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The room was pitch black when Cas opened bleary eyes. He rolled over in his bed, knowing exactly what time it was before even glancing at his digital clock.
3:12. How surprising.
With a weary sigh, he blinked the sleep away and stared at the large red numbers, waiting for the inevitable.
Two months. Two whole months since he last could get a proper night’s rest. Night after night, like clockwork, he woke up at precisely 3:12. Well, to be accurate, it had been 3:14 the first couple of weeks, then his brain started waking up on its own, two minutes before the dreaded time. Ever since, he was left with no other choice but to listen, for one hundred and twenty long seconds, to the faint rumble of traffic and occasional honks drifting up from the street.
Sure, he could always try to go back to sleep. But at what cost? He had long realized that a brief moment of bliss was not worth startling awake again at 3:14, since he would only end up with insomnia and a zombie-like state the next day.
3:13.
God, could time pass any slower? Catching a bit of sleep before daybreak would be nice. After all, failing the final exam he was taking tomorrow could only jeopardize his whole future, it was no big deal really. Granted, the exam wouldn’t start before 2pm, but he had planned a last study session in the morning to make sure he had everything memorized.
Tearing his eyes from the clock, Cas rolled to his back, staring up at the stained ceiling he could now make out in the dark.
And to think he got away from his nightmare of a roommate to live off-campus on his own because he was positive it would solve all his problems… Even visiting that tiny shabby place almost a year ago had sent him over the moon — cockroaches or not, being tucked away on the seventh floor meant being shielded from the hectic Manhattan life below and finally getting enough quality sleep to deal with both his studies and his part-time job. To be fair, not once since then did he have any reason to regret his decision.
That was to say, until the crazy old lady moved in upstairs two months ago — at least he assumed that was an old lady. He never had the exquisite pleasure of meeting her, but if the barely human sounds coming from right over his bed every single night were any indication, it could only be a very old woman. Or a velociraptor.
AAAAAAAAAAAH YAYA YAAAAAAAH YAYA YAAAAAAH YAAAAH YAYAAAH
Cas grunted, rolling on his left side once again. Here we go, 3:14. Right on cue, lady.
OHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOO OHYAYAAAH YAYA YAAAAAAH YAAAAAH YAYAH
YEYEYEYEYEH YEYEYEH YEYEYEH OHOHOHOHOH
YEYEYEYEYEH YEYEYEH YEYEYEH OHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOH AAOOOOOH AAAOOOOOH HOOOOO HAAHA
Oh, she was quite on form tonight, was she? Hitting all those notes wasn’t something she was capable of just every night. Most of the time she could only shrill a few ones here and there in no particular order until she grew tired of it.
Trying his hardest to block out the high-pitched screeches mercilessly piercing his paper-thin ceiling to drill holes in his skull, he squeezed his eyes shut and put his pillow over his right ear. Well, at least, this wasn’t as bad as that one time she shrieked the same ‘YEYEYEYEYEH’ over and over for a full hour. It had grated on his nerves so much that, for the first time ever, he had stormed out of his studio and run upstairs to bang on his new neighbor’s door, which was very unlike him, but he was desperate. He even had to bit back a string of profanities at some point, though he could just as well have lashed out, since she had kept on yeyeying. Had she ignored him on purpose or was she just hard of hearing, he never knew, though the latter was more than likely — for all he knew, she probably made herself stone-deaf. So he had got back to his bed, defeated and frustrated, still physically shaking from anger long after she finally decided to stop torturing him.
Cas winced at the memory. That happened about three weeks ago, and he had no intention of trying anything like that ever again. Of course, it had crossed his mind more than once that he could just knock at the lady’s door during the day and confront her politely. He almost did a couple of times, but he had darted back to his place before he could even make it to the third step.
Saying that his “people skills” were “rusty” would be an understatement. Not that he was a mean person, far from it, but talking to people, especially strangers, had always caused him a great deal of anxiety. Whenever he spoke, it usually came out wrong, making him sound either like a pompous ass or a floundering mess. How he even managed to make it through years of law school and work at Gas-N-Sip was a complete mystery. Mind you, he did make a lot of progress since high school, but that wasn’t enough. Hopefully he would overcome his social anxiety over time — he was going to need it if he wanted to work for an environmental law firm… So, if he were to run into his old neighbor in the stairs or the hallway someday, maybe then he would say something about the noise nuisance. Maybe.
AAIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE eeeee-eeeee-EEEEEEEEEEE
Cas startled. What on earth was that? She never got to that part before! Was she turning into some kind of beast?
He rolled on his stomach, clutching the pillow over his head. Ugh, if only he hadn’t forgotten to buy a new box of earplugs at the store yesterday! Well, nevermind. Most of the time, he was waking up with just one or none anyway. And some had probably left for the magical land where missing socks, combs and pens live happily ever after.
AAAAAAAAAAAH YAYA YAAAAAAAH YAYA YAAAAAAH YAAAAH YAYAAAH
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Was she seriously starting over right now?
He briefly considered calling the police but dismissed it out of hand. If sending the authorities to that poor woman’s in the middle of the night wasn’t bad enough, the only thing he dreaded even more than talking to people face-to-face was talking on the phone. The one and only time he did bring himself to do it — and boy was he a nervous wreck — the man who answered had laughed at him for a good ten seconds before telling him to please stop wasting the NYPD’s time sir, and just hung up. On second thought, 'old lady yodeling him awake' might not have been the best way to phrase his problem.
LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO
Oh no, not the broken record again! How in the world was he supposed to get back to sleep tonight?
The next moment, Cas’ anxiety levels went through the roof. He was so going to fail tomorrow! He would never graduate and he would never get the job of his dreams! He was going to work at Gas-N-Sip forever, selling lottery tickets, energy bars and cheap detergent all his life with Steve written on his nametag because ‘Castiel is just too weird a name for the customers’, then die poor and miserable, with no one to remember that his greatest accomplishment was mastering after years of practice the fine art of filling the slushie machines without ruining his shoes in the process! Oh no no no no no no no no—
For God’s sake, Castiel, stop freaking out!
A hand on his chest, he inhaled deeply, counted to ten and let out a long, trembling breath. Then he started over again. And again. He was not going to fail tomorrow. But he needed to rest, one way or another.
LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO
Cas gulped. He had to go upstairs, didn’t he? Oh dear, what was he even supposed to say? ‘Hello Ma’am, I’m Castiel, your downstairs neighbor, very pleased to meet you. Oh, and if you would be so kind as to shut the fuck up and let me sleep, that would be greatly appreciated. Have a good night.’ Yes, that would work for sure. But what other option did he have? None that he could think of.
It took him five whole minutes to pep talk himself into getting up and another five to build up the courage to unlock his door and step out. Then five more of fidgeting to start climbing the stairs. When he finally reached his neighbor’s door, she was still lololing her lungs out.
Okay, he was going to do this. Any second now.
Come on, just get this over with.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked loud and clear, and waited, his fingers drumming a nervous beat against his thighs. Please open the door, please open the door, please open the door…
Against all odds, he heard footsteps coming closer — though the screeches weirdly didn’t stop — and Cas felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. What if she was even more insane than he thought and about to welcome him with a rifle? Oh please don’t open the door, please don’t op—
The lock clicked before he could make a run for the stairs, and the door squeaked open.
Cas could only blink. He had expected a frail wrinkled woman with a wispy halo of white hair and pale mad eyes, or perhaps even an actual velociraptor in a flower dress and a blonde wig, but certainly not this… male underwear model standing in front of him in nothing more than Star Wars boxers. Or was it Star Trek? He always got those two mixed up.
“Yeah?” The young man yawned, running a hand through his messy sandy hair before rubbing his eyes.
“Do you—” Cas croaked and had to clear his throat. “Um, do you live here?”
The stranger was now staring at him with wide green eyes, and wow, rude, for one thing. Some sort of warning would have been considerate.
“Uh, yeah? Why, who’s asking?”
LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO LOLOLOLOLOLO
Cas tilted his head. If this man was living here, and was obviously not the person screeching for dear life, then who— Oh. The lady wasn’t doing it on purpose. She was senile, and her grandson was taking care of her. Of course. Well now he just felt like an ass.
The words came out in a rush. “I’m-Castiel-I-live-downstairs-I’m-sorry-to-bother-you-but-could-you-please-ask-your-grandmother-to-practice-her-singing-at-some-other-time? Don’t-get-me-wrong-she-does-have-a-lovely-voice-but-I-have-an-extremely-important-exam-tomorrow-and-I-really-need-to-sl—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on! My grandmother?” The confused frown on the young man’s face suddenly cleared. “Oh right! You mean Jefferson Starship?”
“I… I beg your pardon?”
“Jefferson Starship, that’s my parrot. Can you hear him from downstairs? Shit, I’m sorry! He’s a real pain in the ass tonight but I didn’t realize he was that loud! I sleep with earplugs, y’see? I think the only reason I could even hear you knock is I got up to take a leek.”
Cas wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was stuck on a single word. Parrot. The yodeling hellish beast that had been waking him up every night for two months was just a parrot. Well that made so much more sense than a raptor. Why didn’t he think of that? Now that he was closer, the singing was unmistakably coming from a bird, not some lunatic woman.
“You called your parrot Jefferson Starship.” Wasn’t that an old rock band? How odd.
“Um, yeah. Because he’s horrible and hard to kill.” He grinned to himself like it was some sort of joke he was proud of, but it only puzzled Cas further. That’s when his neighbor’s eyes grew comically wide. “Not that— Not that I tried to kill him! I just— I meant—” He was rubbing his neck now, smiling sheepishly. “I tried to give him away to friends some time ago, but nobody wanted the damned beast, so I kept him. I guess that feathery ass nightmare kinda grew on me.”
Cas let out a chuckle. Which was… unexpected? Loosening up with people he literally just met was not something he did often. But somehow he couldn’t help it, his neighbor’s foul mouth and awkwardness were quite endearing.
“So you’re Castiel, huh? About time we met! I tried your door a shitload of times since I moved in — y’know, just to play nice and ask you if you could hear the bird and all — but either I’m the unluckiest bastard alive or you’re even busier than crabs in a bordello, because man, I swear you’re never home. Even thought the place was vacant till I saw your name on your mailbox. I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.”
“Oh,” Cas choked, nervously shaking Dean’s firm hand. Forget about loosening up, breathing had just become a problem again. So all those times he had heard knocking at his door and ignored it these past couple of months, it had been Dean, desperately trying to be a decent neighbor? Oh that was bad, that was really bad. He hated answering the door, even more so when the door didn’t have a peephole. The idea that he could get face to face with just anybody — most likely someone he didn’t want to talk to — scared him to death. It could always be the sixth-floor young woman wanting to borrow some sugar, and there was no way he was letting her touch his arm and wink again, let alone end up on his tiny couch somehow crying about her childhood, once was enough, thank you. So now, every time there was a knock on his door, he just played dead and waited for the footsteps to go away.
Castiel, you absolute idiot. He could have known about the parrot ages ago.
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. Oh right, he was supposed to give an answer.
“I, um, study a lot. With my headphones on. My apologies.”
Dean just stared at him. Could he tell that was a lie? Well that wasn’t exactly a lie, he did study a lot. The only untruth was the headphones part.
AAIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE eeeeeee-eeeee EEEEEEEEE
They both startled, jerking their hands away, and only now did Cas realize their handshake had lasted way longer than necessary.
“Holy crap! Totally forgot that one.”
Dean ran off somewhere Cas couldn’t see, leaving him at a loss as to what he was supposed to do now. Surely it would be rude to leave without some sort of goodbye, wouldn’t it? He’d just… wait here, then.
“Hey Cas, don’t stay out there all alone! Come see the little fucker who woke you up.”
‘Cas’? “Oh, um, that’s quite nice of you but—”
“Dude, I’m not the goddamn Queen of England. Quit quite-nicing me and just come in, okay?”
Cas shifted uncomfortably on the doorstep. He really needed to go back to sleep, but declining twice in a row would be socially unacceptable, he was almost certain of it. Maybe he could just step inside for a minute then politely see himself out.
The studio, though just as pocket-sized as Cas’, looked nothing alike. Without dozens of law books all over the place, it looked almost spacious, which might just be a result of the large mirror covering an entire wall. Posters were plastered everywhere — walls, doors, fridge, even closets? His neighbor clearly had a passion for movies, classic cars and, quite unexpectedly, ballet dancers.
Dean was leaning over a birdcage in a corner, gently stroking a magnificent green parrot through the open door. “All right, lil’ guy, time to go night night,” he whispered between tongue-clicking and kissing noises. The bird was responsive, gradually keeping his lololing down in favor of quieter beeping sounds, closing his eyes contentedly now that Dean was petting his yellow head.
Captivated by the sweet exchange, Cas let his gaze wander up from the parrot to his owner, who was still making soothing kissing noises. Dean had beautiful lips, he couldn’t help but notice. Not just his lips, to be perfectly honest. He was a very handsome man, with delicate features and yet a certain rugged charm about him.
Dean carefully shut the cage. “All right, that should do it, he’s gonna m—” Turning back to Cas, he faltered for a second, then looked away, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “He, uh… He’s gonna mumble himself to sleep now.”
Cas took a quick step back. Oh no, he was staring and standing too close again, wasn’t he? Many people had called him a creep for that, but no matter how hard he tried to grow out of that habit, he just couldn’t seem to stop when someone had his full attention.
Fortunately, his neighbor didn’t seem to hold it against him, as he took them both a few feet away from the parrot with an apologetic smile. “Look, man, I feel real bad about the bird waking you up. It’s all my fault. I used to work hella early back when I was in Kansas, and the Trololo song was my alarm tone for like, years. So lil’ Pavarotti on helium here started singing it every single night with that ‘lovely’ voice of his — and lemme tell you my brother hated his guts because of that. Anyway, I think it’s hardwired in his system now or something because he kept on doing it — the parrot, not my brother — even when I stopped getting up at ungodly hours. I mean, most of the time I sleep like a baby with the earplugs so I don’t mind so much, but I was worried about the neighbors. Plus the damn song makes me wanna punch that Russian guy in his stupid face now. I bet you do too, huh?”
“Is that ‘Russian guy’ the original performer of the song? I can’t say I’m familiar with it.” Cas glanced at the parrot, who was now quietly chirping into his feathers. “I only know the Jefferson Starship cover.”
That poor attempt at a joke fell flat.
Dean just blinked. “You’re kidding, right? Gotta say you have a hell of a poker face, buddy.”
“I’m not kidding about being unfamiliar with the original song, if that’s what you’re asking. Why? Is it that popular?”
“You’ve got to be shitting me. How could you have missed it? It was everywhere a few years back. C’mon, what about the Trolling Saruman video?”
What on earth was he talking about? “What’s a saruman?”
“What’s a— Dude, you’re pulling my leg, right?!”
Dean looked so utterly shocked Cas felt his cheeks burn. He dropped his eyes to the floor, his voice coming out a pathetic squeak. “Um, no?”
That was it. The moment people he somehow took a liking to realized his total lack of pop-culture knowledge and decided he had to be the most boring man on the planet.
“Saruman? The Lord of the Rings? No?” Now he just sounded disappointed.
Cas had heard of The Lord of the Rings, of course — he wasn’t that clueless — but he knew nothing about it except that it was an extremely long trilogy set in some fantasy world. It figured on the endless list of classics he had every intention to watch someday, but somehow never did. The same went with the books.
An answer was still expected from him though, so he just shook his head, his throat too tight to even speak a word. He knew all too well what was about to happen. Dean was going to make fun of him and quickly change the subject, secretly pitying him. They obviously had nothing in common, so any future conversation between them could only be awkward and forced, as they would quickly run out of things to talk about and he couldn’t understand his references anyway. And with time, Dean would come up with increasingly poor excuses to escape his insipid company.
That was the only possible outcome, he was absolutely positive. And yet he could not be more wrong.
“Cas, buddy, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life if you don’t know your classics? There’s no way in hell my own neighbor goes another week without the masterpiece that is the Lord of the Rings in his life, not on my watch. You gotta come over this weekend. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Cas was taken aback. His eyes shot up, searching his neighbor’s face for any sign of mockery, yet failed to find any. Was Dean genuinely willing to be in his company for a dozen hours? Did it mean he was interested in getting to know him? “You… You want me to watch it with you?” He had to ask, just to make sure.
“Well, yeah. I mean, if you want to? Unless you’re too busy or—”
“I can’t.”
“Oh…” Dean sounded… disappointed? “Uh, okay then, neverm—”
“No, Dean, that came out wrong. I meant I can’t this weekend. I’m working at a convenience store. But I’m free after my last exam tomorrow.” The words were out before Cas even knew it.
What was happening? Since when was he okay with spending that much time with a virtual stranger? The very idea should be filling him with anxiety right now, but no, he was actually thrilled about it. That was so unlike him.
“Yeah?” The hopeful note in the other man’s voice was just what he needed to make up his mind.
“Yes, Dean, I will be happy to watch this trilogy with you.”
“Awesome.” A shy smile was tugging at the corner of Dean’s mouth, probably matching Cas’ own.
Well that certainly was an unexpected turn of events. He had come up here wishing for the ear-splitting noise to stop, and he… just made a friend? A friend with gorgeous sparkling eyes and a lean athletic body he was trying hard to keep out of his line of vision. Right. What could go wrong?
“May I ask you a question, Dean?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Why 3:14? I assume Jefferson Starship starts singing at 3:14 because that’s the time you used to set your alarm for. But that seems oddly specific.”
Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I needed to be up at 3:15, but what can you do, I’m a pie enthusiast. And a bad pun enthusiast, as you can see,” he added with a nervous chuckle.
Cas was liking that man more by the minute. “Not at all, I’d say that’s quite a clever pun.”
The tips of Dean’s ears reddened at the compliment. He scratched his arm uneasily, which seemed to make him realize his current state of undress — how could he not notice before? His flush spread to his face, and yet he managed to summon a cocky smirk to his lips.
“Okay, I’m gonna put some clothes on. No need to show off my sweet six-pack now you’re down for movie night, huh? I dig your PJs, by the way.”
Cas looked down in horror at his childish button-down pajamas covered in cartoon bees. Oh. Oh no. He had spent the last half-hour or so with one of the finest specimens of humankind, and he had been wearing all along his most ridiculous— Just wait a second. What was that part about the ‘sweet six-pack’? Was that a flirtation? He wasn’t sure, but the thought made him weak in the knees.
“So,” Dean began while slipping into black sweatpants and an AC/DC shirt, “you mentioned an exam earlier, right? What are you studying?”
“Environmental law, in Columbia. By the way I really should g—”
“Law?!” he shouted before shooting a worried look to Jefferson Starship. Thankfully the bird didn’t wake up, so Dean went on in an excited whisper. “Dude, no way! My kid brother is law too! Well, he’s pre-law, but still, that freakishly overgrown Einstein got his nerdy ass into Stanford! How awesome is that?”
The obvious pride in his voice brought a small smile to Cas’ lips. “Stanford is an excellent school. Your brother must be very bright.”
“He is, man, he is. Sammy got the brains, I got the beauty.”
Dean wiggled his eyebrows playfully, making Cas fight back an actual giggle bubbling up in his throat and okay, he might be quite a potato at these things, but if that wasn’t flirting then he didn’t know what was. Boy, that night was nothing but one surprise after another, was it?
That didn’t make his bee pajamas look any less stupid, though.
“And, um, what— what do you do, Dean?”
His neighbour’s lopsided grin dropped rightaway. “Oh, um, nothing as big and important as saving the planet and shit like you…”
“I don’t do any of that yet.”
“Yeah but you’re gonna! Me? I just— Nah, forget it, it’s just a dumb dream anyway…”
Cas furrowed his brow. “Whatever life you dream for yourself, Dean, I’m quite sure it’s not ‘dumb’.”
Gratitude shone so brightly on Dean’s face that he couldn’t help but fall again into his mesmerizing green eyes.
Over the next two hours, Cas learned a lot about Dean. He learned how he had always dreamed of becoming a ballet dancer like his mother used to be. How he lost both his mother and his childhood to a tragic accident when he was four, his father’s almost perpetual drunken state ever since forcing him to take care of his younger brother Sam. How they moved around a lot, never settling down anywhere for more than a year. How, despite John Winchester’s outdated views on masculinity, he refused to give up on his dream and practiced on his own without his father knowing, yet was too ashamed of his passion to participate in dance classes whatever school he ended in provided. How, somewhere along the way, he met a man called Bobby who grew to be more of a father to them than their own and helped him get emancipated at 16. How, on top of high school and his own relentless training, he took a job at Bobby’s garage to start saving up for the prestigious ballet school he was hoping to get into. How everything changed a year later when Sam admitted he dreamed about becoming a lawyer, because there was no way they ever could afford two college tuitions. How his younger brother’s dreams seemed much more significant than his own. How, despite Sam and Bobby’s objections, he gave up everything and worked three jobs at a time for years to get his brother through college. How hollow and miserable he felt every second, yet refused to indulge in his passion in any way. How Sam was admitted into Stanford but managed to get free tuition and asked Dean to make good use of his quite substantial savings. How devastated he was when his little brother moved so far away. How he decided to give his old dream a chance despite the wasted years and dropped two of his jobs to start dancing again and take actual ballet lessons. How liberating it felt when, after months and months and months of frustrating and excruciating training, he finally ‘got his mojo back’. How stressful it was to audition for the schools he applied to. How, at last, he was accepted to his second choice school, just like he used to daydream about.
Above all else, Cas learned how wonderful it was to feel comfortable with someone. For the very first time, he wasn’t itching to run away, he wasn’t wishing for the ground to swallow him whole whenever he was asked a question. For the very first time, anxiety and self-consciousness were not eating him up. Quite the contrary, actually. Talking, laughing, opening up like they’ve known each other forever… It felt right. It felt like home.
Somehow, Dean Winchester, this man he had met the very same night, swept him off his feet. Then again, it was hardly a hardship when that man had such a pure soul. And such a sweet six-pack.
It wasn’t until they were halfway through watching the Trololo song video that Cas jumped off the couch in a panic, because oh no no no how could it be so late how was he supposed to pass his exam when he didn’t get enough rest what a first class idiot he was!
He did get enough rest in the morning though, choosing sleep over a last-minute study session he knew he didn’t need anyway.
And months later, he wouldn’t regret that night for the world. He had graduated with honors, had recently started working in the very firm he had been hoping for and he finally handed over his Gas-N-Sip Steve nametag for good. He was working hard and had very little free time, but he spent most of it slowly filling in his pop-culture gaps with his delicious boyfriend, who admittedly wasn’t the most talented dancer in his class, but was more determined than ever to rise to the top.
Granted, spending nights at Dean’s meant enduring Jefferson Starship’s terrible singing from even closer. But now that he was waking up every night to the sight of the man he loved drooling contentedly on his pillow, Cas couldn’t find it in him to resent the parrot.