Hey :) Thanks for the great response to Chapter one. I know it's been a few weeks, however I have been sick and I have been unable to write very much. This wait is longer than most of them will be, I'll try to upload every Thursday or Friday. Keep the love coming guys, it keeps me motivated.
Gabriel started interacting with Dean during class after that day. Just little things, like a chuckle and a little comment when the teacher said something dumb, or sometimes he would point out something about someone in the class. Once he came in and ranted about some asshole in the parking lot. Another time he asked if Sam ever talked about him. Two weeks passed before their Chem teacher sent them to their lab tables with their partners with an assignment, and Gabriel grabbed it first and started scribbling looking a bit too angry.
Dean hesitated. He didn't usually start the conversations, but he figured this time it would be okay. At least until he knew the guy a little better. "What's up?"
"Hm?"
"Well normally you don't work. Normally you let me do the work. Which I'm fine with, I guess." He added quickly. "I need to pass this class, I can't fail it again."
"Oh, that. Eh, I'm just frustrated, I guess. Need a distraction, and I can't play my bass while we're locked in this hellhole. So I've got work or nothing at all."
Dean shifted onto the stool next to the boy, tapping his pen against his fingers, index and thumb, back and forth. He made sure not to look at Gabriel. "You wanna talk about it?"
The musician didn't look up, just kept scribbling. But after a moment he said, "It's Castiel. He hates it here. He's always hated it here. He wants to go on tour, or even just hit the road in the van and see if we can find any gigs. But... Well Michael was pretty mad that he would suggest breaking up the family again. And Nick instantly butted heads with him, because that's what Nick does, he fights with Michael."
"Nick?"
"Lucifer. It's his middle name so that's what we call him at home, or Lu or Lucy sometimes. Anyways now that's all anyone can talk about at dinner and it keeps making Mom mad and Castiel won't talk to me and I don't know how much longer I can take-"
Gabriel's pen cracked in half in his hand. The ink splattered across the table, all over his shirt and jeans and the paper he had been working on. "Fuck," he said quietly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"I'm going to take Gabriel to the bathroom," Dean said to the teacher, who had been coming over to see what had happened. She nodded and ushered them out the door, simultaneously grabbing a wad of paper towels to clean the desk up with. Dean walked two steps behind the boy, hands in his pockets, only there in case Gabriel needed to talk. It was a long, quiet walk, and Dean just kept thinking about all the things he could say but never would. "Hey man," he finally managed once they were right outside the boys' room. "I'm going to be right out here. I'll give you a minute, huh? I'll be here if you need to talk."
Gabriel nodded and kicked the door open, letting it fall closed behind him. Dean leaned against the wall of the building, looking up at the sky. It was gloomy and overcast, like it was hiding from something. He liked this weather, though. It meant he could wear layers, and he liked layers. They were very-
"You lost, or just like staring at the sky?" A voice said, and he jumped. There was a boy, leaned up against the bricks probably twenty feet away. He looked as if he had just jumped down from the fence that enclosed the field next to the building. He was wearing a whole suit ensemble, slacks, button up, coat and tie, and a trench coat, along with black sunglasses that covered his eyes and a lot of his cheekbones. He wore a simple grey beanie tucked over his ears, and some sort of metal thing dangled from between his lips. Dean stared at it, but he couldn't figure out what it was.
"Just waiting for a friend. What's that you got?" He asked, motioning to the metal thing. The boy pulled it out, spinning it in his fingers before popping it between his lips again and breathing in. Dean watched, confused, as he held his breath for a moment, and then smoke billowed out through his nose.
"Vape pen," the boy said, tapping it against his lip. "Tastes like cherry."
Dean lowered his eyebrows a little bit. Why? "Does it have nicotine in it? Weed?"
"No. Just tastes good. I mean, you can get the ones that do have nicotine or weed in them. I just like these better. It's a better habit to be in. Better for the throat, you know?" He coughed, like it would help Dean understand. He didn't, but he didn't say anything, just watched as the boy breathed in again, holding it for longer this time. Then he held it out towards Dean. "You wanna try?" Smoke poured from his mouth with the words. He almost looked like a painting, for some reason. Dean wanted to draw him. With his oversized trench coat and the black shades covering his eyes and that grey beanie. He wondered if it would be weird to ask him if he could take a picture of him.
The boy wiggled the contraption, his eyebrows rising. Dean had forgotten he was waiting for an answer. "Oh, ah, no, thanks. Not my thing." The boy shrugged and put it back between his own lips, his head swiveling to look around for teachers. The way he moved made Dean want to move closer. It was familiar, but he couldn't place where it was familiar from. "Hey," Dean said. "You're pretty familiar. What's your name?"
"Jimmy," the boy said. "I know I'm familiar. They say I look just like my cousin. Castiel Novak? Sometimes Naomi would say we could pass as brothers."
It wasn't just the way he looked, but Dean let it slide. "Naomi?"
"My aunt. The Novak mother. Wow, you don't know anything about that family, do you? How can you live in this town and not know about them?" He had turned his body, leaning on the brick with his elbow, completely engrossed in his conversation with Dean. The Winchester was getting the impression that he was staring intently at him, but he didn't know where to look, because of the stupid glasses. He settled with staring at his nose, and his lips. His lips were really chapped.
"Just not paying attention, I guess. And just because they're famous and all doesn't mean everyone needs to know everything about them. If I was famous I wouldn't want everyone knowing my whole life. It's called personal life for a reason, you know? I guess I just don't agree with the whole thing. So I don't participate."
Jimmy looked impressed, as much as one could look impressed with his eyes completely hidden from sight, and leaned back against the brick. "You're different. Not like everyone else at this stupid school."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, hesitant. It sounded like a compliment, but he couldn't be sure. It might have been sarcastic. And Dean wasn't about to stand around and be insulted by some guy in a trench coat. His legs tensed like he was about to spin around and walk away, or lunge for the boy's throat. He wasn't sure which one yet.
"I mean you're not obsessed with them. Sure their lyrics are good or whatever but it's not like they need to be the topic of every conversation, you know? I mean that's all anyone will talk to me about, and I keep it on the down low that I'm their cousin. I don't even... Like nobody knows, you know? So that means everyone talks about them all the time."
Dean smiled. "Yeah, they do. But put somebody even a little famous in a small town like Sioux Falls and you'll start an uproar. Put a whole family in and you'll start an uprising."
Jimmy pondered that for a second, taking another breath from his pen. "That's true, I guess. Just wish it could be different, you know? They're people too."
"Yeah, I understand." Dean nodded. "How do you even tell people to stop, though?" You don't, he thought sourly to himself. Nothing would stop them.
"You don't," Jimmy repeated his thoughts, shrugging. "Whatever. Either it'll wear off or they'll get used to it, you know?"
Dean wasn't sure if the 'they' was supposed to mean the Novaks or the rest of the people in the town, but it didn't really matter either way. Both ways made sense, so he didn't ask. They stood in silence for a while, until Dean began to truly worry for Gabriel inside the bathroom. What was he doing? He was just about to step inside to make sure he wasn't trying to drown himself in one of the toilets when Jimmy spoke.
"You're looking anxious. What's up with you?"
"Oh, just, my friend-your cousin, actually-I brought him out here to go to the bathroom and he's been in there a while, thought I might check on him…"
Jimmy's head swiveled towards the bathroom door, his eyebrows lowering until dean couldn't see them behind his glasses. He got the feeling that Jimmy liked to use his eyebrows. "Gabriel? You're friends with Gabriel?"
"Yeah, kinda. He's in my Chem class. He was stressing out about his family, broke a pen in class. I brought him out here to take a breather."
"Oh, yeah, he gets worked up pretty easily. And their family hasn't been entirely TV worthy recently. Lots of fighting-but that's what you get when you put that many kids under one roof. And when Naomi is gone all the time…" He trailed off, dropping his face.
Dean knew that look, even without knowing this kid, or being able to see his eyes. "Is it bad?" He wasn't sure exactly what he was referring to, but that was okay. He wanted to see the boy's reaction.
He just shrugged and turned his face away, but Dean could still see his pale cheeks reddening. "Let's just say, sometimes I'm a little ashamed to be related to such a dysfunctional family."
Dean shuffled closer, leaning up against the brick. He wasn't sure what to say, but he spoke anyways. "Do you have to deal with it a lot?"
The boy snorted. "Yeah. It's whatever, you know?" He took a deep breath from his pen and blew the smoke upwards, watching it disappear into the cloudy sky. "And you can kinda tell from their lyrics, you know? Broken people mean beautiful lyrics."
"Broken? Is it really that bad?"
"You don't know the half of it," the boy laughed a little, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. "Listen, you should go check on Gabriel. Make sure he's not drowning himself in one of the toilets or something," He chuckled, and Dean tried not to read too much into how much this boy was echoing his thoughts.
"Okay," Dean said, standing up straight and fixing his shirt, which had ridden up a little when it got caught on the bricks. "Hey, I'll see you around, alright?"
Jimmy smiled a little, letting out a breath that could have been a laugh. "Yeah, sure." And he turned his face upwards, and didn't move. Dean shuffled back and forth a little bit, wondering if he should move, but at that moment there was a crash from the direction of the bathroom that sent him running for the door.
"Gabriel?" He shouted, yanking the door out of his way and taking two steps inside. The boy looked up, surprised, from where he was leaning over the sink, both of his hands braced on the lip of it.
"What?" He asked, looking genuinely confused.
"What… there was a crash, and I thought…"
"Oh," Gabriel said, "No, I'm fine. Must have been in a classroom or something."
Dean nodded, stepping back out of the door. "You ready to go back?"
"Yeah, I think I am," The musician shrugged, following him and then stepping out in front to lead the way back to the classroom. Dean glanced behind him, but Jimmy was gone, the faint bouncing of the chainlink fence against its poles the only sign that he had even been there.
That night, Dean bought the full Novak album at the music store in town. It was called Thirteen, was thirteen dollars and had thirteen songs on it. Then he drove around town and listened to every one, even the ones he had heard before, until it got late enough that Sam started calling him and asking where he was and if he should just make dinner himself. Dean bought sandwiches (Sam's favorite because he could get all of that healthy junk on it) to apologize, even though Sam insisted it wasn't necessary, that he was just wondering, and they sat on the porch and ate them together. The older brother didn't mention the album. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to yet. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise; maybe he wanted to keep them to himself for a while. It wasn't that he didn't like sharing things with Sammy, no; Sammy was probably his best friend. Sammy was definitely his best friend. He didn't have any other friends that were in town besides Jo and Ellen at the Roadhouse across town. He just didn't know if this felt right to be sharing with him. It felt too intimate, too weird to be listening to with him. He was sure that one day he would get over it, but maybe not until after he had memorized every lyric that the band had ever sung.
Dean stared at his ceiling that night, lost in thought. He wanted to turn on Thirteen, but he was trying to exhibit some self-control. It took only ten minutes before he was up and putting it into his player.
Your fingertips across my lips
The press of heat along my sheet
The warmth of love from up above
Your voice like song I've known all along
You melt my heart like chocolate on a summer day
Your touch like honey
Touch like honey
Hey guys, thanks for reading. Hope you liked it. Leave me a little love, yeah?
Hugs and Kisses :)
-Sami
