Dean hadn't expected the piano to be so big.

He'd come around to double check the dimensions on the bench before fitting all the pieces together – Castiel's blueprints had been pretty clear but clients over and underestimated measurements all the time – and Dean had to admit, the piano was pretty impressive looking. He'd only been around the smaller stand up ones before but this was a concert grand and to Dean's eye looked almost twice the size. It looked more like a set piece in a James Bond film than a thing someone would actually use. Dean wondered how many people bought these just to feel sophisticated.

Dean shook that off and got to work, stepping back to eyeball how the bench in the workshop would look in front of it when he was done. The measurements he was working from looked to be about a square inch or so bigger than the bench it would be replacing but the new one would also have those cut outs in the back, so Dean thought to the eye it might even out. He walked back over and examined the existing bench, wanting to confirm he was keeping the height the same. He didn't even know why Castiel was replacing it; he'd expected to come in to find it broken or built poorly but he couldn't find so much as a scratch in the finish. He wondered why Castiel hadn't just contacted whoever had made this in the first place for a replacement. Maybe if it was an heirloom that wasn't an option; he couldn't see a date stamp but just from the construction Dean could tell it was old, maybe old enough to have been built in a shop like the one he was working in now.

He sat on the bench to test if maybe that was why it needed to be replaced but couldn't feel any give. Dean finally shrugged and gave up trying to figure out how Castiel thought; he was being paid a lot but nowhere near that much.

The lid to the keyboard was open and Dean couldn't resist the temptation to touch the keys, pressing one down slowly and getting a soft, barely audible note in return. He tried again with a little more force and the note came through louder; he pressed two random keys down and the same time and winced when the notes clashed into discordant noise.

"Would you like me to teach you?"

Dean almost jumped out of his skin, his hand slamming down so hard on the keyboard that he could feel the vibrations. "Shit," he said, pulling the lid down over the keys like a guilty kid putting the lid back on the cookie jar. "Don't do that. Where did you come from, anyway?"

"The other room," Castiel said, walking over to stand behind Dean. "I didn't say you had to stop," he said, reaching past Dean to raise the lid again.

"Yeah, you should. I don't have the ear for this."

Castiel shook his head. "You don't need an 'ear.' Playing by ear is an impressive parlor trick but that's all. Anyone can learn how to read music and from there it's all just practice and repetition."

"I get the feeling that's easy for you to say," Dean said, conscious of the way Castiel was leaning over him.

"I'm not saying there's no such thing as natural talent or that anyone can compose, but it's just not as mysterious or...I don't know. Romantic as some people would like it to be. Just because one person will be better at interpreting a piece doesn't mean they both can't learn it." Castiel tilted his head, like he was watching Dean's reaction. "So would you like to learn?"

Dean wasn't sure he could say no even if he'd wanted to, Cas clearly wanted to teach him so badly. Cas took his silence as assent and moved back behind him. He wrapped both hands around Dean's wrists and arranged his hands at the middle of the keyboard. "Start from from this position, especially when you're first learning. Think of it like the home keys for a typist."

"I don't know how to type, either."

Dean felt him press closer behind him, which he didn't think was strictly necessary for this lesson but he certainly wasn't going to complain. Castiel covered Dean's hands with his own, hesitating just the slightest instant before making contact. This was the most they'd touched since the day Dean walked in the door, and certainly the most Castiel had initiated. Dean was afraid to breathe too loud in case that messed up whatever this was.

He felt Castiel press his thumb down, creating the same soft note as when he first started playing around with the piano. "That's Middle C." Castiel's voice always sounded like he drank whiskey for breakfast but it sounded rougher than Dean had ever heard it now, like he was forcing out each word. "Think of that as a boundary that divides the treble and bass clefs and what your right and left hands are doing, especially at the beginning. From there it's D," he said, pressing down Dean's index finger. "Then E, F, G, A, B. Then just repeat."

"Why not start at A, then?"

"Because you don't." He walked Dean through playing the series of notes again. "There are other scales but C is the one you start with. The black keys are in-between notes," he said, moving Dean's hand to press down the black key between C and D. "That key is either C sharp or D flat, depending on the key the music is written in. Sharp if the note is one step forward, flat if it's one back."

Cas' voice this close to his ear was making it very hard to focus on the details of when a note was sharp or not. "All right. Sounds good to me."

Castiel moved Dean's right hand up the keyboard a bit and had him play a series of notes that sounded familiar to Dean, B, B flat, B, B flat, A, F. "Congratulations," Cas said. "You just played the opening to Fur Elise. Everyone seems to learn that one first."

"Think we'd both be better off with you playing and me listening."

"I never play in front of people."

Dean almost blurted out why not but stopped himself just in time; the glimpses behind Castiel's walls he'd gotten so far told him there was probably a fucking depressing story behind that and he liked the mood they were in the middle of too much to shatter it. "Letting the piano just sit around gathering dust is almost as bad as the cars, you know."

"I didn't say I never played, just not in front of people," he said, guiding Dean through a slightly more complicated scale. "I enjoy playing. I don't have the talent to compose my own unfortunately, so I trained myself to play as well as I could so at least I could do credit to the work of others." He went quiet for a few moments, helping Dean fumble through another scale. "I admit, I envy you."

"Me? Why?"

"You can create something beautiful and lasting out of raw materials that are worthless on their own. Everything in my gallery was nothing but paint and canvas until the artist touched it. I don't have that kind of gift. I can recognize and admire it but I can't do it myself." He lowered his eyes. "That's why I watch you work," he admitted. "To see that happen."

"It's really not that hard, y'know. Just give it a shot."

"I know my limitations."

Not much to argue with there. "Why do you even have me making you a new bench, anyway? There's nothing wrong with this one."

Castiel shook his head. "I need one more suitable." He pulled back a little bit, resting his hands on Dean's forearms. "Try it once by yourself."

Even though he could do it by himself – it was just a scale, Dean knew that even with his limited musical ability knew he could handle that – he made himself fumble halfway through and Castiel's hands were back over his. "Like this," he said, guiding Dean through the rest. When that was done neither of them moved, Dean because his entire mission in life had suddenly become not screwing up whatever this was and Castiel because Dean could tell the realization of how close he was to Dean had just reached up and grabbed him by the throat. Cas' hands were trembling on top of Dean's to the point that all Dean wanted was to grab them and hold them still. If he leaned his head back he could see that Cas' lips were parted and Dean's mind flooded with vivid images of what it would be like to feel those lips move beneath his. If he moved his head less than an inch over Dean knew he could find out, Cas was standing that close. Dean thought about the loneliness and complete isolation that filled every word Dean managed to pry out of Castiel and wondered how long it had been since he'd even let another person get this close. What had finally led him to cracking up enough to even let someone in and how fucking terrifying that must have been, and most importantly how much he would mind if Dean grabbed him by his hair, threw him against this piano and kissed him until Cas forgot how to breathe.

Dean felt his self-control slowly pull taut until his skin felt like it was going to split open if he didn't move, but then he felt Cas let out a soft breath and pull away, like he'd snapped out of a trance. "You okay?" Dean said, amazed at how normal his voice sounded.

Castiel nodded, looking a few hundred miles south of okay. "I'm fine," he said, the rasp in his voice all but swallowing the words. "I'll let you get back to work."

He was gone before Dean could even think of anything to say. Dean was tempted to follow him and demand to know what the hell was going on, what was that, but he didn't know what was going in his own head right now, let alone anyone else's.

888

"Do not fuck this guy because you feel sorry for him."

"Sam!"

"It is good advice and you should take it."

Dean rested his head in one hand because, yeah, that probably was good advice right now. "I don't feel sorry for him. I mean, not just, I guess."

Sam was quiet for a few long, long seconds. "Jesus. Dean, I was kidding." He could hear a scraping sound, like Sam had needed to pull out a chair and sit down. "You're really thinking about doing this."

Dean didn't tell Sam that lately it was the only thing he could think about. "I feel bad for him because it seems like his life absolutely sucked up til now but Sam, man, the guy's trying."

"He pulled your name out of the phone book."

"Yeah, I know. When they make the made for TV movie about this you can play yourself and say you told me so."

"This is a terrible coming out speech."

"It's not...what?" It took a few seconds for Dean's brain to process that. "I'm not..." He didn't finish the thought because sure, maybe that was what this was. Hell if Dean knew. "We cool?"

"Why...wouldn't we be?"

The clear the hell is wrong with you? tone in Sam's voice took some of the weight off because yeah, of course they were. Dean felt dumb for even asking. "This is hitting me like a ton of bricks, Sam. I don't know what's going on in my head."

"Sometimes it's like that. The day I met Jess I knew that was it for me. Like I'd been waiting my whole life to go to that party."

Dean shook his head even though he knew Sam couldn't see it. "I don't know. I always expect things to go bad, you know that."

"And that's always worked out great, right?"

Dean supposed Sam had a point there. "So you're saying I should go for it."

"I'd be thrilled if you could just let yourself be happy for five minutes. Just don't go in thinking you can save this guy, because you might not be able to."

That got Dean's hackles up although he didn't know why. Sam was absolutely right. "I'll be careful."

"Yeah, sure you will be."

"You got no confidence in me."

"Comes from knowing you my whole life." Dean endured Sam making fun of him some more before ending the call, then sat back and tried to figure out exactly what in the hell was wrong with him. There wasn't much work left to do and a part of Dean wanted to just get the last of it done, collect his fee and never look back.

But a larger part of him thought about Castiel locked away in that old house and living like a ghost while he was still breathing, playing music no one else would ever hear and the misery of that coiled in Dean's stomach like a snake. He was convinced he was right, Cas was trying to reach out, just getting freaked and pulling back at the last second.

Dean just wanted to know why.

888

The next few days went by in what passed for normal and professional – no supercharged touching, no personal conversations, not even as much lurking. Dean had decided to let Cas take the lead and if he wanted to back all the way up Dean supposed he couldn't blame him.

Then one night Dean was already more than halfway home when he realized he'd forgotten his tools - normally not a big deal, but the bench wasn't the only project Dean had on his slate. There was a small repair job he'd promised to deliver to another client in the morning and he'd hoped to finish up the detail work that night.

Dean turned the car back around, wincing when he saw the time. It was late enough that when Dean pulled he didn't see any lights on and was relieved the gate had been left open; Cas had given him a key so he could go in and out if needed and Dean circled around to the back of the property. The rear entrance was a more direct path to the workshop and Dean really wanted to avoid waking Cas up by prowling around his house at night even if he did have a key and a good reason.

Big houses were always creepy at night and Dean kept his steps quiet, navigating by the moonlight streaming through the uncovered windows. All went well until Dean passed the piano room; he heard a rustling and soft footsteps just in time and flattened himself against the wall by instinct. This was the only lit room in the house and Dean crept closer to the circle of light spilling from the doorway; there was a scraping sound Dean knew must the bench being pulled back. Dean squeezed his eyes shut; if Cas was going to practice Dean knew he should cut his losses and sneak back out.

And he was about to do just that when he heard an odd rustling sound, a soft whoosh that he couldn't place. In the second's hesitation caused by that Castiel began to play and Dean knew he wasn't going anywhere.

Any thought he'd had that maybe Cas didn't play in front of people because he just wasn't very good died right there. Dean knew he should leave, he wasn't meant to hear this – hell, he'd agreed to not hear this – but Dean couldn't make his legs move. Castiel was playing the song he'd taught Dean the first few notes of days before but the way it was really meant to be. He'd always been more of a Led Zep guy but Dean thought maybe if Cas was playing he could broaden his horizons.

He heard that rustling sound again and curiosity got the better of him. Dean peeked around the edge of the doorway, at first just being able to make out the back of the room and Castiel's suit jacket dropped in a crumpled heap on the floor. Dean took another step forward, enough to have an unobstructed view of the room, and sucked in a deep breath – Cas was sitting at the piano with his shirt sleeves pushed up and Dean suddenly understood why Castiel was so careful about letting Dean touch him. Curving up from Castiel's back just below his shoulders were a pair of immaculately white, feathered wings. "Holy shit."

Castiel's head snapped up, the wings flaring out and throwing enormous shadows against the wall. He stood up so quickly the bench tipped over. "Why are you here?"

"I forgot something. How have you been hiding those?"

Castiel shook his head, like just doing that could rewind the past few seconds. "You weren't supposed to see this."

"Yeah, I know. I wasn't trying to snoop, I swear."

"We had an agreement. You said you wouldn't pry like this, now I can't let you..."

"What?" Dean walked into the room, watching Castiel deflate a little bit more with each step. "Can't let me do what? Can't let me leave? Are we in that kind of movie? Should I go home and get my dungeon clothes?" Castiel looked down. "Or do you have a room all set up? Lots of candles everywhere, I bet. Always lots of candles."

Castiel kept his eyes locked on the floor. "You can't tell anyone," he said, what Dean suspected he wanted to be an order coming out as a plea. "It would attract attention, I'd have to leave and I can't, everything I have is here..."

He was spiraling down into panic right before Dean's eyes. "Hey," he said, walking up to put one hand on Cas' shoulder. "Dude. Who do you think I'm going to tell?" He dipped his head to try to force eye contact. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. I swear. Okay?" It took a few seconds but Castiel finally met his eyes. "Are these why you keep yourself locked up in here?"

"Partially. I can usually hide them but I learned a long time ago it's harder around people. It's been very hard around you," he admitted, and Dean realized the way he'd tensed up the first time Dean touched him had probably been him trying to keep the wings wrapped up.

"That's what the cut outs in the design are for," Dean realized, matching the drape of the wings to the blueprints in his shop.

Castiel nodded. "I need to focus when I play and I can't keep them hidden," he said, like he was admitting an embarrassing secret. "I thought a custom accommodation would be more comfortable."

"I guess I understand now why you didn't tell me the real reason you wanted that done," Dean said. "Probably wouldn't have believed it. Don't really see why you're keeping it a secret, though. I think they're pretty awesome."

"It's dangerous."

"Dude, what do you think people are going to do, bring out the pitchforks and the torches?"

"You're taking this very well." Dean shrugged; rolling with it was the only response he could manage right now. Probably the freaking out would come later. "I don't want any attention. I just want to be able to live my live without interference, and this is the only way I know how to do that. I just want to be left alone."

"You want me to leave you alone?" Castiel didn't answer, which for him spoke volumes. "Can I touch them?" Dean blurted out, glad it came out like that because he wasn't sure he'd have been able to gather up the guts if he'd had time to think.

Castiel nodded; Dean noticed his hands were tight fists at his side and moved slowly, running just the fingertips of one hand down the expanse of white feathers. Dean thought he'd barely touched him but the whole wing quivered, a single, full-body shudder that passed through Castiel like a current. "Oh," Cas said, the word all but buried in a rough-voiced moan. "I didn't expect that."

Dean took a step closer. "Can you fly on these?" he asked, slowly closing his hand around a handful of the inner layer of feathers, his eyes locked on Castiel's face. The way his expression changed with even just the slightest touch was like a stiff drink hitting Dean's system, that same light-headed, reckless surge of energy.

"No," Castiel said, a rueful twist to his lips. "When I was younger, but not now." He let out a deep in his throat moan as Dean trailed his thumb along the top edge of the wing, his eyes squeezing shut like it was taking all of his concentration to stay upright.

"How do you even walk around with them sensitive like this?" As if to punctuate that Dean stroked his hand down the outer pin feathers, making the wing involuntarily flare out.

"You can see why I gave you the design I did," he said, leaning into the touch like an arching cat. "This is why I didn't want you to see them."

"What? Why? You said I could touch them."

Castiel nodded. "I knew you would ask." He met Dean's eyes with a look that was almost helpless. "I knew I wouldn't say no."

Enough with pretending at self-control; Dean stepped forward and kissed Castiel full on the lips, a shiver of his own hitting his spine when Castiel opened to the kiss immediately. He felt Castiel's hands reach up to cradle his head, the kiss suddenly something hungry as he pressed against Dean. Even when he pulled back he was still so close Dean could feel his breath. "I want you to call me Cas," he whispered, intensity putting an edge to the words. "Please call me that."

Dean leaned back into the kiss to shush him as much as anything else, getting rewarded by a low moan that sounded like it came from miles inside him. He clutched onto Dean like he needed Dean to stand, his mouth hot and and open under Dean's and his tongue in Dean's mouth like Cas had been starving for him. Dean pulled Cas' shirt out of his waistband and slid his hands underneath the thin fabric, feeling Castiel sigh as he scraped his nails very lightly along the line of his ribs. "This is very ill-advised," Cas murmured, speaking right up against Dean's lips.

"Yeah, I'm kind of the expert at that."

Dean usually prided himself on always being on time with his jobs but just this once he knew he would have to bend that rule. Something more important had just come up.