AN: Hiiii everyone! I finally pumped out another chapter, this one's a bit longer than the last couple. But, unfortunately, I have an actual fuckton of announcements, so bear with me.
First of all, I give a huuuuuge thank you thank you thank you to anyone who's reviewed so far. I read and reread the reviews and then stay up to unreasonable hours of the night writing this damn fanfic. They fuel me, they really do. And I will continue to beg for more every chapter.
Second of all, Lawrence High is not actually based off the real Lawrence high school, if there is one. I have never been to Kansas. Lawrence High in this fic is actually based more off my own high school than anything. On that note, keeps changing it to LawrenceHigh School for some reason, so just ignore that. Also, I write pretty much everything besides fanfiction in first person, so I may occasionally switch to first person if I didn't catch myself before posting. To state the obvious, I have no beta.
Thirdly, I like to do parallels with the show and other fanfics. There's most likely going to be a Twist and Shout reference coming up, so prepare yourself for violent war flashbacks. And I struggled to decide if Michael was going to be Matt Cohen or Jake Abel. The hardest part about this though is deciding what kind of music each band plays. And now we segway into my next topic.
If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them, I might use them. The only thing is that I basically refuse to write Sabriel and Wincest so don't expect them.
This is getting really long so I'll speed this up: I'm pretty charismatic and I have no firsthand experience with social anxiety. I don't mean to offend anyone if I get something horribly wrong. Also, I don't play any instruments, but I know a lot about singing, so that's something.
So I guess I'll end this obnoxious announcement spree and let you get on with reading.
"Alright, Lawrence; we're gonna play a little song for you."
Castiel leaned forward expectantly. Gabriel and Balthazar's unhealthy interest in these bands had intrigued him. He half expected them to start playing metalcore or something, but instead the band started an unexpected song that Castiel actually recognized: Changes by David Bowie.
The band may have been good, but Castiel was weary of them. They all looked dangerous. Like they were planning to beat up a kid out behind the school.
"Ch—ch—ch—changes," Crowley sang, winking at a girl in the audience.
Cas took this moment to remember this band's hatred of The Hunt. He didn't understand it (in fact, he thought it seemed ridiculous creating an entire band based on rebelling against them. The Hunted? Really?) but he did want to see The Hunt's reaction to the petty insults they evidently seemed to be throwing around.
The Hunt, it seemed, couldn't care less. Sam had his phone out and was grinning at the screen. Garth was actually smiling and tapping his foot along to the song. Dean and the drummer— Jo, he recalled— were laughing and whispering to each other. Occasionally they pointed at different parts of the stage and lapsed into fits of giggling, as hushed as possible so as not to disturb anyone around them. Cas suddenly wished he was closer to the pair so he could hear what they were saying that made Dean laugh like that. He wanted to make Dean laugh like that. But he was in a completely different section than them. The spots around them had been completely filled as soon as they sat back down after their performance. It seems they had quite a few fans in the audience.
Castiel didn't understand the strange fixation he had on this man. Sure, it was common for people to fixate on celebrities, but not Cas. He didn't like people. He didn't understand them, frankly. He can't even understand Balthazar and Anna. But now, suddenly, he wants to understand. He wants to try, at least.
The longer he watched Dean the more the music sort of turned to background noise. There was this rawness to the man. He had a vulnerable laugh. His eyes crinkled genuinely and he flashed his pearly teeth, throwing his head back when he occasionally laughed really hard. He wanted to tell someone all of the observations he could possibly make about the man. Anna, perhaps. Was that normal? It probably wasn't normal. Anna would laugh and call him a weirdo and tell him people didn't do that. That's what she usually did when Cas did something unusual. Sometimes Balthazar would just chuckle and ruffle his hair and leave Cas bugging him to tell him why he laughed.
Jo whispered something to Dean just then and stood from her seat. She hunched over and ran up the aisle toward the exit as if to try and be as little of a distraction as possible. Dean watched her go. But, of course, he had to notice Castiel blatantly staring at him. He caught Cas's gaze with his fascinating green eyes.
It's not normal to stare at people, is it? Cas worried. Of course it's not. Why do I do these things? Obviously it's not normal. But, I mean, he's famous, should he be used to it? Is it normal to stare at famous people? Damn it, this is hard. Why does this have to be so hard?
Dean stared at him with a straight, unchanging expression for the approximately five seconds that Castiel's internal struggle happened.
Oh, Christ, why isn't he looking away? Why am I not looking away? Is this normal?
Suddenly, there was applause all around. Cas took the distraction thankfully, looking curiously around at the clapping people and then to the stage to notice that The Hunted had finished their song. He snuck a glance back at Dean, but he was facing the stage now, joining in on the applause.
By the time Cas looked away from Dean, Kevin was already back on stage. "That was great! Interesting that The Hunt's rivals happened to show up here, huh? Good luck competing against two famous bands, folks.
"I should take this time to mention that I've managed to secure a great prize for the winner of this competition… A record deal." An excited murmur rippled through the crowd. "So the best of luck to everyone, and up next we have the Ghostfacers!"
The 'Ghostfacers' were a ridiculous band composed of a handful of teenagers. Cas assumed they went to Kevin's school and heard about the competition. They weren't very good, regardless; mostly just made a bunch of noise. Most of the bands that followed were like that as well. There was a lot of variety, though. There was a band of rather old people with an odd name that had something to do with Cocoa Puffs, and a group of what looked like middle schoolers who had a very long and obviously child-made name, and all ages in between. Some of the bands were good, however
There was one composed of entirely girls. They dressed edgy, acted edgy, and played edgy music, but man, they were good. And there was also a group called Charlie, Chuck, and Becky that was three people: a singer named Becky, an acoustic guitarist named Chuck, and a musician named Charlie that basically played every other instrument possible. Charlie switched instruments three times in their one song, and it was the general consensus that one of them was definitely a mandarin.
After a reasonably talented band performed called One Will Rise, Kevin informed the crowd that a band called Arch was next.
Gabriel suddenly flung himself from his seat with a "Yeah!" He turned to us. "Looks like I'm on. I'll just warn you now: We're pretty awesome, so prepare for your mind to be blown."
He skipped off toward the stage where three other men were already waiting. One with dark skin and short black hair had his shoulders thrown back and his head bowed, calmly scrutinizing the bass guitar supplied for him. The other two seemed to be in some sort of heated and hushed argument. And those two men were like yin and yang.
One had well-groomed, dark hair and cheeks flushed with anger. If he had feathers, they would be ruffled right then. He had a well-toned body, as was seen through rather thin t-shirt, and was gesturing frustratedly to something behind the other man.
Said other man had light blue eyes and lighter hair that was cut short and simply. He had light stubble that was slightly hard to see due to its blond nature. His face suggested he was more annoyed than anything. He frowned, and although Cas couldn't hear his words, he could tell just by the look on the dark-haired man's face that the blond had said something sarcastic and unnecessary.
Gabriel bounded over to them, clapping a hand onto each man's shoulder. He seemed to resolve their argument fairly quickly, but Cas had a feeling it was only a temporary resolution. Gabriel probably had to put up with that all the time. It was a shame; he seemed like such a nice guy, even if a little out there.
His hands slipped from their shoulders and he trotted over to the drum set. The dark-haired man stalked over to the microphone, flashing the audience a charming smile when he reached it. The blond man sent one last irritated glare at the back of his aggressor's head and picked up the red guitar.
"Hi there," the previously mentioned aggressor greeted the audience.
He was charming, sure, but there was something off about him... Him and the rest of his band. It was like Gabriel was the only one who didn't seem dangerous. Something in the set of his shoulders, something in the slope of the blond's eyes, something in the clench of the bassist's jaw. It was off.
Anna nudge Cas with her elbow and leaned over to whisper something to his the instant before the band started playing. "Are you overanalyzing people again, Cas?" She teased. "You've got that look on your face."
Cas shrugged sheepishly. His eyes fixated on the guitarist as he started playing. He snarled down at his guitar, and it suddenly hit Cas. He recognized the vibe around this man, the dangerous air—it also belonged to The Hunted. It was the same "kick a puppy" look, the sort of cocky superiority mixed with a quiet aggression. He told himself to stay away from these people; they could surely be nothing but bad news.
He suddenly took Anna's playful words to heart, becoming very self-aware. He didn't know what "that look on your face" looked like, but he tried to morph his face into a way that looked relaxed but presentable. Was anyone looking at him? It felt like everyone was looking at him. How long had this band been playing? Why were they already done? Had it really been that long?
His hands automatically moved to clap along with the audience around him. Sometimes he really hated himself. Why did he have to think so much, to care so much?
There were a few more ridiculous bands and a few more actually good bands, and Castiel was getting antsy. He leaned over to Anna after a band of teenagers played some song that involved a lot of screaming. "When are we going? Did he forget about us?"
Anna smiled at him reassuringly. "I'm sure it's fine, Cas. I doubt he forgot about us."
"How can you be sure—"
He was interrupted by Kevin's voice, which seemed to be happening a lot that day. "Next up we have our very last band of the day, Smite the Sound."
"See?" Anna said pointedly and stood from her seat. Balthazar was already walking toward the stage, and Cas and Anna followed him.
Cas turned to Anna as the "welcome" applause started. "Anna, is it… Can we do Hey Jude? I know it's acoustic and all, but—"
"Of course, Cas," Anna soothed. "I like that song, you know I do."
Cas let out a relieved sigh. It seemed like all his friends ever did was reassure him. God, he was such a nuisance…
The trio trooped over to the small staircase leading up to the stage and climbed up it. Balthazar caught Kevin by the arm as the boy was walking down said staircase and asked quickly, "Do you have a piano or keyboard or something?"
"Backstage, stage right," he replied, continuing his journey back to his seat.
Balthazar ran up to Cas. "Piano's backstage," he informed his friend, pointing to the piano that was just visible behind the curtain on stage right. Together they wheeled it out onto the stage.
Balthazar started to walk away, but Cas grappled onto his sleeve in reaction to the deep fear that suddenly struck him. "I changed my mind, Balth, I can't do this."
"You can do this and you know it. We've played this song a thousand times with no audience in your garage, what's the difference now?"
"They're all looking at me, Balthazar."
Cas couldn't take his eyes off the quietly chatting audience. Someone pointed in his general direction and felt bile rise in this throat.
"Then show them what you've got. You have what it takes to wow this whole goddamned room—I've seen it."
Cas couldn't respond. He felt lightheaded, and begged himself to stay upright. Balthazar simply clapped him on the shoulder and sauntered over to his place behind the drum set. Cas looked over at Anna, who was already looking at him with acoustic guitar in hand, and she gave him a nod. He forced a small smile on his face for her sake.
He brought the microphone stand over to the piano and adjusted it to the necessary height, then took the bench off the piano and sat down.
He wanted to make some charismatic comment greeting the audience or introducing the song like the other bands tended to do, but he knew he couldn't. He might as well not even try. Save himself the embarrassment. Most people would recognize the song immediately anyway.
He took a deep, shaky breath in. "Hey, Jude," he sang, surprising himself with his voice's steady sound. His hands moved over the piano automatically, not even needing to think about the chords that he's played countless times. "Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better."
His next deep breath was less panicked than his first. "Hey, Jude." Anna joined in with the guitar and Castiel was soothed even further. He concentrated on the familiar sound of his friend playing, bringing himself back to all the times they played this song for fun. He remembered a time a few months ago. The three were laughing as Cas walked over and started strumming Anna's guitar for her, followed by Balthazar promptly attacking him with a drumstick.
Cas smiled as his two best friends joined in with background vocals. Balthazar occasionally likes to sing opera rather than the actual background vocals, and that always causes laughter since Balthazar can barely sing the backup vocals. His "opera" is atrocious.
The blond man came in with the drum part as if summoned by Castiel's thoughts. Cas smiled at him over his shoulder and Balthazar grinned in response. "Na na na na, na na na na," they sang passionately to each other as they generally did at that part.
Cas decided this performing business wasn't really so bad once you got into it. He was here with his band, his best friends, just like he always was. They'd played this song a thousand times; they knew it like it was Row, Row, Row Your Boat or something. The only difference now was the audience, which he had not looked at even once.
"So let it out and let it in. Hey, Jude, begin. You're waiting for someone to perform with."
He remembered playing this song once. Balthazar's drumstick went sailing out of his hand at this part of the song and hit Anna in the shoulder. To this day they still tease him about it, saying he needed to refrain from beating people with his instrument. "Do you see Anna beating people upside the head with her guitar?" They'd question.
"No, but Cas kills people with his voice," he'd retort, and proceed to make a shrieking noise.
"Hey, Jude," Cas and Balthazar sang together in present time. "Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her under your skin—"
Cas looked to Balthazar for the obligatory moaning of "Oh!" at this point and was not disappointed.
"—then you begin to make it better, better, better, better, better, better oh yeah!"
The whole band sang the unforgettable "na, na, na, na na na na" part with vigor. This part made up about four minutes of the seven-minute song, but they just sorta sang it until they got sick of it, which sometimes took much longer than four minutes.
Balthazar stood suddenly, gesturing for the audience to sing along and clapping largely before returning to drumming. Much to Castiel's surprise, the audience actually complied, clapping and singing along sloppily. The singer chanced a look at the crowd.
Most people had big smiles on their faces and were singing to their friends and band mates. A good amount were clapping or swaying. Each person with their own individual finesse and personality and style, coming together in this room. Cas beamed with pride. They were enjoying this music he was creating, laughing and singing along, having fun just like he always did… There wasn't anything like it. He stood suddenly, abandoning the piano (the audience was loud enough to excuse its absence) and grabbing the microphone from the stand. He travelled to center stage, deciding to throw out some of McCartney's odd improvisations, "Jude, Judie, Judie, Judie, Judie, Judie, wow!"
He clapped along with the audience, gazing out on them. Gabriel was in between the bickering men in his band with his arms around them, the three of them swaying and singing. Even the members of The Hunted seemed to be enjoying themselves a bit.
Castiel's eyes fell on Dean, curious to see how the man was reacting to this song, to his music. He was singing along, looking at his brother with a meaningful look on his face. Sentiment? He was smiling almost sadly. Sam hooked his arm around his older brother's shoulders, forcing him to sway along with him, and Dean grinned broadly. Cas decided he wanted Dean to never lose that smile. It suited him so well, such a genuine smile. Was it weird to call another man beautiful? Because that's the word that came to his mind.
Cas forced his eyes away from Dean and turned to looked at his friends. Together they held out their last "Hey, Jude," to end the song. Balthazar went crazy on his drums and Cas strung together a long line of improvised notes, spinning back around to the audience with a "Yeah!"
A satisfying applause burst forth immediately. Cas stared at the crowd in awe, panting a bit, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. He couldn't believe he just did that. There were so many damn people watching him, and yet… Really what he was thinking about was that he hoped he had impressed Dean. It sounded strange, and probably a bit creepy, but he couldn't help it.
He put the microphone back in the stand and made his way back to his seat with his band. As soon as they sat, Anna turned to him with a huge grin. "That was so great."
"I told you that you could do it, Cas," Balthazar pointed out, "and what did you do? You fucking killed it."
"Did you see how into it the audience was getting? Oh, God, that was so cool."
Cas smirked softly, content with listening to his friends banter about the performance, until Kevin made his way onto the stage for what seemed to be the final time that day.
"It's been a really great turnout and I'd like to thank everyone for coming," he started. "The next round will take place in two days. The list of bands that made it through will be posted on the front of the school and each band will be sent an email. Have a great day, everyone!" He paused, and the audience immediately started chatting. He added uncertainly, "And if anyone wants to stay and clean up, help would be much appreciated."
About half the bands left immediately. The other half were left packing up their instruments and such. Cas turned to Balthazar and Anna. "I think we should stay and help out."
Balthazar snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm not doing that."
"Oh, come on."
"You stay, then. I'll be in the car. Anna, come with me."
Cas looked to Anna, and she smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Cas. Don't be too long."
He stared after Balthazar and Anna as they hurried out of the auditorium with most of the other bands.
Turns out, not many people stayed to help out.
Basically no one, in fact.
Cas was staring begrudgingly at the piano wondering how he was going to move such a heavy thing alone, wheels or no wheels. He bent down low and put his shoulder and hands on it, heaving with a grunt. It squeaked forward a few inches.
"Balthazar, God damn it," he muttered to himself, "where are you when I need you?"
"Need some help?" An unfamiliar voice asked from behind him.
Cas turned around and had to refrain from gasping aloud. Of all people, Dean Winchester was standing there offering to help him. Dean. Castiel tried hard to pinpoint just when he became such an obsessive fangirl.
"Yes," he attempted to say, but it came out as a strangled whisper. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Please."
He turned back around to face the piano, avoiding eye contact as Dean came up beside him. "Ready?"
Cas nodded wordlessly, dug his heels into smooth floor, and shoved. The piano rolled forward effortlessly with Dean's help.
"The kid said this goes in the music room," Dean informed him as they pushed. "I guess he said there was a door backstage or something."
"Yeah," Cas confirmed quietly. "Right over there."
They rolled the piano over to a set of double doors and Cas hurried up to them. He shoved one open, kicking a doorstop into it to hold it there, and searched around for another doorstop for the other door. There wasn't one backstage and there wasn't one anywhere in the hallway the doors lead to. Cas was at a loss. "I don't…" he began. "There's only one doorstop."
"Just hold the door open, I'll push the piano."
"All by yourself? Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Don't worry about it."
Cas reluctantly complied, moving out of the way and holding the door open with an extended arm. He watched the piano come rolling steadily out the door and into the hallway until Dean came into sight, and he became transfixed.
He closely examined the way the muscles in his arms tensed as he pushed the piano. The way his face was set with concentration. The way the clench of his jaw defined his jaw line gloriously. The way he had just a bit of stubble on his face. The way his eyes were a startling shade of green. The way his eyelashes caught the light. The way light freckles dotted his face. All these little things that made him want to stare at the man for hours.
Sadly, the piano was now fully in the hall and Dean turned to Cas, who pretended he was not just blatantly staring at him. Staring is weird, isn't it? "Can you go get the other doors? The music room's over there." He nodded his head at another set of double doors a few feet away.
Cas grabbed the doorstop from the first door and used it to prop open the other, using the same tactic of holding the door open for Dean. He took advantage of the extra few seconds to admire the famous singer; he was alarmingly perfect.
Cas let the door as soon as the piano was all the way in the room and hurried to help Dean push it into its place. Once, this task was completed, Dean stepped back and put his hands on his hips. He gazed around the room, a far off look on his face. "I kinda miss this place," he said distantly.
Castiel swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "You miss it?" he questioned, adrenaline pumping through his body in anticipation of actually having a conversation with a stranger. What if he messes up completely? What do you even say to people you don't know? Just don't speak too much; don't mess anything up…
"Yeah. I'm an alumnus. Graduated '05."
"Interesting."
He turned to Cas then, leaning against the piano as he spoke. "You were pretty damn good today, by the way."
Cas felt his heart speed up. "Thank you."
"I really love that song: Hey Jude. Brings back a lot of memories."
"Oh?"
"My mom…" he began, but his voice trailed off. He shrugged, staring hard at the ground.
"What?"
"I don't know. I guess if you wanted to hear my life story you could look it up online or whatever."
"No," Cas said a bit too quickly. "I mean, it's okay if you want to… talk, I don't… I don't mind, that is."
Dean shook his head. "Nevermind. I don't know why I even started. I don't usually go around talking to people about my problems and shit."
"I don't usually go around talking to people at all."
He looked up at the man beside him at that comment, noting that he was being completely serious. "You're kinda weird." Cas felt panic shoot through his body. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he mess everything up? "I like it, though," Dean continued. "You're quiet. More of a listener. It's nice to talk to someone without them screaming in my face or nagging me or whatever. It's all I get these days. Screaming from my fans, nagging from my brother, screaming and nagging from my agent…" he let out a breath of laughter and shook his head. "I'm complaining again."
"It's okay, I like to listen."
He shrugged. "You're just kinda… different."
"I believe that's called a cliché," Cas teased in a burst of courage. "The famous man meets the one special person that doesn't absolutely freak out in his presence."
Dean stared at him for a while with a surprised look on his face and Cas was yet again afraid he said the wrong thing, but Dean just chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is. What's your name?"
"Uh, it's Cas. Castiel."
"Well, Castiel, I'm Dean Winchester."
"I know."
He smirked. "You know? You a fan?"
"My friends are."
He chuckled again at that, and replied with "I believe that's called a cliché: The one person that's not a fan getting to meat the famous man." In both their cliché explanations, they obviously left out the part where the special person and famous man inevitably fall in love. He had a feeling this would not be an appropriate thing to mention. The two lapsed into silence that made Castiel squirm. He was never sure if what he was saying was right, if it drove people away or not. He felt heat rise up his neck and gave in to the urge to stop the panic, "I should, uh, go. My band mates are waiting for me in the car."
"Okay. I'll see you around, then?"
Cas nodded and forced himself to calm down for just long enough to smile and say, "It was nice talking to you."
He strode out of the room without giving Dean a chance to reply to this statement.
Everything was so confusing. He didn't understand his own emotions. What, exactly, was it that he was feeling? Was it the adoration that many of his fans felt for him? Was it something else? There was no way he could tell.
He had a lot of thinking to do.