around and look back at him, but the guilt he was grappling with, along with the self-consciousness he was feeling around his dad, kept him from doing so. While he didn’t think his dad knew what he was feeling, he knew his old man well enough that the guy would start asking questions at the first sign of Dean acting off. Questions that he would be uncomfortable answering. It would be that discomposure that his dad would pick up on and that could spell trouble. The way his dad was accepting Castiel and even having Castiel call him by his first name was a pretty big deal. It was only something those close to and within the folds of the family were permitted to do. Otherwise, it was sir or Winchester and Dean was not going to do anything to put that on shaky ground.
They pulled up into the drive, eyes meeting the view of a three story farmhouse that was lit up generously with Christmas lights around the outside frame and windows of the structure. A Christmas tree could be seen through the sheer drapes of the center second story bay window.
The whole air of the home was in stark contrast to Dean’s and it made him feel even more self-conscious than he already had been. To John though, it seemed like a case of overcompensation especially knowing now what he did about the Novaks. John resisted the urge to frown and instead turned to Castiel with a smile once he put the car into park.
“Now son, no more walking to the bus stop. This world’s a little too dangerous. I’ll be here at 0700 sharp if there’s school to take you in. If your parents need to meet me then just give me a call first thing so I know to get out here a little earlier.”
Castiel knew there was no sense in resisting. John Winchester didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and he had no plans to deny himself any future rides with the Winchesters. While what he was experiencing in Dean’s presence was the main draw, Castiel was becoming quickly attached to all of them. It was completely unexpected and terrifying to put it mildly.
Castiel nodded and answered, “Alright. Thank you.”
At Castiel’s words, Dean exited the car. After grabbing his backpack, Castiel squeezed out too. They stood mere inches apart looking at each other for a moment while Castiel pretended to be readjusting the pack’s strap on his shoulder.
“See you tomorrow, Cas.” Dean finally said, his voice carrying the undertone of affection and reluctance.
Castiel didn’t miss the fact that Dean had shortened his name and he couldn’t help but smile in response to hearing it. There was something familiar and welcoming about how it rolled off Dean’s tongue. Suddenly it was the only name Castiel ever remember having or wanted to be called by from that moment on. What the hell is happening to me? he wondered as he nodded.
“I hope so Dean.” he replied, his voice reflecting the same affection and reluctance Dean had offered. Dean smiled as Castiel had, and after another moment of lingering glances, Castiel began walking to his house. Dean stood outside the car until Castiel unlocked the door and gave a wave before he disappeared inside.
Dean climbed back in and shivered. He pretended it had to do with shaking off the cold for his old man’s benefit. His dad made no motion to let on he had known anything was odd between him and Castiel which helped Dean relax as they backed down the drive. Dean was pretty sure this was the first time in the history of his school career he ever wished for school to be open.
~*~
Castiel closed the front door behind him and he leaned his back against it. The heaviness of the atmosphere in the house closed in around him and pushed down on his chest. The peace he found outside its walls was starting to dissolve far too rapidly. He closed his eyes in an attempt to capture the threads but they ebbed away.
“Making friends, little bro? That’s new.”
The voice jarred Castiel and he opened his eyes. “Bite me, Gabriel.” he said as he pried himself from the door. His shoulder solidly pushed his brother out of his space as he passed by him.
“Whoa, chill! I didn’t mean anything by it.” Gabriel trailed behind Castiel up the flight of stairs.
“Yeah, I know.” Castiel sighed as he rounded the corner. Music blared from a closed door behind which was Anna’s room where she preferred to keep herself and any friends she had over safely enclosed. It was a habit formed from too many years of their father or Michael’s judging glares rather than anything against him or Gabriel. They took another flight of stairs that led to the attic which had been converted into a bedroom with its own full bathroom. Castiel flipped the light switch as he entered his bedroom. He threw down his book bag unceremoniously to the floor, kicked off his shoes and leaped onto his bed back first. In contrast to Dean's bedroom, Castiel's was almost floor to ceiling covered in band and movie posters. Zeppelin, Iron Maiden and KISS were plastered beside Aliens, Mad Max, Star Wars and Legend. On the small spaces not covered, black paint peaked through which would have been in stark contrast to the white paint that framed the doors, windows, baseboards and the moulding that lined the ceiling. With how often they moved around, it was a pain to take down and re-tack up the posters, but it made new spaces feel like his own for however long as he was occupying them. He crossed his legs at the ankle and clasped his hands behind his head. Castiel stared up to the constellation map that spread over most of the ceiling above trying to ignore the fact Gabriel had taken a leap of his own into the chair he had moved to the side of the bed. His own legs crossed in a similar way as Castiel’s but resting on top of the night stand. Gabriel was plopping Rollos into his mouth only pausing to rip at the wrapper to pry another one loose.
“So?” Gabriel asked.
“So, what?” Castiel asked back, eyes still focused on the ceiling.
“Who was that?” Gabriel asked making obscene smacking noises while trying to navigate the caramel over his teeth and around his mouth.
“Why are you being so fucking nosy?” Castiel asked. His voice calm and complacent which was in stark contrast to the words he chose.
“Why're you being an inquest dodger?” Gabriel’s eyebrow rose, his smallish lips twitching trying to hold his smile at bay.
Castiel sighed loudly and sat up cross legged braving Gabriel’s questions eye-to-eye. “The Winchesters.”
“Bad ass name. Like the gun? I like them already.” Gabriel said while searching his pockets for something, finally fishing out his wallet and pulling a small paper rolled joint out. “I knew I put you some place." Gabriel spoke to it as if it could hear him. He then retrieved his lighter from his front pocket and putting the joint between his lips, went to lighting it in quick small puffs. Happy with its progress, he sat forward handing it out to Castiel. Castiel simply stared at it.
Gabriel’s eyebrow raised higher this time. “Going to make me toke alone? That’s another first! You dying?”
Castiel answered by taking the joint and pinching it between his thumb and index finger. He put it to his lips drawing in the light smoke in quick intakes of threes and holding his breath to allow the herb time to settle in his lungs.
"So you going to tell me what has you going off the ‘I don’t do the friend thing’ rails?” Gabriel asked as he took the joint Castiel passed back to him. Castiel let the smoke out slowly and defying the urge to cough.
Castiel shook his head, “Nope.” he answered, his throat sounding strained and thick.
Gabriel took a hit and passed. “Why the fuck not?” Gabriel asked while trying to keep ahold of most of his breath as he did.
Castiel took a hit and shook his head again as he passed. He held his smoke a second more and let it out around his answer, “None your biz.”
Gabriel paused, lowering the joint, “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”
Castiel looked at Gabriel and Gabriel sat forward eagerly. “It is a girl! And here I was starting to think you became celibate or some kind of shit.” he took a hit.
Castiel didn’t know if it was because the herb was working or because his need to talk to someone was overtaking him, but the words were out of his mouth before he could think through suppressing them. “More like a guy.”
Gabriel was halfway letting his smoke out when Castiel had said it, and Gabriel’s lungs seized as he was about to say something akin to ‘what the fuck?!’ which sent him into a coughing fit. Castiel just stared at him. After a few moments of coughing until he gagged, Gabriel composed himself. He handed the joint off to Castiel who took it.
Gabriel cleared his throat, “So, by saying it’s a guy, do you mean you have the hots for him or like he is just that cool to elicit your interest in trying to have a friend? Especially where all others have failed?”
Castiel blew out smoke, “I don’t know.” He answered truthfully.
“Whoa, wait.” Gabriel sat forward again, a crooked smile slithering over his face. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
Castiel’s brow tightened so hard that he was squinting at Gabriel, the set of his jaw challenging his brother to say something ridiculing.
“Oh fuck.” Gabriel breathed out, his smile so wide the corners of his mouth were nearly reaching his ears.
Castiel didn’t pass back the joint, instead he took a couple longer draws and flicked the ash into a cup that was sitting on the night stand. He closed his eyes letting the high wash over him. If it was not for the bud, he would be shaking right about now and back peddling. He held his lungs tight until he couldn’t hold them anymore and released. Thick smoke billowed out of his nose and mouth reminding Castiel of a dragon. He started smiling at the mental imagery.
“So-.” Gabriel drew out. “Like, you're into guys then.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I still find women- enticing.” Castiel said squinting, but this time because he was high rather than irritated.
Gabriel smiled again, “You greedy bastard!”
Castiel started to pass the joint to Gabriel, but his brother put his hand up, “No, man. You need that more than I do.”
Castiel shrugged and took a few more long draws. The tips of his fingers were beginning to burn so he opened the nightstand drawer, shuffling through it. Finding what he was looking for, he took the roach clip and fastened it on the joint. He wasn't planning on wasting even a fragment of it. He let the smoke out. “This is some sick shit, Gabe.” Castiel said referencing the weed. “Guess you found a new supplier already?”
Gabriel chuckled and nodded. “Wasn’t too hard. This whole damn town is up in smoke. It’s beautiful.” Gabriel kicked back again returning his feet to the nightstand. “Going to enjoy freedom while it lasts.” Gabriel frowned. “Michael’ll be home before you know it and then it is back to pretending we are just normal folk again for the masses and press.”
Castiel nodded and blew out smoke again. “Yeah. I don’t want to think about it. Sometimes I think he’s worse than Father.”
Gabriel nodded and glanced around the room before adding, “Michael’s lips should be covered in shit with how much he kisses ol’ Daddy-o’s ass.”
Castiel’s face twisted up into a look of pure disgust. “You’re fucking mental, Gabe.”
“Yeah, well…it runs in the family.” Gabriel winked at his baby brother. After a small pause they both started laughing at how true the statement was. The laughter turned into howls and crying, both of them grabbing at their ribs as they doubled over. Once they finally stopped, completely forgetting what they had been laughing about, wiping the tears from their eyes Gabriel asked, “So, what’s his name?”
Castiel put his dust of roach remains and the clip in the cup that he had put the ashes in before and answered, “Dean.”
“Dean.” Gabriel repeated as if testing the name out. “What're you going to do about this ‘Dean’?”
“Fuck, Gabe. I don’t know.” Castiel replied sounding annoyed even though he really wasn’t. At least, he wasn’t annoyed by Gabriel’s question, but rather, he was frustrated by what was going on with him period.
“Sorry.” Gabriel said sounding sincerely repentant.
Castiel waved his hand, “No. It's not you. I- I honestly don’t know what’s going on with me or what this shit is I’m feeling. It’s fucking with my head.”
“And your dick.” Gabriel pointed out.
“Stop thinking about my dick, creep.” Castiel said as he threw a pillow as hard as he could at his brother. Gabriel leaned back further than he had meant to, trying to avoid being hit. The chair and Gabriel went flying backwards, his legs stuck straight up in the air. Castiel was already up and to his brother’s side.
“Owwwww.” Gabriel grunted out pathetically.
“Shit. Sorry, Gabe.” Seeing his brother was fine, Castiel started laughing again while putting his hand out to help his brother up but Gabriel smacked his hand away.
“Yeah, I can tell you're really heartbroken, dickweed.” Gabriel said.
“Don’t be a pussy." Castiel offered his hand again and this time Gabriel took it allowing his brother to help him up and reset the chair.
Castiel regarded his brother intently and Gabriel stared back. “What is it?”
“Thanks.” Castiel replied sincerely.
“For the joint? I always share.” Gabriel said making a face showing it was a silly thing for Castiel to thank him for.
“No dip shit, for listening and not making me feel any more screwed up and confused than I already feel.” Castiel looked down to his socked feet.
“Listen, little bro. You, me and Anna? We’re all we have. We stick together, like we always have.” Gabriel said. He reached out and put a finger under his brother’s chin and lifted his eyes to meet his. “Right?”
Castiel nodded and tears started to well up. Castiel blinked against them and sniffed. He was a fucking mess if he wanted to be honest about it, but he held it together. Crumbling apart in this family just wasn't an option.
“Hey, I’m serious. I don’t care who you get hard-ons over. Hell, I’ll go to bat for the other team if the situation was right.” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows as he dropped his arm.
Castiel’s brow tightened and his head leaned as he chuckled out the question, “You would?”
Gabriel chuckled in return, “Make love. Not war. And for fuck’s sake, never refuse an orgy just because there’s sausage involved. The more the merrier! That’s the Gabriel motto.”
Gabriel slapped his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gave him one of the few serious looks he could ever seem to manage. “Just be careful. Make sure this Dean guy is on the same page as you ‘cause if not, it could get real fugly real fast.”
Castiel nodded quickly and Gabriel was smiling again. “Now, enough of this schmaltzy homoerotic shit. I’m ready to eat the fucking fridge! Come on.”