BOBBY'S PLACE - EARLY MORNING
Castiel was up and dressed early, as usual. He laid on his side, legs half off the bed, scribbling intently in a notebook. So intently, he didn't notice Dean standing in the doorway with a green apple/kale/garlic smoothie. Yes, it was a transparent consolation. See, Cas? I'm drinking the goddamn smoothie, gimme a chance. He used the bottle to knock on the doorway and get Cas' attention.
"Dear diary," Dean said. "What's in the notebook, bundt cake recipes?"
Cas sat up quickly and turned the notebook over, looking at the floor. "Equations," he said. "Did you want something?"
Dean smirked and set his drink on the dresser. "Oh, like algebra? So you wouldn't be freaked out if I just..." He zipped over at a zippy pace and lunged for the notebook. In a quick struggle more befitting a couple of nine-year-olds, Dean wrested the notebook out of Castiel's hands and flipped through it. His smile fell.
Equations. Pages and pages of equations.
"Cas, you dog," he said sarcastically.
He was never gonna understand this guy, was he?
Castiel snatched the notebook from Dean and held it away protectively. "I don't like people sitting on my bed," he said pointedly.
"Yeah, okay," Dean said glumly, moving to sit on the nearby chair.
Bobby's chair. Cas looked like he wanted to say something about it, but clearly, voicing (and subsequently explaining) his concerns would be far more unpleasant. There was an awkward moment.
"So," Dean said. "You're up early."
"I'm an early riser," Castiel said. "I like to meditate before work. Or when I sense a stressful situation approaching."
Dean smiled sheepishly. Message received. He cast his eyes around the room nervously, looking for anything to lighten the moment. That's when he noticed the narrow bookshelf in the corner by the door. It had framed pictures and books, the usual junk. But closer to the bottom shelves, there were trophies.
"Hey," Dean said, more to himself.
He got back up and went to check out the shelf: it was full of hockey trophies and ribbons, a puck, some related stuff. There were also group pictures of a few different hockey teams - rough bunches of guys, with the calm, quiet air of men who could rip off your arm and beat you with it. Now Dean sat on the floor, looking through the pictures, and sure enough, he found Castiel in every picture.
"You kidding me?" Dean laughed. "You really played. What position?"
"Left Wing," Castiel said. He was getting that proud little smile again. Suddenly, having someone barge into his room wasn't that bad.
"Bet you got a lotta bunnies, huh?" Dean said, going through the ribbons.
Castiel rolled his eyes, as if to say, were there ever. "There were definitely bunnies. But we got Frank fixed and promised to keep him indoors or in the hutch."
Dean squinted a moment but shrugged it off - the news of badass hockey Cas was just too good to throw away over bunny-owner Cas. Dean found a little wooden box that looked like a treasure chest. He opened it up to find it was filled with old teeth.
He held the box up, suppressing a smirk. "Cas?" asked said in a sing-song tone. "Whose teeth are these?"
Castiel looked down at Dean. "They're mine, now."
Dean smiled the proud-but-knows-he-probably-shouldn't-be smile of a dad who found one of his 'special magazines' in his son's drawer.
"You still play?" Dean asked, putting everything back, not exactly where he found it.
Castiel went back to his notebook equations, looking a little blue. "No," he said. "I got a concussion. We thought it would be better if I stopped."
"We?" Dean asked, getting to his feet. "Bobby made you quit, didn't he?" His voice was void of any attitude, like he was just trying to put it all together.
Castiel sighed and looked up. "I took it too far," he said. "Once I was out on the ice... Anyway, that's over now. Bobby and I have a deal, and hockey was just a way to break it, whether I meant to or not."
"What deal?" Dean asked. He put his hands up defensively. "Not tryin' to dig, you guys got your own life here and everything. I'm just trying to get caught up."
"No that's alright," Castiel said. "After you-." He went back to his equations. It made talking easier, anyhow. "After Stull, Bobby was having a hard time. Instead of coping, he was drinking. A lot. Meanwhile, I was mortal. Cut off from Heaven, God was no where to be seen. I had no place else in life, and something out there was killing angels. Bobby let me use the house as a base."
Dean nodded, getting a better picture now. "You started hunting," he said knowingly. "Got pissed at the world. You went big, didn't care if you lived or died, came home looking trashed a few dozen times and had a few royal rumbles with Drunken Hines. Am I close?"
Castiel sat up. He stewed for a moment before finally looking at Dean. "That about covers it," he said.
"Yeah, but not quite," Dean said sadly. "We really left you guys up a creek, right?" Dean took his drink off the dresser and just handled the bottle. It gave him something to do while he was feeling guilty. And for something that hadn't even happened in his own timeline. "We're gone, Bobby tries to drink himself to death. And you, tryin' to commit suicide by demon or whatever."
"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Castiel said. But the touchy way he said it suggested there was a little more to it.
"Fine, die nobly in battle. Whatever." Dean sat on Bobby's chair again, still spinning his deduction. "You were all family either one of you had left, but it took watching each other fall apart to make you figure it out. So you made a deal: Bobby would quit drinking, if you quit hunting."
"Almost," Castiel said, calming down. "The deal was, Bobby would start taking care of himself, but only if I stayed safe. As you can imagine, he's exploited the vague language of the pact to include more activities than just hunting."
"Oh. Right, right," Dean said, pointedly shaking up his smoothie. "What a dick, gaming the rules like that?"
Castiel cleared his throat and put his notebook down. Yes, the house being spotless and full of health food was just one example of Castiel expanding the definition of Bobby 'taking care of himself' from just quitting drinking. Castiel sat a moment, getting his head on straight, then he got up and headed for the door.
"I'm going to work," Castiel.
"Hey, you don't gotta take off," Dean said, getting up, almost following him. "Just because I said some stuff-."
"I'm not mad," Castiel said, pausing at the doorway.
"It's okay if you're mad," Dean said.
"I'm not mad," Castiel said, coming back, practically in Dean's face. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"
Dean backed up a bit. "If I tell you," Dean said, "are my teeth gonna end up in that box?"
Castiel took a breath. Settled down. But he didn't break eye-contact. "No," he said seriously. "You'd have your own box."
They took a beat. They both let themselves smile a moment.
"I really do have to go," Castiel said. "It's story time today. We got a lot of kids coming in."
"So there's not a lot goin' on here until the rest of the guys show up," Dean said.
"Who's confirmed?" Castiel asked.
"Just about everybody," said Dean. "They've all been looking for a reason, I think. Frank's still on the fence, but you know how he is."
Castiel frowned at that.
"Frank the Guy," Dean said, "not the rabbit."
Castiel nodded. "Well, if it's that important, I can talk to him," he said.
"You speak Truther?" Dean asked.
"I'm his favorite," Castiel said, with not a little pride. "If anyone can get him here, I can."
"Wow, great," Dean said. "But listen, since it's gonna be dead here till then, I was wondering if I could,... you know, tag along?"
"To the library?" Castiel asked incredulously.
"I'll bring my indoor voice," Dean said, "scout's honor. Come on, it'll give us a chance to... not fight. As much. Look, I don't wanna get sappy or anything, but in my timeline, you and me, we're were friends."
"Of course," said Castiel.
He stared at Dean a moment, brows knit. Somewhere between confused and intrigued. He was starting to put things together, too. The fact that he was Sherlocking something seemed to go over Dean's head.
"Alright," said Castiel. "If you don't mind quietly sitting while I file and stock shelves, you're very welcome to join me."
They started for the hallway, Dean looking all too happy he'd turned the whole thing around.
"Alright, let's go!" he said, way too upbeat about it. "Story time with the kids, sounds like a hoot. Lotta sugar-hyped runts tearin' around? Hot, single moms on the prowl-."
Castiel stopped gave Dean the most mortified look.
Dean took a breath. "Do-over," he said.