Okay, I apologize for the wait. I've been busy with school, I've had an aunt in and out of the hospital with a brain tumor (she went back yesterday because of blood clots in her lungs), and for the most part I was run over by a bus full of zero inspiration. So, here's the next chapter! Last chapter didn't have many reviews, was that because I suck at smut? Should I change the rating of this and take out the smut completely? I need some feedback. Also, I'd like to thank Sam (guest), dancingonthehorizon, and KahoriSaeko!
xoxo,
girlreadsalot
Castiel was walking beside Dean in school. It was pretty much a normal day. Judging by the way Dean was throwing his hands all over the place and talking animatedly he was bitching about something that had to do with a particular class.
He wasn't thinking about that, though. He was thinking about the conversation he'd had with Dean before he'd left Castiel's house that next morning after their libidos had interrupted their study time. He'd asked Castiel why he didn't get a cochlea transplant.
Castiel had just shrugged at the question. He didn't want to admit the truth.
He was terrified.
What if they didn't work? He didn't want to get his hopes up, thinking that it could work and then end up being severely disappointed when they didn't work. He wouldn't be able to handle that.
He had just adjusted to becoming deaf. He didn't like being deaf because he was slowly starting to forget things, like the whir of his computer as he wrote essays on it or the sound of the fish tank they had in the living room.
Being deaf meant he'd never hear Dean laugh. As much as he enjoyed watching Dean laugh and memorizing the way his nose would wrinkle and the corners of his eyes would crinkle it just wasn't the same.
Hell, he didn't even know what Dean's voice sounded like. He'd rested his head on Dean's chest enough to be guess by the way it resonated deep within his chest that it was probably deep. That it would probably want to make Castiel drop his own trousers right on the spot.
If he got that cochlear implants there was an eighty percent chance that he'd be able to hear again. A twenty percent chance that he may not.
He didn't want to be a member of that twenty percent. With his luck, it would happen.
A nudge on his shoulder brought Castiel back to the real world, the one where they were standing in the parking lot and Dean was talking to him.
"I'm sorry, you repeat dat again?" Castiel asked.
"Do you want to come to my house today?" Dean asked him, a hopeful grin on his face.
"I wish I could, but my dad is coming home today. He will wan' me to be dere." He hated it when he saw the disappointment in Dean's eyes. "You can come over later, after dinner for a lil bit if you want."
Dean smiled back at him, "Sounds good. What time?"
"Six?"
"Aright."
When Castiel got home he found Gabriel cleaning like a madman. "You wit a broom?" He asked as entered the kitchen. "I never thought I'd see da day!"
Gabriel glared at him, "Shut your pie-hole and help me clean up. I don't really feel like getting on dad's bad side for letting this house become a mess."
Castiel rolled his blue eyes but went off to help Gabriel anyways. He settled for dusting and polishing all of the furniture and making sure that his dad's room had stayed clean and re-making the bed.
He still blamed his father for going deaf. He never would have contracted meningitis if his father hadn't forced him to go to that stupid dinner party. It wasn't even like he had a cool story to tell about how he'd gotten sick. He hadn't been making out with the Governor of Mississippi's hot daughter. Nope, it hadn't been that cool. He'd accidentally picked up the wrong glass of champagne.
Yep.
No making out.
A lot of backwash.
If that wasn't the most embarrassing story of all time, he didn't know what was. He'd gone freaking deaf due to some sweaty guy in a suit's backwash! He didn't tell anybody that, though. Not even Dean knew the reason he'd gotten meningitis.
Out of the corner of his eye, a figure launched itself around the corner and stood panting in the doorway. It had startled him at first, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin, "Gabriel!" He exclaimed, a hand pressed to his chest to steady his frantically beating heart.
Gabriel was just as out of breath as he was, "Dad is here. C'mon, let's go downstairs and meet him like the poster children he thinks we are."
"Pasta?" Castiel asked as he followed Gabriel down the stairs.
Gabriel paused and said it a little more slowly so his little brother could understand.
Maybe that was another good reason for him to get the cochlear implant surgery. He hated feeling like he was burdening people when he asked them to repeat themselves. At school, those who knew he was deaf didn't really understand. They always over-exaggerated their hand-motions, hoping that he'd understand what he was saying. It was annoying.
He and Gabriel stood in the foyer, both of them fidgeting uneasily.
Castiel made sure his tie was straight and his suit was in good condition. Dad liked him to dress nicely, despite the fact that Dean had called him a tax accountant the last time he'd worn the suit.
The front door opened and James Novak stepped inside, his blue eyes assessing his sons.
Castiel had an uncanny resemblance to his father. He could have been the same person, only younger. They had the same dark hair (Jimmy's was more styled than Castiel's was), same nose, chin, and eyes. They were nearly the same height now, Castiel was just a little bit shorter.
"Gabriel," Jim said, hugging his oldest son. He then moved to hug Castiel, and judging by the way his breath slipped past Castiel's ear, his father had said his name too.
"I'll carry your things upstairs, dad." Gabriel offered, bending to pick up the bags in the foyer.
"How was your trip?" Castiel was careful to speak clearly. His dad didn't like it when he messed words up. It was small talk, which was something he didn't exactly specialize in. Not to mention, it was small talk with his father. He was definitely not in practice with that. Especially, not after he'd lost his hearing.
"It was good," Jimmy said moving to the kitchen, no doubt looking for something to prepare for dinner. "Paris is really a lovely city."
Castiel frowned, following his father. He hadn't seen a single one of the words that had passed through his dad's lips. "I…uh, care to repeat that?"
Jimmy pulled his head out of the freezer and frowned at him, "I said that the trip was good. I really liked Paris."
"Oh, well that's good." Castiel mumbled. He wished Gabriel would come back downstairs so he could be away from his father.
"Have you been keeping up on your studies, Castiel?"
"Yes," He said watching his father start to make a roast.
"How are those kids from public school treating you? You know, for being deaf?"
"Just fine." He said, he hoped there was hardness in his voice. "I actually made a friend and he wants to come over tonight after dinner."
"Okay. Go upstairs and do your homework. You know I don't like it when you hover like that."
Castiel did as he was told, a little angry that his father had dismissed him so quickly. He studied for an English test until Gabriel came to get him for dinner.
Nobody really said much during dinner. Not until Jimmy said something along the lines of trying a wine somewhere.
"I sure hope you didn't get meningitis." Castiel mumbled to his carrots.
Jimmy's blue eyes snapped to him, "What?"
"I said I hope you weren't forced to go and then got meningitis, and then you're going to go deaf next!" He exclaimed, unsure of where all of this pent-up anger came from.
"You keep acting like I'm personally responsible for you getting sick, Castiel!"
"It is your fault!" He shouted at his father across the table. "If you would have let me 'tay home I wouldn't haff gotten sick!"
He didn't fail to notice how Gabriel got up and slunk away. He never did like altercation.
Jimmy's jaw twitched and he set down his fork and knife, "I think I'm full. Castiel would you do me a favor and clear the table?"
Castiel didn't answer as his father got up and vanished up the stairs.
As he worked clearing the table and washing the dishes, so much rage and frustration kept boiling up inside of him. His hands were shaking so badly that he dropped a glass in the dirty dishwater and when he went to pick it up he got cut by the shards.
He stared at the stinging cut in one hand and the line of red growing on his palm. He looked at the glass in his other hand, rage engulfing him for a moment. He threw the glass and watched it shatter on the tiled floor.
Afterwards, he stared at the shattered remains, open-mouthed.
It just wasn't the same. Sure, seeing the shattered fragments of the glass on the floor signaled that he had broken it, but that didn't compare to the sound of it shattered into tiny pieces.
It didn't give him the same satisfaction that it normally would have.
It never would again.
With that grim though, he found himself sitting curled up in the kitchen, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth, ignoring the way his cut palm was ruining his slacks.
That was how Dean had found him, sitting in the fetal position crying.
Surprisingly, Dean hadn't run the other way. He sat down next to Castiel and wrapped his strong arms around the deaf boy, not saying a word. He just rocked with him and held him close.
