Dean felt like a creeper. Well, he actually might have been very close to one. Who the fuck even googled a person and then ended up outside of the concert hall, hoping that the person in question would happen to have rehearsals that day. Stalkers, that's who, but Dean wasn't a stalker. At least he believed so himself.
He wasn't able to forget those blue eyes so there he was, sitting in his beloved Impala and eyeing the doors of the concert hall. The curiosity perked inside him was unbearable. Cas, as Dean had named the violinist inside his head, was nineteen according to his Wikipedia-article. Apparently he had started making a name for himself at the age of fifteen, winning competition after another. Now days he studied music at a university while composing his own music and did occasionally concerts that were usually sold-out.
There were two things that seemed odd to Dean: First, Cas' family had been described as amazing and loving, but Dean could still remember the sight of Castiel's shoulders tensing as his brother, going with the name Lucifer, had commanded the poor guy into the car in not-so-loving tone.
And second, Castiel had had crutches. Sure, it wasn't that odd, but Dean hadn't found any mentions of Castiel having problems with his feet. No news articles of accidents or any pictures of him using the crutches. To the public, he seemed like nothing was wrong.
Dean's fingers tapped against the dashboard in the beat of AC/DC's Back In Black when people started pouring out of the concert hall, each carrying different shaped cases for instruments. He straightened his back against his seat and eyed each figure closely.
Yet Castiel didn't come out as the stream of people heading their own ways reduced to none. Dean frowned with disappointment creeping inside his mind. He was about to drive away from the parking lot when the familiar dark head finally stepped out, walking with his own two feet even.
Suddenly it was panic that Dean felt. What the fuck was he doing? Of course it was reckless, but then again, he was already there. He might as well go up to the guy and claim their meeting to be some damn coincidence.
One long swig from the flask, which was given by Sam three years back, was taken to boost up Dean's lost confidence before he slipped out of the heat of the car and into the fresh spring wind. He straightened his back more and more with every step he took, until he was standing tall with a kind and strangely real smile on his lips as he approached Castiel. "Hey," he breathed out, his voice slightly shaky. Since when had socializing become so hard when he wasn't trying to get someone to share a bed for the night?
Castiel turned towards Dean and he now realised how much different the violinist seemed compared to the previous day, his appearance much more neater and aura stiff and refined. "Hello." Even the voice had a slight tense tone to it. Really, it was like this Castiel was a completely different person.
"Uhh- I don't know if you remember, but-" Dean chuckled very nervously, his fingers scratching the back of his neck.
"I remember."
Dean froze for a moment. "Oh," was all that got out of his mouth as he tucked hands into his pockets and looked down with a blush on his face. Okay, now was time to figure out something smart to say, but what? There was a reason why Dean didn't talk to people much anymore, aside from drunken flirtations after spending a good while at a local bar.
He felt Castiel's stare burning on his skin before he looked up again, facing him. "Was there anything you needed?" He asked, lifting his violin case on his shoulder properly. "I would like to head home as soon as possible." He glanced quickly down to his foot, which Dean did not realise as his head was taken over by the fact that he had direct eye-contact with the blue eyed man.
Dean started fiddling with Sam's old amulet dangling from his neck when he broke from his daze and bit the insides of his cheeks. "Actually-" He started, but hesitated before continuing. "I was hoping-" Hoping what?
Castiel's stare started to feel suffocating. "Hoping what, exactly?" Castiel said, stating out loud what Dean had thought about only moments ago. At that second Dean hoped he would be the flirty, snarky bastard he used to be. Then he wouldn't have any problems talking to a complete stranger. Then he would already be at a nice restaurant on a date with Cas because, for God's sake, this was the first time in a year Dean had even showed any interest in forming a relationship with anyone.
"I, uh-" Dean muttered, hand travelling through the short hair. "This might sound a bit strange, but would you like to, I don't know, go out for dinner or something?"
"Excuse me?" Castiel gasped, his eyes widening in surprise. "You mean as in a date?" Dean nodded. Castiel crossed his arms across his chest with a frown and looked questionly at Dean. "Why on earth would I want to go on a date with you? First of all, I don't know your name!"
"It's Dean Winchester."
Castiel shot a glare at Dean before continuing. "And secondly, I saw you quit your job yesterday and you offered me a drink of god-knows-what from that flask of yours. From what I gather, at the moment you're unemployed and alcoholic on top of that." The violinist attitude was so much different from what Dean saw from yesterday. He had seemed somehow vulnerable, delicate. Now, even though he seemed confident, it seemed like an act, a shield to hide his true feelings with.
Dean shrugged and held back a laugh. "It's called whiskey and it's not that uncommon drink." His other hand slid around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him closer. "Besides, what does that have anything to do with dating?" He put on his cheekiest grin on and for a moment, the old Dean was back. The one that loved to be himself, loved to drive around in his Impala with no destination, loved to flirt with people, no matter of the gender or loved to devour a freshly baked pie all by himself. Most of all, it was the Dean before that accident. Not this drunkard who used most of his time on sleeping and drinking.
Castiel slipped from Dean's hold, his fingers tightening around his violin case's strap. "I don't date bums like you." Castiel hissed, taking steps backwards. "Well, I'd like to say see you later, but I'd prefer not."
Sighing, Dean considered following Castiel, or offering him a ride home, but decided against it. This whole fucking idea was stupid. What the hell he was even thinking?
Dean started marching towards his car as he pulled his loved flask out once again.
As the door to his room shut down and clicked as a sign of being locked, Castiel felt relief rushing through him. He pulled up his pant leg and started unstrapping the uncomfortable leg brace that honestly felt like it didn't help at all.
He put on a random CD before collapsing onto his bed and rolling to his back. He already was reaching for his meds, but deciding against it, took the book next to it instead. Castiel's favourite collection of short stories was battered, the corners of pages folded and the covers of the paperback book turning slightly outward with the wear reading caused it. It smelled like coffee that was once accidentally poured on it by Castiel's mother and slightly like Anna, from whom Castiel had stolen the book from.
Castiel turned to the page 186 and even though he knew the name of the author and the title, maybe even the whole story by heart, that small smile that was more of a tug at the corners of his lips spread on his face.
Alternative Methods by Dean Smith it said on the top of the page with some overly-decorative font that really wasn't necessary. It didn't matter, not really. What did matter that even with the odd story that Dean Smith had written, the guy really knew how to write. The book really wasn't that great, all of the authors were average, the kind that you didn't even remember their names. Still in the midst of those mediocre sappy short stories was that one thing that stood out of others.
The disappointment Castiel felt when he found out that Dean Smith didn't have anything else published. He had hoped that the guy would have written something better, because Castiel thought he had potential. His writing style was unique and interesting, even though the plot of his short story was slightly clichéd. The fact that the book had been released only one and a half year ago had still made Castiel wish that maybe this still-unrecognised talent would be writing some kind of new book.
Castiel knew it was somehow weird, but he felt so intrigued by Dean Smith. He would really have wanted to meet him, talk to him about literature and about life in general. It might be silly, but he probably was harbouring a small crush on him.
Castiel felt idiotic admitting it, to like a person only through a 30-page-long story. Still, he couldn't help but imagine what he would be like. Would he have brown or blonde hair? What colour his eyes would be? What would he dress like? Did he listen to classic rock like himself? What kind of car did he drive?
The door flew suddenly open. "Castiel, for the thousandth time, come down to eat!" Lucifer barked, annoyance all over his face. Great, he was on the edge for two days straight now.
"I'm not hungry." Castiel complained like a little child, not tearing his eyes away from the book as he pretended to read. Lucifer did not make a move to exit Castiel's room but walked to the bed and pulled the book out of Castiel's hands. "I said I'm not hungry. Now go away." He propped himself up, glaring at his older brother.
"I bothered to make you dinner because you wouldn't eat anything otherwise. Now get up and drag yourself downstairs for a nice family meal." Lucifer started skipping out of the room, keeping the book in his hand to make sure that Castiel would follow. "Anna is at home too, by the way." He noted before disappearing from the door.
Castiel swallowed, knowing that the meal was going to be awkward to say the least. Anna and him used to be really tight, went to everywhere together and even started learning their instruments, Castiel violin and Anna piano, at the same time. They would at least once a week play together.
Of course, that's what it used to be. Now days Anna just bluntly avoided Castiel, had done it ever since Castiel started getting popular. It was jealousy and Castiel knew it. Already at young age, Anna had claimed that she would become a world-famous musician and she thought Castiel took away her dream by becoming so incredibly good and well-known.
Dragging himself downstairs, Castiel cursed in frustration under his breath. Anna was already at the table with Lucifer, eating the spaghetti and tomato sauce in silence. They didn't say a word even when Castiel on purpose pulled out a chair with a noise of legs scraping against the floor.
The lack of reaction annoyed Castiel so he sat down and scooped food to his plate in loud and theatrical movements, just to get something out of his siblings. "God Castiel, stop being such a baby!" Anna hissed, slamming her palms onto the table. "Can't you even eat one dinner without making a huge show out of it?!"
Castiel's blue eyes widened with surprise before he looked down to his barely-touched meal. "Well, sorry-" He muttered before pushing himself up and snatching his book from Lucifer. He took his plate to the other hand before glancing at his siblings once more. "Sorry that I can't behave the way you want me to." He mumbled, "I'll eat this in my room."
All he heard as he ascended the stairs was Anna complaining to Lucifer how Castiel didn't care about his family and how he thought he was the centre of the world. Nothing hurt Castiel more than hearing his sister think that lowly of him.
The plate full of spaghetti was forgotten on a drawer where it remained untouched until the next morning.
AN: Hope you guys are enjoying this so far... I have the base of the story all figured out, but the little details are still pretty much open. I often get ideas for this while playing violin myself, but I try to work on this as much as possible. Also huge thanks to haizegato for suggesting that Cas could have read Dean's work. The suggestion got my ideas flying around.
So, I'm open to more suggestions, if there is any as pretty much only few things are written on stone with this one. No promises that I will fill them, but it's still nice to hear them.
Alright, see you in the next chapter, sweeties
