Work Text:
Castiel’s flexible work schedule means that he gets to go to the gym weekday mornings, just after the start of regular office hours. There’s a nice patch of quiet there, before the retired folk and lunch crowd come in, and Castiel enjoys basking in it.
It’s not the noise Castiel dislikes, precisely. Castiel simply doesn’t have the patience to watch people working out wrong. Whether it’s newcomers trying out sets and not knowing what to do, or individuals who can’t keep up during their group bodypump sessions, or show-offs who take more reps than is healthy for them – they're probably perfectly lovely people, but they still grate on Castiel’s nerves and he would rather not be reminded that they exist.
Yes, he knows that’s not charitable of him. In his defense, he’s chosen to limit his time to the lonely hours instead of making life uncomfortable for everyone in what it is a well-stocked and maintained venue.
Luckily, the only other people who take the same hours as Castiel do know what they’re doing. There’s Lisa, the yoga instructor who warms up before going off for classes in town. There’s Charlie, who has her own flexible work schedule and always asks Castiel before she puts her favorite shows on the big screen. There’s Victor, who’d come in that first time to use the punching bag and noticed Castiel’s eyeballing him; he’d snapped at Castiel, who’d snapped back, and that’d somehow led Castiel into being his second and sometimes sparring with him.
The gym is a neat little microcosm of a community.
Castiel doesn’t consider any of the above friends, though. Charlie may help Castiel obtain semi-rare books on occasion, and Lisa may give tips for muscle-relaxing exercises, and Victor may do wonders for keeping Castiel’s reflexes in shape, but he has no interest in spending time with them outside the gym walls, which Castiel thinks should be prerequisite for upgrading anyone above acquaintance level.
This is why it’s odd when one day, while he and Victor are running together on the treadmills, Victor says, “You doing anything next weekend?”
Castiel pauses. If it were any other acquaintance/stranger, he’d attempt a white lie, but Victor enjoys bullshit even less than Castiel does. It’s one of Victor’s selling points, really.
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Castiel answers, “but at the moment I can’t recall anything pressing.”
“The new Trek movie’s coming out,” Victor says. “Thought you’d be going to watch it.”
“Not the first week.” Castiel slows the machine’s running speed a few notches to catch his breath. “Big crowds.”
“Oh, pity. I got a friend who has a spare ticket for Friday night.”
At this point there should be klaxons screaming in Castiel’s head. After all, he does have several older siblings, all of whom are contentedly paired off or in open relationships. One would think the thirty-odd-years of Castiel being the way he is would’ve been a hint, but such is the way of some families.
Victor isn’t family. Victor isn’t even a friend, though perhaps Castiel has some fondness for the way he doesn’t pull his punches on the mat, or asks for pointers instead of holding a grudge whenever Castiel gets the upper hand.
There is also something to be said for how they got to this conversation. It would’ve taken those many occasions of small talk between their workouts. It would’ve taken that time Charlie took the treadmill next to Castiel, turned the big screen on to the new Hawaii 5-0 and challenged Castiel to not find Kono hot; Castiel had replied that Chin Ho was more his type. Then it would’ve taken the time when Trek XI had been playing on the screens, and Victor had muttered something unflattering about McCoy, which had been a call to arms for Castiel, honestly.
“Does he know you’re telling me this?” Castiel asks.
“Yeah,” Victor says, with a snicker that implies his friend isn’t too happy about that. He hits the button, bringing the treadmill down to a slow walk. “Look man, I’ll be honest with you.”
“Please do.”
“Dean’s a good guy. He’d have to be, to be one of my best friends.”
Castiel wrinkles his nose, various vague memories rising to the surface. “This isn’t the friend that purposely got a job that’s near his parents’ house because he couldn’t bear to be too far away from his mother, is it?”
“Hey, that’s a point in his favor!” Victor protests. “You can learn a lot about a guy based on how he treats his parents.”
Castiel thinks about his own parents, and doesn’t feel too comforted. “I see.”
“He’s a good guy. Funny, a bit of a smart-ass, but reliable,” Victor insists, which are odd selling points as far as Castiel’s concerned. His siblings, when they’d tried to set him up, talked about looks and charm and potential shared interests, but all Victor’s friend has got going for him is that he’s a funny, reliable nerd who is also a momma’s boy.
And that Victor’s expression, which is usually the kind Castiel emulates at work, actually softens when he talks about Dean.
“Just a movie,” Victor says. “If it’s any consolation, he was about as impressed as you are when I brought this up. He was just too stubborn to ask around more after the couple of times he got turned down.”
So no expectations. Assuming that Victor’s telling the truth.
Perhaps it’s that, plus Castiel’s general good feeling about Victor’s taste, plus the endorphins from a good workout, that has Castiel saying, “All right.”
He’d have no problems walking away if it goes south, too.
Castiel doesn’t walk away.
The agreed Friday, armed with popcorn and a suspicious disposition, Castiel allows his body to follow along when Victor pulls him to where his best friend that is Dean appears to be scowling at the movie posters that line the wall. He must be really offended by lens flare.
“Hey!” Victor chirps, and his friend turns around properly. “Dean, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Dean.”
Castiel stares.
Dean, because this must be Dean, stares back until his face goes a little funny. “This is your gym nut?”
Good thing Castiel hadn’t opened with the, This is your antisocial geek of a best friend? It gives him enough time to remember to use the more acceptable, “Hello.”
Dean winces. “Uh… hi.”
“Good!” Victor barks. It would be less unnerving if he grinned the way Gabriel grins whenever he pulls off something like this. Instead, Victor’s expression goes grim like tax-filing time has come early this year and he has to go away immediately to deal with the paperwork. And so he does go away, leaving Castiel alone with a stranger he’s only ever known through the occasional anecdote.
What does Castiel know about Dean? Apparently not enough, because Dean’s wearing a Starfleet shirt despite this being a blind date where people usually aim to impress (Dean’s confident enough to not care?), and Dean’s tan enough to mean that he goes outside a lot (what does he do?) and Dean’s built like he could put Castiel down if he put his mind to it (so why the disdain for Victor’s gym practices?).
Also – Castiel is also aware that this isn’t a nice thing to think – how is someone who looks like Dean still single?
“So,” Dean says. “Do I want to know what Victor said about me, or is ignorance bliss?”
“He just said that you were a good friend,” Castiel admits. “It's very little to go on, though he did talk about you sometimes before. Not that I remember much of it. You must know that I don’t know Victor very well, either.”
“Yeah, he mentioned.” Dean shrugs, and Castiel finds himself following the movement of Dean’s shoulders and arms more closely than is necessary. Castiel also finds that he doesn’t care that he’s doing it.
“I’m not a fan fan of, um… ” Castiel winces. Dean frowns in confusion, but Castiel thinks this could be important. “Of Star Trek, I mean. I don’t – I don’t know all the nuances of the universe. I enjoy the films, and what few episodes I’ve seen here and there, but I’m not… You understand that, don’t you? I don’t wish to lull you with false expectations. I haven’t seen an episode of Deep Space Nine.”
Dean makes a thick, squawking sound before snapping his mouth shut. “That’s what you're... Dude, it's cool,” he says. “Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to enjoy the movies if you want to. Though if you don’t want to, that’s cool, too, I’m sure there’s someone around here who’d want to buy your ticket.”
Castiel doesn’t realize he’s moved until he has a hand around Dean’s forearm. Dean starts in surprise, eyes going even wider when Castiel carefully plucks the second ticket out from Dean’s fingers.
“I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t all that impressed with Eleven but it had some good ideas and I’d like to see where it’s going and, look, I was looking forward to the movie even if the date portion didn’t pan out.” Castiel grimaces. “My apologies.”
Dean tries to suppress the smile for all of two seconds. Good thing he gives up. His smile is quite interesting to look at.
“I’ll pay you back,” Castiel suggests.
“Pay me back?” Dean echoes. “But you’re the one who bought… Oh.” They stare at each other – this may be the start of a trend, though it doesn't feel like an awkward one – and then Dean’s laughing while Castiel stands there smiling helplessly and wondering why he doesn’t feel more betrayed.
“I’m sorry, man,” Dean says, still chuckling, “don’t worry, I’ll get him back for that one. Hey, do you have any drinks? We still have a little more time before we have to hit the line, c’mon.”
Then Dean’s returning the favor of grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him to the concession stand.
Castiel lets him do it, even.
The next Tuesday morning has Castiel on weights. He does some simple reps, just to get his arms going, and then a shadow falls across his face.
“Hey,” Victor says. “Need someone to spot you?”
Castiel smiles up at him. “That’d be nice, thank you.”
Victor settles down on the bench, hands out to support Castiel. It’s just like every other time they’ve done this, except today Victor grumbles under his breath and says, “I wanted to, uh, to apologize.”
Castiel carefully releases the weights and twists around so he can look at Victor properly. “Apologize?”
“Yeah. For the…” Victor sighs. “I’m not always an asshole, Cas, so next time I have a bright idea, you can just tell me to shove it as far as I’m concerned. I hope we’re cool.”
Castiel blinks slowly. “Of course we’re cool.”
“Good, good, I hope we…” Victor trails off, frown deepening when his eyes catch Castiel’s collarbone.
It’s not like Castiel can wear high-necked shirts to the gym. Besides, there’s never much of an audience this early in the morning, and anyone who would see him is either someone who wouldn’t judge, or someone whose opinion Castiel doesn’t care about. Or someone like Victor, who hisses a long string of curses that has Castiel marveling at the sheer creativity of his vocabulary.
“Jesus cockfuck motherfucker,” Victor spits. “I’m gonna get him. Goddamn Dean.”
Castiel raises a hand to brush the hickeys. It’s practically a reflex from hearing Dean’s name, because someone as clever as Dean always gets rendered in high-definition memories of smiles and laughter and maddeningly gentle hands that… Castiel should not think about in a public place such as this. They hadn't talked much during the movie, since that would have defeated the purpose, but afterward, oh afterward, there had been coffee and stories and Dean explaining his own theory on the forking of the Trek univeses and Castiel is certain the sum of all those elements doesn't warrant the way Victor is currently gritting his teeth.
“He said it didn’t work out?” Castiel ventures.
“Yeah!” Victor bleats, and Castiel wonders whether his loyalty should be to the person who’d started this wonderful new thing, or the person who actually is the new thing and would appreciate a head’s up of the oncoming storm. Victor snarls, “Oh, he’s gonna wish he’d never messed with me.”
“But thank you,” Castiel says. “I really appreciate it. I’m sure Dean does, too.”
“Oh, no, he’ll only appreciate it when I’m done with him. What’s going to happen now is that I’m going to tell him that I wanted to make up for Friday’s disaster by setting you up with another friend.” Victor’s eyes practically sparkle. “Someone he knows. Oh, yes, that’s a good one.”
Castiel sighs. “This is normal for you two, isn’t it?”
Victor grins suddenly, a disarming flash of teeth that has Castiel backing up before realizing that Victor has his shoulders in a death grip. “Welcome to the madhouse,” Victor says.