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Dean was very proud of being the best uncle in the world, a monicker not even Sam himself disputed for the simple reason that every time he went out with his niece, she came back happy, healthy, and a very good girl for the rest of the day at least, and so, it was only logical that he should be allowed to have a little fun during the lead-up to Easter.
There was an official egg hunt in the park, of course there was, but Mary had complained non-stop last year that it had been too easy, so why should this year be any different?
Because Dean had decided to give her one specifically made for her, and only her, that was why. Yeah, he had had to do some research, mostly on which day the park was least frequented so there would be no problem with other kids and the like, but it was worth it for his favourite and so far only niece.
And so, even Sam had given up his protests and had allowed him to spoil Mary again. But hey, what else was a favourite uncle for?
He was having nearly as much fun as Mary just watching her up around and find the eggs, occasionally triumphantly proclaiming that she had, before handing them to him for safekeeping – naturally he had to promise to keep them safe with his life – and running over to the small playground equipment. She was much like him at that age – always ready to make new friends.
And that was when Dean spied the homeless guy.
He was sitting on a bench, looking down at some paper he was holding, and he definitely fit the type. Ratty Trench coat, full bag next to him – Dean knew what was going on there, mostly because he and Sam had only avoided the same fate by sheer luck a few times during their childhood.
And so, he had always made it a habit to give back and help out.
He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and approached him. “Hey, man.”
He looked up and good God, those were some really, really blue eyes but Dean would not get distracted because that would not do – he was not going to get the hots for someone he was trying to help.
And so, he simply handed him the twenty.
The man looked at him and friend, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Well, you know, mean – just to help out a bit” he said because that usually did the trick.
Then – “Do you think I need money?”
“I – well –“
“Because I assure you, I don’t. I come here to work.”
And oh God, now Dean could see that he had been sketching, and pretty good stuff too, and he was never going to live this down.
“I – I just – “he stammered but it was at that moment that Mary called out “Uncle Dean!” and gave him an out.
His face felt like it was on fire. Oh God, what had he just done? Yeah, the guy was hot, and he had wanted to help, but man –
Yes, better concentrate on Mary and try and forget all about it,.
Of course it was not that easy, but there was someone he could always talk to, especially if eh didn’t feel like confiding in Sam…
“Let me get this perfectly straight, or in this case, not so perfectly straight, my aesthetically gifted but apparently intellectually deficient friend. You went to the park with your niece, had fun, found a, and I quote, “extremely hot guy”, mistook him for homeless, and when he cleared up the misunderstanding you ran?”
“Mary needed me” he argued even though it sounded hollow even to his own ears.
“Did she now? Because I know for a fact that she comes a lot after her uncle, meaning she is remarkably self-sufficient, and normally none of this would have kept your from flirting – “
“Look I was embarrassed alright? I admit it.”
“Dean Winchester embarrassed, and I wasn’t there to see it. I feel cheated.”
He wouldn’t meet Crowley’s eyes for the simple reason that his best friend was right – normally, he would not have let an of this stop him, but somehow, when he had looked at Castiel –
“Just leave it be, alright?”
That was of course the wrong thing to say because it was Crowley. He simply raised an eyebrow.
“Fine, I accidentally ruined things with the hottest guy I have seen in years. Happy?”
“On the contrary, I feel betrayed. What do you mean he was the hottest guy you have seen in years –“
“Crowley.”
“I am just saying, if he likes to draw in the park, he might return. That’ what painters do, isn’t it? They are usually not done in one session.”
He might have been right about that, but Dean would be damned if he told him so.
Plus, it turned out that in this case, it wasn’t so after all, since the man never returned, didn’t matter that he took Mary to the park even often enough for her to be satisfied.
As a rule, Dean wasn’t wild about art exhibitions. It simply wasn’t his thing, but Sam happened to be busy and he did love his sister-in-law dearly, so here he was with Sarah, actually having an unexpectedly good time.
He had no idea why, but somehow these paintings… they spoke to him. It might be the fact that, as opposed to some other modern art, he could actually tell what they were supposed to be, or that he did like his angel imagery ever since Mom had told him about them when life had still been easy and safe…
The point was, he was studying yet another piece of an angel with black wings – why black, he wondered, there were so many stories about angels, and in basically none did those who still served Heaven have black wings, which this one seemed to do since he was wearing a halo, have black wings – when a voice that seemed familiar said, “Oh, hello.”
He turned and found –
The guy from the park. “Oh”. Had someone given him a job in the art gallery? But then, wouldn’t Sarah have told him – since she would have Eben the one to hire him, now that he thought about it? And why would he still be wearing that ratty trench coat if he was working? Fine, this time he was also sporting a tie, but that was not how you put those on –
Before he could stop himself, he had reached out to fix it like that was something people just did, and when he looked back into the man’s eyes, he was staring intently at him.
“I – “ he cleared his throat. “Your tie was crooked.”
“I can never get them right, although Jimmy has tried to teach me many a time” he said graciously. “So, what do you think of my work?”
He needed a moment to understand.
My work.
As in –
Oh God, he had been sketching.
He needed to get out of here –
But he’d just asked –
“It’s… beautiful. But why is the fallen angel still serving Heaven?”
“What makes you think he has fallen?”
“Black feathers”.
“That could mean anything.”
“But they don’t, do they?”
“No” he admitted, “But so far no one has noticed.”
Dean decided enough was enough and held out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”
“Castiel Novak” he replied after carefully taking and shaking it.
He didn’t feel sparks. Of course not. That would have been ridiculous.
He was wondering whether he should bring it up when Castiel beat him to it.
“I am glad to see you again, after our interesting first meeting at the park.”
He really did not know what to say. It all seemed so ridiculous.
Finally, he settled on, “I thought you were – “ then stopped because how was he supposed to tell a successful artist to his face that he had thought he was homeless because of a ratty trench coat?
He actually smiled. “I noticed. If it makes you feel better, you*#re not the first one to make the mistake.”
“So you… what? Just hang around the park and wait for someone to come bring you sandwiches?”
“No. As a matter of fact, you’re the only one who ever tried to help… normally when people make that assumption I just get abuse hurled at me.”
“I would never –“ he began before he could stoop himself, but that involved a little bit of what he had come to privately call his tragic origin story, so he stopped.
“I gathered” Castiel smiled at him and he swallowed.
“Would you like to see my paintings?”
Dean looked around and figured that he didn’t mean just standing around and staring, as he had done, although in fairness, it had not been the paintings he had been looking at. “Sure.”
And Castiel actually took his arm, smiling that soft smile of his, and his heart picked up a beat.
And so, he ended up getting a basically private tour of the showing on the arm of the star of the evening, leading to more than a few snide remarks from Sarah, who would not believe that hew had not even known his name before today.
“Why angels?” he eventually asked because almost every piece seemed to be dedicated to them. “Is it because of your name?”
Those eyes bore into his again. “Barely anyone knows about my name.”
“Mom loved angels” he said, as if that explained anything, but Castiel accepted his explanation as if it did.
Castiel’s expression softened and he knew that he had guessed the truth, or at least part of it. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
They were both silent for a moment or two, and then Dean saw another painting.
And it – well – it –
He looked down at the title. Michael. An archangel.
He turned to look at Castiel again, but he looked – uncomfortable. He tried to say something, failed, cleared his throat, tried again. “Do you want to tell me something?”
He might not be vain – at least he didn’t think he was, Sam might have a different opinion – but he did recognize himself, thank you very much.
“I – I – “Castiel swallowed then said slowly, “I – you like to go to the park with – your little girl. I’ve seen you a few times –“
He must have hidden himself well, Dean thought, because he was not likely to have forgotten that… But first things first. “She’s my niece.”
Castiel’s eyes flew to Sarah.
“My sister-in-law.” He looked back at the painting. “Do you really see me like that?”
“I don’t know how anyone could possibly not.” It sounded like a confession.
Dean swallowed because – man, he really didn’t know what to say. There was so much – so much of – in that – and he –
But really, what else could he do, but – “Dinner?”
Castiel stared at him. “What?”
“You, me, diner? I was just wondering, you know, considering you like my looks enough to paint me, so – “
And Castiel instead of answering him, drew him into a kiss right then and there.
He was pretty sure that he head Sarah call out, but really did not care one bit.
Cas drew back and then quietly said, “Yes, I would like to have dinner with you.”
Dean laughed.
One year later
“No angels this time around?”
“I don’t think children would appreciate religious imagery while they’re searching for eggs.”
“I don’t know, Mary’s pretty smart – “
“Still, some parents might object. Plus you know that Crowley never goes near anything that he might consider holy ground.”
It was indeed a peculiar habit of their friend’s, so Dean said nothing.
And his husband smiled before reaching up to draw him into a kiss.