Chapter Text
Being a single parent, you get joy out of unexpected places. Dean isn’t ashamed to admit it, even if once those places of joy would’ve felt embarrassing to him, would’ve been something to supress. Parenthood was something he became more himself in, something he was allowed to grow more of himself in. The warmth that flowers in his heart when Ben looks up at him, grinning, the kindness and gentleness that charges everything Dean does with regards to Ben—it softens the way Dean has been able to look at himself.
Not just because he sees, now, he isn’t some rough, hard, callous thing, he’s instead something capable of softness and generosity and affection. It’s also because now he gets to look back on his experience of being a child of a single father. And he’s able to realise what happened to him when he was a kid wasn’t his fault.
Yeah, he was scared of becoming a dad, at first. Especially when it became clear he’d have to be a father without Lisa. Being a widower, being a dad—he thought he’d turn out exactly like John. And he thought Ben’s scars would come out exactly like his, and history would repeat itself, and repeat itself, ad infinitum.
Instead, parenthood is something Dean didn’t grow into, it’s something that grew Dean. Dean grew out of it, grew into himself, thinks he’s more like himself than he’s ever been allowed to be. Ever allowed himself to be.
Seven years of it. Two years since Ben first asked if he could get some nail polish because walking down the street one day, an old lady’s elegant red nails caught his eye. Ben pays close attention to things, so of course he’d notice. Since the elegant red nail polish caught his attention, it’s been two years of the two of them having fun, lying on their stomachs facing each other in the living room, washed with yellow evening light, while they paint each other’s fingernails. Dean never would’ve done it before. Being a dad gave him the space to.
Usually he just goes with black—it looks edgy, reminds him of those old rock bands, makes him feel kinda punk and his teenage self’s idea of cool. Ben likes red, like he first saw on that old lady, but he likes lavender and a kind of pale green which has a name with something to do with ferns. They calm him down, he likes running his thumb over his nails when they’re painted these gentler colours and looking at it as he does so. Kind of a self-soothing thing.
It’s been three years since Ben got introduced to what’s now, easily, his favourite TV show. Kid’s TV is swarming with a lot of crap, these days, and sure Dean feels like an old fogey to say that but it’s fucking true. So when this show got recommended to him, and he got told the host—he’s wonderful, he’s just like Mr Rogers, Dean thought—well, fine, he thought the claim was absurd and he thought Charlie was a little dumb to even make it.
Charlie’s his best friend now. He first met her when Ben was in kindergarden, which is where she works. She’s also rubbed in, many times now, the fact that she was right, and Dean was proven wrong. The guy—the host of this TV show—is just like Mr Rogers. Gentle and earnest and kind and a little eccentric but utterly sincere. He even wears a damn cardigan. This one’s a navy blue, though, not red like Mr Rogers’ was.
When he first tuned into the channel for Ben, Dean had been cooking dinner, and had been ready to stand up and head back into the kitchen to get to work on it. But the theme tune had been catchy—in a soft, sweet kind of way. So Dean had stayed for that.
And then the opening shot sweeping over the thick green tops of trees, before travelling down trunks, down to a stream, moving along in the direction of the water, before rising to the shoes, the shins, the knees, up the cardiganed torso to the gently inquisitive face of the host…
And the host.
He’s serious and intense in a way Dean can imagine kids love. It’s not usual they get spoken to so sincerely, with so much respect. That’s the first thing he thinks. Okay, maybe not the first thing, but when the host starts speaking, that’s what Dean thinks. The first thing Dean thinks is, how the hell can a person seem so beautifully otherworldly when all they’re doing is sitting on a tree stump?
He gets so distracted by the show he ends up having to order takeout for dinner, ‘cause Ben’s getting hungry.
And then it becomes tradition: Thursday night, takeout, TV. And they watch Castiel’s show every time.
That’s his name—the host’s name. Castiel. He always introduces himself at the show’s opening with the same lines. Dean knows the words by heart.
Hello, there, friends. My name is Castiel. Thank you for sharing your time with me, today.
He always speaks gently and warmly. His voice is all rough and Dean wants to curl up in it. The show has different sections and Ben’s favourite part starts when he goes to the beehive. He’ll go to the beehive and teach the kids something about bees. Then it cuts to another clip about some other creature—they’ve had dragonflies, foxes, beavers, possums, fireflies, monarch butterflies, different kinds of seals, all sorts. And this part of the show comes with a voiceover from Castiel, describing the animal. Sometimes when the camera cuts back, he’s sat with one of these animals. Ben’s favourite is when Castiel is sitting with a red fox, because the little guy is so mischievous—Dean had no idea how mischievous they could be.
In that episode, Castiel shares that the fox is a rescue fox, and can’t go back into the wild. He explains this through the cutest damn giggles imaginable, because the fox starts chewing on the ends of his trousers, and then the fox fucking grins and it sounds like it laughs every time Castiel tries to gently push him away.
Next week on the show, Castiel announces that he’s adopted the fox.
He’s called Felix, Castiel shares, because it means happy. And the fox can’t seem to stop laughing at his own jokes.
After that, Felix the fox will come on the show every few weeks. Castiel doesn’t have him on more than that, Dean guesses, because otherwise the little guy would cause chaos every episode.
Ben loves the episodes where Castiel is joined by Felix best. Dean just likes the episodes for Castiel.
After Lisa, Dean hasn’t had too many chances to get into the dating game. And in a lot of ways, he hasn’t wanted to—life is too busy, he’s balancing his work with his life at home, looking after Ben, keeping the house in good keep. In a lot of ways he’s retreated into it, at this point—found some safety in it, and too much comfort. Having crushes on people from afar is easier.
Before Lisa, Dean never had any problem with dating. Now, it fills him with this absurd amount of fear and dread. Even the thought of it. Better to admire from afar.
Castiel’s show is called The Sanctuary, and Dean starts reading and watching interviews of the guy, learning more about him. Castiel called the show that, he says, because he thinks it’s what children deserve—a place that feels safe, a place where they can be themselves. He shares in these interviews how his childhood was hard—overzealous dad, at once distant and utterly controlling. Dean is surprised to learn that Castiel has, apparently, a fierce streak of rebellion in him.
“Things would grow pretty explosive,” he shares in one interview. “Especially as I grew older. When I was young, all I wanted was a place to feel safe in, a place I wouldn’t be judged in. I grew older and realised a lot of children must be feeling the same way. Even now. That’s why I made the show.
“I got my autism diagnosis when I was twenty five. That’s a long time to have to wait. Some people wait even longer. I make my show especially for those kids who might be made to feel out of place in the world, for whatever reason, those kids with autism or ADHD, kids with anger issues or those kids who are highly sensitive, the kids who come from difficult homes or abusive homes, the kids whose brains work differently to lots of other people’s, the kids who are struggling to find a sense of belonging.”
His show’s inclusive as hell, because of this. He signs as he speaks and there’s a section every week dedicated to teaching ASL. He talks about differences and gets guests on in each show, ordinary people, to talk about themselves, and the conversations are as gentle as organic as Dean thinks it’s possible for a conversation to be. Even in real life. All he wants is a chance to have a conversation with the guy.
No chance that it’d happen, but still.
It’s just nice that Ben gets to have another thing in his life that makes him happy, anyway. He got his autism diagnosis at the age of five—Charlie was the one who flagged up to Dean the little guy was probably autistic. Last year, Ben was also diagnosed with ADHD, which is a diagnosis Dean got at the end of middle school.
So yeah, he appreciates what Castiel does on his show. And he likes reading about it. The guy’s wise, and kind, Dean can tell, and even if he’s earnest as hell he also seems to have a quiet and hilarious sense of humour.
Which is why, when it’s announced that Castiel’s gonna be visiting Kansas City, Dean jumps on the opportunity to pay for a meet and greet.
For Ben. Obviously.
Being a mechanic, and putting the single in single parent, most of Dean’s wardrobe is stained with grease and car oil, or grasstains or acrylic paint, from time he spends with Ben. He never really bothers buying fancy clothing because his best friend is a kindergarden teacher, and generally turns up to their coffee-cake-catch-ups looking more absurd than he does, especially on the days when the kids have been fingerpainting. His other best friend, Isaac, just became a father, and the last time Dean went over to chill, Isaac opened the front door at the exact moment his newborn, held comfortably in his right arm, decided to puke over his shoulder.
The point is, the people in Dean’s life aren’t people particularly bothered by the fact he’s generally kinda scruffy.
All this means that he doesn’t have anything nice to wear for when he meets Castiel. Not that it matters. The guy works with and for kids—he knows there’s worse things in life than a little mess. And besides. Dean’s only going to the meet-and-greet for Ben. This is all for Ben. Still, Dean picks out his nicest tee and pair of jeans for the day.
It’s a beautiful, golden, early September day as they drive up. Dean’s got headphones and all of Ben’s favourite songs downloaded on his phone in case the line to meet Castiel is too noisy. It’s a short drive to the city, which maybe is good, because it doesn’t let him overthink things, but maybe it’s bad, because he’s not given enough time to calm down.
Okay, fine, maybe he has a little bit of a crush on the host of this fucking show. A tiny crush. Loads of people probably do.
Damn. Castiel’s gonna be in the middle of a sea of single parents. And every one of them is probably in love with him. And they’re probably funny and smart and attractive and well-dressed and Dean is—well, Charlie’s been trying to get him off all his negative self-talk, and he wouldn’t like it if Ben thought about himself the way Dean thinks about himself, or used to think about himself at least, but—
The point is, Dean even hoping that Castiel would notice him is kind of absurd, and the poor guy’s probably sick of single parents hitting on him, anyway. Dean sure would be.
Ben’s bouncing up and down by the time they arrive, and Dean has to explain to him again that the line to meet Castiel is gonna be pretty damn long, and it might get boring, and he might get anxious, but Dean’s got some things to keep him occupied. When they get in line, Ben asks for the headphones and music, and Dean clenches and unclenches his hands nervously.
“Do you think he’ll have Felix with him?” Ben slips off one of the ears of the headphones to ask, and Dean presses his lips together.
“I think foxes probably wouldn’t do too well in such big crowds,” he admits, sadly. “Sorry, buddy.”
Ben’s sad about this.
“Hey, to make up for it,” Dean offers, “next weekend, we don’t have anything planned out, right? How about we go to an animal sanctuary? I don’t know if they’ll have any foxes, but there’s all kinds of cool animals they will have.”
The line’s going slow. Castiel is taking the time to talk, really talk, to every one of the kids, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but it sure is giving Dean’s nerves plenty of time to ramp up, as if they weren’t ramped up enough already.
He shouldn’t even be nervous and he feels like kind of an asshole for being nervous in the first place, being attracted to Castiel in the first place, because he’s a guy on a TV show who Dean’s never met and who Dean doesn’t really have any right to think is so cute, and fuck, alongside the nerve spiral Dean’s entering a guilt spiral, too.
Maybe it’s not bad to think a celebrity—if you can call the Mr Rogers-esque host of a children’s TV show a celebrity—is cute, but it probably is bad to go to a meet-and-greet with that celebrity if, yeah, you have a crush on them. Right?
He can’t figure out if he’s overthinking it.
The line’s moving forward, and Dean’s chest is getting tight. He can actually now make out the dark crop of hair which curls at its ends, the quiet, intense gaze, flashes of a gentle smile which only reaches his features in fleeting moments. Dean tries to swallow but it gets caught in his throat and he goes into a coughing fit.
His face is hot, and his hands are horrible and clammy. He’s not good at this shit. By this shit, he means hitting on someone, or even just thinking about hitting on someone, but it’s an insane thing to think anyway, because Castiel doesn’t even know who he is, and it’d be inappropriate to do that, and this whole day is meant to be about Ben, and Dean’s heart starts picking up pace and picking up pace and picking up pace and the line is dwindling and Castiel is in sight, and of all fucking things Dean thinks of Lisa, and how he hasn’t been able to flirt in seven years because of her, and how he hates having to do this on his own even if things weren’t always perfect between them, because she would’ve been a good mom, she could’ve been a good mom, she never got the chance to be a good mom. She should’ve got the chance, why wasn’t she allowed to have the chance.
“Sir, are you alright?” Dean jumps at the words, and sees that there’s a security guy in a black jacket and high-vis in front of him. “Do you want to come with me?”
What? Could they read Dean’s thoughts about having a crush on Castiel? Doesn’t every parent here kind of have a crush on Castiel?!
“Is he okay?” a gruff voice calls over, and Dean glances up as his stomach drops. Oh, shit, everyone’s looking at him, and the person enquiring after his wellbeing of course, of fucking course, had to be the one person Dean’s head is pounding over.
“Dad, what’s happening?” Ben sounds anxious as he tugs at Dean’s hand, and Dean glances down, mouth open.
“There’s seats over there,” Castiel gestures, speaking to the security guy. “Get him some water? Looks like he’s gonna pass out.”
God, this couldn’t be going any worse.
“You said we were gonna meet him, dad,” Ben looks up at Dean, visibly distressed, and fuck, Dean’s managed to ruin it, managed to ruin fucking everything.
“Hey, it’s still in your line of vision,” a mom in front of Dean, obviously taking pity, says. “I’ll take him up. You go sit down.”
Dean thanks her as profusely as possible in his state, and gets taken over to a couch sat against the wall. The security guy gives him a glass of water, and Dean watches Ben, escorted by the kind lady in front and her kid, meet Castiel. He holds up his favourite wildlife book which he took for Castiel to sign, and starts talking, and Castiel smiles and listens and asks a couple of questions, and Ben gets to beaming before getting shuffled gently on. And damn—the kid forgot to get his signature.
Dean swallows sadly and feels more guilt over ruining this whole experience by freaking out and getting flustered. He thought he had this whole single dad thing pretty much on lock—occasional slip-ups and days where he still gets totally fried out or wrung out. But it turns out even on what should be a pretty big and exciting day for Ben, Dean still manages to find a way to screw it up. Ben didn’t get his autograph, and if Dean had been there, he would’ve been able to remind him. Damn it.
Ben bounces back over, face split into a smile. Dean thanks the lady who took him up there.
“He’s a lovely boy,” she says, and Dean’s heart warms.
“Yeah?” Dean asks, still feeling a little giddy. Damn, what’s gotten into him? “I think so, too. Hey, buddy, you got to meet him! What was it like?”
“I told him about lemurs,” Ben answers. “I hope he talks about them on the show!”
Dean shrugs.
“Hey, maybe you’ve inspired him.”
“It seems like he’s had a great day,” the mom smiles.
“Something I’ve just about managed not to mess up,” Dean sighs, rubbing his head. “Thanks so much for taking care of him.”
“Oh, please—my partner’s anaemic—I know all about fainting fits. Me and some other girls are gonna grab a coffee in about an hour,” she says, squeezing his arm. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like? We’ll be in Starbucks.”
Dean nods.
“Thanks so much—that sounds good. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
She says goodbye and leaves, and Ben slips into the seat next to Dean’s.
“She said it looks like you nearly fainted.”
“Maybe something like that,” Dean shrugs. He just got a little too up in his own head, is all. Holy shit, he’s pathetic. “You wanna get some food?”
Well, Ben’s happy, at least. And who needs to know how to flirt, anyway. It’s a skill Dean lost for a reason.
“Can I go on your shoulders?” Ben asks. Dean’s lips quirk.
“’Course you can, buddy.”