Chapter Text
The cuffs of his white shirt remained unbuttoned to allow blood to circulate to his fingers. He knew he looked ridiculous, and he was trying to fight the urge to turn around and flip off the old lady he could feel judging his creased, worn-out, tight ceremony clothes. He didn’t need any more lectures from John and he was already paying for his previous irrational behavior, so he took a deep breath and tried to focus on the colorful lights hitting the huge sculpture of Jesus Christ, hanging on the cross, suspended from the ceiling.
Was it that serious?
The sermon was long and uninteresting, and Dean’s leg started bouncing up and down at a fast, impatient pace.
“Dude, quit it,” Sam whispered, hitting Dean’s knee with his own, “you’re insufferable.”
“Your face is insufferable,” Dean repeated the motion, earning a furrowed brow and tightly pressed lips as Sam's face contorted with annoyance. He always found it funny.
“You’re stupid.”
“Your face is stupid.”
Sam elbowed Dean in response, making him groan loudly in pain and break the unspoken rule of complete silence. The priest stopped speaking and turned his attention to Dean, followed by everyone else in the room, all looking at him with varying degrees of disdain.
“Do you have something to say, son?”
“No, Father. Just a cough.”
Dean faked a cough, and everyone turned back around again, some shaking their heads while others whispered about how disrespectful and ill-mannered the younger generation was. Sam tried to hold back a chuckle beside him.
“Shut up,” Dean muttered, noticing his father, seated two rows away, staring at him sternly. He did his best to ignore it.
He let out a slow breath and looked forward again. That's when he first saw him.
Skinny, pale, with dark hair and eyes as blue and bright as the light reflecting off the water depicted in the stained glass windows. He was sitting in the front row, and unlike everyone else, he was still looking at Dean.
Dean narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear more intimidating.
What the hell was that freak looking at?
The boy didn't budge. He held Dean's stare without so much as blinking. So Dean, like any respectful man under the eyes of God, lowered one arm and flipped him off. That seemed to work, because after a small hint of a smile, he turned around.
________________________________________
“That was a beautiful sermon, Father Novak.” John reached for his hand and shook it as everyone around them chatted and filtered out of the church. Blue Eyes stood beside the priest, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“Thank you. It's always nice to see new faces around here. And your names are...?” Father Novak shifted his attention to Sam and Dean.
“Winchester. My name is John, and these are my sons, Sam and Dean. We moved into town a couple of days ago. Please excuse their behavior earlier.”
John wore that fake polite expression Dean hated with his entire being. Every time he saw it, he wanted to punch it right off his face.
“No need to worry. All is forgiven.” Father Novak smiled before wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders. “I was blessed with a child of my own. This is Castiel.”
Castiel. What an odd name, Dean thought.
Castiel gave Sam a small nod in return when he smiled at him, but his own expression remained serious, almost sad.
“You'll have to excuse him. He hasn't spoken a word since my wife passed away two years ago.” Father Novak's voice softened. “She had the bad habit of smoking indoors. Something as simple as a gas leak tore our entire home apart. It was a terrible shock for us and for everyone in our community. Jody was dearly loved.”
Dean looked at Castiel again and felt a heavy weight settle on his chest. It wasn't pity, it felt more like recognition. Familiarity. He knew that kind of pain all too well.
Castiel suddenly looked much smaller than before, and Dean felt a little guilty for flipping him off earlier.
Way to greet a deeply traumatized person, Winchester.
John and Father Novak drifted into their own conversation, clearly not interested in including their sons. Dean caught his father mentioning Mary, and he was grateful when they moved farther away.
“So...” Dean scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You big into Jesus and stuff?”
Castiel didn't respond. He simply kept nudging a pebble with the tip of his shoe, his hands tucked into his pockets.
“…Right.”
Dean cleared his throat. “Sorry about your mom. That blows. I mean... not like how she blew u... shit, sorry. I mean, uh…”
“Dean,” Sam sighed.
Castiel finally looked up at him with the same unreadable expression. The sunlight made his eyes look even brighter than before. Dean caught himself staring and instinctively reached into his pocket for his cigarettes.
“You, uh... you smoke?”
“Dean! For fuck's sake!” Sam elbowed him again, although this time Dean's groan didn't earn him any dirty looks.
“Ow! What? I'm just trying to make conversation.”
Sam rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, equally embarrassed and irritated by his older brother. “Sorry about him.”
“Dean! Sam!” John called as he walked toward the car.
“Well... see you around, Cas.” Dean gave him a crooked smile before following.
He managed to call shotgun before his brother could and slammed the passenger door shut, only to be greeted with a sharp slap to the back of his head.
“That's for being disrespectful,” John spat. “We're invited to Father Novak's house for dinner tonight. You boys better behave yourselves. No funny business. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam and Dean answered in unison.
________________________________________
“Do you think it's a choice?” Sam asked as he stepped out of the bathroom and into their, hopefully temporary, shared room.
Dean was busy digging through boxes, looking for something to wear that evening. “Is what a choice?”
“Not speaking.” Sam rubbed a towel through his damp hair. “You know, is he actually still so shocked that his brain won't let him form sentences, or does he actively choose not to speak?”
“How would I know?” Dean finally found a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “Dude's weird anyway. He was staring at me the entire time like some creep.”
“Maybe he's got a crush on you,” Sam teased.
“Cut it out, Sam. Don't joke about that stuff.”
“I'm just saying, it wouldn't be that surprising. Stereotypically, most kids born into heavily Catholic families either turn out hypersexual or gay.”
“If you say that word again, I'm gonna break your nose. I'm serious.”
Sam's smile vanished the moment he saw the look on Dean's face.
The room fell silent.
Still too soon.
________________________________________
The Novaks' house was only a five-minute drive away. John brought a bottle of wine and a store-bought pie. He was unusually well groomed and presentable, and Dean knew that, deep down, it all came from the hope John had pinned on that evening. He saw getting close to this family as an opportunity to fix things. To fix Dean. He wanted to make a good impression, it was his way of getting him closer to God and back to purity.
They were surprised by how modest the house was. It felt warm and homey, gently lit but cozy despite its simplicity. Father Novak greeted them with a welcoming smile, wearing a green polo shirt and a pair of reading glasses resting low on his nose. He thanked John for the wine before leading everyone into the living room.
Dean immediately wondered where Castiel was.
“Please, have a sit. My son is taking care of dinner. It will be ready soon.” Chuck uncorked the bottle and poured John a glass.
“Thank you, Chuck. You have a nice place.”
“It was a courtesy from our community. After the accident, everyone came together to help us. We would've been lucky just to have a cushion to rest our heads on, but the Lord came through, as He always does.”
Chuck smiled toward the ceiling as though God Himself was standing up there, pointing finger guns and saying, 'You bet, bro.’
Dean had to bite back a laugh, then his attention drifted toward the couch.
Castiel had appeared without him noticing and was standing quietly beside it, watching his father.
He was wearing the exact same Led Zeppelin T-shirt Dean had on.
His heart skipped a b-…no. No it didn’t.
“Looks like dinner’s ready, shall we?” Chuck said, making way toward the dining room.
Dean was still staring at Castiel's shirt, and he seemed equally focused on Dean's. The only difference was that Dean's hung loosely over his worn jeans, while Castiel had his neatly tucked into a pair of beige khakis with a belt.
“H-hi,” Dean managed. “Great minds think alike, huh?”
Castiel didn't react. He simply followed everyone else to the table. Sam snorted quietly beside him.
Dinner looked and smelled surprisingly good. Neither Dean nor Sam could remember the last time they'd had a meal that wasn't pizza or Cup Noodles. They were both ready to dig in until Father Novak stretched out his hands and waited for everyone else to do the same. They bowed their heads. Dean thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but he took Sam's hand and Father Novak's anyway.
“Dear Lord, we thank you for the gifts and blessings we are about to receive…” Chuck began the prayer.
Dean opened his eyes and found Castiel looking at him, the same way he did in church.
He raised an eyebrow in question, and Castiel smiled, lowering his head and closing his eyes again.
Yes. Yes it did.
“Amen.” Dean echoed everyone else, then shoved the strange feeling deep down and focused on the food on his plate. Damn guy could cook.
“So, are you all settling in okay?” Chuck took a bite.
“Everything's great. I'm already familiar with Lawrence. My wife and I lived here before... well.” John smiled politely. “I thought it'd be nice for Sam and Dean to finish high school in their hometown.”
“That's wonderful. Castiel is in his last year of high school too. I'm sure he can help your boys feel at home.” Father Novak rested a hand on Castiel's head, but the younger man didn't react.
The rest of dinner passed smoothly, aside from the awkward silence between the three teenagers. Dean learned that Castiel was a year younger than him, a mathematical genius with straight A's, and an accomplished piano player. It was a stark contrast to what someone wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt would usually suggest.
John didn’t have much to brag about when it came to Dean. On the other hand, he was always happy to praise Sam for his high grades and perfect conduct.
Nerds.
After dinner, John and Chuck settled back into the living room to talk about some mechanical problem Chuck was having with his car, while Sam helped Castiel wash the dishes. Dean was just about to sneak outside for a cigarette when Sam called after him.
“Dude, don't be an asshole.”
With a dramatic sigh, Dean grabbed a dish towel and started drying plates instead.
“Dean's crazy about Led Zeppelin,” Sam said, looking at Castiel. “Do you actually like them too, or did you just like the shirt?”
For a moment, Castiel looked as though he might answer, but instead, he lowered his gaze and turned back to the sink, as if he'd given up before even trying. Sam glanced at Dean. Dean shrugged.
“He's probably a poser.”
“Dean!” Sam shot him a look. “He can hear you!”
“So?” Dean scoffed. “It's not like he's gonna run and tell Daddy anyway.”
Castiel didn't even acknowledge him.
“C'mon. The nerdy son of a priest who plays Mozart in his spare time can't possibly know shit about rock 'n' roll.”
The water stopped running. Before Dean could process what was happening, Castiel grabbed him by the wrist.
“What the...? Hey, man, relax! I was kidding!”
Castiel ignored him completely. Still holding Dean's wrist, he marched him down the hallway. Sam hurried after them, trying not to laugh.
The bedroom door swung open and Dean stopped dead.
The walls were covered in posters. Metallica, AC/DC, Nirvana, Guns n’ Roses, and obviously, Led Zeppelin.
“Dude...” Sam laughed, slapping Dean on the shoulder. “This room is so much cooler than your old one.”
Meanwhile, Castiel stood quietly in the corner with his arms folded, watching Dean with an unmistakable look of satisfaction.
“Alright...” Dean raised both hands in surrender. “I take it back. You're pretty damn cool.”
He wandered around the room, taking everything in. A record player sat neatly on a shelf, although there weren't any records in sight. There was, however, a Walkman on the desk. He picked it up.
“Nice. I used to have one of these.” He smiled faintly. “John smashed mine after I flunked last year.”
Castiel's brows pulled together.
“Hey.” Dean pointed at him with the Walkman. “Don't go pitying me, Blue Eyes. It's no big deal.”
He set it back down just as John's voice echoed through the hallway. “Dean! Sam! Time to go!”
“We'll see you tomorrow, Cas. Thanks for dinner.” Sam waved as he headed for the door.
Dean lingered for another second, giving Castiel a small nod before following his family outside.
He was halfway into the passenger seat when he felt a light tap between his shoulder blades. He turned around and Castiel was standing there, holding out the Walkman. Dean frowned before taking it. Taped to it was a small piece of folded paper. He unfolded it and read:
“Give it back before the end of the semester. (I'm not pitying you, Green Eyes.)”
Dean looked up and Castiel was flipping him off from the doorstep.
This time he returned the favor.