Chapter 10: Let's Give Thanks and Try Not to Drive Each Other Nuts
"Dad's not allowed to cook," were the first words out of Claire's mouth. Every head in the room swiveled away from Gabriel and his cellphone, eyes focusing in on the preteen girl, ears pricked for more bizarre pronouncements.
"And why, pray tell, is he being denied his constitutional right to make dinners so appalling my parents will leave ahead of schedule? Hmmm?" Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her.
"Because I have to eat them too and living here is not optional," Claire arched a brow at him, "And I actually like Becky and Chuck."
"Liking them isn't the issue. The issue is that they're batshit crazy!" Gabriel squeaked.
"Language, Gabriel, there are children present," his cousin chastised, motioning toward Sam and Dean on the word 'children'.
"I do what I want, bitch," Gabriel snarked, a crooked grin sprawling across his face.
Sam, not sure what else to do, and thinking the situation couldn't honestly get any weirder, raised his hand.
"Yes, Samsquatch, what do you want?" Gabriel asked.
"What exactly is the problem with Gabe's parents?"
"They're a pair of psychos! Haven't you been listening, Sammy-boy?" Gabriel demanded.
"They're a rather fascinating study of chaotic realism," James opined.
The room was dead silent for several long seconds as everyone digested what that actually meant. Sam, of course, realized that what it meant didn't matter so much as what the implications were for their Thanksgiving and what sort of effect these unknown people would have.
"Please tell me that little bit of fortune-cookie was not artist-speak for cuckoo for cocoa puffs…" Dean grumbled.
Sam ran a hand through his shaggy mop of auburn hair. Maybe if he went to go pick Adam up from the airport Gabe's parents would be gone by the time he got back to his mom's bed and breakfast…?
Dean shot him a look, "No, Sammy, I call dibs on picking up Adam."
Damn older brothers and their annoying habit of knowing what you're thinking. Sam gave him his own version of the look.
Dean valiantly struggled against the forces of little-brother-puppy-dog-facing for a solid minute before crumpling like wet newspaper. "Fine, you can come with. But no messing with the music!"
"Can I come too?" a note of desperation was creeping into Gabriel's voice.
"Lovely, a group outing." It was completely impossible to tell if James was being sarcastic or not.
Dean's face was twitching slightly at the thought of all of them crammed into his precious Impala. Or perhaps he was busy imagining a forty-five-minute car ride with Gabe in the backseat. Sam was glad to be the voice of reason before his brother completely snapped, "We won't all fit in the Impala. And Adam has luggage."
Dean's facial expression was something along the lines of: oh, thank god and whoever else might be listening. It was a documented fact that Sam's brother did not mind sharing a vehicle with Sam. It was also a documented fact that Dean Winchester did not mind sharing a vehicle with James or even Claire. There was a third documented fact in play that indicated that if forced to occupy the same small space for more than fifteen minutes, Dean and Gabriel would both explode in twin fits of mutual destruction.
"Rock paper scissors?" Claire suggested.
Sam and Dean both opened their mouths, poised to protest this mode of settling the issue, phrases like 'we're grown adults' poised on their tongues. Claire gave them a flat look. Both Winchesters' jaws clicked shut with near-audible snaps.
Sam readied his hands for a bout of 'rock paper scissors'.
It turned out that either the brothers were both incredibly good at the game, or both incredibly bad. The number of times each threw down the exact same 'rock' 'paper' or 'scissors' was nearing the realms of statistically impossible by the time Castiel decided to intervene and end the tedious game. After some necessary bickering regarding who exactly 'won' the last round both Sam and Dean found themselves hustled out the door and sent on their somewhat-less-than-merry way. As soon as the human whirlwind that was the Winchesters had vacated the premises, Castiel allowed himself to drop into an armchair and massaged his aching temples.
Gabriel remained standing in the middle of the living room, quietly rocking back and forth on his heels and humming quietly to himself. Claire had vanished back into her room, presumably to put on clothing other than a t-shirt and Hello Kitty pajama pants. Castiel looked up from his fingers, regarding Gabriel with chilly blue eyes. "Isn't there somewhere you need to be, Mellow Yellow?"
"Hmm, I'm gonna assume that's some sort of official Crayola color seeing as the likelihood of you giving me a nickname is about as high as Zachie dearest winning an Oscar. And nooo, nowhere at all. I'm just dying to spend Thanksgiving with my darling cousin, Jimbo." Gabriel tossed in a charming smile for good measure.
Castiel narrowed his eyes and steadfastly remained uncharmed. "Go greet your parents, Gabriel. Dawdling is unseemly and unfortunately burnt umber of you."
"Burnt umber…that's a pretty color…"
"Do not be deliberately obtuse, Gabriel, you and I both know it is a horrendous color on you."
A petty little staring match followed, one which Castiel easily won. That didn't stop him from slowly, deliberately and luxuriously blinking seconds after Gabriel lost, just to rub in the victory a bit more. Not that Castiel would ever admit such appallingly salmon-colored motives.
Turning away from Gabriel, who was busy rubbing very dry eyes, Castiel said quietly, "Enjoy the fact that your parents are here." The last part of that sentence: 'mine certainly aren't' remained unspoken, but Castiel could still feel it nibbling away at the back of his mind. He crushed it callously. Now was hardly the time to contemplate old grievances or pick at scabbed-over wounds.
"Yeah, okay, little cuz, okay." If anyone else had heard those words they would have thought Gabriel was grumbling his way into agreeing to bow to Castiel's demands. But Castiel Novak had never been anyone else and he knew for a fact that Gabe was saying something very similar to 'I'm sorry, I forgot your father ran off and your mother's insane, I'm going to stop acting like a spoiled brat and will now go appreciate the company of my extremely eccentric, but honestly very nice, parents.' You had to be able to read between the lines with Gabriel. Otherwise you'd just wind up disappointed or homicidal.
Gabe left soon after that and Castiel tipped his head back, letting it drop onto the back of his chair as he closed his eyes and just breathed in and out, in and out, in and -
CRASH!
Good god, what was the problem now?
It was well-known fact that Becky Shurley was the name in interior design. Bright, bubbly and full capable of giving Martha Stewart a run for her money, Becky was every home-designer's dream. She was just that good. Little did her adoring public suspect where she got all her practice being just that good.
Castiel Novak swept down his stairs, hastily-thrown-on trenchcoat billowing behind him, to behold his bookshop in an extremely awkward state of semi-renovation. Yes, all the wallpaper was still there, and Castiel might have had a conniption if anyone had so much as touched the large honey-comb-patterned rug sprawling across the laminate flooring, but every stick of furniture was rearranged. Regular customers Becky had either charmed or bullied into helping were busy shifting bookshelves and realigning chairs to give the place a 'warmer, more inviting feel, with a touch or modernity'.
Castiel resisted the urge to grind his teeth. It was a close call. Instead he re-aligned his tie (conveniently not noticing that in his haste he had managed to put the thing on backwards) and marched into the fray, determined to find his aunt. As he marched past, coat still flapping ominously behind him, people fell still and silent, whatever Becky-given project they had been fussing over forgotten as they watched Castiel stride through his realm. Ripples of stillness spread outward from his dark-haired form like wavelets in a pond, ever-expanding.
Finally, he found her, the epicenter of all this madness. Becky Novak Shurley, his father's slightly-deranged-but-essentially-well-meaning sister.
"Becky-." Castiel began, but soon found himself cut off.
"Jamie!" arms flew around him and he suddenly found all the air crushed out of his lungs.
"Hello-." Castiel tried to begin again, but was once more cut off.
"Don't you just adore what we've done here?" she flung herself out of the hug and right back into the thick of things, "We had to borrow a few pieces from that delicious young doctor's office -."
'When did she see Sam?' Castiel wondered before his ears caught up to his brain, 'Wait, how did she-? SHE SWITCHED SAM AND I'S FURNITURE?!'
Meanwhile, Becky was still jabbering, "And I dropped a few of your more… indecorous odds and ends off at Gabe's, I'm sure he'll know what to do with them…"
"How did you get in here?" Castiel interjected.
"Picked the lock, silly!" she chirped, eyes telling him not to interrupt on no uncertain terms.
'She picked the lock…of course…' Castiel mentally face-palmed.
"Now, as I was saying, I'm going for a more modern look, and don't you just love the blue accents I've brought in here? A place should always reflect its owner and your eyes are just lovely, sweetie…"
"Where's Chuck?" Castiel dared to interrupt one more time.
She huffed little exasperated sigh as if she couldn't believe he didn't have better manners after all this time, "Back at the Winchester B & B, Mrs. Winchester's been so generous to include us in her Thanksgiving plans, Chucky just had to help her out with the food. Now, pay attention to what I was telling you, you will just love what I'm doing with your shop…"
Castiel wondered what sort of apologetic fruit basket one sends to one's neighbor after one's aunt steals their furniture.
"Dad…"
"Oh, yes, hello there Gabe."
"…"
"…"
"Dad?"
"Yeah? Oh, Gabe, you're still here."
"Why are you hiding under a table, peeling potatoes?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got all day and a bottomless supply of lollipops. Entertain me."
The Winchester brothers arrived at their mother's bed and breakfast in a hail of luggage and a barrage of chatter.
"Dear god, not more of them," Chuck groaned and sank further down into himself.
"Now, now, pops, you can't go doing things like writing ridiculously popular books and not expect the occasional rabid fan," Gabriel chuckled, thumbing through a copy of his dad's latest bestseller.
"I should have stayed home and just skyped Thanksgiving," Chuck muttered.
"How rude," Gabriel chastised, still snickering, "And those aren't any of your fans anyway, they're just the rest of the Winchester mafia."
Right on cue Sam tromped past, or tried to, his effort at moving forward sharply curtailed by the potato he tripped on, sending him crashing face-first into the floor. "Goddammit," he cursed, then suddenly paused and peered under the table, "Gabe? What are you doing?"
"Wreaking havoc!" Gabriel chirped, flinging his arms open wide.
Sam grunted, "Go figure."
Gabe made an ironic 'heart' with his fingers then went back to flipping through the book in his hands.
Sam snorted and pushed himself into a crouching position. "Who's the guy in the bathrobe?" he asked, brows furrowing.
"That's my daddy-o. He's hiding from his stalkers."
"Stalkers? Multiple."
"Yeppers, there're multiple webpages devoted to the stalk-Chuck-Shurley effort. You can find them if you Google his pen-name," Gabe shoved the book in Sam's surprised face. The middle Winchester took it, and glanced at the cover.
"Carver Edlund? Wait, you're that guy…"
"Here we go again," Chuck groaned to himself.
"…who writes those books... my ex-girlfriend was obsessed with them!"
"Really? Which one?" a new voice sounded behind Sam as another pair of feet appeared in Gabriel's sightline.
"Hey Adam, umm, I think it was Ruby."
"Which Ruby? You dated two of them," Adam asked, crouching down to Gabriel and Chuck's level. He stage-whispered behind his hand, "He's got a bit of a 'Ruby' fetish."
"The blonde one, jackass," Sam playfully cuffed his younger brother upside the head.
"So not the crazy one?" Adam raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
"They were both crazy, just only one of them was actively psychotic," Dean's voice sounded somewhere in the background.
"Sammy's love life is like an episode of NCIS," Adam explained.
"Okay, Madison was the only one who got arrested!" Sam protested.
"Yeah, on assault and battery charges," Dean piped up.
"She was hot," Adam mused teasingly.
"That's it, I'm killing both of you," Sam grumbled, shoving Adam playfully and standing up. Adam, and presumably Dean, followed him into the dining room, bickering as they went.
"Well, that was fun," Chuck mused in a slightly shell-shocked manner.
"Wait until Thanksgiving dinner," Gabe grinned, "That's when all hell breaks loose."
It took an act of God and a great deal of patience on Castiel's part to get Becky to leave his shop alone long enough to hustle her over to Mary Winchester's Bed and Breakfast for Thanksgiving dinner. Of course, things would have been a great deal easier if Castiel had possessed a car. Or a driver's license. Or any other mode of transportation other than his own feet. But eventually he, Becky and Claire arrived on Mary's doorstep, a bit soggy from the drizzling, misty rain that had started up almost immediately after they left the warmth of the bookshop.
Castiel looked up when Mary opened the door, "I would have brought some sort of baked good to contribute to Thanksgiving but I have been informed that it would be a greater gift to the people of earth if I refrained from cooking for a day. As such, the only food in my home which didn't require culinary expertise was this pineapple." He held out the spiny fruit, "Please take it and do what you will with it. As it is, if it stays on my counter any longer Gabriel will probably steal it and use it as a football…again."
Mary laughed and took the fruit, "Thank you, Jamie. Happy Thanksgiving to you too."
Castiel beamed at her, "How very auburn of you, thank you."
Mrs. Winchester escorted them inside, a smile on her face. This would prove to be a very interesting evening.
They had just sat down to dinner when the first knock on the door was heard. Mary sighed gently, "Dean, would you get the door, please?"
Grumbling good-naturedly, Dean rose and disappeared into the front entryway. What happened next seemed to unfold, almost in slow motion across Sam's mind's eye. The doorknob clicked open with a recalcitrant snick, the hinges sang a squealing little song as the door swung open, Dean's low voice rose in a grumpy question and suddenly a feminine squeal tore through the air.
"Eeeeeeh! He's here, isn't he?! I've gotta see him!"
The shriek was eardrum-piercing, head-shattering, cerebellum-invading. There may have been a shot heard round the world in 1776 but Sam was fairly certain that squeal was heard round the world twice before swinging back around to burrow into his brain so deeply his ears were still ringing.
No one really heard Dean's response. There was a vague impression of sound as it rose in irritable, demanding, protest before it was overwhelmed with the sheer force of female enthusiasm gushing forth from the doorway.
"Let me seeeee himmmm!"
"I've gotta get my copy autographed!"
Great, Sam thought, there are two banshees standing at the doorway.
Dean responded by loudly slamming the door shut. The thud of his boots could be heard reverberating through the hall like Darth Vader's. He stopped in the doorway to the dining room and stood, feet planted, arms crossed. Sam resisted the urge to slink down in his chair like any younger brother faced with elder-sibling-wrath.
"What the holy fuck was that?" Dean demanded, voice flat and hard.
"My fans," Chuck sighed, "They're all convinced I'm some sort of glamorous figure…"
"Now, you can hardly complain about that, sweetie-pie," Becky sing-songed.
"Those new author-bio photos made me look too…"
"Glamorous?" Claire suggested when Chuck's trailing-off was getting excessive.
"Cerulean?" J offered to the befuddlement of a large portion of the table.
"Less like a druggie-flasher-whacko? Because, hate to break it to you, Pops, but the bathrobe is not a valid fashion statement among the sane people." Gabriel, the ever-supportive son, offered.
Chuck chewed on the word a bit before coughing it up, "Yes."
"Imagine that, you take off the bathrobe and put on normal clothes and you look glamorous. Low standards? Yes. Good for self-esteem-building? Sure. A smart thing to do when your fanbase is largely composed of teenage girls? No, not so much Pops," Gabriel said.
"You were just criticizing the bathrobe two seconds ago," Adam pointed out.
"I do what I want," was Gabriel's largely-pointless reply.
"Will there be more of these…interruptions?" Mary asked with incisive tact.
"Probably," all members of the Novak-Shurley clan replied.
Mary's lips thinned into a tight line, "New rule, none of your fans get into my dining room. I want a nice Thanksgiving dinner and we will have a nice Thanksgiving dinner, understood?"
Grumbles of assent slithered their way around the table.
"Good." Mary snapped her napkin open with authority, "Let's eat."
The doorbell rang.
It was going to be a long dinner.
In the end a grand total of twenty three Carver Edlund fans tried to crash Thanksgiving. Only four of them made it past the entryway. Chuck ended up giving them autographs he was so impressed with their sheer determination. The incidents were enough to get both the Shurleys to swear off Twitter and Facebook for life. No one needed to know where they were at all times. No matter how much Becky desperately wanted to snap pictures for internet-posting of all the redesigning she had inflicted on her nephew's bookstore, she promised she would resist the urge in the future, and if it completely overcame her self-control she would neglect to include the shop's street address. (Castiel, of course, was mostly concerned with the use of the words 'in the future' within that thought process. He did not like the idea that future redesigns were an option.).
But, despite having to periodically run interference between Chuck and his fans, it was a quite pleasant Thanksgiving. In the end, Chuck's rising paranoia regarding his followers was harder to deal with than the followers themselves. Every single one of the girls was really very nice once she got past the initial excitement of Carver Edlund being within shouting distance. Mary ended up giving several of the late-coming fans bags of leftovers to take home. Of course, there were at least five awkward moments when Dean opened the door to see some of his high school history students staring back at him. On the plus side they didn't stare for long as most took one look at his face and made a break for it. (Incidentally, an unofficial student poll a few weeks before had named Dean Winchester both the hottest and scariest teacher at Orcastle High School.).
Castiel smiled as he walked home, reflecting on the evening and reveling in the silence all around him. The world was soft and navy blue, the only sounds to disturb the quiet the gentle rustle of Dean, Sam and Gabriel following behind him and the muffled clip-clop of Claire trotting ahead of them.
"Dammit!" Gabe cursed lightly, scattering the quiet into a million bright, yellow pieces.
"Hmm?" Castiel replied, feeling too relaxed to bother with a more articulate answer.
"We didn't do the thing!" Gabe yelped.
"That didn't sound dirty at all," Dean said sarcastically. Sam punched his brother's arm but Castiel could hear the giant laughing quietly.
"What thing are you referring to?" Castiel asked lazily.
"Come on, you know, that thing your dad used to do every thanksgiving. The super cheesy thing where we all say something we're thankful for? You know; the thing?"
Despite the soft sting of the words 'your dad', Castiel smiled lightly, "Would you like to attempt to 'do the thing', Gabriel?"
"Yep, still sounds dirty," Dean commented.
Castiel smiled. He felt a heavy hand fall on his head and ruffle his hair as Dean said, "See, even J thinks it's funny."
Gabriel snorted, "I'm wounded at your mockery, truly I am."
Castiel let out a soft laugh.
He could feel Gabe's glower, "I'll start, thank you very much. I'm thankful that I've got all you asshats to be my friends, cuz being alone sucks and if you're going to have friends, make them at least as rude and interesting as you are, right?"
"Wow, very heartfelt, Gabe," Sam said flatly.
"It's true, though!" Gabe protested, and if his eyes seemed a bit too bright as a streetlamp gleamed off unexpectedly damp irises, Castiel saw no reason to comment.
"Your turn, Jimbo!" Gabe chirped at him.
Castiel cleared his throat, surprised to find it suddenly tight with a strange almost-feeling he couldn't really name. "I am thankful for many things, Gabriel," he hedged.
"Boo! Hiss! Not good enough, say something better!" Gabe insisted.
Castiel sighed and looked back up at the chill November sky, then back down, gaze fixing on Claire where the girl had stopped to look back at them and listen in on their conversation. His eyes slid away from her and over to where Gabe, Dean and Sam walked beside him. Sighing again, Castiel turned his face away from them and said into the cold night, "I am thankful for what I have now and what I have had in the past. I am thankful I have a future. I am thankful for this navy blue night and I am thankful for the amber, leaf green, chartreuse, and canary yellow people sharing this sidewalk with me. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Gabriel?"
"Yeah," Gabe was smiling, soft and crooked, and staring up at the night sky, "Yeah, it does."
"Well, I'm thankful for family and friends and the weirdoes who love me!" Claire chirped, running back to hug Castiel. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, planting a single brief kiss on the top of her blonde head.
Two Novaks and one Shurley went silent, staring at two Winchesters impatiently.
"Fine, Dean, I'll go next seeing as you're too emotionally constipated to manage it."
Dean smacked him upside the head but didn't argue the point.
Sam wrinkled his brows, "I'm thankful my big brother's alive (no thanks to his stupid stubborn streak), that my mom and my kid brother are doing okay…" he trailed off, giving Gabriel a strange look as the shorter man stared at him expectantly, "…and I guess I'm thankful for my neighbors too, since Gabe looks like he might cry if I don't say so…"
"I shall not cry! Real men do not cry! They weep. With dignity!" Gabriel insisted.
"Okay, short stuff," Sam clapped him on the shoulder, "If you say so. Dean, your turn."
Dean grumbled some unintelligible gibberish and stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring hard at the ground. "I'm thankful for… my mom, my genius baby brothers, everyone else...my whacko neighbors, yes that includes you, Gabe…and my best friend…yeah, that's about it."
"Wait, you have a best friend?" Sam asked.
"Who is it?" Gabe demanded.
"Gabe, chill, we are not preteen girls," Claire started. All four men stared at her. "Ok, I'm a preteen girl, but I'm the mature one here!"
"Well, duh, J's my best friend. You guys are weird." Dean gave all of them a skeptical look, as if he were seriously doubting their sanity, before pulling ahead and walking past all of them, whacking Castiel and Sam both on the back of the head as he did so.
"He's just uncomfortable because my mom spent most of dinner making jokes about him and Jimbo being like a couple," Gabe snickered.
"Huh?" Dean said, surprised.
"Hmmm, you didn't hear those? Well, okay, pretend I didn't mention it…"
"You're family's kinda socially awkward, dude."
"You have no idea," Gabe rolled his eyes heavenward.
Castiel smiled to himself as he listened to his friends and family bicker all around him. He was happy. He was someone's best friend. He hadn't been that important to another person since Jimmy died. He remembered other Thanksgivings when he and Jimmy would always include each other in their 'I'm thankful' spiels.
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment and thought to his twin, wherever he was now, 'I am thankful I knew you. I will never forget you.'
And then he thought to himself, 'I'm thankful for my best friend, Dean. See, I'm not alone.'
And the five of them walked home, through the navy blue night.
Author's Note: HI GUYS! So, here I am after a ridiculously long hiatus by this story's standards… Basically, my life got crazy, I had multiple relatives in town one after another and then I moved to a new house and then I started a new job and all through this I had no internet! Heheheh…real life kicks my ass every time…
BUT I'M BACK! I'm on the internet again, and should be returning to regular Half-Price Gemini updates! I'm sooo excited! I have so many ideas for this story; buckle up it's going to be a crazy ride from here.
Thank you all for your patience with me and with this story! Your reviews warm my heart, if you have time, please do review.
See ya next chapter!