A/N: First off, merry (belated) Christmas! Hope you guys are enjoying your holidays!
This little thing is set in my Fake It Till You Make It verse, but it's not necessary to read it first. Nothing you need to know here, but for those who read the first one, try to find all the escapades the characters made reference to in the original!
I know it's not the lunch epilogue some of you asked for, but I hope you find this just as satisfying. It was tons of fun to write, partly because Michael's POV is one I haven't tried yet, but mostly because I adore brothers being cute together.
You can find the original on my profile, under the name Fake It Till You Make It!
In hindsight, Michael really should have realised it the moment Dean Winchester walked into their house.
It was a regular enough day. Michael was going over his college coursework, completely alone in the ridiculously-sized house. Father was abroad, Lucifer was still at school, having been detained for using profanity in the presence of a teacher, and Gabriel was on his way at this very moment to bust him out. And he thought he was being so sneaky, climbing out of his window like that, Michael mused. His chuckle echoed around him, eery in the uncomfortable silence.
The only problem, however, was Castiel. Class was finished for the day, and he had no club meetings that afternoon. Nonetheless, he was not home.
Michael scratched his chin absentmindedly, pondering over both his youngest brother's absence and his own half-finished psych essay. Maybe Castiel had stayed behind in the school library to do homework? But why would he? He always did it at home, so he would be able to fact-check his answers with the Internet and his eldest brother. Perhaps he'd grown out of that phase, Michael wondered. As his fingers continued tapping against the keyboard, Michael also made a mental note to make sure Gabriel had finished his homework as well.
Halfway through his sentence on some of Freud's more controversial theories, the faint click of the front door carried through the lonely house and into Michael's bedroom.
"Gabriel, Lucifer or Castiel?" Michael demanded, scowling at the typo he had made in Sigmund's name.
"It's me, Michael," came Castiel's voice. "I've brought a friend over."
Michael froze in surprise, confusion etched in the creases of his frown. His finger forgot to release the 'enter' key, causing the psychology essay to skid downwards violently. Suddenly, he pushed away with his feet, then glided towards the door on the wheels of his office chair. He would think Castiel was joking, if it wasn't for the fact that the boy had very little sense of humour. Fourteen years and he had never brought anyone over, much less a 'friend'. But he peeked from behind his door and lo and behold, Castiel was taking his shoes off in the hall, accompanied by another boy Michael hadn't seen before.
He was taller than Cas, with a quiff in his sandy blond hair and a cocky grin on his lips. He wore tattered jeans and an old flannel shirt, and his boots were heavy and muddy (Castiel should have made him leave those outside). A large, leather jacket was slung over his shoulders, while some strange gold pendant (in the shape of a horned head) hung around his neck.
This required serious inspection.
Michael stood from his chair abruptly and stalked into the kitchen, where Castiel was offering the stranger water. Ten steps away, he heard, "You got any beer?"
The Novak's scowl intensified. "Castiel, who is this?" he asked with an air of mock-politeness once he entered.
"Dean Winchester, a friend from class." There was that word again. Friend.
"Hey, man," came the intelligent reply.
Michael squinted at the blond. "Hello," he replied, unable to keep the cold out this time. "John Winchester's son?" he asked. He received a nod.
Michael knew little about John Winchester, but he seemed respectable enough. So how was it this Dean kid made all sorts of alarm bells and red flashes go off in his mind? And why on Earth did Castiel bring him here?
Michael frowned a little. "I'm sorry, Castiel has never mentioned you before. How long is it you two know each other?"
"Since today," Winchester answered with a shrug. He accepted the water Castiel handed him with another smooth grin. Michael didn't like it.
"Care to elaborate?" Michael turned to his little brother.
"Dean and I were paired together for Chemistry today. After class had finished, Dean told me he couldn't understand the calculations from titration, so I invited him here in order to explain."
For a fleeting moment, Winchester had Michael's sympathy. He himself had never gotten titrations either. Knowing it would be socially unacceptable to kick him out now that he was already here, Michael simply nodded, albeit uneasily. "All right. Feel free to use the dining table."
Castiel's head tilted and he asked, "Wouldn't it be more convenient in my room?"
"No!" Michael all but yelled. "No, uh, Gabriel flooded the bathroom upstairs. Your room is swimming." He had no time to feel bad about throwing Gabriel under the bus. It was a transparent lie, but Castiel didn't seem to realise this. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, did. He gave Michael a lopsided grin and raised his hands slightly in defence, to which the Novak responded with a glare.
I'll be watching you, brat, Michael growled in thought.
The second time Dean Winchester came around, Michael had been just as surprised. But this time, at least there was an answer to his and Castiel's strange companionship.
"Are you lost, Mr Winchester?" Michael deadpanned with a glower.
"Nah, Cas invited me over to do homework," Winchester returned, a challenging grin in place. Oh, how Michael wished society allowed punching stupid teenagers in the face. "You, uh, gonna let me in?" Winchester pressed on.
Michael stepped aside and pulled the door a little further. He turned to leave, but not before he warned, "Boots outside, if you wouldn't mind." Mutters and curses rumbled under his breath as he settled on the couch in the living room, where Lucifer and Gabriel were busy with their video game.
Gabriel didn't even have to look at his eldest brother's face to know he was absolutely seething. "Whoa, Mike, someone spit in your oatmeal this morning?" he asked, violently thumbing at his console.
"Do you know a Dean Winchester?" Michael muttered with a frown.
"Yeah, that him at the door?" Gabriel inquired.
The other confirmed with a nod.
"Thought I heard his voice. Yo, Dean-o!"
Michael's eyes widened. The fact that Gabriel had a nickname for the punk was horribly disconcerting.
"Hey, Gabe! Where's Cas at?" Dean returned in passing.
"Upstairs in his room!"
"Thanks!"
Gabriel chuckled, apparently not noticing that Lucifer had shot his character and Michael currently glared holes into the side of his head.
"You're friends with him?!" Michael hissed angrily.
"Not friends per se, but he's a good kid," Gabriel answered. "You're so getting your ass whooped, Lu," he added to the blond, who's head kicked back with laughter.
"That's a good kid?" Michael's words were laced with sarcasm.
"Untwist those panties, Mikey," Lucifer sighed. "Winchester's all right."
"Oh, excuse me if knowing that he has your seal of approval worries me," Michael retorted.
"Come on, Mike. He's Cas' friend. At least give him the benefit of the doubt."
The eldest Novak scowled at the pair of them, but slumped back into the couch. He took the console from Lucifer's hands and instructed Gabriel, "Reset the game, will you? And quit cheating."
It kept his mind blissfully blank for about two hours. Gabriel and he had both won two rounds each, before Lucifer took over and thoroughly kicked Michael's ass, then proceeded to do the same to Gabriel. Soon the living room developed into a war zone, with Michael and Gabriel working together (maybe cheating once or twice) to knock Lucifer's overinflated ego down a few pegs. Colourful profanities and meaningless threats were thrown around carelessly until footsteps sounded from the stairs, and Michael accidentally threw his character into the line of fire.
He vaguely registered Gabriel snatching the console out of his hands and resetting, too busy eavesdropping on the partial conversation taking place on the stairs.
"-again on Monday, when we get more questions on it?"
"Sure, but I'll have to let you know if I can. Could you gimme your number?"
Michael had to admit, the kid was smooth. Careful not to make any noise, Michael crept out of the living room and followed the unsuspecting pair to the hall before the front door. He watched the process of exchanging cellphone numbers from beside the foot of the stairs, his arms folded and glare intact up until the door was safely closed behind Winchester's back.
Castiel pressed his back against it, a jolt flying through him when he realised that Michael was towering behind him. "Michael," he blinked.
"Castiel," Michael acknowledged. "Can we talk?" Without waiting for a reply, he swept towards his youngest brother, his best Concerned-But-Stern-Big-Brother expression on display. "I know you don't have much experience with having people over, but nevertheless I expect you to know you have to tell me about it beforehand," he said, quickly realising there was probably a better way of putting the first part of that statement.
"I know it was wrong of me, but given how the first meeting between you and Dean went, I didn't think you would allow me to invite him," Castiel explained. Michael got the feeling his brother was not as relaxed as his voice suggested. His eyes were definitely panicky.
"So instead, you invited him over behind my back?" He spoke just as calmly, despite the irritation he felt at the moment.
Castiel licked his lips, then nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Michael sighed. "I don't understand, Castiel, this isn't like you. I would've expected this from Lucifer, or Gabriel."
Two simultaneous 'heys' squawked from the direction behind them. Michael didn't pay attention to them.
He tried a more diplomatic approach. "Why was it so important that he came here, anyway? Dean Winchester doesn't seem like the type you would consider a friend."
Instead of replying, Castiel decided he was more interested in the wall behind Michael's shoulder. A soft tinge of red flooded his face, from ears to cheeks. Suddenly, it was all very clear.
"Oh... Oh."
Neither spoke. Castiel shifted.
"Next time, just tell me, Castiel, and uh... keep your door open from now, all right?"
It carried on like that afterwards. Winchester kept coming over at least once a week, Castiel kept helping him with school work, and Michael kept marvelling at the whole thing. The two seemed to clash in every conceivable way, and yet Michael has never seen Castiel take such a liking to a single person before. Winchester pulled those genuine smiles and friendly jibes out of him so easily, something only Castiel's brothers were able to do. As for Winchester, Michael had initially thought he was just in it for the free pass at copying homework, but he seemed just as content with Castiel's company as his brother was vice versa.
By the end of Castiel's first semester, there had apparently been some progress in their relationship.
"Study sessions?" Michael echoed during their piano lesson.
"Yes," Castiel confirmed again, a hint of confusion etched in his expression. "I don't understand, should I explain the concept?"
Michael frowned. "No, I get it just fine. Where would you have them?"
"In the school library."
Is that so? "What's wrong with your room?" the other inquired.
"The school library has a few journals and textbooks I thought might be useful."
Michael never expected the be hearing the words from his own mouth but- "What about the Internet?"
Castiel's head tilted to a side, giving him the appearance of a confused puppy. Michael didn't know if he was purposely using this to his advantage or not. "It's helpful, yes, but isn't it easier to search in one of the books, where all the information is in a single place?"
He could see there was no way of avoiding it. Putting it bluntly would have to do. "Look, do I have reason to worry? I don't trust Winchester not pulling a move on you."
It was awkward, but at least the point was across. Castiel's cheeks lit up as he spoke, "You don't have to worry, Michael. Dean isn't... He doesn't think of me that way."
"Oh." Despite the obvious dejection this brought Castiel, it was hard for Michael to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Good, then."
The Winchester's visits didn't stop once January had arrived and school had reopened. In fact, Michael would go as far as to say they had increased. Homework help was still being given and study sessions were held frequently, but every now and then there would be a visit which wasn't connected with schoolwork at all. Dean and Castiel would lounge around upstairs in the bedroom, talking about things like movies or food or families. They were regular things- things that friends talked about.
Michael was glad, in a way. It was good for Castiel to have someone. Someone who wasn't a brother, or an absent father, or a spoiled snob with whom said absent father forced socialisation. And from what he could see, it did Winchester some good too. Somebody had to keep him in check, make sure he didn't end up in juvie. For Dean, that somebody was Castiel.
What Michael wasn't glad about was the extra cooking.
He didn't know when it had started, but at one point Dean began eating with them. If Michael really concentrated and tried to remember, he would have thought of a particular instant when the two had been assigned a very long thesis statement, which forced them to work well into the late afternoon. Though Michael wasn't Winchester's number one fan, he wasn't totally heartless either, so he invited the boy to eat with them.
That had soon proved to be a mistake. Winchester had been joining them for meals ever since.
The trouble wasn't that Dean was any more irritating when he ate, but it was the fact that his stomach was a never-ending black hole, capable of taking in amounts thrice its size. It didn't help that Michael already had two such cases on his hands, namely being Lucifer and Gabriel (honestly, Michael didn't understand where all that extra food went- were they born with a second stomach?).
It didn't take long for Michael to finally snap.
"If this thing between you and Dean Winchester is going to stay, you might as well start going over to his house once in a while," he announced.
Castiel looked up from his half-eaten breakfast cereal. "Excuse me?"
"All I'm saying is," Michael shrugged, "have you ever met his parents?"
"Well, no..."
"You two have been stuck at the hip for, what, five months?" To this, Castiel nodded hesitantly. "Go see what his family's like," Michael said, vaguely gesturing in front of him, as if ushering his brother. "You don't have to be cooped up inside whenever you meet. Go out, see a movie, eat a burger or something."
Just keep him out of our fridge, his thoughts grumbled.
Castiel watched his brother uncertainly. "And you would be all right with this?"
Not really, but there was only so many times Michael could make a grocery run in one week. "Sure, why not? As long as you're not putting yourselves in harm's way," he answered instead.
Castiel met the Winchesters the following Friday. After that, meet-ups varied between the two houses, with the occasional trip to town. Michael couldn't really put his finger on it, but something had changed between the two afterwards. Their friendship seemed more permanent, as if this had set it in stone somehow. Whatever the reason, Michael had a feeling there was no getting rid of Winchester now.
The following summer found Michael focusing on two of his brothers' futures with the very little energy he had left. Lucifer had been accepted into Kansas University, where he would be studying business, and spent most of his free time prepping for the fall. Michael was helping him out, introducing the basics of the campus to him, as he himself had just finished his first year in KU (coincidentally, also studying business). He was equally busy chasing down Gabriel, who was approaching his final year in high school and still had absolutely no idea what he wanted to study in the future. The only thing he seemed to enjoy was following Michael around the kitchen (which in the last few years, had actually turned to Michael following Gabriel). Although the culinary career wasn't something Michael was counting on, Gabriel seemed set on it, so the two found a school close enough to home which was worth checking out.
Between the Internet searches and extra textbooks and Business 101 lectures, Michael had little time to keep an eye on Castiel and his friendship with Dean. The fifteen-year-olds stayed indoors on most occasions, preferring the comfort of A/Cs and endlessly supplied refrigerators over actually spending their summer vacations in more productive manners. Still, Michael couldn't complain: this way, he could count on them doing some chores for him, like the laundry or the vacuuming or ironing (although Castiel was the only one trusted with the iron).
The only question left was, platonic or romantic? The answer, as far as Michael could decipher, was this: somewhere in between.
While Castiel had admitted there was a certain degree of attraction on his end, for the most part it seemed to be a friendship and nothing more. They fiercely protected one another and constantly had each other's backs. They teased, shoved, laughed together. Fought and made up like brothers, like they had known each other their entire lives.
But sometimes, Michael wasn't so sure. Sometimes, the touching would overstep the platonic boundary; Winchester's hand was a little too low at Castiel's back, Cas' fingers lingered a little too long on the other's knuckles. Sometimes, Michael would catch them sitting and just... staring at one another. In the beginning, it looked like one was daring the other to blink first, a silly game between two immature teens, but these days, those expressions looked more sincere, warmer, like there a secret only the two of them shared.
Michael didn't know whether he should be worried or not. Castiel had assured him Dean's feelings were strictly platonic, but his actions spoke otherwise. If he was simply trying to lead Castiel on as a joke... Michael's anger spiked at the thought. It was hard enough for Cas to make friends, Michael didn't want to think how he'd take to losing one. He had to do something about this.
And he did, during his and Castiel's next piano lesson. While they sat together on the bench, and played Schubert's Grand Duo for piano four-hands as a warm-up, Michael mulled over his thoughts. Winchester was always a touchy subject for Castiel, and if he didn't come off neutral, inoffensive, his brother could shut down on him mid-conversation.
They finished the warm-up and Michael shuffled through sheet music. "What do you want to start with, then?" he asked.
Castiel didn't skip a beat. "Moonlight Sonata."
Michael responded with a nod and settled the papers on the music rack. As Castiel's left hand began flowing over the keys, the other said, "I'm sorry I've been distant these days. Your vacation good so far?"
"Yes, it's fine," Castiel murmured in return, bringing up his right hand.
"You and Winchester having fun?" Michael hoped his tone sounded innocent.
A small smile. "Yes, I suppose."
"C-sharp, Cas, not D-sharp," Michael corrected before continuing, "I'm glad. You seem like good friends." A beat of silence followed. "You are friends, aren't you?" he asked.
Castiel's brow creased. "Yes, of course, what else would we be?"
Michael flipped the sheet music. "What about, you know, boyfriends?"
Castiel's fingers stumbled, causing the sonnet to wobble. "Michael..." He sighed.
"Winchester seems a little forward-"
"Dean is a sociable person," Castiel cut off sternly.
Michael muttered back, "Yeah, slapping your ass in the kitchen. Very sociable."
The music had stopped altogether by now.
"He was joking, Michael," the other returned.
"Look, I just think I should talk to him-"
"No." Castiel's tone sounded horrified, as if Michael suggested to drown a kitten. "Michael, don't. Please, don't. If Dean found out I-" Castiel forced his mouth shut, then exhaled dejectedly.
It wasn't hard for Michael to guess. He would leave, he had wanted to say.
Instead, he settled for, "He's my friend. That is all."
"All right. I believe you." Michael watched his brother, but Castiel stubbornly avoided his eyes. The elder Novak's gaze turned to the sheet music. He suggested, "Let's pick it up from the beginning."
He's gone.
No, not gone, Michael chided himself. He had been away from home before, he would be back.
Except this time he said it himself. This time it's permanent.
Michael growled in frustration, forcefully cast his plate into the sink, as if shoving that voice out of his head. The porcelain cracked right down the middle, but he felt better.
He couldn't leave them. He wouldn't leave them.
Oh, but wouldn't he?
An early retirement, his email had said.
It wasn't even his. It was his assistant's.
A new house on an island, it explained briefly. No address. No phone number.
No contact... He doesn't want to be found.
"Shut up," Michael grit, but the only reply was the silence of the kitchen.
There was an inheritance. His business was left to them, too. The family business, he had called it in his email. They could do as they pleased with it.
But...
College. Michael would have to drop out. That much was obvious. He couldn't do both, and Father trusted him to take over his work as CEO. Lucifer would want to help, of course, he would want to leave college too. Michael wouldn't let him. No, he would graduate first, then he could come work, as a COO or something similar.
He doesn't care about any of us. He didn't visit to tell us in person. He didn't even make a phone call. He didn't do fucking anything.
"Shut up!" His voice cracked.
A distant buzzing answered. Was that their doorbell? Who would it be? Could it be-
That must be him. He must have come to explain this mess.
Michael didn't even register the sprint to the front door, but he did register the visitor's face. Dean Winchester.
Of course it isn't him. Why would it be him?
Michael bit back the dismayed yell bubbling in his chest. Instead he croaked, "This isn't a good time, Winchester-"
"Castiel called me." His voice was resolute, determined. "He told me. Sounded like he could do with some company." That challenging glint in his eye was there, daring Michael to try and stop him from coming in.
And he didn't. He stepped aside and let the Winchester enter. Dean made a beeline for the stairs, and in moments Michael heard the door of Castiel's bedroom creak open and closed. Michael couldn't hear anything beside muffled words and minor shuffling. He didn't care to eavesdrop. Instead, he paced back to the kitchen to pick up the broken remains in the sink.
Hours later, when night had fallen and dinner had gone cold and Lucifer and Gabriel had passed out on the couch, exhausted from sheer frustration, Michael crept upstairs to peek through the door of the room furthest down the hall.
There were glistening tracks racing across Castiel's cheeks, and his nose and rims of his eyes were an irritated red. Winchester's tee was damp at the chest and right shoulder. The two sixteen-year-olds stretched over Castiel's bedsheets, their bodies lined up and tightly pressed together. Cas' head was tucked under Dean's chin, whose arms were draped protectively around the other's lithe frame, fingers splayed across his stomach. Their legs were tangled clumsily and hung off the edge of the bed. The light snores and sniffles filled the room.
Michael flicked off the light, then silently closed the door.
"A party?" Michael asked dubiously.
Winchester rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Michael. A party. You know, that thing people go to to have some fun?"
Michael glared at him, scathing retort ready on his tongue, when Castiel put a hand on the blond's shoulder and said calmly, "Dean, please."
Winchester snorted irritatedly (Feeling's mutual, buddy, Michael hissed mentally), but didn't say anything else.
Castiel wisely turned Michael's attention to him. "Michael, Ash is having a party tonight, and I'd very much like to attend it with Dean."
The scowl was still in place. Michael asked, "How are you getting there?"
"Dean will drive his father's Impala," Castiel said.
The blond butted in, "Technically, it's mine now."
"You got a license?" Michael peered at him.
"Yeah, last month." Dean added before Michael even phrased his question, "No, it's not a phony."
"Then you won't mind if I take a look at it."
"Michael." Castiel sighed.
Michael grumbled, "This kid got access to alcohol?"
Castiel answered, "No," at the same time Dean said, "Probably." Castiel stared at his best friend. "What? Now you want me to lie to him?" Winchester asked defensively.
"It doesn't matter. I won't have any," Castiel calmly assured his brother.
"Nevertheless," Michael interrupted. "Alcohol and Winchester behind the wheel? Not a good equation. My answer's no, Castiel."
"Come on, Mike." Michael grimaced at the voice that sounded from behind him. "Let the kids have some fun. God knows how many times I got drunk in high school."
"Lucifer, stay out of this," Michael retorted.
Lucifer strolled into the living room in his annoying, blasé manner. "Cassie, go to your party. You have permission from you favourite brother," he told his little brother, pressing a hand over his chest. "Unless Mr Fun-Sucker has other ideas," he shot a teasing grin in Michael's direction.
Michael looked from Lucifer, to Winchester, then finally to Castiel. His little brother's eyes were uncharacteristically pleading.
It wasn't a school night, and there were no finals looming near. Besides, Castiel was the most responsible, level-headed teen Michael knew. What was the harm in letting them go?
He sighed in defeat. "Fine. You can go."
Famous last words. That was how Michael ended up in the predicament he was in now; sitting on the couch in the empty living room at one forty-fucking-five in the morning, his knees jittering, the TV mutely playing in front of him.
He was going to strangle Winchester with his bare hands. Then forbid Castiel from ever seeing him again.
Unfortunately, Michael was only too well-versed in these situations (exhibit A: Lucifer and exhibit B: Gabriel). He knew that the best he could do for now was lounge around on the couch and wait for the front door to creak open. Then there would be hell to pay.
With many colourful, violent things he would soon be doing to Dean Winchester in mind, Michael settled into the sofa pillows, his head dangling off one end and his feet sticking out from the other. Then he fixed his gaze on a suspicious smudge on the blank wall (damn it, Lucifer was so dead), and waited.
The next thing he knew, he was being startled awake by the sound of something so horrible it couldn't even be considered music. The sudden intrusion had him jumping three feet in the air. It took him five minutes to register that it was that morbid ringtone of his, the one Gabriel had set for him as some sort of practical joke (Michael still couldn't work his new phone well enough to change it), and then another five minutes to take in the fact that damn it his phone was ringing. He squinted under the painful glare of the sun shining through the billowing curtains as he frantically felt around his jeans for any sign of his cell. The jingle didn't stop until Michael spotted the phone on the coffee table and snatched it.
"H'llo?" he mumbled intelligently.
"Michael, I'm so sorry to call you this early," Michael vaguely recognised the agitated voice of Mary Winchester.
"No, no, it's all right, Mrs Winchester," he replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes (and some drool from his chin). "What can I help you with?"
"Dean didn't come home last night."
It came crashing back down on him like a tidal wave.
Party. Midnight. Threats of strangling.
"I was hoping he might have crashed over at your place," Mary was saying.
"I'll be honest, Mrs Winchester," Michael admitted, "I fell asleep before they got back. But I'm checking Castiel's room right now."
His heart was pounding in his throat as he sprinted up the stairs. What if something had happened to them? Were they robbed? Did they crash? What if they were dead? Each of his assumptions was more ridiculous than the next, but he couldn't get his brain to work properly.
Castiel's door banged noisily against the wall. Michael's heart tumbled to his stomach- The room was empty.
Oh lord, what was he going to do? Should he try Castiel's number? He would have remembered to take his phone, of course-
Real panic would have set in if something from behind the ajar bathroom door hadn't caught Michael's eye. He cautiously poked his head in, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Castiel and Dean were squished together in the bathtub, with the water off and the clothes on, thankfully. The two were snuggled cozily, foreheads touching, legs sticking out in various angles. Winchester's fingers were lost in Castiel's hair, as if he had fallen asleep playing with it. His other hand was placed dangerously high on Castiel's thigh, whose own arms snaked behind Dean's back, disappearing from sight. Judging from the angle, they were all over his lower back and his ass.
Needless to say, it was safe to assume some groping had taken place.
"They're here, Mrs Winchester," he informed the woman on the phone. "They look fine. I'll send your son home as soon as I can."
"Thank goodness. All right, thank you, Michael. I'm sorry again," she said.
"No, really, it's my fault," Michael countered. Shouldn't have let them to that stupid party.
He said goodbye to Mary, and as soon as his phone was pocketed away, the worry dissipated and the anger actually settled in.
"What the hell were you two thinking?!" Michael barked.
It had been enough to startle the pair out of sleep. Winchester peeked up at the eldest Novak from bleary eyes, then snuggled back into the crook of Castiel's neck, stifling a groan. On the other hand, Castiel looked terrified. Good.
"Explain!" Michael demanded.
"Quit yelling, will you? I already have a migraine," Dean muttered.
"Winchester, you better shut the fuck up or I will throw you out of the window," Michael snarled. "Why did you come back home after midnight? And why are you in the bathtub?!"
"We lost track of time," Castiel tried.
"Yeah, 'cause we were havin' too much fun," Dean really wasn't helping his case.
"I brought Dean back here because he was inebriated and in no state to drive home," Castiel explained.
"You got drunk?" Michael hissed at the Winchester.
"Yeah, and you should'a seen Cas. He drank Ash under the table," Winchester announced proudly. Castiel slapped his forehead.
"Castiel, how did you get home? You said Winchester couldn't drive," Michael pointed out, then stopped. "Oh lord, tell me Winchester didn't drive you back home."
"Of course he didn't, Michael."
"Then who did?"
Castiel seemed hesitant to answer.
"Castiel."
"I may have driven us back."
"With no license?" Michael grit out.
"Dean has been teaching me the basic rules," he stated helplessly. "It wasn't very difficult..."
Michael glared from one teenager from the other. "And the bathroom?"
"I needed to puke," Winchester explained. "Which I think I'll have to again soon."
"Afterwards, he crawled into the bathtub and insisted I came in too," Castiel finished, gesturing around him. "Then he passed out."
Michael was still fuming, but he jerked his chin at the sink and said, "Both of you, get out and clean up. Separately. And no more parties."
Michael hated Zachariah Adler.
Maybe 'hate' was too strong a word. No, he disliked Zachariah. Strongly disliked him, but there was always room for improving relations with employees, Michael reasoned while he fished his keys out of his pocket. He had barely stuck them into the knob when his phone shrieked- literally- and informed him he had a new message. Gabriel's work, no doubt- the asshole had gotten to his text messages too. Michael still had no idea how to work his new phone and change the obnoxious SMS alert.
Michael, got this number off your secretary. Is it possible to schedule a meeting for tomorrow? Would like to discuss inventory issues with you. -Z Adler
"Fucking Zachariah," Michael swore under his breath. He jabbed back a curt response, idly wondering how his father ever got any work done with that creep around. Once the cell was tucked away and his shoes were switched for a more comfortable pair of slippers, Michael took the time to acknowledge the quiet ruling the house.
If he had learned anything in the past twenty years of his life, it was that silence in the Novak household was almost always an omen for some horrible, arduous episode, starring Lucifer in the lead role and Gabriel as his trusty sidekick.
"Any signs of life in here?" Michael demanded, making his way through the minefield of overturned shoes. Two, three, four pairs, he counted, but discarded the thought. What he needed right now was coffee. Lots of it. He trod towards the kitchen and, stopping to lean against the archway, eyes pinched shut behind his fingers, he grunted, "If I hear any noise in the next half-hour, I swear-"
His halfhearted threat was met by several unturned heads huddled round the dining table, not paying any attention to a single word that was spewing from his mouth. One, two, three, four, Michael noted again, but at this point in life he wasn't even surprised anymore. What did surprise him was the utter tranquility the boys were working in.
Winchester sat beside Castiel with three different textbooks and a laptop opened up around them. Each wrote on his individual question sheet. Across Cas was Lucifer, his own work space littered with sheets of lined paper, some blank and some covered in crossed out scribbles. Underneath all that mess, Michael managed to scope out a tablet, its glowing screen showing an article on handling finance. Lastly, Gabriel sat cross-legged in his chair and chewed on the wrong end of his pen while simultaneously surveying his paper and analysing the notes in his notebook.
"Hey, Mike. Was that you yelling in the hall?" the brunet asked cheerfully. He sputtered once he realised there was ink in his mouth.
Michael blinked. "Wh- What are you doing?"
"Homework." Lucifer shrugged.
"How was work?" Castiel inquired.
Michael settled for a small, "Tiring." He felt more and more as if he had stepped into an alternate universe by the minute.
"Cas, enzyme that turns maltose into glucose- that amylase or maltase?" Dean muttered.
"Maltase," came the instant reply from Castiel and Michael. The latter gave his younger brother a wink before asking, "Winchester, you staying for dinner or what?"
"Nah, Mom wants me to head off early so I can stop for groceries," the blond replied.
Michael exhaled a small sigh in relief. He wasn't in the mood for cooking for an army. "Lu, need help with the essay?" he offered as he started up the coffee machine.
"I'm good," his sibling replied. "You can go over it once I'm done."
"All right. What subject is that, Gabriel?" Michael jerked his chin at the notebook in Gabriel's hands.
"Chemistry," Gabriel hummed as he listed through the pages, scanning each sentence carefully.
"I can't help with that, I'm sorry."
Gabriel snorted. "Yeah, the only B on your report card, if I remember correctly."
Michael grimaced. "I still don't know how I pulled it off. Completely butchered my senior final." Once the coffee machine beeped noisily, Michael picked up the scalding mug, ran a hand through Castiel's reckless hair and headed to the living room, with a request to, "Shout when you're hungry!"
Once summer vacations kicked off, Winchester whisked Castiel off on a road trip through Kansas. Michael didn't get a wink of sleep that entire week.
With the approach of Castiel's junior year came the time for Gabriel's departure for college. In late August, the brothers split all of Gabriel's unnecessary junk between Michael's Toyota hatchback and Gabriel's Jeep and hauled it up to Kansas City. A small apartment waited for them there, which Gabriel would be paying rent for with the money he had saved up during the summer. What followed were long and hug-filled goodbyes that ended only when Gabriel declared they were embarrassing him, in the middle of the hallway no less. After a promise that he would be visiting every weekend (Lawrence was only a 40 minute drive away), the remaining brothers finally left.
It was during this time that Michael had to start travelling for work lest he started losing clients. He had been putting it off all of last year, unwilling to leave his brothers alone, but Gabriel moving away had opened his eyes to the fact that, yes, one day, all of them would be flying the coop. So a week after classes started in September, Michael flew out to Washington DC with Raphael, his newly recruited CFO, for an endless string of meetings. Even if it meant leaving Castiel alone with Lucifer. Michael forced himself not to shudder at the thought.
Despite his attempts at not worrying and putting all of his trust into his brother, Michael didn't even last two days before he made a call home to check up on things.
He fiddled restlessly with the end of his tie as he waited for someone, anyone, to pick up and confirm that the house had not burned down yet.
"Yeah, what's up?" Michael sighed in relief, even if it was Lucifer on the line.
"It's me, Lucifer, just wanted to see how things are going," he answered.
Lucifer scoffed melodramatically, and Michael knew he was in for it. "I am hurt by your lack of confidence in me. The police have only stopped by once, and Cassie hasn't even needed to call the ambulance yet! By the way, he's eloping with Dean Winchester, so it'll just be me when you get home."
"Lucifer!" Michael snapped. "Do not even joke about that!"
"'Bout the cops or the elopement?"
Michael squawked indignantly. "Both!"
"Relax, will you, Mike? Cas and I are hunky-dory. Gabe stopped by yesterday," the other explained. "I think we gained some seven pounds between the two of us. How are things on your end?"
"Exhausting. I don't know how Dad put up with it," Michael blurted without thinking. An uncomfortable silence followed his statement.
Lucifer started on the other line, "Well, in a few years, you'll have me with you to keep things interesting."
Michael groaned, although it came off more like a strangled laugh.
"Yeah, love you too."
Someone's laughter burst out on Lucifer's side- unrestricted sniggers and guffaws crackling through the line. It was warming and pleasant, the most friendly sound Michael had heard all night. "What was that?" he asked.
Lucifer snorted, chuckling as well. "Cas and Dean. They're watching some shit on TV. Seinfeld, by the sound of it." He pressed on over the thundering cackles, "You should see them, doubling over and shaking like damn chihuahuas. They're wrapped up in one huge blanket, practically snuggling. It's disgusting, honestly."
Michael hummed thoughtfully. "Are we sure they're not dating?" he asked.
Lucifer laughed, his voice full of disbelief. "I've got no fucking idea, Mikey."
"I'm thinkin' chocolate-"
"You always do, Gabriel."
"-All of it. Chocolate icing, chocolate batter. Ooh, gooey chocolate in the middle, that would be awesome-"
"Would it kill you if it was vanilla this year?"
"-At least three layers-"
"Gabriel, there's only four of us."
"-Little bit of edible glitter-"
"That can't be healthy."
"We'll sprinkle a shit-ton of it, then."
"Gabriel."
"Michael."
The brunet glared at his brother playfully, and Michael's lips quirked slightly despite himself.
"Lighten up, Michael," Gabriel teased. "Kid's only gonna turn seventeen once!"
Michael groaned, pressing his forehead onto the table and promptly folding his arms over his head. "Seventeen."
"Yeah, one more year and he's legally allowed to ignore you." Gabriel chuckled, pretending not to notice his brother's scowl. "Kinda makes you wish he was just a little brat again, huh?"
Michael hummed in agreement. He was about to make another comment regarding the cake debate, but he stopped short when his phone buzzed against his thigh. He smiled, relieved to see it wasn't Hester or anyone remotely work-related, and accepted the call. "Uncanny timing, Castiel. Where are you? Are classes done?" he wondered.
"Put him on loudspeaker!" Gabriel whined. Michael shushed him, but complied all the same.
"-leaving the building right now. Was that Gabriel?" came the reply.
"Yep, got here about an hour after you left for school, told my friend to consider me sick today. You really think I'd miss your birthday?" the brunet returned.
"You didn't have to, Gabriel, but I appreciate it. Thank you," Castiel countered. "Michael, is it all right if I don't head home immediately?"
Michael's lips thinned, and Gabriel copied the action mockingly. Swatting at his face, Michael settled for, "Depends. Where are you going?"
"Out for some lunch, with Dean."
Figures. "All right, as long as he's paying," Michael joked.
"Oh, he is," Castiel responded, tone as calm as if he was talking about the weather.
Michael blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Dean is treating me to lunch. For my birthday."
Before Michael could conjure any sort of response for these unsettling news, Gabriel butted in with a quick, "That's swell and all, Cassie. Be back home for dinner, 'kay? See ya!" and hung up. For a good minute or two, Michael stared at his phone like it was an alien device.
Gabriel sighed, patted his shoulder and got to his feet. "Mike, you gonna help me with that cake?"
"Did that sound like a date?" was all the other said, scrutinising the screen of his cell suspiciously. "That sounded like a date, Gabriel."
"It's a birthday treat, Michael. Let it go."
"He's paying, Gabriel. For food. Which they will eat. Together."
"Quit being a drama queen, will ya?" Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. "Get up, or I'm calling Zachariah and telling him you want to schedule a dinner with him."
At those words, Michael jumped to his feet, if only to smack Gabriel upside the head.
Luckily, the time Michael could have spent worrying about Castiel was swapped with something less nerve-wrecking and much more productive; catching up with Gabriel. They very rarely saw each other over the past year, what with Michael travelling often and Gabriel living in a whole other city now. The latter enjoyed his classes, liked the city well enough, and was making friends fast. Despite this, he was still set on moving back to Lawrence once he graduated, something that made Michael very glad, but he didn't say anything. There was still a lot of time for Gabriel to change his mind, and even though he'd feel best having his brother close, the eldest Novak didn't want to influence his decision (not that Gabriel made a habit of listening to Michael's opinions, but still).
The cake batter was ready, popped in and out the oven within two hours and by the next, Gabriel was playing video games with the freshly-arrived Lucifer, the two arguing as Michael pointed out tactics in order to help beat the blond. It ended with Michael wrestling Lucifer down to give Gabriel a fighting chance (he was doing pathetically at that point) and receiving a knee to the gut for his efforts.
"Serves you right, douche bag," Lucifer spoke with a smirk while Michael doubled over.
The latter groaned out a laugh, clutching his stomach and nearly rolling off the couch in the process. As he regained his balance, Michael felt a warm hand on his shoulder, making him jump.
He was met by Castiel's small smile. "I've missed something, it seems."
"How was lunch? Heard you went with Dean," Lucifer teased and passed Michael's abandoned console to Gabriel.
Castiel, for the most part, managed to keep his blush under control, and settled down on the couch, squished right in between Michael and Lucifer. It was just as everyone's attention was back on the game that Michael noticed something in Castiel's hands.
"A book?" he asked, peeking over his brother's shoulder.
"Yes, Dean gave it to me," the other said.
"Well, props to him, I didn't know he could read," Michael quipped, earning a small frown from Castiel. He sighed. "All right, what is it, then?"
When Castiel moved his hands to reveal the cover, Michael's eyebrows quirked in surprise. "The Hobbit. I told him a while ago that I'd lost my old copy. I can't believe he still remembers," Castiel explained fondly, a hint of pride hidden in his tone.
"Thats..." Shockingly thoughtful. Not bad, Winchester. "Great, Castiel," Michael answered.
"Hey, Cassie," Gabriel called from his seat in the armchair. "You think you can whoop Luci's ass, regain some dignity for Mike and me?"
"I doubt it, Gabriel, but I can try." Castiel chuckled, taking the offered console from his sibling.
Lucifer grinned at him. "Who knows? Maybe I should go easy on the birthday boy."
"But first, you might want to take a look in the fridge..." Gabriel sang. To Castiel's imploring squint, he responded by holding up three fingers and mouthing, Three layers.
Cas couldn't have ran faster.
It was official. They had to be dating. There was no other answer. There could not be another answer. Because no matter how many times Castiel claimed that was not the case, no matter how many times he insisted they were 'just friends', there was no way it was possible.
Not when Winchester was taking him to their senior prom.
("He isn't taking me to prom, Michael," Castiel had said. "We are just driving together. Neither of us have a date, so there is no need to go separately."
Of course neither had a date, because they were each other's dates, for fuck's sake, the concept is not that difficult to grasp, how could Castiel even believe what he was saying.)
But apparently, something has changed since the last time Michael went to high school- which wasn't even a damn long time ago. Because nowadays, going to prom together evidently did not mean going to prom together. Michael must have missed the memo on how those two statements do not mean exactly the same thing.
Castiel thought he was being ridiculous. Michael knew this for a fact. He kept watching him with that exasperated, pitiful look of his as the eldest paced up and down the main hall.
Then it happened. The doorbell rang.
Michael locked eyes with his brother. Neither gave a sign of even considering to open the door. Castiel was nervous, of course. He wasn't completely stupid. No, he understood the small suggestion this whole situation implied, the thing that had Michael's proverbial feathers so ruffled. Michael, on the other hand, simply didn't want to let Dean in.
There was an irritated shout of, "Are you fucking kidding me? Do I have to go over and open it myself, are you two that incompetent?" from Gabriel, before Michael finally cracked and gripped the damn doorknob.
Dean didn't bother to greet him. He didn't even bother to look him in the eyes. No, Dean was too busy drooling all over the sight of Castiel in his stupid tux. A quick glance over the shoulder confirmed that Castiel was momentarily stuck in the same way.
Idiots.
With a sharp clearing of his throat, Michael effectively caught Dean's attention. When the green eyes rose to his own, he only intensified his glare.
It has been four years; Dean knew by now that hurting Cas in any way would result in his face being distorted horribly and violently. Still, Michael felt he had the right to remind the Winchester of that. He hoped his glower would suffice.
He was glad to see it did, judging by the way Dean backed away slightly, hands up in surrender.
Castiel apparently deemed it time to intervene, so he stepped in between his brother and the door before telling him, "I won't stay out long. Please try not to worry."
"Pretty sure that's against his genetic coding," Lucifer called as he appeared from the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hands. He amusedly glanced between Michael and the two eighteen-year-olds, before he settled on Dean and inquired, "What, no corsage?"
Two matching blushes, a scowl, and a, "Ha, nice!" that echoed from the living room.
The following June found Michael sitting on the front porch beside his little brother, enjoying each other's company without having spoken a single word. Lucifer and Gabriel lazed around in the grass not far from them, plotting what kind of terrible things they would be getting up to now that school was out and summer reigned. Their outbursts of cackles were numerous and their intensity worrying, but Michael couldn't bring himself to care, not at the moment, at least.
Two hours ago, Castiel wore a graduation gown and cap. Now, he wore a simple faded blue t-shirt, a pair of khaki shorts and Lucifer's old flip flops. His hair was still tousled from when he had removed his cap, despite his and Michael's combined efforts to flatten it down.
Michael was proud. He was incredibly, ridiculously proud, especially so when he reflected on the past four years. They had been rough, what with their father's disappearance, Lucifer and Gabriel's college worries, Michael's own decision to drop out and start work. But in the end, it was worth it. If going through all of that meant seeing the bright grin on Castiel's face right now, Michael would do it again.
The thing that he thought back to most was of course, his brother's curious friendship with Dean Winchester, particularly what would happen to it now. Both would be attending Kansas University, with Castiel set on an education degree and Dean going for Criminal Justice. Despite that, they'd be equally busy- Castiel was planning to go as far as a PhD, in European History of all things, to qualify as a professor, and Dean was heading to the Kansas Law Enforcement Training Center once his Bachelor's was complete. In all honesty, free time would be scarce.
Michael said as much, and got a mysterious smile in return. "I'm just saying, Castiel. You really think you and Winchester can stick it out that long?"
Castiel turned to look at the other with warm eyes. There wasn't a single hint of hesitation in his response. "Yes. Without a doubt."
The purr of Dean's '67 Chevrolet Impala sounded from the street. As if summoned, Winchester himself popped his head out and beckoned to Castiel with a reminder that, "You had two hours to get ready, now get your ass here!"
Michael smiled wryly. "He's a keeper."
"I like to think so," Castiel teased. It was evident his brothers were beginning to influence him.
"Is the party at that Ash's place again?"
"Yes."
"You know the rules?"
"Do not smoke, do not get drunk, do not come home late."
"Scram, then."
Castiel shot him another great grin and hopped off the porch steps. Michael watched him wave to their two brothers, then slide into Dean's car. The two shared a smile, one of those secret ones that Michael could never decipher, and probably never would. Soon enough, the Impala was rolling down the street, away into town.
Sporting his own smile, Michael stood up. They'd most definitely pull through.