Gosh, you're all so kind...
Thank you SO much to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed (or followed me on tumblr, uwaaa!).
Ha, five points to everyone who promptly left reviews saying "I NOTICED!" Good for you. Thank you all very, very much.
So, uh, this chapter!
I HAD TO DO SO MUCH RESEARCH.
This chapter knocks over the very first domino in the plot chain. After this, everything goes pretty fast. I estimate we have about four chapter left, maybe a little less.
In this chapter, we meet Castiel's mother. Um, Dean and Cas and everyone aside, she was a character I really felt, and even got a little bit emotional writing her because of just how angelic she is. It was intense.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, because I haven't even started chapter 11, because I'm a horrible person.
But four days isn't that short! I hope I'll be able to get it done on time for your next update.
Please leave me a review or a comment in any format- be it on my tumblr or in any format here, I welcome feedback and thrive off it.
With that, please enjoy chapter 10.
The next morning Castiel gets into the Chrysler, Dean and Sam are arguing.
"Man, I'm tellin' you, the Dodgers don't stand a chance!" Sam says with a scoff.
Dean snorts. "With Larry Sherry playin' for them? No, Sammy, they'll pulverise the White Sox. Heya, Cas."
"Hello, Dean—"
"But the White Sox have Early Wynn," Sam argues, "not to mention Luis what's-his-name—oh, yeah, hey, Cas."
"Hi, Sam—"
"Cas," Dean interrupts, "tell my imbecile of a brother that there is no way the Dodgers will lose the World Series this year."
Castiel shifts awkwardly. "I—uh—"
"I mean, Sandy Koufax is playing for them!"
"I don't actually know anything about baseball," Cas admits gingerly.
Dean grins. "Yeah, didn't figure you would."
"Gabriel is very excited about this game, though," Castiel adds.
"I'll bet he is…" Dean sighs. "Well, I'll just have to enjoy it best I can over the radio. Again."
"You don't have a television set?" Cas asks, genuinely surprised.
Dean and Sam both let out short, bitter laughs. "Cas, does it honestly look like we can afford a new idiot box?" Dean says wearily. "No, we don't have one. We don't even have four pairs of shoes 'tween the two of us anymore."
Cas bites his lip, harshly reminded of the social differences and injustices in Lawrence. He considers saying sorry, but knows that won't be received well. Instead, he shrugs and casually says, "We have one."
Dean nods. "Figured you would."
Suddenly emboldened, Cas goes on: "And if you'd like, you could—you could come over and—and watch the game at my—"
"You mean it?" Dean breathes, sitting straight up with his eyes flashing eagerly.
Cas smiles gently and nods. "Of course, Dean. And Sam, too—"
"Uh—Sammy doesn't like baseball," Dean blurts out. Sam scowls minutely at him, but after a wordless exchange, sighs and nods.
"I've never understood it," Sam explains falteringly. "Yeah, I don't like it much."
"So—just Dean, then?" Cas clarifies, and Dean beams.
"Gee whiz, Cas, thanks for the invite," he enthuses.
"It's no problem," Castiel says with a small smile. "We'd be glad to have you over."
Dean's smile suddenly freezes. "But—what about Michael and Lucifer?..."
"Oh!" Cas sits up straight, eyes bright with glee. "Father went on a business trip to Paris and took them with him. It's just Mother and Gabriel and Anna and me until the ninth."
"Paris…," Dean and Sam echo.
Castiel nods. "So they're not home."
"Peachy," Dean grins. "That's a nifty bit of luck. Thanks again—thanks, Cas."
"No problem," Cas repeats softly and has a warm, buzzing sort of glow inside of him for the rest of the day from the smile Dean sends him.
Castiel is hunched over the dinner table, his handwriting a tangled mess as he desperately tries to finish his essay before Dean gets there, when the doorbell rings.
His mother sees his head jerk up and hears his distressed whine, and smiles. She sets down her magazine and stands, gently stroking her youngest son's dark hair as she passes. "I'll open it, Castiel. Don't worry. You're almost done."
But before she even makes it out of the dining room, Anna's door wrenches open and the inhabitant of the space beyond whirls out.
"I'll get it," she says breathlessly, ignoring her mother's narrowed eyes as she tries to figure out if Anna is wearing makeup or not.
She swiftly opens the door, and Castiel leans back slightly to see the proceedings.
"Dean!" Anna bubbles delightedly, flushing red. Cas's heart flips over and up into his throat.
"Hi, Anna," Dean says, and Cas strains back further to catch a glimpse of him. This attempt doesn't work too well; his chair wobbles dangerously and he hastily sets it back down again. His pen flies across the paper faster than before, and even though his hand cramps into knots of pain, he scrawls out the final word of his essay's conclusion.
"Done!" he announced proudly, stands, and crosses to the door where Dean is.
Dean, of course, looks wonderful: shaved clean, quiffed, wavy hair shining brown-gold in the dusky light, lips hooked into a smile. His jeans are slightly less worn than all the others he usually wears, his shoes are clean, and his shirt fits well. Castiel's brain stutters as the green eyes glimmer, but he finally smiles back.
"Hello, Dean," he says softly.
"Hey, Cas," comes the equally soft reply.
Cas blushes, too, and quickly looks back at his patiently waiting mother. "Oh—I should—introduce you," he says, hasty and uncertain. "Mother, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my mother, Eve."
Elegant and gracious as always, Eve steps forward and clasps Dean's hand in her own. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she says, voice almost a hum. "I've heard a lot about you."
Dean flushes a little and drops his eyes, a sheepish smile gracing his mouth. "L-likewise, ma'am."
"I'm sure," she smiles and releases his hand.
"And—uh, thank you so much for—for allowing me into your home," Dean adds hastily, cheeks going slightly redder.
Castiel frowns minutely and tilts his head in confusion. Is Dean being shy?
"You're very welcome here," Eve replies kindly, and Dean's eyes spark and fill with a distant sadness Cas doesn't recognize.
"Thank you, ma'am," he says again, and she smiles at him the way she does at all her children.
"Come on in," she urges, standing back slightly to he can enter. "Gabriel claims the game is starting soon."
Dean glances at his watch. "It is," he confirms, and then his eyes dart up to lock with Cas's. The simple meeting of green and blue seems to give him more confidence, because his posture straightens slightly, and as he walks past Cas into the living room, his hand moves up to lightly ruffle the dark hair Eve had just smoothed down. Castiel blushes fiercely, but neither Anna nor Eve notice his flustered state.
Gabriel barely even looks up as the four of them walk in. "Dean-o! Hey, long time no see."
"Sure has been," Dean confirms easily, but Cas can tell he's anxious again: his thumbs are hooked in his belt loops and his jaw is tensed.
Eve comes up behind him and places a gentle hand between his shoulderblades. He twitches in surprise, but doesn't shake her away. "Would you like something to drink, Dean?" she offers.
He bites his lip and shakes his head. "No—no, thank you very much, I—I'm fine," he declines politely, and Cas can't hold back a smile, because bashfulness suits Dean so well.
"If you change your mind, just let me know," Eve says with a smile, guiding Dean over to the sofa. He sits very close to the edge, and Anna instantly perches on the arm right next to him, sending him a glowing look. Castiel's insides clench with jealousy, but before he can go over and sit to Dean's right, Eve has said, "Castiel? Would you come to the kitchen with me and help pour Coca-Cola for your siblings, please?"
Dragging his eyes away from Dean, Castiel nods and follows her out.
They hear the TV click on and hiss in the other room, and as Castiel pours and Eve holds the glasses, Eve smiles and says, "He's very handsome."
Cas blushes scarlet, and his hand trembles on the bottle. How does Eve always know everything about how her children feel just by looking at them? "Y-yes," he admits quietly. "He is."
Eve sighs, looking down at the glasses in her hand. "What happened to his mother?" she asks gently.
Castiel blinks, frowning. "I—I've n-never asked…," he says hesitantly. "I d-don't kn-know. D-did s-something happen?"
"It's written all over his face," she confirms, eyes suddenly weary. She sets down the glasses and leans over to press a light kiss to her son's forehead. "He seems like a good boy."
Cas is about to smile wistfully and confirm this when there is a shout from Gabriel: "It's starting!"
Eve smiles at Castiel once more before taking two glasses and gracefully returning to the living room. Cas takes his own and trails after her. After handing Anna and Gabriel their glasses of Coca-Cola, she sits down in the armchair opposite Gabriel's. Cas is left awkward and uncertain for a few moments, and then Dean looks up at him and smiles and pats the bit of couch to his right. Cas smiles back, grateful and flustered, and goes to sit next to him.
The game starts, grainy little people running back and forth onscreen, but Castiel can't focus on it. Not when Dean's eyes are so alive they almost seem to radiate light; not when Cas can feel the heat emanating from him burning through Cas's cardigan. Every now and then, something that must be exceptionally exciting happens, and Dean sucks in amazed gasps and occasionally bites his lip in worried dismay when it falls through. He and Gabriel exchange amicable banter over the merits of the various players and explain baseball concepts when Eve or Cas asks.
After around an hour, the team Dean is rooting for is losing.
A commercial break arrives, and Dean lets out a shaky breath. "This is too much stress," he says, clearly only half-joking. "I—I might need to take a break to—to smoke…" His eyes dart uncertainly to Eve, and she nods graciously.
"You'll just have to go outside, dear," she says amiably, and Cas sees Dean tense and shiver.
"I know," he replies, standing up. She raises a questioning eyebrow but doesn't press the issue—which is a good thing, for Cas's insides had grown cold with sudden fear.
Eve stands, too. "Do you mind if I join you?" she enquires politely. "I need some fresh air, myself."
Dean's eyes widen. "Uh—no, I don't mind," he stammers, and she smiles at him and lets him lead the way out the front door to the porch.
Castiel watches them go, frowning as he remembers Eve's tone when she asked about Dean's mother. Cas had never even really given Dean's family beyond Sam too much thought, and he'd never considered that Dean might not have both parents with him. The novelty of being around someone as maternal as Eve must be what has Dean so uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
He's so lost in his thoughts of his brave, beautiful Dean growing up motherless and raising Sam himself that Gabriel's sudden cry of delight as the White Sox score another run makes him practically jump out of his seat.
Hypothetically speaking, he should find it easier to focus on the game now that Dean is out, but he can't anyway. He doesn't understand the rules or know the players, and without Dean's explanatory murmuring, he is lost and uninterested.
After what seems like an eternity, Dean and Eve come back.
With quiet shock, Castiel notices the rim of puffy red around Dean's eyes, but says nothing. When Dean settles on the couch next to him, Cas sends him the brightest smile he can, and the melancholy in Dean's eyes ebbs away a little.
Cas allows himself to move in as close to Dean's side as he dares without attracting too much attention—he's just a couple of inches away, and instead of focusing on the game, he fantasizes about Dean putting his arm around him and tugging him in close. This, of course, doesn't happen, and Castiel is left untouched and silently miserable.
The game ends.
Dean's team lost, and he looks so distressed that Cas can't help but chuckle and place a soothing hand on his shoulder. He's faintly surprised when Dean sighs and leans into the touch. "Don't worry, Lawrence," he says, voice so low only Dean can hear. "I'm sure they'll win tomorrow."
Dean smiles up at him, eyes wide and anxious. "So—I can come back?" he clarifies falteringly.
"Of course!" Cas indignantly says. His eyes dart to his mother. "Right?..."
"Of course," she echoes and smiles at the boys. "Would you like to stay for dinner, Dean?"
He freezes. "I'd—uh," he stammers. "I'd love to, ma'am, but I gotta—Sammy's—"
"Oh, that's right," she interrupts graciously. "Yes, you should help Sam tonight."
"Is he okay?" Castiel asks with a frown, shifting so he's facing Dean.
"Bit of a cold," Dean shrugs. "He's alright. I just gotta make him some soup or somethin'."
"Send him my regards," Castiel says with a soft smile.
"Will do, baby."
Castiel walks Dean to the door and they just smile at each other in the warm silence for a few seconds. Finally, Dean clears his throat and jams his hands in his pockets.
"So, uh, thanks," he says awkwardly, "for everything."
"No problem," Cas smiles, and Dean reaches out and just barely touches his face, backs of his fingers to Cas's cheek.
"See you tomorrow," he whispers, and then he's gone.
Castiel lets out a trembling sigh and closes the door behind him. Eve joins her son there and smiles gently.
"He's a lovely boy," she says quietly.
Cas bites his lip. "W-what did h-happen t-to his m-m-mother?" he questions.
Eve slumps slightly and gestures for Castiel to follow her into the living room. They sit next to each other on the couch, in the space that Dean had filled just a few minutes ago. Eve sighs and begins to speak softly:
"He told me everything. Incredible, how he opened up. See—his father, John, was a Marine. Right after Dean was born, he was called to fight in the War. Mary raised Dean on her own, and she did alright. A few years later, John had a week's leave and Sam was conceived. He was born when John was off fighting, and… when he was six months old, the Winchesters' house was robbed. By some people from downtown. Apparently, John had been a bit of a hoodlum in his youth, and had made his fair share of enemies. So they broke in, started ransacking the place—that's why they don't have a television anymore—and Mary tried to stop them." Eve takes a deep breath, lips trembling. "Dean came into the room to see what was wrong just as they killed her." Her voice breaks momentarily, but she goes on. "John came home two days later. He'd been badly wounded in the Battle of the Atlantic by flying shrapnel, and his right leg was completely paralyzed. He couldn't walk, not even if supported. His boys were inconsolable, both about Mary and his leg, but John grew bitter and couldn't be bothered. Dean had to raise Sam himself, with a little help from Bobby Singer. He managed to make it through freshman year, but then Sam started growing up and needing books for school and new clothes, so Dean dropped out of school to work full-time. And then he started associating with tougher gangs, but… he cleaned up, for Sam's sake. Doesn't fight anymore, doesn't get in trouble anymore. And… you know the rest!..."
There is a very pregnant silence, and then Castiel jumps up from the couch, eyes brimming with tears, and rushes off into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He hears his mother call after him, but he ignores her, burying his face in his pillow and sobbing himself to sleep.
Dean comes back every night the World Series is on. Castiel acts normally, as though he doesn't know anything new, but every time he looks at Dean, it hurts.
On the last night, after Dean's team has won, Cas all but begs Dean to stay for dinner.
And Dean accepts.
…to be continued…
SLANG DICTIONARY
Idiot box: television set