This is my first published fanfiction. It will also be up on ao3 (archive of our own) once I get my invite, and it will be under the same handle, 'skylarisafail'. Thanks for checking it out and don't forget to leave a review!
It was a winter's day when Castiel Novak was kicked out of his house and was forced to move in with his older brother.
Snow flurries from the sky, collecting in piles and decorating the suburbs with the knowledge that winter is here.
For sixteen year old Castiel, however, it just means another cold day that he has to power through.
Just another day to try to be numb and forget his past and his parents, because if he doesn't, the gnawing ache inside of him will throb.
He awakes from his small bed in his tiny apartment, his second week here. It's one Gabriel had rented for harsh times, and this certainly counts as a harsh time.
His fingers brush against Gabriel's old phone, which has now become his. The keys are well worn and lovingly used. Castiel refrains from opening up the photo albums.
They contain pictures of his parents, and where his parents are, the heartache follows.
He grits his teeth and stumbles out of bed, rubbing his eyes blearily. Gabriel is at his girlfriend's apartment, and then goes to work. He supports both of them, after their parents kicked Castiel out.
Castiel couldn't ask for a better older brother.
Well, that wasn't true. He could ask for a nicer one, one who doesn't make fun of Castiel's crushes, one who doesn't call him a nerd, one who doesn't pull pranks on him every day.
But that's what makes Gabriel Gabriel, and at the end of the day, Castiel wouldn't trade that for the world.
He puts some bread in the toaster and leans against the counter. While Gabriel supports both of them and pays for Castiel's education, Castiel does have a job at a flower shop. It's a blooming business (pun intended), and he enjoys working there.
It takes his mind off everything.
Off of his parents, off of how his father hurt him after that accidental slip of his sexuality, of -
The bread jumps out of the toaster.
Castiel puts it on a plate and slathers the remainder of the peanut butter and jelly they have onto it. He eats in silence, only cutting it with his thoughts.
It's a cold Saturday, and the trees are spotted with snow and ice. He can hear the faint noise of children laughing, and when he looks out of the window, he can see around three snowmen, all made by small hands and warm hearts, stomachs filled with hot chocolate and heads filled with happiness.
Little children still get excited about life.
His phone buzzes and Castiel leaves it like that for a few minutes before curiosity gets the better of him. He crosses the room and picks the phone up. It's from Gabriel.
Ur still eating ur brekkies arent u, it says, and Castiel rolls his eyes at the text-speak.
No, he replies, nibbling at his bread.
Don't lie, comes a text. Get ready u have work
I know, Gabriel, Castiel texts back. Don't have an aneurysm.
Im not that old Cassie, chimed a text, and Castiel raises an eyebrow fondly before putting the phone down.
The good thing about working in the flower ship is that they don't have a uniform, so he is "allowed to wear whatever he pleases, as long as it is not too revealing."
He pulls an oversized jumper over his head, and it nearly reaches down to his knees. It's awfully too cherry for his liking, but that's the ironic thing about it.
He puts on some black, skinny jeans that Gabriel says make him look like an emo. He tucks his phone and wallet into his pockets and sets off, grabbing his scarf and beanie along the way.
Castiel locks the door behind him, and he has a faint sense of deja vu, like he's already done this before.
The cold air wraps tight around him and his stomach pangs as he realises he did this every winter day when he was living with his parents. It's not an uncommon thing to do, but then again, it's the common things that make him miss them the most.
He shuffles across the pavement, avoiding the children and the snowball fights. He supposes he should resent them for hurting him, for scarring him and beating him simply because he was gay.
He would be right to resent them, he thinks.
But his mind keeps going back to older times, when memories were hazy and days were long and winding. When he was a small child and the apple of his mother's eye, when they used to pick flowers and braid them into his sister's hair.
He remembers when his parents used to be kind and carefree, how they used to tell their children to be whomever they want to be, how they didn't seem to mind when Michael said he felt more like a boy than a girl and stopped wearing skirts, or when they told Anna that it was perfectly okay to cut her hair if she wanted to.
But then Lucifer, Luci, had to die and change all of that.
Michael, in some ways, took it the hardest. They were twins after all, and so he moved out and went to university, pouring his heart and soul into his education.
Anna had always looked up to her older brother, and once he died, she started drinking and was always holed up in one bar or the other.
Gabriel took it silently, and started to take care of the rest of his siblings. He sent Michael presents and cards, he put Anna into rehab, he organised Luci's funeral.
Castiel felt like something had been ripped away from him. Luci was his brother, the one who would beat people up to keep his little brother safe from bullies. And now he was gone.
His parents gave up completely. They started shouting at Michael, telling him that he was a girl, not a boy. They started shouting at Anna for her drinking, at Gabriel for taking care of the family, at Castiel for being too quiet, at Luci for being dead.
Those were the worst two years of his measly existence.
He's pulled out of his thoughts by the little bell ringing as someone comes out of the shop. Castiel wipes his shoes on the mat and walks in, waving quietly at the owner. He takes his place behind the counter and helps customers throughout the day, telling them what the flowers mean, reminding them what the flowers mean, repeating the meanings of the flowers.
The bell rings again and Castiel looks up, bored.
Boy, was he about to become less bored.
A stranger stands there, a teenager that looks about the same age as Castiel that he's never seen before. He has bright, candy apple green eyes and hair that looks as soft as velvet.
Castiel's breath hitches when the boy grins at him. Car keys dangle from his belt and clink against his waist. His hair sticks up and he smells of oil and crisp air. He's tall, just a little taller than Castiel himself, and has an easy grin.
Stop, Castiel thinks. This is a customer, not one of your silly crushes.
"Welcome to The Blooming Business! How can I help you?" he says, and it comes out slightly higher than it's meant to.
The boy flushes for no apparent reason. Castiel wonders why. It surely can't be because of him.
"Um, uh," the boy says. "I like your shop's name. Puns and all tha'."
"I didn't name it," Castiel says. "But thank you. Most people appreciate the horrendous play on words."
"I like how you talk," the boy says, and Castiel raises an eyebrow, imploring him to explain. "I mean," he continues hurriedly, "your vocabulary is beautiful and your words just flow, you know?"
"Oh," Castiel says, blushing, and it's becoming more and more difficult not to have a crush on this boy. "Thank you."
"I'm Dean," Dean says. "Dean Winchester. You?"
"Castiel Novak," he says.
"I like that," Dean declares. "It's a nice name. Real pretty."
"Thank you. Now, not to be rude, but are you just here to compliment me and make me show my gratitude until we both go blue in the face," Castiel says, and Dean flushes again, "or would you like to buy some flowers?"
"Flowers, yeah," Dean says. "Could you help me? I mean, I don't really buy flowers all that often, so I'm not sure what to buy..."
"Sure," Castiel says, and he opens the little door and steps out from behind the counter. "Who are you buying them for?"
Castiel starts walking, guiding him to the plethora of flowers awaiting their arrival. "My best friend," Dean says, walking quickly to catch up with him. "I'm buying them for her birthday, along with something else."
"Then I can steer you away from the expensive flowers," Castiel says, and he walks over to the cheaper ones. "Do you have any idea what ones are her favourite?"
"Not really," Dean admits, rubbing the back of his head. "But I think she likes hyacinths."
Castiel hums to himself as he looks at the hyacinths. "White hyacinths mean loveliness," he says. "They're not that expensive. Would you like me to make a bouquet for you?"
"That'd be great, thanks," Dean says, and they step back to the counter. Castiel's adept fingers twist the stems into a bouquet, and he hums softly to himself, trying to push back all the memories of him giving bouquets of flowers that he had found in the fields to his parents.
The bouquet is done, and Castiel rings Dean up. He pays.
"Thanks again, Cas," Dean says, and Castiel's breath catches.
"Cas?" he asks.
"Yeah," Dean says. "It's a nickname."
"Oh," Castiel says, and his heart pounds in his chest. He's never been given a nickname before, apart from the odd 'Cassie' that Gabriel and Anna call him. It sounds nice. "I like it."
Dean grins and waves, wiggling his fingers at him. "See you around, Cas," he says, and takes a flower from the bouquet and places it on the counter, pushing it towards Castiel. He then leaves the store, taking Castiel's heart with him.
Castiel wasn't aware that a person could fall in like (not love, not yet) so easily.
The days pass.
Dean Winchester comes in every day, and he always stays a little longer than the last time. The minutes Castiel is with him are swirled in laughter. He's Castiel's escape; he can always forget when he's around Dean.
He learns that Dean is allergic to cats and is afraid of dogs. He learns that his favourite colour is sky blue (like Castiel's eyes) and that he has a brother called Sam who's twelve. He learns that Dean can cook but not bake. He learns that he drives a black, 1967 Chevrolet Impala that he is passionate about. He learns that his favourite holiday is Valentine's Day tied with Christmas and his favourite season is winter.
After a bit of gentle prodding, he learns that Dean's mother died when Sam was six months old and when Dean was four. He learns that his father was driven to alcoholism and death soon after, and they live with Uncle Bobby now. He learns that Dean is bisexual (his heart does a little skip at that) and that his father was homophobic but his Uncle Bobby doesn't mind as long as Dean is happy.
He learns that his favourite flowers are red roses and pink lilies because he is a secret romantic at heart. He learns that Dean writes poems and secretly is a nerd, though he doesn't seem like it. He learns that Dean plays basketball and has a gay best friend called Charlie. He learns that his friends Charlie and Benny and Jo and Garth and Kevin think he's in love with Castiel and really want to meet him.
He learns that Dean Winchester might like him in that way.
The doorbell jingles and Castiel looks up. It's Dean, and his heart does that little involuntary skip whenever he sees him. Gabriel knows about Dean, and teases Castiel relentlessly about him, and he always flushes and escapes to his room in their small apartment.
"Hey, Cas," Dean says, leaning against the counter.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel says, arranging some flowers in a vase.
"You know, you never told me what your favourite flowers were," he says.
"Irises," Castiel says, gesturing at them. "They mean promise and hope, and they're beautiful to look at."
"Can you make me a bouquet?" Dean asks, and Castiel nods, his fingers already tying the stems together. He rings Dean up, and he pays.
"They're for you," Dean says, passing the bouquet over the counter, and Castiel blushes and looks down.
"Why?" he asks quietly.
"Because I like you," Dean says, and Castiel's eyes widen before snapping back down. "Because I think you're really fucking beautiful and I like the way your eyes light up whenever you talk about your brother and your flowers and you're just so goddamn cute and so will you go out on a date with me?"
"Me?" Castiel asks, surprised, and he holds on to the counter to keep himself from falling down, down, down.
"Yes, you," Dean says, and when Castiel says nothing, he says, "Think about it, maybe?"
Castiel nods, but his world has already exploded around him, leaving him alone and defenceless.
Later that evening, his phone chimes with a text from Dean.
if u say yes, ill pick you up tomorrow after ur shift
Castiel hesitates before replying.
I am a broken being
Can you not see my shards?
His phone buzzes a minute later.
i see you
Castiel's breath hitches and he needs to plant his feet on the floor and hold on to the couch cushion to keep himself from losing it all.
He cries that night, not out of sadness or happiness, but of relief.
Yes, he texts back.
"Cassie, you gotta wear something nice!" Gabriel whines. "Not that ridiculous sweater! I mean, look at it, it's too big for you!"
"What do you think I should wear then?" Castiel asks, exasperated. "Make it quick, I'll be late for work."
Gabriel perks up and immediately starts flinging clothes out of Castiel's clothes drawer. "Wear these," he orders, holding out a pair of black skinny jeans, and Castiel rolls his eyes.
"I'm already wearing an identical pair," he says, but Gabriel just shakes the item of clothing at him. Castiel sighs and changes into them.
"And wear this," Gabriel says, holding out a dark blue plaid shirt. "It'll bring out your eyes. Unbutton the first button, don't be a prude."
"That's not kind," Castiel grumbles, but does as his brother says anyway. "And it's cold outside, what am I supposed to wear to keep me warm?"
Gabriel throws a blue beanie and scarf at him. "This," he says.
"Yeah, like that's going to keep me warm," Castiel says.
"Don't sass me, young man," Gabriel says. "This way, he'll offer you his jacket."
Castiel puts on both of the warm garments, and hesitates before he leaves. "Thanks, Gabriel," he says, snatching up his phone and putting it in his pocket.
"No problemo, Cassie," he says, grinning. "Now, go be gay."
The doorbell jingles again, and it's the end of Castiel's shift. He was thinking about his parents all afternoon, how strongly they would disapprove of this, how they would tell him he would go to Hell because he likes boys rather than girls.
All of that goes out of the window once Dean steps in and grins at him.
"Hey, Cas," he says softly, and Castiel nods at the next employee and steps out from behind the counter, grabbing his coat.
"Hello, Dean," he says, and Dean raises an eyebrow in question. Castiel nods, and Dean envelops him in a hug, his arms wrapped tight around Castiel, and Castiel's arms around him. It's warm. Dean smells like car oil and cinnamon and candy canes. He smells like crisp air and apple pie and Christmas tree.
"Hi," he says, pulling away.
"Hi," Castiel says. "Where are we going?"
Dean grins. "Somewhere nice," he says, holding Castiel's hand, and it feels right. They go to step outside, but Dean stops and points upwards.
"Mistletoe," he says.
Castiel's breath hitches and he looks back. The employee is nowhere in sight; she's probably gone to the back to get some more vases. "Nobody's looking," he whispers, for no reason. "You don't have to kiss me."
"I want to," Dean says softly.
"I am a broken being," Castiel says. "Can you not see my shards?"
"I see you," Dean repeats.
Silence falls, and Castiel is almost too afraid to break it, like it's something fragile that will bring down a dam of flooding memories that are too painful, that are filled with hurt.
"Can I kiss you?" Dean asks.
"Okay," Castiel says, and Dean leans in.
They touch lips, and it's not the brilliant first kiss that Castiel reads about in books. There are no fireworks or sparks. What there is, however, is the coursing warmth that spreads through his veins and settles in his stomach, the feeling of protection.
Dean's lips are soft. They taste like snowflakes and pie, like sweet and sour all at once. Dean tilts his head and deepens it a little, nipping at Castiel's lower lip. It's a quick kiss, because Castiel can hardly breathe. He pulls away and buries his head in Dean's shoulder.
"Well, that was...wow," Dean says, beaming.
"Eloquent," Castiel says and snorts.
Dean grins again, the whole area lighting up with his smile. "I'm hungry for some pie," he says. "You?"
Castiel nods, and they set off hand in hand towards Dean's car. Snowflakes swirl around them, and their tongues dart out to catch them. Children throw snowballs at each other and build snowmen in the streets.
It's achingly beautiful.
The memories are painful, but perhaps he can add happier ones to them with Dean Winchester.
It is winter; it is snowing, and Castiel Novak, the boy who used to hate the snow and winter simply for the fact that they dredge up those hurtful memories, decides that he likes it.
It was a winter's day when Castiel Novak was kicked out of his house and was forced to move in with his older brother.
Years later, he realises it was one of the best things to ever happen to him.