So, it's my thing to write stories that marry up with each other ... this is Castiel's version of The Art of Dating.
Trigger warning that Castiel has social anxiety. I'm drawing from my own experiences, and from those of loved ones, but I'm aware that how Castiel reacts may not be the same as anyone else. I don't pretend to be an expert on this kind of thing either, so apologies for inaccuracy. I hope you enjoy it despite that x
"Brother, where do you want it?"
Castiel had been walking down a hallway, towards the board room hidden behind an old Greek statue. He had presumed that no one but other board members were in the gallery, but obviously he was mistaken. He ducked behind a formaldehyde structure, and peeked out into the room where the voice was coming from. There were two men moving around, dragging sculptures into place. The slightly taller of the two, and slightly thinner, wiped his forehead and gestured across the room, away from where Castiel was hiding.
"Edith said I had that corner. Sorry, Benny."
"It's okay. You can buy the beers after." The shorter, stockier one laughed. He adjusted his flat cap, and they grabbed the sculpture once again. Castiel was intrigued. Edith was one of the gallery directors, so if one of these gentlemen knew who she was, then they needed to be there. Maybe the gallery was restructuring its contemporary wing. If Castiel could stop hiding behind this formaldehyde - oh gross, formaldehyde horse - and get into the board room, he would find out exactly what was going on. But he didn't want to be caught by these two men, to be accused to theft or worse, be recognised for who he really was. There was nothing more terrifying than being called out for being born a Novak. It would be best if he could slip by unnoticed, but whatever the structures were made of, they seemed heavy and awkward. Both men looked as though they lifted weights frequently, and they both kept pausing as they moved across the room.
"Brother, do you ever think about using something lighter than steel? Like maybe marshmallow?"
"Man up, Benny. I'm lucky enough I got in this place."
"How did that happen, anyway?"
"Sam. He managed to get one of my smaller pieces into his office. Edith was in there for alimony or something, and he hooked us up."
"Could be your big break." The guy called Benny laughed, and then huffed as they continued dragging the metal barely over the marble flooring. The guy that Castiel only knew as 'brother' at this point waited until they had stopped moving again to answer.
"That's what Sam said. We'll see."
They finally got the piece into place, and both stepped back to admire it. 'Brother' turned to say something to Benny, and Castiel's breath caught in his throat. Even from this distance, peering around the back end of a creature now immortalised in chemicals and resin, Castiel could see that the guy was gorgeous. A work of art, all by himself. He somehow reminded Castiel of that picture Da Vinci had made, identifying perfected beauty, and the delicacy of the Mona Lisa, the passion in Van Gogh's work. He wanted to see Brother up close, to see what colour his eyes were, to memorise all his features, to know whether he tasted as divine as he looked.
He wasn't used to this sensation. Yes, he had dated before, but always out of expectation or experimentation. His mother and father had tried to set him up with some eligible women, he had met a couple of girls at college. But time and again he had been used, or unable to go further than hand holding. Even the first guy he had been interested in turned out to be more interested in the name Novak than who Castiel was. But even he didn't set Castiel's heart racing, his palms sweating, his breath hitching the way that this guy did. He already knew from watching their progress that Brother had a great ass.
He wanted to approach, to get to know this guy, but how? How? What if they questioned who he was, what he was doing? He knew that, if this was Michael, he would merely introduce himself as a board member without giving too many details away, make some small talk about Edith and walk away with Brother's real name and number, already putty in his hands. Luke would just walk by confidently, making Brother chase him. Gabriel would prank him and break the ice that way. Balthazar wouldn't bother with formalities and would stick his tongue down Brother's throat.
Castiel was nothing like any of his brothers.
He watched as Benny and Brother walked outside, discussing which piece to drag in next, and Castiel took his chance, rushing over to the board room and sliding into his seat, late and attracting all the attention. No one would call him out though, no one wanted the wrath of a Novak brother. None of them cared to know the truth. But he still didn't like the way people turned their heads in his direction, then snapped back to Edith as though it hurt to look at him. Being studiously ignored was, in some ways, worse than being studied intently. It was like people were aware of him but too intimidated to acknowledge him.
Edith was talking about the upcoming award she had arranged. It was in its fourth year, but it had already become prestigious in the art world. The winners had become successful and world renown. Castiel loved that end of being on the board, knowing that he had a hand in making someone's life better. He wasn't boastful about it, but he had voted for every winner so far. He just hadn't nominated a winner yet.
Another board member stood up and spoke about investments and outgoings, and Castiel felt his attention slip. Money was so boring, people's obsession with money was so boring. And it was hard to concentrate when there was an artist downstairs who even at this distance seemed to make his veins thrum. Castiel wondered what his name was. It couldn't be Brother, Castiel refused to believe that was possible. He didn't seem pretentious, or like one of those artists who relied on a gimmick. It had to be a quirk of his companion.
And who was Benny to him? Boyfriend? Husband? Brother? But who called their brother by their relationship? That was just weird. He couldn't imagine turning around to Gabriel and addressing him as 'brother'. Castiel really hoped that Benny wasn't married to this artist, not if it removed his chances. He really hoped it was just friendship, that the artist was single and at least experimental.
Although, he considered as reality crashed in, it really wouldn't matter. The guy could be straight with ten kids, or dating this Benny; nothing would change if Castiel couldn't even approach him. And he was so, so beautiful, Castiel couldn't imagine keeping his head enough to talk to the guy, to flirt with him. Drooling in front of him wasn't an attractive prospect. He wished he could be confident like any one of his brothers, instead of hiding behind a preserved, excavated horse. But he didn't know how, couldn't motivate himself to do anything, so he resolved to get over Brother.
Except. Except that he was still spending time in the gallery, trying to pick an artist to nominate. Except that he came across a sculpture that was intricate and beautiful, twisting poles of steel coalescing into the shape of a tree. Simple yet well crafted, and somehow breathing despite the medium. Except that he discovered Dean Winchester had made it, and the other metal sculptures, including the strange pear-shaped one that he realised he had seen Brother and Benny push into place. Except that, as soon as he knew it, Castiel put the name forward for the award.
The name branded itself into Castiel's head. It became like a pulse, a rhythm when he walked. Every footstep echoed with the name Dean.
He caught sight of him a few more times, and most of the time he hid before he was seen, listening intently for any sign of the relationship between Dean and Benny. He wanted to know where they stood, to know what he should do. As if he had a game plan for any kind of eventuality. Every sighting made his breath catch in his throat. Dean was gorgeous, in any light. There was no way he was single.
Castiel noticed some things while he spied on them from behind columns and other sculptures, or from the balcony that ran along the room. Dean was interested in Benny, his body language made that clear. But Castiel didn't get the vibe that it was reciprocated, Benny's body language was a lot more reserved. Castiel just couldn't tell if it was platonic on Dean's side, if he maybe considered Benny a better friend than Benny did him.
There was one time when he was in the gallery during opening hours where he didn't have the chance to hide, and it would have looked strange if he attempted to do so. He was evaluating a painting by another artist, one who hadn't quite decided on their technique but had been nominated for this award, when voices started up not far behind him.
"Is that one of your competition, Brother?" Benny's southern drawl carried across the room. There were a few footsteps scuffing the polished floor, and Castiel could sense them both standing there, mere feet behind him.
"Oh, yeah. They're up for this award too."
"Do they think they're Picasso?"
"It's not influenced by Picasso. More Mondrian meets Pollock."
Dean sounded so confident. And Castiel scrutinised the painting some more, realising how right Dean was. It was merely a combination of other, more cutting edge contemporary art that had come before. So he could add knowledgable to the meagre amount of information he had on Dean Winchester.
"Means nothing to me, Brother."
"Yeah, well. Good to know what I'm up against."
"Like there's any doubt," Benny huffed a laugh. Dean muttered, but Castiel still heard it.
"Benny, I think that guy's on the committee."
"I didn't say your name, you're safe," Benny replied a little louder. But then their footsteps started, and they left the room before Castiel turned, watching their retreating backs, the way Dean curled towards his friend to whisper in his ear, a hand on his shoulder. Benny's body tensed, but he listened anyway, and Castiel focused back on the painting. He couldn't enjoy it after Dean's succinct evaluation. Or maybe it was after seeing their uneven relationship up close.