It was actually a nice day. Thin white clouds brushed the sky, puffy and cheerful like the sticky cotton candy held in children's hands as they walked past, chubby fingers laced onto the guide of a parent's sturdy grip. The air was filled with a buzz of excitement as people made their way about, chatting animatedly and leading loved ones to games and rides they found to be intriguing. Sunday had rolled in, and Sammy convinced Dean to take a break from grading his multiple papers to join him at the local carnival.
It was childish, he had to admit. But even after his strongest objections and admittedly vague reasons as to why he could not go, Sam showed up at Dean's apartment anyways, coffee in hand and a smile on his face that Dean just could not make himself say no to.
So here they were, scavenging the carnival grounds, an overenthusiastic Sam Winchester leading the way.
Hell, Sam was twenty-five. He was a lawyer, for god's sake, and he looked more excited about this carnival than the children they passed by. A bag of kettle corn was gripped in Sam's large hand as he handed it to Dean every now and then, an encouraging grin on his face. Dean accepted the sweetened popcorn, mostly because he hadn't had any breakfast, and that only made Sam smile even more.
Dean breathed in the clean November air and huffed it out before he spoke.
"Is there a reason we're here, exactly?" Dean asked as they passed a balloon stand.
Sam shrugged as he eyed a roller coaster. "I dunno. I thought it'd be fun… you know, since…" he didn't finish his sentence, though. He didn't need to. Dean knew what he meant.
It was the anniversary.
Swallowing back his next remark, Dean forced himself to smile. Might as well play along. Sam was only doing this for Dean, anyway. "You wanna ride that roller coaster?" he asked as he pointed to the large green loop-de-loop one his brother had been admiring.
Sam raised an eyebrow as he smiled hesitantly at his brother. "Really? You wanna go on it?" he asked.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well I ain't gonna walk around here eating kettle corn all day. C'mon," he urged as he led his brother to the line. They waited in it, and Dean decided to catch up with his younger sibling, asking him how his case was going and listening as Sammy chattered relentlessly about how ridiculous the whole predicament was. Although his work sounded stressful to Dean, the older Winchester could really see how enthusiastic his little brother was about it. Sam was really intelligent, and he always had so much to say about what he believed in. It was incredibly admirable, and, honestly, Dean didn't think Sam would be as suitable for any other job more than the one he had now.
Later on in their conversation they talked about Jess, Sam's girlfriend, and Dean noticed the way Sammy got shy and dodgy about the subject- something that normally didn't happen. He took every opportunity to talk about Jess, his puppy-dog eyes going all mushy as he described how perfect she was or something she had said the other day, or anything of that sort. In the few hours they'd been around each other, that day, Sam hadn't said a word about her.
"What?" Dean asked, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips when Sam blushed. "What aren't you tellin' me?" he pestered, elbowing his brother when he tried to look away.
Sammy smiled, looking down at the floor before looking back up at his brother through his lashes. He seemed hesitant, but at the same time filled with the need to say what was on his mind. "I went ring shopping, Dean," he confessed, and Dean's jaw practically hit the floor as Sam laughed, embarrassed. "I've already picked one out," he added with a grin. So that's why he was so damn cheery.
"Dude, you're kidding me! When're you gonna give it to her?" Dean asked, a goofy smile on his face.
"I'm… just waiting for the opportunity," Sam explained.
Dean snorted. "C'mon, Sammy, it's not like she isn't gonna say yes. Jess has been practically waiting for a ring and you know it. Hell, you two have been living together for five years," Dean encouraged. "Don't chicken out."
Sam smirked. "Yeah, alright. I know, it's just… nerve racking," Sam admitted.
Dean placed a hand on his way-too-tall brother's shoulder and gave him a smile. "It'll be fine. I can promise you that," he reassured. Sam gave him a grateful look, and they continued to catch up as they made their way through the line.
After riding on a couple of roller coasters, Dean had to admit he was having fun. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a place like this (or if he ever had), and, dammit, it actually wasn't too bad. Sam and Dean rode about four roller coasters before they took a break and grabbed some lunch from an overly priced burger stand. The fried food tasted great- since Dean normally didn't have the money to go out and buy restaurant food too often- and he savored every bite. After their meal, the two brothers made a bet to see who'd throw up their lunch first after going on a spinning wheel (of which four trash cans were located outside of for convenience), and Dean ended up winning that bet. They had rode it six times before Sam stumbled out, making his way towards the suddenly welcoming trash bins. Sam knew he would lose- Dean could stomach almost anything- and he rolled his eyes as he handed his brother a twenty dollar bill, drinking a bottle of water to rid his mouth of the bad taste of vomit.
When the sun had started to set and the Winchester siblings decided to head home, something caught Sammy's eye just as they were reaching the exit.
"Hey, Dean, look at that," he told his brother, pointing to a small purple tent with a sign on the outside that read "Palm Reading and Fortune Telling". Underneath it, the name "Castiel Novak" was written in a fancy scrawl.
Dean rolled his eyes, giving an amused snort. "You're not serious, are you?" he asked, about to laugh at the ridiculousness of it before he caught his brother's curious and very interested gaze. "Wait- you actually want to get a 'psychic reading' done by some carnival actor phony?" Dean asked, eyes wide. "You know all they do is read body language and guess, right?" he added, but his brother wouldn't have it.
The taller Winchester grabbed one of the fliers that was pinned to the tent's welcome board, an eyebrow raised. "It says here that he talks to angels," Sam read before looking at Dean with an interested expression.
"Sam, there's no such thing," Dean told his brother, crossing his arms. He was tired and the last thing he wanted to do was watch his brother waste his money on some scam.
"Well, why not try something new?" Sam asked. At his brother's stubborn stare, Sam sighed. "Just wait here," he decided, walking towards the tent. "I'll only be a minute."
"Sam-" Dean began, but his brother had already walked into the tent. Huffing out an irritated sigh, Dean leaned against the welcome board, watching the people that headed home with envy. Is this really necessary? he wondered as he pulled out his phone, checking the time. He'd have to head back home, soon. He still had fifty-something papers to grade, and if he didn't get that done his class would be furious. Not to mention, he had to be at the school early for a board meeting.
After about ten minutes of Dean watching people walk by and staring at the sky with boredom, his little brother was back outside, a big grin on his face.
"Well it's about freaking time," Dean began as he stood up from his leaning posture. "C'mon, let's-"
"You gotta go in there," Sam responded, an astounded smile still lingering on his face. "It's crazy, he's gotta be psychic or something. This guy's the real thing," Sam convinced.
"I really don't-"
"Dean, he knew Jessica's name," Sam retorted. "He knew I would be proposing to her, soon. And," he smiled again before continuing, "he said she was going to say yes. He said that it won't really go as I planned, but that it would happen Saturday. Jess and I had been planning on going out somewhere on Saturday- how could he have known that?" Sam asked.
With an eye roll, Dean responded. "Well you're not exactly difficult to read. You're basically an open book."
Sam mustered up his best bitchface, a technique he used to let Dean know he was being especially irritable. Dean earned those looks, often. "All I'm asking is for you to just give it a try. I think you'll enjoy it," Sam encouraged, slipping five dollars into Dean's hand. "There- it's paid for, too."
Dean gaped at his little brother. "You're not actually making me do this, are you?" Dean asked. But Sam's face left no room for argument. With a groan, Dean slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Fine, fine, I'm going," he replied as Sammy smirked in triumph. "This is still crazy, though," he murmured to his brother as he walked to the tent entrance.
He opened the tent flaps and sauntered inside to see a man standing at a table, organizing some trinkets that laid atop it. He turned around when Dean walked in, and gave him a smile.
"Hello," he greeted, hands clasping together. Dean observed the man with shock. He was not what Dean expected, that was for sure. The fortune teller was fairly young, probably around Dean's age, whereas Dean expected a skinny old man with a Gandalf beard. He didn't wear any goofy robes or strange items, like all the gypsies in the Arabian Hollywood movies Dean would watch as a kid. He was dressed… well, basically like a spiritual hippie. The man that Dean deemed as "Castiel Novak" (given from the name on the sign outside the tent) was wearing baggy navy drawstring pants with elastic at the ankle, and a pair of slip-on black cloth shoes. A white long sleeve shirt adorned his torso, loose-fitting with a thread pattern at the hem, on the end of the sleeves, and on the neckline. A small cut was in the middle of the collar, almost like one of those traditional Chinese shirts. Some string that Dean was pretty sure was supposed to be used to tie the cut together was hanging down from each end of the division, unused and exposing smooth skin. Castiel wore a necklace of beads, some strange woven symbol on the bottom of it.
"Uhm," Dean replied, finally averting his gaze upwards and looking at the man's face. "Hi," he responded.
Castiel smiled, again, before threading his eyebrows together and tilting his head to the side. "The last man that was in here- you're his brother, am I correct?" he asked, his voice gravelly. The intensity of it almost made Dean shiver.
The teacher licked his lips. Sam probably mentioned Dean previously. That's how this guy knew. "Yeah," Dean replied, trying not to add on something snarky.
Castiel nodded. "You two carry a similar aura- a lot of different feelings and emotions swirling around in an attempt to conceal a dark past," Castiel noted, almost as if he were reading as he spoke. His voice was contemplative, and it rose in pitch as he had spoken. It was smoother, and strangely alluring.
Dean opened his mouth to say something before he shut it. The guy was just guessing- he probably said that to everyone. Everybody liked to think that they had a rough childhood, even if they really didn't. There was no way Castiel could know about him. "Listen, buddy, I didn't come in here to cry about my past to some hippie, okay?" Dean began, annoyed. "Now can we just-" he cut himself off, gesturing to the small wooden table in the center of the tent, a couple of pillows surrounding it. "Fortune tell, or whatever," Dean mumbled, glancing at the man.
To Dean's complete and utter surprise, Castiel wasn't offended by Dean's words, but instead was smiling in an amused way- as if he had some fucking joke that only he would understand. "Of course," he answered, waving an elegant hand at the table in an offer for Dean to sit.
Fighting off a blush, Dean sighed and took a seat on a flat pillow, crossing his legs as he tried to get comfortable. Castiel sat across from Dean, legs folded underneath him. Two candles sat on the table, one on left and right, the flames dancing around in an enticing manner. The candles were simple wax lumps held in small glass bowls, which were filled with the melted remnants of the white material.
Dean looked around, observing his surroundings. It was dim, only a couple of candles here and there lighting up the inside of the tent, the flickering fire casting shadows along the cloth walls of the purple material. There were a couple of bendable wooden tables, each containing things such as paper scrawls, fake (he hoped so) skulls and bones, wooden boxes and- lord help him- a glass ball. Dean almost snorted at the sight of it, a smirk on his face. They really worked hard to get this place looking believable. The kids that visited probably got a real kick out of it. Dean couldn't even believe he was in such a childish place, and thought up of ways he could get back at Sammy, later.
"May I see your hand?" the gravelly voice asked, jolting Dean out of his observations. Castiel's hand was stretched out over the table in a gentle way, inviting Dean to place his own hand there.
Well, he'd better get it over with. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could go home and grade his papers.
Resisting the urge to sigh, Dean put his right hand in Castiel's, and the man gripped onto Dean's wrist softly, pushing up the cuff of his jacket slightly with his free hand as he sprawled out Dean's fingers. His hands were soft, Dean noted, and his skin was lightly tanned from what Dean could see in the light.
Castiel traced the lines of Dean's palm, and Dean squirmed in his seat at the touch, feeling a strange shock go through him.
After a couple of minutes of tense and awkward silence, Castiel spoke. "It seems as though you are not very interested in romance… due to a traumatic experience with a loved one, I'm assuming," Castiel murmured as he studied Dean's palm. Dean's heart raced in his chest- he was speechless. How the fuck could this guy find that out through Dean's hand? "You've dealt with many emotional crises, and that had taken quite the toll on you," Castiel noted, glancing up at Dean with honest eyes- eyes that may or may not have been filled with deep sympathy.
Dean swallowed as he looked at Castiel. The man's eyes were a thousand shades of blue, each intricate whirl of color revealing truth and honesty. Damn, Dean could drown in those eyes if he gazed at them for too long. The blue color was tinted orange from the candlelight- which highlighted the darks of his eyelashes as he looked back down at Dean's palm.
"You seem to be a realistic thinker, and you are clear and focused in your decisions," Castiel added. Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, that's what everyone wanted to hear. Castiel's fingers lightly ran over the skin of Dean's palm again before he spoke. "You seem to be cautious towards entering a new relationship, as I've said before. You're also filled with vitality… I believe it's for your brother, yes?" Castiel asked, looking up at Dean for confirmation.
Dean felt vulnerable under Castiel's gaze. Hell, some of this was easy to guess, but there were some parts where he would just hit too close. This guy was displaying Dean's life story all from a couple of lines on his fucking palm. It was uncomfortable and pretty unsettling for a stranger to know so much about him so simply. "Uh, yeah- I guess," Dean answered.
Castiel smiled, his eyes gazing at Dean in an endearing manner. "I could tell from your brother's palm- his lines revealed much about his past to me. He looks up to you. He is trying to repay you for all you have done for him," Castiel informed the blond man. Dean blinked, not sure what to say. Before he could respond, Castiel was back to reading his palm. "In your life you have put the interests of others before your own. You have given many sacrifices for others, damaging your happiness. But I see here that you've been given support early in your life… from friends, perhaps."
Dean could feel himself grow pale. This was crazy- it was too accurate. Sam must have said something, that was the only explanation.
"May I see your other hand?" Castiel asked. Nodding slightly, Dean obliged, handing Castiel his left hand, feeling the familiar shock go through him as Castiel obtained it. "Through this hand I can see what's in store for you," Castiel informed him.
After observing Dean's palm for a moment, the fortune teller spoke. "You have much awaited happiness in store for you… it's well deserved, from what I can tell. Your only challenge will be allowing yourself this happiness," Castiel told him. "Along with this… there will be some… some more sacrifice… with- excuse me," Castiel murmured as he cleared his throat. His voice seemed to be getting shaky, his eyes widening before he turned them back to their neutral expression. "Uhm, yes. I-I must warn you. Prepare yourself for loss. Prepare yourself, but do not let this preparation shield you from the happiness that is soon to come."
Dean's eyebrows furrowed as Castiel removed his hands from Dean's. After a couple of seconds, the man looked up, meeting Dean's gaze. He gave a smirk.
"It seems as though I have exceeded your expectations, mister…?"
"Ah- Winchester. Dean Winchester," Dean told him. "And you haven't exceeded all of them," Dean protested.
Castiel raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Dean squirmed in his seat, again, internally debating on whether or not he should just drop it. "Well, the angels thing," he began, giving Castiel a you-gotta-be-kidding-me smirk. "I mean, talking to angels… it's kinda ridiculous. That's just for show, right? To get the whole psychic effect?" Dean asked.
Castiel tipped his head to the side. "You do not believe I can speak to angels?" Castiel retorted.
"That- and also the whole thing about there being angels," Dean responded. "You… you don't honestly believe that you can communicate with 'em, right? Like, not for real?"
Castiel was silent for a moment, studying Dean. "Why don't you believe in angels, Mr. Winchester?" Castiel asked, ignoring Dean's question.
Dean gave a laugh. "Nah, buddy, I'm not gonna go around giving my life story to strangers, thanks. I just… I know they don't exist," Dean told him confidently.
Castiel's eyes squinted as he observed Dean- staring at him as if he were some fascinating specimen. "That's your problem, Dean. You have no faith," he informed him.
Dean could only blink dumbly. He quickly recovered, though, and was feeling kind of irritated, now. "Alright, sure. You can talk to angels," he gave in sarcastically. "Why don't you prove it?" he challenged.
Castiel gave a smile and a nod before he closed his eyes, adjusting his position so he was now crossing his legs. It was silent, mind all the faded chattering and noises of the carnival. He was absolutely silent, seeming to be meditating. Dean observed the man- the way his dark hair fell messily on his forehead, some tendrils pushed back. His eyes were calm, absolutely still beneath the lids. He seemed to be in some sort of an out of body experience, and when Dean was about to interrupt him, the fortune teller spoke. "The angels have informed me that your mother is alright…" Castiel murmured as his eyes opened. He looked to be in a trance, his eyes glazed over as he stared through Dean hauntingly. "Your father is alright, as well. They are together… they miss you, but they want you to know they are happy," Castiel informed him.
Dean was shocked silent. His mind was frazzled and he couldn't breath. There was no way. No, this wasn't possible.
"Jacob?... no... John… Yes, John. He's thanking you for taking care of… for taking care of Sammy," Castiel informed him. He suddenly gasped and blinked multiple times, his eyes jolted back from their glaze as he looked at Dean's face. He seemed significantly paler- shaken up before he composed himself. "Apologies… it's still difficult for me to keep connection for long periods of time," Castiel informed him.
Dean's mouth was agape. He closed it and licked his dry lips as he tried to think of what to say. No- don't give this guy the satisfaction, Dean told himself. It's all acting and good guessing. John is a common name, and Sammy must've told Castiel his name. Of course. That was what happened.
Dean stood up on his feet, ignoring the way his legs wobbled slightly. "Uhm, I have to get going," Dean informed the dark-haired man as he dug into his pocket for the five dollar bill. "Here," he offered, stretching out the money in offering to the still-sitting Castiel.
He only shook his head, though. "Keep it, Mr. Winchester. I hope you found your reading to be… useful," Castiel told him with a smile as he got up onto his feet.
Dean looked into Castiel's eyes for a bit before he nodded, pocketing the money. "Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks," he mumbled before heading out of the tent, the orange glow of the sunset and clean, crisp air clearing his foggy mind.
Sam smiled when he saw his brother. "That took a while," he noted.
"Really?" Dean asked, pulling out his phone to look at the time. He had been in there for nearly fifteen minutes.
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "So, was it good?" he asked, eager. "What'd he tell you?" Sam persisted as they walked to Sam's car.
Dean licked his lips before he responded. "Uh, nothin' really. Just stuff about my past or whatever. It was kinda cheesy, honestly," Dean lied.
"Hm," Sam responded, eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you'd be impressed... or at least proven wrong," he murmured with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Dean. I guess I got carried away about the whole thing," Sam apologized.
"Nah, don't worry about it," Dean replied as they climbed into Sam's old Volvo. "It wasn't too bad," he reassured.
Sam smiled at that. "Yeah, well I'm glad we did this. It's been a while since we've done anything fun together," Sam admitted.
Dean snorted. "Yeah, more like never," he agreed.
After they drove for a couple minutes, Dean remembered something.
"Here," he said as he handed Sam back his five bucks.
"You didn't pay him?" Sam asked. "Was he really that bad?"
Dean laughed. "No. He didn't want the money. 'Told me to keep it," Dean replied as Sam pocketed the bill.
"Huh, that's strange," the younger Winchester noted.
"Yeah… I thought so, too," Dean responded.
It was silent for a few minutes.
"Hey, Sam?"
"Yeah?"
Dean sat up a bit, nervous. "You didn't happen to tell him anything about me, right?"
Sam smirked. "No, Dean. I didn't."
Dean was quiet for a moment. "Did you tell him… you know, anybody's names? Did you give him your name?"
Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "No, I didn't. I don't think so. I only said Jessica's name, and that was just to confirm it after he had guessed it. Why? What'd he say?"
"Nothing," Dean lied. "It was nothin'."
I don't know... I just got the idea of fortune telling Castiel and I thought it'd be cool n_n
I have a lot of ideas for this fanfic. I probably won't continue it if the responses aren't good, so give you your honest opinion! Would you like to see more?
Anyways...
Goodbye, lovelies!~
