fic, Supernatural: That's How You Know He's Your Love 2/3 (Dean/Castiel, various), PG13
Title: That's How You Know He's Your Love 2/3
Pairings/Characters: eventual Dean/Castiel and Sam/Anna (also Sam/Castiel and Dean/Anna); Lucifer, Crowley, Gabriel (sort of), Ben, most of the characters appear.
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 10000 this part, around 30000 overall.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is most definitely not mine, and Enchanted is Disney's. The only thing I provide is the crack.
Warnings: sort of voluntary mocking purple prose in the fairytale-ish bits, Gabriel is the chipmunk (yes, that's a warning in itself), possible fluff overload (but you've seen the source material, right?), crack-ish stuff, hell, this is a fusion with a goddamn Disney movie. This is definitely not to be taken (too) seriously.
Summary: Enchanted fusion wherein Castiel falls from Heaven into New York City because of evil king Lucifer, Dean is the cynical single father divorce attorney whose life changes when they meet, Sam is a prince who is definitely intent on finding his beloved who was stolen from him, and Gabriel, even if he's a chipmunk, is definitely the sanest of the bunch.
A/N: still for wandersfound's birthday, even if it was yesterday. Also, it shows that when I watch canon I pay attention to random idiotic details that are relevant to my interests only. And, uh, that's actually the crackiest part I think, but whatever. Still cutting out all the cute animals and reiterating the not taking seriously advice. Part I.
“Jesus, another one?” Chuck said as he heard noise coming from the drain again. And yeah, there he was, a man tall more or less like he was, dressed sharply even if it was still weirdly fairy-tale clothes (though at least they were black), not exactly handsome but the kind of person you might find fascinating if you talk to them long enough. He was having trouble hoisting himself out though, and Chuck sighed and turned to Barnes and his third pal, Demian.
“Come on guys, let’s get him out too. So, let me guess, you’re searching for a beautiful young man too?”
Crowley raised an eyebrow and ran his fingers on the sleeve of his velvet black suit in order to shrug off some dirt.
“No. Not a beautiful young man. I’m looking for a prince, actually.”
“Oh. Then he’s there,” Chuck sighed as he turned to his left. Well, said prince had spent the morning jumping on various vehicles all over Broadway, and he, Demian and Barnes were just trying to ignore both him and the chipmunk.
Currently, the prince was trying to kill a bus.
In the sense, he was standing on the bus’ roof shouting that he’d kill that wild beast.
Chuck sighed again and wondered if the guy would even know about his book series anyway, if they ever got published. He was too poor to pay him the rights for his image.
Meanwhile, Crowley ran towards the bus just in time to see it abruptly stopping as Sam thrust his sword through it and broke the bag of some lady who was sitting just under it. She looked utterly not amused.
“Castiel? Castiel, are you here?” Sam asked, taking a look inside the bus, and Crowley sighed.
“No, well, but you peasants should be glad! I rid you of…”
“Oh, that’s fuckin’ it,” the driver said. “Everybody stay on the bus!” he shouted, and then he stomped out of the vehicle. He was a man of about sixty, he look utterly angry and he was wearing a cap with a pig on it; Crowley thought that if the man managed to look fierce even wearing that thing Sam should indeed be worried. He wondered why the hell did he ever agree to this.
Damn Lucifer and his teasing. But he was such a fascinating…
“Hey, you idjit! Get down from my bus right the fuck now or I will end you! Are you goddamn crazy?!!”
Sam looked at him with a very perplexed face. That didn’t make the driver calmer at all.
“Get down now!”
Right, Crowley thought, maybe it was bloody time to act. He came closer, but before he could talk…
“Crowley, you’re here too?” Sam asked cheerfully, and the driver’s glare set on Crowley instead. Oh, bloody…
“That idjit up there’s a friend of yours?”
“Er, well, see, it’s all a great, great misunderstanding, you see, and…”
“And what the hell’s this now?” Bobby said when he noticed that a chipmunk had landed on his shoulder. Oh damn, that was Castiel’s pet or whatever… of course, Crowley though. That so wasn’t his day. The chipmunk, meanwhile, glared at the driver. The driver bloody glared back. And Crowley thought that it was just time to flee.
“Sire, may I suggest that we seek your beloved...” he tried not to throw up as he said that, “… elsewhere?”
“Well, since my search wasn’t exactly successful, I hear you.” Sam cheerfully waved at the passengers, hopped off the bus and ran forward. Crowley sighed and ran after him. The chipmunk stopped staring at the driver and ran after them too. The driver stared at them, said idjits another time and got on the bus again.
Chuck wondered if he should stop having a glass of whiskey before going to bed.
--
Now, Gabriel hadn’t really signed up for this shit. Damn, he loved Castiel like he’d have loved a brother if he had one and if he was a human and not a chipmunk (or if Castiel had been a chipmunk), but this, this was way too much. This stupid world without happy endings had left him without speech and that sucked ass, people, it sucked a fucking lot, and at least he could as well swear since they weren’t in Heaven anymore.
Also, he knew that Crowley was up to no fucking good and he was glad to have followed him in the kitchen of the strange restaurant Sam had chosen to get some food in order to replace his strength, because of course killing fucking machines had tired him.
And now Crowley was staring into a damn pot full of boiling water and freaking Lucifer’s face was staring out of it as three apples floated on the surface. And Lucifer was informing him that the apples were poisoned and that Crowley was to give one to Castiel; after a bite the poor bastard would end up in a troubled sleep and then he’d die when the clock stroke twelve that same night and Gabriel shuddered; that was plain fucking evil and he wasn’t going to let Crowley get away with that.
As he realized that Lucifer was about to give away Castiel’s location, Gabriel took a fork from the shelf he was upon and threw it down into the pot; Lucifer’s image disappeared but Crowley had got the apples and took notice of him.
Fuck. Crowley couldn’t and wouldn’t make a mess in the kitchen, sure, but still…
Gabriel ran very fast until he arrived at Sam’s table where the prince was sitting and when Crowley glared at him from the other side, he just smirked and tried to stay close to Sam’s side.
“Prince, I think that the chipmunk is dangerous.”
Sam raised an eyebrow as he took a fork and dove into a salad with chicken that he had found extremely appetizing, at least from the picture that showed it in the menu.
“Gabriel? Nah, I think he just wants to talk. And everyone should have the chance to talk. And how could such a cute little thing be dangerous?”
Gabriel kept himself from biting Sam’s finger off. Cute little thing his ass.
“Did you need to say something to me?”
Yes, dammit, but how the fuck was he supposed to if he couldn’t damn well talk?
Ah well, he was going to resort to very, very low means.
He cleared his throat. Then turned towards Crowley. Then he made the most evil face he could muster up. Then he stood straight and stared at Sam tilting his head. The he noticed that there was some candy in a bowl at the centre of the table and he grabbed a red one still tilting his head like Castiel always damn did. Then he took a bite of the candy and dropped on the table, hoping it made a good dead impression. Then he looked up at Sam.
“You’re saying that my beauty is such that it makes you almost die?”
Crowley snorted. Sam looked pleased. Gabriel wanted to puke.
He settled on eating the rest of the candy and figuring that he’d stop Crowley on his own. But damn, Castiel could choose someone a little less conscious of his dazzling beauty.
Damn prince Sam and his 6 feet four inches and perfect hair and perfect body and dimpled smile.
Gabriel definitely wanted to puke, but he figured he should be a human in order to do that. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t glare at Crowley.
Ah well, at least the candy was good.
--
Dean couldn’t wait for this to be over. Because the way Castiel looked at everything like he was a kid at Disneyland for the first time and no, the pun was intended, was making him uncomfortable. Highly uncomfortable. He ended up leading him and pushing him along or otherwise he’d end up ridiculously late and that just would have been the icing on the cake; when he finally got into the hall, Jo looked at him like he had grown two heads, which… well, considering who he was bringing with him, was more than a justified reaction.
“Jo? Listen, are they already here?”
“Yes, but they just arrived. Gordon Walker, too.”
“Awesome. Listen, I need you to do me a favor, okay? The guy who went in with me…” Dean said, eying Castiel who was in turn observing the firm’s aquarium like it held the mysteries of the universe, “I ended up picking him from the street yesterday. Right, I know, let’s say…”
“… that it was an act of mercy?”
“Right. That. I love you when you just get it. Anyway listen, can you help him finding some mean to get back to his city or country or whatever while I deal with the Walkers?”
“Sure thing. How…”
“Castiel!” Dean hissed, and then here he was. Duh. He was fast.
“Yes?”
“Okay, I need to go to work. This here is Jo, she’s going to help you get home, alright? Just tell her the name or stuff and she’ll find that, I guess. Jo, this is Castiel, Castiel, this is Jo, I need to run.”
And then Dean disappeared, but not before hearing Castiel say ‘Pleased to meet you, Joanna Beth’, because Jo had to have her entire name on the badge.
Jesus fucking Christ almighty.
If he wasn’t an atheist, he’d have so just signed his ticket to Hell.
Thankfully, since the night before, the spirits had quieted and the meeting went way, way better than the previous one; he was just saying that there really hadn’t been any reason not to be reasonable as he got out of the office and back into the main hall and noticed that Castiel was still staring at the fish in the aquarium and that Jo was making signs at him so that he’d reach her desk. She shook her head as he did.
“Dean, I’m sorry but… well. I couldn’t. I mean, first I checked but he has no driver’s license, no passport, no insurance, nothing. Then when he said Heaven I checked if he didn’t actually mean Haven but no, he says it isn’t any. Not the one in Kansas, not the one in New York and not the one in Wisconsin. Or the one in Australia or the one in England either. And then I tried to ask if he meant like Heaven where you go when you’re dead and he said that while it is indeed a place of contentment everyone there was most surely alive! Dean, what the hell’s going on?”
Dammit. “I wish I knew, I wish I goddamn knew.”
And then he realized that Tamara was staring at Castiel who was staring at the fish and goddamnit, that really wasn’t the…
Dammit. He arrived too late. She had spoken first.
“Is fish all that interesting?”
Castiel turned towards her and tilted his head slightly.
“I find their motions fascinating. You don’t?”
She stared for a second, then shrugged. “To each their own…” she muttered, and then Dean noticed that Castiel was staring at her hair now, which was carefully braided in a way which Castiel probably found fascinating or something. “What?”
“Oh. Nothing. Just, you have very beautiful hair. And your eyes… sparkle.”
“Why, thanks,” she answered, probably slightly put out by his very, very polite tone but pleased nonetheless.
“Well, you are very beautiful. Surely the man that holds your heart is really lucky.”
Dean was positively sure he was never going to forget how Tamara started screaming about how unprofessional it was and how her husband seemed equally pissed and how the other firm’s lawyer that had come along with Gordon started threatening to ruin the whole deal and how for the entire time Castiel just was staring at them just like he didn’t get it.
Which he probably didn’t and it was hardly his fault, after all he’d have never started the conversation and would have been perfectly fine with staring at the fish, but damn that was Dean’s fucking job and this couldn’t go on. Oh, Christ. He lunged forward and tried to patch things up and managed to organize another meeting for that afternoon, then took Castiel by the elbow and brought him towards the elevator. He had to solve this mess soon and call Anna too, Jesus, but meanwhile he’d make a couple of things clear.
“Listen, that was… you can’t say shit like that!”
“You’re… you’re angry again. I’m… I’m so sorry, I just don’t… why did she get upset?”
“Because they’re divorcing, fuck!”
“They’re… what?”
“Divorcing! It happens when people don’t love each other any more. They fucking leave each other and settling the terms is my goddamn job, alright?”
Dean might have felt guilty at Castiel’s completely shocked expression as he stated that people actually could stop loving each other and divorce and stuff. He might have, but he was so fucking pissed that he couldn’t be.
“What… what kind of a world is this, when you marry one day and leave each other the next and inflict so much pain upon yourself?” Castiel sighed as Dean led him towards the elevator.
“Well, it’s fucking reality!”
“I think I liked Heaven better.”
“Yeah,” Dean answered not able to help the venom falling from his lips, “I guess you would.”
--
“Sire, I believe we might cover more ground separately,” Crowley said as Sam stood on a statue at one of the entrances in Central Park, looking at the crowd. “You could go one way and me and the chipmunk could go the other,” he added, careful to use a soothing tone.
“Well, Crowley, I do believe it’s an inspired plan,” Sam said getting down from the statue and turning his back to the entrance; all to Crowley’s luck, since the chipmunk started squeaking and oh, bloody hell, there was Castiel along with some other guy and… and…
Crowley grabbed the chipmunk and stuffed him into his coat, then turned his head frantically and as soon as he noticed another young man with dark hair who was walking some quarter of a mile far or so, he shouted at Sam and since the other man had his back at them, it was easy for the prince to mistake him for Castiel; meanwhile, Crowley felt his hand bleed as teeth sank into it and he wished he could just kill the bloody chipmunk, except that he really didn’t want to get his hands dirty with killing any life form other than Castiel, and he wasn't exactly too big on doing that too but well, orders were orders. And he didn’t really want to explain it to Sam later should he find the corpse. He would deal with that after having dealt with Castiel; he smirked to himself, reached for one of the apples in his bag and then snapped his fingers.
Hey, he came from a fucking magic kingdom, he could do magic, he was bloody well going to use it.
--
As soon as they were far enough and at the beginning of a path leading straight into the park, Dean straightened his suit and took a deep breath. He could do this.
“Listen, I really tried to be nice and do the right thing here…”
“Oh, you have been very nice to me, actually the only one…”
“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, but the point is that… that’s my job, okay? That’s what I do for a living and I can’t possibly risk that. And I can’t possibly risk Anna either and I can’t deal with anything that isn’t stable right now because I just… I can’t handle it, okay? I’m sorry, but I think you should just wait for your… prince Sam to arrive and I can’t help you anymore. I can give you some money,” he said reaching for his wallet and handing Castiel some two hundred and fifty bucks, “call your friends, have them brings fucking swords, I dunno but I just… I can’t.”
And instead of the reaction he had figured, Castiel just smiled at him, a tiny bit, and nodded as he took the bills.
“Dean, I… I understand it. Do not concern yourself for me. You already did a lot more than I could have asked for while I… I just caused you trouble when you were my friend and… I really wish I had not, so… I get it. It’s alright. I’ll just go and… best luck with Anna. I… I wish you every happiness,” he whispered before nodding and walking away. Dean suddenly found that some kind of fucking lump had appeared out of nowhere in his throat and why was he feeling so damn sad? He shook his head, turning his back to the park. That was the sane thing to do and Dean had swore he was never going to do insane in his life, not fucking ever, and clearly he didn’t just go but turned around.
And saw two things. First, Castiel kneeling next to some homeless guy who was definitely in need of a meal and probably gave him at least fifty of those bucks considering that the homeless guy was just about to kiss the dude’s hand, dammit, and then he ended up talking to a couple of people sitting on a bench, one of which was a guy with a goddamn baseball cap with a pig on it and another was a woman who looked utterly pissed and they were talking about princes from what he heard?
Oh, fine.
“Castiel!” he called running back towards him, “what the hell are you…”
“Dean!” Castiel goddamn beamed, and he seemed overjoyed. What, again? “They are Bobby and Ellen and they said they’ve seen Sam! Are you really sure it was him?”
“Ellen...?” he turned and had to blush as he realized that the woman was actually Jo’s mother, in whose bar he had gone for drinks quite often. Oh, just awesome. She raised an eyebrow at him and nodded as he said something lame like what a small world is this.
“Son, if your boyfriend’s an idjit who put a sword through the roof of my fucking bus…”
“… and who almost damn impaled me instead of my bag…”
“… and if he’s got floppy hair, a stupid smile and he dressed in red then yes, that’s definitely him.”
“Oh, wonderful, thanks so much,” Dean muttered.
“Oh, you have been so helpful!” Castiel said earnestly, and Dean just shook his head before nodding at Bobby, waving at Ellen and telling Castiel they should have a talk.
“Another idjit,” Bobby said while they were going, but Dean didn’t hear him.
“Cas, what the hell? If you give out money like that it’s not gonna last, you know?”
“Well, but he needed it so much more than I did.”
Which might have been a point, but still.
“Listen, can I ask you something?”
“Sure!” Castiel answered, clearly in a very good mood.
“How long have you and Sam been… uh, together?”
Castiel thought about it for a second. “About one day, I guess. Give or take.”
Dean stared at him. “You mean that it feels like a day because you’re really in love…”
“No, no. I mean a day as per in twenty-four hours,” Castiel replied seriously.
Well, that just beat it all. “You’re kidding me. A day? You can’t get married after a day!”
“Why not?”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not. I am absolutely serious.”
“You can’t marry someone after a day just because you’re in love!” Dean tried to reply, but Castiel just tilted his head at him for a second again, smiled that tiny smile of his and said yes, of course with such conviction that for a second Dean almost believed him.
Then he figured that in for a penny, in for a pound, and he followed Castiel into the park and bought him a kebab at some stand just because.
“I just don’t get how can you be in love with someone you barely even know,” Dean muttered as Castiel positively devoured the kebab.
“Oh, but I know his heart. And Dean, this is delicious. I have never tasted food such as this,” he said with a contented expression on his face.
At least.
“Turkish food always wins,” Dean muttered.
“Indeed. And, for how long did you know your Anna?”
“Oh. Uh. Two years?”
Castiel tilted his head at him while raising an eyebrow. “And you still haven’t proposed? Well, I can indeed believe she’s angry at you…” he said as he finished the kebab, and then Dean almost shouted because this guy dressed in black with a white cape selling popcorns, candy floss, sweets and basically kids’ stuff had fucking jumped in front of them while holding up a caramel apple.
“Oh, but look at you, sir, you just have the face of someone who needs a dessert, don’t you?” the guy asked in a pretty strong German accent that to Dean seemed kind of too German to be real.
“Well…” Castiel started, since the guy was obviously referring to him.
“I would be mostly happy to offer you a free one,” the guy kept on, “today is free caramel apple day and tomorrow will be free waffle day and…”
“Then it’s most kind of…” Castiel said while reaching out, but Dean’s instincts kicked in.
See, after his mother died in a house fire when he was four, he and his dad spent a lot of time travel ing around, mostly because his dad just didn’t seem able to find a place to actually settle, but that wasn’t the point. The point wasn’t even that Dean learned very, very soon that happily ever afters don’t really exist because when you live happily ever after your mother gets to see her grandchildren before she dies. The point was that his dad made sure to teach him a lot of things to keep himself safe from a very early age, and one, since they always moved around, was be fucking wary of strangers and never accept anything for free, especially if it’s food or a drink. And Dean had never even tried once to disobey that specific order and right now? That felt exactly like the occasion when you should just not trust someone.
He reached out and grabbed Castiel’s wrist before he could take the stick on which the apple was.
“Sorry, man, but free won’t cut it. Next time I’ll be glad to pay for one. Come on, let’s go,” he said before dragging Castiel away.
--
Bloody hell, Crowley thought, and then the goddamn chipmunk started moving in his pocket and fuck fuck fuck, he had goddamn bitten through his pants! Crowley let the apple fall, barely noticing that as soon as it touched the ground all the grass surrounding it died; he just caught the chipmunk and stored it in the popcorn holder as it squirmed.
Gabriel, on his side, was absolutely pissed with the turn of events, but at least he had managed to render the first apple useless and the guy who was with Castiel obviously wasn’t an idiot, at least; for now, it wasn’t even too bad. He figured he should just wait for a way out, and meanwhile he grabbed a popcorn and started to munch on it.
Mm. Delicious. This world had the great inconvenience of not allowing him to talk, but the food almost made up for it.
--
“Dean, why did you…”
“Listen, do you trust me?” Dean asked as he tried to get as far away from that creep as possible.
“Sure I do, but…”
“Then there’s a golden rule you should stick to while you’re here, and it’s never accept something for free. It’s usually some way to screw you later.”
“Well, if you say so…”
Dean just shrugged and hoped for Castiel that he did get it. “You know, uh, most normal people here, uh, before getting married, they date.”
“Date?” Castiel answered, tilting his head again, his expression screaming a failed to process this information all over. He sorta reminded Dean of those Vulcan people in the Star Trek movies, but he shut the thought out.
“Yeah. They… go out. To some special place. Like, I dunno, movies. A restaurant, a museum. The fucking park. They talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“About… about each other! What they like, what they dislike, stuff like that.”
“You have such strange customs regarding love,” Castiel said, sounding like he was mostly interested in figuring the puzzle out.
“Well, should we do like you do? Meet, go to lunch and marry?”
“Oh, you’re forgetting about the happily ever after,” Castiel answered seriously, and Dean wished he could believe him.
“Castiel, not to harsh your… enthusiasm, but the problem is that it doesn’t exist.”
“Of course it does, Dean! It does exist and good things do happen! It isn’t that hard as a concept, you know?”
“Yeah, and as I can safely say since is my job, most marriages are a success if they don’t end up in a divorce, without counting happiness.”
“And what about you and Anna? Won’t you… live happily ever after, I mean?”
Jesus, why did Castiel need to get there?
“I don’t know! I don’t even know if she’d want to see me after today!”
“But how could she, if you love each other?”
“That’s complicated!”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be! And anyway, does she even know?”
“Does she even know what?”
“How much you love her, of course!”
Dean found himself kind of unable to answer that. “Of… of course she does! I just, uh, I don’t talk about it every second, but…”
“And how would she know that?”
“Oh, come on, that’s such a stupid question, one…”
“Actually, that isn’t a stupid question at all, man.”
Dean jerked to his right and ended up face to face with a young guy wearing some weird kind of black robe over plain jeans and a flannel, with short black hair and a pretty open face and holding a book in a hand and what looked suspiciously like a joint in the other. Dean ignored the joint and squinted and looked at the title of the book. G. W. Hegel, The Science Of Logic. Oh, great. Now also Central Park’s philosophy students who went to study there instead of using some NYU library had to have a say, didn’t they?
“… what?”
“Dude, see this stuff? These people have spent centuries trying to understand that, among other things. And they didn’t get it, which probably meant they thought about it too much, but I thought ‘bout it too and I can assure you that you can’t take that for granted.”
“And who are you, sorry?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Andrew, you can call me Andy, whatever. You?”
“Er, hi. I’m Dean, he’s Castiel and we really should…”
“Oh, we shouldn’t,” Castiel said then, realizing he had an ally. “See, we weren’t exactly discussing that in a theoretical approach, but the point is that he really needs to show his beloved how much he really loves her and he keeps on saying that there’s no need and that she knows, but I am fairly sure that it isn’t that easy. Isn’t it?”
Andy shook his head and turned to Dean. “Dude, that’s a huge no. You like a girl, you gotta earn her to keep her with you. You can’t just assume that she’ll just believe that if you don’t remind her once in a while! You should show her you need her, it’s not like she reads your mind.”
“Exactly,” Castiel said with an air of triumph. Dean felt outnumbered.
“And what should I do, according to you two?”
“Duh, you could bring her dancing,” Andy said as he took a smoke, and Dean shook his head vehemently.
“I don’t dance!” he answered, and then goddammit, a girl who was sitting on the grass with a book too (Critique Of The Pure Reason, Immanuel Kant, Jesus) stood up and reached them.
“Well, you could dedicate her a song, maybe sing it to her.”
“That’d be a wise idea,” Castiel agreed, not even minding that she hadn’t been invited.
“I don’t sing either! And who are you by the way?”
“Oh, I’m Ava, me and Andy are in the same class. And I think that you don’t have much imagination here, pal.”
“What…”
“Dean, they’re right. I mean, you should at least hold her close when she’s near you, even if you do not dance, and you should find the words to tell her. I mean, she is probably asking herself how does she know you do love her, especially after this morning. You could... maybe send her flowers!”
“Oh, that’d have been so sweet,” Ava said, and then another five people from the open air studying class joined the party and started to throw out suggestions with Castiel more or less moderating the conversation, and did Dean ever think Castiel didn’t have social skills? Apparently discussing with philosophy students about how to really show the true meaning of love did work to develop them, duh.
The problem was that then some Jake guy decided to call his friend who didn’t study philosophy but rather English literature with a particular attention to goddamn Victorian era and that was how Dean ended up standing up like an idiot next to Castiel while thirty people planned how exactly he should win Anna’s affections back, and the fact that the guy who drove the bus and Jo’s mom ended up there too watching from afar wasn’t making him that much more comfortable.
“Alright, alright,” Castiel said soothingly at one point, “I guess that at this point we could decide how to act? We discussed the matter thoroughly, I believe.”
Everyone agreed and first thing Andy phoned to some cousin of his who had a friend who had a flower shop near the park; Castiel called the shop and started to describe which flowers they needed and how he wanted them arranged and if please he could reach them when he was done; then Ava noticed that there were two guys dressed like freaking eighteenth century courtesans selling tickets for some kind of themed masked ball and five minutes later Dean had spent fifty dollars on two tickets. Then the flower shop guy arrived bringing a goddamn heart shaped garland made of pink, pale roses. Dean thought it was sickeningly Hallmark, but everyone else was indeed satisfied with it and so after attaching the tickets to it, Dean blurted Anna’s work address so that they could deliver them now. Then he paid another twenty-five dollars and then his shoulders hurt because with all the pats on the back he received from half of the students of either the letters or the philosophy departments of NYU, it was a miracle they didn’t break any bone.
“Oh dear, I just hope it works,” he said when everyone was gone and he was left alone with Castiel, who was looking at him with something close to sympathy.
“I am sure it will,” he answered with such certainty that Dean couldn’t help believing him.
Three minutes later, his cell phone rang. Duh, that was fast delivery. Castiel nodded at Dean and Dean pressed the red button.
“Anna…?”
“Dean! Oh my God, did you send me the flowers?”
“Yes, I…”
“Oh, I loved them! Listen, can you head over here for a second? I just can’t believe it, they’re so beautiful!”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. See you in a few…” he said before closing the call and meeting Castiel’s knowing smirk. Dude. It really did work.
--
“These are just so exquisite. People usually send cards, but you went all the way to find real flowers and the color is just perfect and oh, Dean, thank you,” Anna said before slender, soft fingers wrapped around his neck; Dean brought his head down and kissed her softly, feeling so relieved that he couldn’t even say.
If Castiel was staring at the aquarium that Anna had in her very high class literary agent studio, whatever.
“And the tickets to that ball, too? It’s just… so not like you, you know?”
“But… you liked them right? I can… uh. Make an effort, y’know. And Anna, listen, about this morning…”
She looked at him expectantly before casting a glance in Castiel’s direction.
“Yes?”
“Okay, nothing happened. He just, he’s from Europe or something and got lost here without his visa or some crap like that and I gave him a hand yesterday evening, and then this morning he was getting out of the shower and I was asking him if he needed a lift to his embassy but there was water on the ground and he fell on me, but… that just wasn’t what it seemed, okay? I…”
“Dean,” she smiled as she nodded, “it’s alright. Also, considering how he was congratulating me earlier, I doubt that you’re lying here. And he didn’t seem like he was lying either. So… you said nothing happened, then nothing happened. All’s forgiven. And oh my God, a themed ball. It’s so romantic!”
Well, Dean thought, he did owe Castiel one.
“So, see you tomorrow night?” he asked, shooting her his best smile.
“Of course,” she answered as she kissed him again.
Today wasn’t going to end as bad as it started, or so it seemed.
--
“It appears that this odd little box is controlling that magic mirror,” Prince Sam said as he sat on the bed of a kind of cheap motel near the underground which was the closest to the park Crowley could find; and effectively, it did; right, Crowley knew that it was called a television and that it aired things that in this world were called movies and stuff, but…
Sam changed from some movie with knights at the crusades to the news where Crowley recognized the bus driver ranting about the chipmunk (who was currently locked in a popcorn leftover box) and then it ended up on some show where a nurse was apparently arguing with an hospital intern.
“Do you really have so little self-respect?” the nurse said, not looking impressed at all with the intern.
“I don’t need any self-respect,” the intern said, “I just need your lips against mine,” he kept on as he stood up to get close to the nurse. And then Sam changed channel, but what had aired had been enough to grasp Crowley’s attention.
“Sire! Please, get back on that one!” Crowley said, and Sam just shrugged and did. The camera was still set on the nurse.
“How could I love a man who doesn’t even like himself?” she asked scornfully. “You disgust me! You’re nothing like Dr. Sexy!”
“I can’t help my feelings!” the intern shouted, and Crowley was so wound up and so recognizing himself in that poor guy (well, see, Crowley did like himself just fine, but in comparison to such a bright star as Lucifer was, how could he even begin to compare?) he didn’t realize that the chipmunk had broken out of the box and was trying again to get Sam to understand Crowley’s plan.
“Oh, you think I’m handsome even when I sleep?” Sam asked, and as the chipmunk positively seemed to be considering suicide, Crowley took the occasion and locked him in the closet before sighing and deciding to go and end this whole mess.
“Sire, I will be out for some air,” he said straightening his velvet black suit before turning to Sam again. “Sire, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like yourself?”
“What’s not to like?” Sam answered cheerfully, and Crowley sighed again and closed the door, wondering if killing Castiel would really make Lucifer notice him that way, or maybe accept his attentions.
--
How stupid could someone be? Or lovesick, whatever?
A lot, apparently, and Gabriel was sure that his sufferings weren’t over.
Goddammit, he thought as he planned his escape from the closet; that idiot didn’t realize that there were a few good five inches between the closet’s door and the floor. He sighed and got out of it, straight out of the window. He surely wasn’t going to ask Sam for help on this. He was going to do this on his own. Surely after five years Castiel would understand him even if he couldn’t talk, right?
And considering that Crowley probably had Castiel’s location, he set on following him.
--
The pizza was the least he could do, really, or so that was what Dean kept telling himself as he and Castiel sat at a table in this small Italian place he knew. After all he did help him with Anna and really, what was a pizza?
Nothing.
Just a pizza.
And the place was warm and the atmosphere comfortable and Castiel seemed to like the opera that the restaurant kindly provided, so…
Castiel suddenly stopped taking small bites from his piece of mushrooms pizza and blue eyes met Dean’s, deep and intent and staring and he felt himself flush.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure thing,” Dean answered as he picked up a piece of his own.
“This is a… a very nice place.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re having dinner.”
“Yes…?”
“So, is this a date?”
“Ye… no! No, this is just… just a friendly thing. Between friends. Yes. Also, usually people don’t bring their kids on dates,” Dean added as he nodded towards another table’s direction where Ben was intently talking with another couple of kids. Another reason this was a cool place: if you came with kids they could just all go eating together and socialize or shit, even if Ben didn’t seem too impressed with whatever the other kid was blathering about.
“He’s such a nice kid,” Castiel murmured as he took another bite, and Dean couldn’t help smiling.
“Yeah. He is.”
“Does… does he miss his mother?” Castiel asked with the face of someone who had an idea that he wasn’t asking appropriate questions.
Dean sighed and suddenly didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
“I… well, it’s a difficult question. I usually don’t talk about it. But… it could have been one of your dreams come true kinda stories, except that it wasn’t.”
“What… what happened?”
Dean sighed, wondering if he should refuse. Then again, he hadn’t talked about Lisa with anyone in years and he hadn’t talked about Cassie ever, so… maybe it could help. Who knew.
“Well, he isn’t… technically mine. See, me and Lisa, we were together in college while doing pre-law. She was just great and we had hit off so well, and we had been together for six months when she lost her scholarship and had to go back to her town somewhere in Indiana. I wanted to help her back then but my dad had died a couple years before and I was on a scolarship too, so... it kind of ended there. We lost contact and we didn’t see each other for three years, and then one day I bump into her on the street and she had this two-months old kid on a stroller and we go to catch up and have coffee and she says that she had met this guy who fled as soon as she got pregnant. We said we should see each other again sometime, maybe she could leave the baby with her roommate, and we ended up kissing and stuff and well, we still…”
“You were still in love, right?”
“Yeah. She didn’t want to re-start things though, I mean, she thought that she couldn’t do it with a baby in the picture, but I told her it was okay and that well, that wasn’t exactly the way I thought I’d have a kid but I didn’t care. He was great back then too, anyway. I spent four years trying to convince her that I’d have been glad to give him my surname if she wanted, hell, I wanted it, but she always refused for some reason. But we were great together, you know? It was… it was a fucking fairytale.”
“What… what happened?”
“She died in a car accident when Ben was four and something. At that point I… I already switched for being a divorce attorney, it brought more money in, and I was damn glad I did because otherwise it’d have been way harder. He… he remembers her, I know for sure, but talking about her hurts. Also because her family wasn’t talking to her because she had a baby outside marriage and…”
“That’s just so wrong.”
“Yeah, it is. Don’t you tell me. Anyway, I met Cassie a year later or so. And she was great, too. She was smart, she liked me, we hit off pretty well, we had great sex, and she sort of didn’t seem to mind that I was a goddamn single father or whatever. This until after a year of dating. I asked her if she might want to move in, not even marry or stuff, and… well, she just said that I was asking too much of her and she wasn’t going to be the stepmother of a kid who didn’t even have my surname. That kind of… you know. It was a blow. And I fear… I just, I dunno, but sometimes he, Ben I mean, he behaves more like an adult than he should and it might be because I didn’t even try to hide from him how much the world sucks, but still. I just don’t want him to have a life like mine.”
“What would be wrong with you?” Castiel asked, momentarily forgetting his dinner.
Dean could only snort. “I lost my mother when I was four, too. My dad, after that he moved around a lot and we settled somewhere just when I was twelve or so. And he, he died in another accident the year I graduated from high school. And after my mom died he really wasn’t the same. It was… lonely. And he did his best, I know that, but Ben is a good kid and I might do as much as I can but I want him to have someone else beside me. And hey, I might earn good money, but it took me another two years to work the courage to propose Anna, I hate my job and even if between me and her things go fine it just… it isn’t like it was with Lisa, but it’s okay. I made peace with it. I just want him to know it doesn’t always end well. Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear any of this.”
“That would be a wrong assumption, since I was the one asking you first.”
And then Castiel’s hand which wasn’t holding the piece of pizza slowly reached forward and covered Dean’s free one and by all means, Dean should have put a stop to it, but that slow squeeze Castiel gave felt warm and intimate and safe and he hadn’t felt like that since Lisa, and lately he could barely bring himself to remember how it was with her.
“I think that you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You have done great, from what I see. And who knows, never say that good things don’t happen. They just might,” Castiel finished before taking the hand away, and Dean suddenly felt cold.
What the fuck?
He didn’t have time to think about it because then the waiter, who had an extremely heavy Italian accent which screamed fake to Dean, and it was strange because as far as Dean knew the only person here who was really Italian was the owner who never served the tables, came to offer Castiel a free apple martini.
Castiel started refusing, saying that he really didn’t accept free things, and Dean was glad that at least that stuck, but as the waiter insisted, Hell broke loose.
Because a fucking chipmunk knocked the glass down and then he started to squeal on the table in front of Castiel and Dean let out half a scream because dammit, chipmunks bring diseases, but then Castiel seemed delighted or something, started calling the chipmunk Gabriel and what, he started talking about Sam and asking if he was there, and meanwhile most people were screaming and the kids’ table was making even more of a mess because everyone wanted to see the chipmunk and Dean just dragged Ben to his side. He was seriously freaking out, especially because Castiel wasn’t freaking out, but then the waiter picked the plate up and sent it straight into the brick oven, even if Dean was sure that the chipmunk had kind of jumped out of it before.
He didn’t care though, and as people called 911 and Castiel called for Gabriel and Ben looked at him silently demanding an answer, he ran out of the restaurant with them both not noticing how exactly the waiter was glaring at the chipmunk, who had ended up stuck in an empty bottle of fifty-year-old wine that was on display near the oven.
As you probably all imagined, Gabriel was indeed pissed with the turn of events, but at least he had managed to steal some pizza before and well, the food in this foul place was indeed excellent. Now he just needed to find some way to avoid the disaster for the third time. Considering that he was currently stuck in a bottle, that was going to be a problem, but he had managed up to this point, he was going to manage now.
--
Meanwhile, prince Sam had been staying in the motel room, quite enchanted with the magic mirror otherwise known as television; after finishing that Dr. Sexy show which Crowley had seemed to like so much but which, to him, didn’t really say much, he had started going through the wonder that peasants would call channel surfing. Right now, though, he felt like he had to take decisions and act; after all, what kind of prince he was if he couldn’t find his beloved in two days? A lousy one, that was the answer, and Sam didn’t accept such a word in his vocabulary.
He sprawled on the bed, deciding that American Idol was not going to be the answer to his questions.
“Tell me, magic mirror, what is this place? Why is it so difficult? And will I ever find my true love again?” he asked, in real anguish, and with good reason since he had wished for one so much and having him taken away after twelve hours wasn’t something he could accept. Sam, after all, just wanted his happily ever after while keeping on slaughtering monsters; certainly it wasn’t too hard a wish to grant, right?
And so he changed channel, ending up on the local news.
“… and joining us today, is the man who was actually attacked by the insane rodent…”
And then yes, suddenly, the magic box showed him…
“Castiel!” Sam screamed in joy as he saw his beloved being interviewed on the screen.
“Tell us, how does it feel knowing that this dangerous animal is most likely still alive?”
Castiel just tilted his head at her.
“Oh. I am very happy to know that. See, Gabriel is a friend of mine and…”
Sam didn’t really know why someone ended up dragging Castiel away, but that wasn’t really the point. He was going to kill that someone shortly, anyway. The point was that he just needed a bit more of information.
“Magic mirror, please, tell me, where can I find him?”
“… reporting from 116th, Broadway…”
“116th Broadway! Thanks, magic mirror!” Sam exclaimed, and then ran out of the motel room with a destination in mind. He was really happy for that, also because the underground passing every five minutes was being mostly annoying.
--
Sam reached his destination in a short amount of time, but he hadn’t imagined that the palace where his beloved was held prisoner would have such queer architecture; every floor was divided in two and in every half there were six apartments, and all on six floors.
Sam sighed and set down straight for the first door, knocking boldly and sure; a woman with four children opened and then shook her head.
“Sorry, charming. You were too late.”
“My apologies,” Sam said sincerely as she closed the door. He wished he could help her, but he couldn’t, and he set for the next door.
After some strange person with a strange cat, a dog which barked so loudly that he didn’t even try the door, a man who looked at him in a pretty strange way and who definitely was not as nice as Castiel was and a whole lot of other interesting characters, Sam was at the fifth floor and he couldn’t help collapsing in a corner, exhausted. Castiel was probably being held prisoner on the last one, but for now he was too tired and he needed all of his strength to fight his beloved’s captors. He sighed and set on waiting until morning before resuming his quest, and meanwhile he would sleep for a short while.
--
“So wait, you knew that chipmunk?” Ben asked still looking at Castiel like he didn’t know if he should believe it or not, as they stood in Ben’s room waiting for Dean to get out of the bathroom.
“Sure I did. He has been living with me for five years! Well, I found him by the side of the road with a broken leg back then, I took care of him and then he never really left. He always says that I should quit with all the true love business, but he really doesn’t mean it. He just pretends he’s above that, but he isn’t. He probably also likes the nuts I get him too much to complain.”
“So he talks?”
“Where I come from? Yes, he does. I fear he does not here, but then again this place is different from Heaven.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Dean said, getting out of the bathroom, a bathrobe still wrapped around him. “Were you talking about the chipmunk? Wait. I don’t wanna know. Really.”
Castiel shook his head even if he did feel some weird fondness and Ben just looked at his dad like he should grow a sense of humor even if he already had one before thanking Castiel for the talk and head into the bed. Castiel wondered why did he have a black poster with ACDC written on over it, but he figured it was some of this real world’s customs.
“Hey, listen…” Dean asked as they reached the living room where Castiel had arranged a pillow for the sofa, “I just wanted to say, if you ever decide to stay in New York, I could give you a hand. Just so you know.”
Castiel nodded, feeling warm at having such kindness directed at him; but that was not an option.
“Thank you, but I am pretty sure I will not. Sam is…”
“Coming? Well, it doesn’t seem to me like he is. Why, you think he is because the… the chipmunk told you?”
“Of course. What a question.”
“Right, because chipmunks talk.”
“Well, in this world it seems like they do not, but I’m positive that he is coming.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“He is! Why are you just keeping on asking it?” Castiel asked standing up, feeling way, way uneasy; suddenly Dean’s borrowed clothes for sleeping seemed too large and too warm and too constricting.
“Because I hate to break it to you, but I see that everyday and sometimes it doesn’t happen!”
“Oh, so you think he isn’t?” Castiel shouted at him, a strange sensation making him see red.
“No!”
“Is that everything you know how to say? No, no and no?”
“No! … well…”
“See, it’s always no! You’re always saying no to yourself, too! How can you ever think that you’ll accomplish something good when all you can think about is no? Oh, damn, you make me so… so angry!” he finished before suddenly bringing a hand to his lips.
Anger. This was anger. This must be anger. He had never felt like this in his life. He had known only happiness and sadness, but never this. Never anger. And suddenly it felt… it felt good.
“Castiel… Cas? Are you okay?”
“No… I mean, yes, I’m… I’m angry, but… I’m…”
And then he smiled a tiny smile, realizing that being angry felt… felt good. Different. But good. Like, a different kind of good, and it wasn’t exactly right that Dean should make him like this, should make him feel things he never had, and…
“… how did you call me?”
“Uh, what… oh. The… the Cas bit? It… it just came. I don’t know. We usually do it here when uh, you know someone, you shorten the name, it’s… sort of… showing that you care on a more personal level or… something,” Dean muttered, and he did look embarrassed, and way out of his element, and he was looking at Castiel with two huge, green eyes that seemed way younger than they were.
“I… I think I like it. I’m… sorry. I didn’t want to lash at… it’s alright. I’m fine,” Castiel murmured for an answer, his hand reaching for a part of Dean’s shoulder which was left bare by the bathrobe, squeezing it slightly, and why did it felt like he was closer to Dean like this than… than with everyone else he thought he had been close to? He raised his head a bit, staring at Dean’s slightly parted lips which let out a sigh just then, and their stare met for a second before Dean muttered something about needing to get some sleep and then ran out from the room.
Without his skin under Castiel’s fingertips, his hands felt cold. And oh, if only it was just that, but in that second Castiel had wanted to…
He had wanted to…
He shook his head, forcing himself not to think about it. He just needed some sleep and he was tired. Yes. It had to be that. And if Dean had looked at him like he maybe wanted to kiss Castiel too, well, he was going to ignore that. He just was.
--
Dean woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes; he got into the kitchen, still thinking about that weird moment between him and Castiel last evening, a moment which he should kind of not be thinking about, and then he couldn’t help half-smiling at the sight of Castiel slowly pouring coffee into a mug while Ben was positively devouring pancakes which Dean wasn’t sure he had bought recently. Hell, he hadn’t gone for groceries in four days or so.
“Uh, hi. You… you made breakfast?” he asked as he wrapped his bathrobe tighter around his waist (well, yes, he totally had not even changed into pajamas last night…). Castiel nodded and said something about pancakes not really being hard to cook when suddenly a completely foreign voice boomed from the living room. How did someone even get into the living room?
“Castiel!” it said, or better, the male owner of that voice said, “I’m here to rescue you! Are you still here…?”
And then Castiel suddenly blushed and started to straighten his made-of-curtains suit.
“Oh my. Oh my goodness. It’s Sam, he’s here, oh, I… Dean! How… how do I look?”
“What…?”
“How do I look?” Castiel asked frantically, and well, what could Dean say when he was staring at him with those incredibly huge eyes, those parted pink lips, and when that suit just fit him so well?
“You look great,” he muttered in response, and then Castiel nodded at him with a tiny smile and flung himself into the other room; Dean nodded at Ben and they both went to stay at the entrance of the room.
And… oh.
Prince Sam was indeed a sight. Freakishly tall, at least six feet and something, but it was the right kind of height for someone wearing all that red and golden velvet with a damn sword on his side and looking just so… so… so much like a prince. He had picked Castiel up like he weighed nothing and they were spinning around the room risking to break something, but Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight: they just looked glowing, happy, like two people in love from a goddamn fairytale, and Sam had such a charming smile, dimpled even. How could it possibly…
Dean shook his head and even if he was happy for them, his living room wouldn’t appreciate a fairytale hurricane sweeping through it.
“Hey, uh, pal, I’m definitely happy for you, but could you… pay attention?”
Sam turned towards him and uh, that was so not a friendly stare.
“You were the one who kept him prisoner?”
And that was how Dean found himself pressed against the wall, in his bathrobe, with a sword to his neck and thankfully Castiel was between them and Ben, at least.
“I will give you some last words before I dispatch you, if you wish so.”
“Oh, dude, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean said shaking his head. No man should die in his bathrobe.
“… strange last words, but that’s your choice,” Sam shrugged, ready to strike, and Dean was very, very relieved when Castiel screamed no fast enough to stop Sam from slaughtering him on the spot.
“Wait, wait. There is a… misunderstanding. They helped me, they weren’t… holding me prisoner,” Castiel said, and Sam just looked at him and put his sword back in place.
“Oh, then sorry about… that. You know. These were two very long days.”
“Don’t you tell me,” Dean muttered as he left the wall.
“Anyway. Sam, this is Dean and he’s Ben. And, this is Sam.”
Dean nodded at him and well, if Ben started rambling about how cool Sam’s sword was, he wasn’t going to interrupt the moment.
After all, the sword… was pretty cool indeed.
And if after Sam had finished the explaining to Ben he and Castiel shared a soft kiss, who was Dean to say anything?
--
“So, this is… it, right?” Dean asked, Ben standing a bit behind him; Castiel had said goodbye to him before and now they were uncomfortably staring at each other.
“Yes,” Castiel answered softly. “I believe that I will ask Sam if we might go on a date before heading back to Heaven, but… we will go, yes.”
“Then… then the best of luck to you both,” Dean said trying not to let disappointment show in his voice. “If… uh, some six months from now you feel like passing by… we could all meet and have hot chocolate in Central Park. I’m saying six months because it’s winter and… it’s a whole other thing when there’s snow. It’s… kind of awesome.”
“That… that would be great. And… if you ever feel like going through that drain, you could always come visit. In Heaven.”
“Yeah. Sure thing,” Dean answered, perfectly aware that they both knew that Dean wasn’t ever going to set foot in Heaven and that Castiel was never going to be back here, alone or not.
“Then… then good luck, Cas. Also for the date,” Dean whispered then.
“Good luck to you with Anna,” Castiel said, and then nodded before leaving with Sam. Dean could faintly hear Sam asking what a date was as they left, even if he thanked Dean for taking care of his beloved before they went. Dean didn’t even mind being called peasant that much, considering the sword and the rest.
Then he looked down and saw that Ben looked… melancholy to say the least.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand ruffling Ben’s hair.
“Nothing. I just… I think I’ll miss him.”
“Yeah. Me… me too,” Dean answered, and if he felt himself choking, he just was going to ignore it.
He should try to get mentally ready for the ball with Anna that night instead.
Part III.
Pairings/Characters: eventual Dean/Castiel and Sam/Anna (also Sam/Castiel and Dean/Anna); Lucifer, Crowley, Gabriel (sort of), Ben, most of the characters appear.
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 10000 this part, around 30000 overall.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is most definitely not mine, and Enchanted is Disney's. The only thing I provide is the crack.
Warnings: sort of voluntary mocking purple prose in the fairytale-ish bits, Gabriel is the chipmunk (yes, that's a warning in itself), possible fluff overload (but you've seen the source material, right?), crack-ish stuff, hell, this is a fusion with a goddamn Disney movie. This is definitely not to be taken (too) seriously.
Summary: Enchanted fusion wherein Castiel falls from Heaven into New York City because of evil king Lucifer, Dean is the cynical single father divorce attorney whose life changes when they meet, Sam is a prince who is definitely intent on finding his beloved who was stolen from him, and Gabriel, even if he's a chipmunk, is definitely the sanest of the bunch.
A/N: still for wandersfound's birthday, even if it was yesterday. Also, it shows that when I watch canon I pay attention to random idiotic details that are relevant to my interests only. And, uh, that's actually the crackiest part I think, but whatever. Still cutting out all the cute animals and reiterating the not taking seriously advice. Part I.
“Jesus, another one?” Chuck said as he heard noise coming from the drain again. And yeah, there he was, a man tall more or less like he was, dressed sharply even if it was still weirdly fairy-tale clothes (though at least they were black), not exactly handsome but the kind of person you might find fascinating if you talk to them long enough. He was having trouble hoisting himself out though, and Chuck sighed and turned to Barnes and his third pal, Demian.
“Come on guys, let’s get him out too. So, let me guess, you’re searching for a beautiful young man too?”
Crowley raised an eyebrow and ran his fingers on the sleeve of his velvet black suit in order to shrug off some dirt.
“No. Not a beautiful young man. I’m looking for a prince, actually.”
“Oh. Then he’s there,” Chuck sighed as he turned to his left. Well, said prince had spent the morning jumping on various vehicles all over Broadway, and he, Demian and Barnes were just trying to ignore both him and the chipmunk.
Currently, the prince was trying to kill a bus.
In the sense, he was standing on the bus’ roof shouting that he’d kill that wild beast.
Chuck sighed again and wondered if the guy would even know about his book series anyway, if they ever got published. He was too poor to pay him the rights for his image.
Meanwhile, Crowley ran towards the bus just in time to see it abruptly stopping as Sam thrust his sword through it and broke the bag of some lady who was sitting just under it. She looked utterly not amused.
“Castiel? Castiel, are you here?” Sam asked, taking a look inside the bus, and Crowley sighed.
“No, well, but you peasants should be glad! I rid you of…”
“Oh, that’s fuckin’ it,” the driver said. “Everybody stay on the bus!” he shouted, and then he stomped out of the vehicle. He was a man of about sixty, he look utterly angry and he was wearing a cap with a pig on it; Crowley thought that if the man managed to look fierce even wearing that thing Sam should indeed be worried. He wondered why the hell did he ever agree to this.
Damn Lucifer and his teasing. But he was such a fascinating…
“Hey, you idjit! Get down from my bus right the fuck now or I will end you! Are you goddamn crazy?!!”
Sam looked at him with a very perplexed face. That didn’t make the driver calmer at all.
“Get down now!”
Right, Crowley thought, maybe it was bloody time to act. He came closer, but before he could talk…
“Crowley, you’re here too?” Sam asked cheerfully, and the driver’s glare set on Crowley instead. Oh, bloody…
“That idjit up there’s a friend of yours?”
“Er, well, see, it’s all a great, great misunderstanding, you see, and…”
“And what the hell’s this now?” Bobby said when he noticed that a chipmunk had landed on his shoulder. Oh damn, that was Castiel’s pet or whatever… of course, Crowley though. That so wasn’t his day. The chipmunk, meanwhile, glared at the driver. The driver bloody glared back. And Crowley thought that it was just time to flee.
“Sire, may I suggest that we seek your beloved...” he tried not to throw up as he said that, “… elsewhere?”
“Well, since my search wasn’t exactly successful, I hear you.” Sam cheerfully waved at the passengers, hopped off the bus and ran forward. Crowley sighed and ran after him. The chipmunk stopped staring at the driver and ran after them too. The driver stared at them, said idjits another time and got on the bus again.
Chuck wondered if he should stop having a glass of whiskey before going to bed.
--
Now, Gabriel hadn’t really signed up for this shit. Damn, he loved Castiel like he’d have loved a brother if he had one and if he was a human and not a chipmunk (or if Castiel had been a chipmunk), but this, this was way too much. This stupid world without happy endings had left him without speech and that sucked ass, people, it sucked a fucking lot, and at least he could as well swear since they weren’t in Heaven anymore.
Also, he knew that Crowley was up to no fucking good and he was glad to have followed him in the kitchen of the strange restaurant Sam had chosen to get some food in order to replace his strength, because of course killing fucking machines had tired him.
And now Crowley was staring into a damn pot full of boiling water and freaking Lucifer’s face was staring out of it as three apples floated on the surface. And Lucifer was informing him that the apples were poisoned and that Crowley was to give one to Castiel; after a bite the poor bastard would end up in a troubled sleep and then he’d die when the clock stroke twelve that same night and Gabriel shuddered; that was plain fucking evil and he wasn’t going to let Crowley get away with that.
As he realized that Lucifer was about to give away Castiel’s location, Gabriel took a fork from the shelf he was upon and threw it down into the pot; Lucifer’s image disappeared but Crowley had got the apples and took notice of him.
Fuck. Crowley couldn’t and wouldn’t make a mess in the kitchen, sure, but still…
Gabriel ran very fast until he arrived at Sam’s table where the prince was sitting and when Crowley glared at him from the other side, he just smirked and tried to stay close to Sam’s side.
“Prince, I think that the chipmunk is dangerous.”
Sam raised an eyebrow as he took a fork and dove into a salad with chicken that he had found extremely appetizing, at least from the picture that showed it in the menu.
“Gabriel? Nah, I think he just wants to talk. And everyone should have the chance to talk. And how could such a cute little thing be dangerous?”
Gabriel kept himself from biting Sam’s finger off. Cute little thing his ass.
“Did you need to say something to me?”
Yes, dammit, but how the fuck was he supposed to if he couldn’t damn well talk?
Ah well, he was going to resort to very, very low means.
He cleared his throat. Then turned towards Crowley. Then he made the most evil face he could muster up. Then he stood straight and stared at Sam tilting his head. The he noticed that there was some candy in a bowl at the centre of the table and he grabbed a red one still tilting his head like Castiel always damn did. Then he took a bite of the candy and dropped on the table, hoping it made a good dead impression. Then he looked up at Sam.
“You’re saying that my beauty is such that it makes you almost die?”
Crowley snorted. Sam looked pleased. Gabriel wanted to puke.
He settled on eating the rest of the candy and figuring that he’d stop Crowley on his own. But damn, Castiel could choose someone a little less conscious of his dazzling beauty.
Damn prince Sam and his 6 feet four inches and perfect hair and perfect body and dimpled smile.
Gabriel definitely wanted to puke, but he figured he should be a human in order to do that. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t glare at Crowley.
Ah well, at least the candy was good.
--
Dean couldn’t wait for this to be over. Because the way Castiel looked at everything like he was a kid at Disneyland for the first time and no, the pun was intended, was making him uncomfortable. Highly uncomfortable. He ended up leading him and pushing him along or otherwise he’d end up ridiculously late and that just would have been the icing on the cake; when he finally got into the hall, Jo looked at him like he had grown two heads, which… well, considering who he was bringing with him, was more than a justified reaction.
“Jo? Listen, are they already here?”
“Yes, but they just arrived. Gordon Walker, too.”
“Awesome. Listen, I need you to do me a favor, okay? The guy who went in with me…” Dean said, eying Castiel who was in turn observing the firm’s aquarium like it held the mysteries of the universe, “I ended up picking him from the street yesterday. Right, I know, let’s say…”
“… that it was an act of mercy?”
“Right. That. I love you when you just get it. Anyway listen, can you help him finding some mean to get back to his city or country or whatever while I deal with the Walkers?”
“Sure thing. How…”
“Castiel!” Dean hissed, and then here he was. Duh. He was fast.
“Yes?”
“Okay, I need to go to work. This here is Jo, she’s going to help you get home, alright? Just tell her the name or stuff and she’ll find that, I guess. Jo, this is Castiel, Castiel, this is Jo, I need to run.”
And then Dean disappeared, but not before hearing Castiel say ‘Pleased to meet you, Joanna Beth’, because Jo had to have her entire name on the badge.
Jesus fucking Christ almighty.
If he wasn’t an atheist, he’d have so just signed his ticket to Hell.
Thankfully, since the night before, the spirits had quieted and the meeting went way, way better than the previous one; he was just saying that there really hadn’t been any reason not to be reasonable as he got out of the office and back into the main hall and noticed that Castiel was still staring at the fish in the aquarium and that Jo was making signs at him so that he’d reach her desk. She shook her head as he did.
“Dean, I’m sorry but… well. I couldn’t. I mean, first I checked but he has no driver’s license, no passport, no insurance, nothing. Then when he said Heaven I checked if he didn’t actually mean Haven but no, he says it isn’t any. Not the one in Kansas, not the one in New York and not the one in Wisconsin. Or the one in Australia or the one in England either. And then I tried to ask if he meant like Heaven where you go when you’re dead and he said that while it is indeed a place of contentment everyone there was most surely alive! Dean, what the hell’s going on?”
Dammit. “I wish I knew, I wish I goddamn knew.”
And then he realized that Tamara was staring at Castiel who was staring at the fish and goddamnit, that really wasn’t the…
Dammit. He arrived too late. She had spoken first.
“Is fish all that interesting?”
Castiel turned towards her and tilted his head slightly.
“I find their motions fascinating. You don’t?”
She stared for a second, then shrugged. “To each their own…” she muttered, and then Dean noticed that Castiel was staring at her hair now, which was carefully braided in a way which Castiel probably found fascinating or something. “What?”
“Oh. Nothing. Just, you have very beautiful hair. And your eyes… sparkle.”
“Why, thanks,” she answered, probably slightly put out by his very, very polite tone but pleased nonetheless.
“Well, you are very beautiful. Surely the man that holds your heart is really lucky.”
Dean was positively sure he was never going to forget how Tamara started screaming about how unprofessional it was and how her husband seemed equally pissed and how the other firm’s lawyer that had come along with Gordon started threatening to ruin the whole deal and how for the entire time Castiel just was staring at them just like he didn’t get it.
Which he probably didn’t and it was hardly his fault, after all he’d have never started the conversation and would have been perfectly fine with staring at the fish, but damn that was Dean’s fucking job and this couldn’t go on. Oh, Christ. He lunged forward and tried to patch things up and managed to organize another meeting for that afternoon, then took Castiel by the elbow and brought him towards the elevator. He had to solve this mess soon and call Anna too, Jesus, but meanwhile he’d make a couple of things clear.
“Listen, that was… you can’t say shit like that!”
“You’re… you’re angry again. I’m… I’m so sorry, I just don’t… why did she get upset?”
“Because they’re divorcing, fuck!”
“They’re… what?”
“Divorcing! It happens when people don’t love each other any more. They fucking leave each other and settling the terms is my goddamn job, alright?”
Dean might have felt guilty at Castiel’s completely shocked expression as he stated that people actually could stop loving each other and divorce and stuff. He might have, but he was so fucking pissed that he couldn’t be.
“What… what kind of a world is this, when you marry one day and leave each other the next and inflict so much pain upon yourself?” Castiel sighed as Dean led him towards the elevator.
“Well, it’s fucking reality!”
“I think I liked Heaven better.”
“Yeah,” Dean answered not able to help the venom falling from his lips, “I guess you would.”
--
“Sire, I believe we might cover more ground separately,” Crowley said as Sam stood on a statue at one of the entrances in Central Park, looking at the crowd. “You could go one way and me and the chipmunk could go the other,” he added, careful to use a soothing tone.
“Well, Crowley, I do believe it’s an inspired plan,” Sam said getting down from the statue and turning his back to the entrance; all to Crowley’s luck, since the chipmunk started squeaking and oh, bloody hell, there was Castiel along with some other guy and… and…
Crowley grabbed the chipmunk and stuffed him into his coat, then turned his head frantically and as soon as he noticed another young man with dark hair who was walking some quarter of a mile far or so, he shouted at Sam and since the other man had his back at them, it was easy for the prince to mistake him for Castiel; meanwhile, Crowley felt his hand bleed as teeth sank into it and he wished he could just kill the bloody chipmunk, except that he really didn’t want to get his hands dirty with killing any life form other than Castiel, and he wasn't exactly too big on doing that too but well, orders were orders. And he didn’t really want to explain it to Sam later should he find the corpse. He would deal with that after having dealt with Castiel; he smirked to himself, reached for one of the apples in his bag and then snapped his fingers.
Hey, he came from a fucking magic kingdom, he could do magic, he was bloody well going to use it.
--
As soon as they were far enough and at the beginning of a path leading straight into the park, Dean straightened his suit and took a deep breath. He could do this.
“Listen, I really tried to be nice and do the right thing here…”
“Oh, you have been very nice to me, actually the only one…”
“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, but the point is that… that’s my job, okay? That’s what I do for a living and I can’t possibly risk that. And I can’t possibly risk Anna either and I can’t deal with anything that isn’t stable right now because I just… I can’t handle it, okay? I’m sorry, but I think you should just wait for your… prince Sam to arrive and I can’t help you anymore. I can give you some money,” he said reaching for his wallet and handing Castiel some two hundred and fifty bucks, “call your friends, have them brings fucking swords, I dunno but I just… I can’t.”
And instead of the reaction he had figured, Castiel just smiled at him, a tiny bit, and nodded as he took the bills.
“Dean, I… I understand it. Do not concern yourself for me. You already did a lot more than I could have asked for while I… I just caused you trouble when you were my friend and… I really wish I had not, so… I get it. It’s alright. I’ll just go and… best luck with Anna. I… I wish you every happiness,” he whispered before nodding and walking away. Dean suddenly found that some kind of fucking lump had appeared out of nowhere in his throat and why was he feeling so damn sad? He shook his head, turning his back to the park. That was the sane thing to do and Dean had swore he was never going to do insane in his life, not fucking ever, and clearly he didn’t just go but turned around.
And saw two things. First, Castiel kneeling next to some homeless guy who was definitely in need of a meal and probably gave him at least fifty of those bucks considering that the homeless guy was just about to kiss the dude’s hand, dammit, and then he ended up talking to a couple of people sitting on a bench, one of which was a guy with a goddamn baseball cap with a pig on it and another was a woman who looked utterly pissed and they were talking about princes from what he heard?
Oh, fine.
“Castiel!” he called running back towards him, “what the hell are you…”
“Dean!” Castiel goddamn beamed, and he seemed overjoyed. What, again? “They are Bobby and Ellen and they said they’ve seen Sam! Are you really sure it was him?”
“Ellen...?” he turned and had to blush as he realized that the woman was actually Jo’s mother, in whose bar he had gone for drinks quite often. Oh, just awesome. She raised an eyebrow at him and nodded as he said something lame like what a small world is this.
“Son, if your boyfriend’s an idjit who put a sword through the roof of my fucking bus…”
“… and who almost damn impaled me instead of my bag…”
“… and if he’s got floppy hair, a stupid smile and he dressed in red then yes, that’s definitely him.”
“Oh, wonderful, thanks so much,” Dean muttered.
“Oh, you have been so helpful!” Castiel said earnestly, and Dean just shook his head before nodding at Bobby, waving at Ellen and telling Castiel they should have a talk.
“Another idjit,” Bobby said while they were going, but Dean didn’t hear him.
“Cas, what the hell? If you give out money like that it’s not gonna last, you know?”
“Well, but he needed it so much more than I did.”
Which might have been a point, but still.
“Listen, can I ask you something?”
“Sure!” Castiel answered, clearly in a very good mood.
“How long have you and Sam been… uh, together?”
Castiel thought about it for a second. “About one day, I guess. Give or take.”
Dean stared at him. “You mean that it feels like a day because you’re really in love…”
“No, no. I mean a day as per in twenty-four hours,” Castiel replied seriously.
Well, that just beat it all. “You’re kidding me. A day? You can’t get married after a day!”
“Why not?”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not. I am absolutely serious.”
“You can’t marry someone after a day just because you’re in love!” Dean tried to reply, but Castiel just tilted his head at him for a second again, smiled that tiny smile of his and said yes, of course with such conviction that for a second Dean almost believed him.
Then he figured that in for a penny, in for a pound, and he followed Castiel into the park and bought him a kebab at some stand just because.
“I just don’t get how can you be in love with someone you barely even know,” Dean muttered as Castiel positively devoured the kebab.
“Oh, but I know his heart. And Dean, this is delicious. I have never tasted food such as this,” he said with a contented expression on his face.
At least.
“Turkish food always wins,” Dean muttered.
“Indeed. And, for how long did you know your Anna?”
“Oh. Uh. Two years?”
Castiel tilted his head at him while raising an eyebrow. “And you still haven’t proposed? Well, I can indeed believe she’s angry at you…” he said as he finished the kebab, and then Dean almost shouted because this guy dressed in black with a white cape selling popcorns, candy floss, sweets and basically kids’ stuff had fucking jumped in front of them while holding up a caramel apple.
“Oh, but look at you, sir, you just have the face of someone who needs a dessert, don’t you?” the guy asked in a pretty strong German accent that to Dean seemed kind of too German to be real.
“Well…” Castiel started, since the guy was obviously referring to him.
“I would be mostly happy to offer you a free one,” the guy kept on, “today is free caramel apple day and tomorrow will be free waffle day and…”
“Then it’s most kind of…” Castiel said while reaching out, but Dean’s instincts kicked in.
See, after his mother died in a house fire when he was four, he and his dad spent a lot of time travel ing around, mostly because his dad just didn’t seem able to find a place to actually settle, but that wasn’t the point. The point wasn’t even that Dean learned very, very soon that happily ever afters don’t really exist because when you live happily ever after your mother gets to see her grandchildren before she dies. The point was that his dad made sure to teach him a lot of things to keep himself safe from a very early age, and one, since they always moved around, was be fucking wary of strangers and never accept anything for free, especially if it’s food or a drink. And Dean had never even tried once to disobey that specific order and right now? That felt exactly like the occasion when you should just not trust someone.
He reached out and grabbed Castiel’s wrist before he could take the stick on which the apple was.
“Sorry, man, but free won’t cut it. Next time I’ll be glad to pay for one. Come on, let’s go,” he said before dragging Castiel away.
--
Bloody hell, Crowley thought, and then the goddamn chipmunk started moving in his pocket and fuck fuck fuck, he had goddamn bitten through his pants! Crowley let the apple fall, barely noticing that as soon as it touched the ground all the grass surrounding it died; he just caught the chipmunk and stored it in the popcorn holder as it squirmed.
Gabriel, on his side, was absolutely pissed with the turn of events, but at least he had managed to render the first apple useless and the guy who was with Castiel obviously wasn’t an idiot, at least; for now, it wasn’t even too bad. He figured he should just wait for a way out, and meanwhile he grabbed a popcorn and started to munch on it.
Mm. Delicious. This world had the great inconvenience of not allowing him to talk, but the food almost made up for it.
--
“Dean, why did you…”
“Listen, do you trust me?” Dean asked as he tried to get as far away from that creep as possible.
“Sure I do, but…”
“Then there’s a golden rule you should stick to while you’re here, and it’s never accept something for free. It’s usually some way to screw you later.”
“Well, if you say so…”
Dean just shrugged and hoped for Castiel that he did get it. “You know, uh, most normal people here, uh, before getting married, they date.”
“Date?” Castiel answered, tilting his head again, his expression screaming a failed to process this information all over. He sorta reminded Dean of those Vulcan people in the Star Trek movies, but he shut the thought out.
“Yeah. They… go out. To some special place. Like, I dunno, movies. A restaurant, a museum. The fucking park. They talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“About… about each other! What they like, what they dislike, stuff like that.”
“You have such strange customs regarding love,” Castiel said, sounding like he was mostly interested in figuring the puzzle out.
“Well, should we do like you do? Meet, go to lunch and marry?”
“Oh, you’re forgetting about the happily ever after,” Castiel answered seriously, and Dean wished he could believe him.
“Castiel, not to harsh your… enthusiasm, but the problem is that it doesn’t exist.”
“Of course it does, Dean! It does exist and good things do happen! It isn’t that hard as a concept, you know?”
“Yeah, and as I can safely say since is my job, most marriages are a success if they don’t end up in a divorce, without counting happiness.”
“And what about you and Anna? Won’t you… live happily ever after, I mean?”
Jesus, why did Castiel need to get there?
“I don’t know! I don’t even know if she’d want to see me after today!”
“But how could she, if you love each other?”
“That’s complicated!”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be! And anyway, does she even know?”
“Does she even know what?”
“How much you love her, of course!”
Dean found himself kind of unable to answer that. “Of… of course she does! I just, uh, I don’t talk about it every second, but…”
“And how would she know that?”
“Oh, come on, that’s such a stupid question, one…”
“Actually, that isn’t a stupid question at all, man.”
Dean jerked to his right and ended up face to face with a young guy wearing some weird kind of black robe over plain jeans and a flannel, with short black hair and a pretty open face and holding a book in a hand and what looked suspiciously like a joint in the other. Dean ignored the joint and squinted and looked at the title of the book. G. W. Hegel, The Science Of Logic. Oh, great. Now also Central Park’s philosophy students who went to study there instead of using some NYU library had to have a say, didn’t they?
“… what?”
“Dude, see this stuff? These people have spent centuries trying to understand that, among other things. And they didn’t get it, which probably meant they thought about it too much, but I thought ‘bout it too and I can assure you that you can’t take that for granted.”
“And who are you, sorry?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Andrew, you can call me Andy, whatever. You?”
“Er, hi. I’m Dean, he’s Castiel and we really should…”
“Oh, we shouldn’t,” Castiel said then, realizing he had an ally. “See, we weren’t exactly discussing that in a theoretical approach, but the point is that he really needs to show his beloved how much he really loves her and he keeps on saying that there’s no need and that she knows, but I am fairly sure that it isn’t that easy. Isn’t it?”
Andy shook his head and turned to Dean. “Dude, that’s a huge no. You like a girl, you gotta earn her to keep her with you. You can’t just assume that she’ll just believe that if you don’t remind her once in a while! You should show her you need her, it’s not like she reads your mind.”
“Exactly,” Castiel said with an air of triumph. Dean felt outnumbered.
“And what should I do, according to you two?”
“Duh, you could bring her dancing,” Andy said as he took a smoke, and Dean shook his head vehemently.
“I don’t dance!” he answered, and then goddammit, a girl who was sitting on the grass with a book too (Critique Of The Pure Reason, Immanuel Kant, Jesus) stood up and reached them.
“Well, you could dedicate her a song, maybe sing it to her.”
“That’d be a wise idea,” Castiel agreed, not even minding that she hadn’t been invited.
“I don’t sing either! And who are you by the way?”
“Oh, I’m Ava, me and Andy are in the same class. And I think that you don’t have much imagination here, pal.”
“What…”
“Dean, they’re right. I mean, you should at least hold her close when she’s near you, even if you do not dance, and you should find the words to tell her. I mean, she is probably asking herself how does she know you do love her, especially after this morning. You could... maybe send her flowers!”
“Oh, that’d have been so sweet,” Ava said, and then another five people from the open air studying class joined the party and started to throw out suggestions with Castiel more or less moderating the conversation, and did Dean ever think Castiel didn’t have social skills? Apparently discussing with philosophy students about how to really show the true meaning of love did work to develop them, duh.
The problem was that then some Jake guy decided to call his friend who didn’t study philosophy but rather English literature with a particular attention to goddamn Victorian era and that was how Dean ended up standing up like an idiot next to Castiel while thirty people planned how exactly he should win Anna’s affections back, and the fact that the guy who drove the bus and Jo’s mom ended up there too watching from afar wasn’t making him that much more comfortable.
“Alright, alright,” Castiel said soothingly at one point, “I guess that at this point we could decide how to act? We discussed the matter thoroughly, I believe.”
Everyone agreed and first thing Andy phoned to some cousin of his who had a friend who had a flower shop near the park; Castiel called the shop and started to describe which flowers they needed and how he wanted them arranged and if please he could reach them when he was done; then Ava noticed that there were two guys dressed like freaking eighteenth century courtesans selling tickets for some kind of themed masked ball and five minutes later Dean had spent fifty dollars on two tickets. Then the flower shop guy arrived bringing a goddamn heart shaped garland made of pink, pale roses. Dean thought it was sickeningly Hallmark, but everyone else was indeed satisfied with it and so after attaching the tickets to it, Dean blurted Anna’s work address so that they could deliver them now. Then he paid another twenty-five dollars and then his shoulders hurt because with all the pats on the back he received from half of the students of either the letters or the philosophy departments of NYU, it was a miracle they didn’t break any bone.
“Oh dear, I just hope it works,” he said when everyone was gone and he was left alone with Castiel, who was looking at him with something close to sympathy.
“I am sure it will,” he answered with such certainty that Dean couldn’t help believing him.
Three minutes later, his cell phone rang. Duh, that was fast delivery. Castiel nodded at Dean and Dean pressed the red button.
“Anna…?”
“Dean! Oh my God, did you send me the flowers?”
“Yes, I…”
“Oh, I loved them! Listen, can you head over here for a second? I just can’t believe it, they’re so beautiful!”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. See you in a few…” he said before closing the call and meeting Castiel’s knowing smirk. Dude. It really did work.
--
“These are just so exquisite. People usually send cards, but you went all the way to find real flowers and the color is just perfect and oh, Dean, thank you,” Anna said before slender, soft fingers wrapped around his neck; Dean brought his head down and kissed her softly, feeling so relieved that he couldn’t even say.
If Castiel was staring at the aquarium that Anna had in her very high class literary agent studio, whatever.
“And the tickets to that ball, too? It’s just… so not like you, you know?”
“But… you liked them right? I can… uh. Make an effort, y’know. And Anna, listen, about this morning…”
She looked at him expectantly before casting a glance in Castiel’s direction.
“Yes?”
“Okay, nothing happened. He just, he’s from Europe or something and got lost here without his visa or some crap like that and I gave him a hand yesterday evening, and then this morning he was getting out of the shower and I was asking him if he needed a lift to his embassy but there was water on the ground and he fell on me, but… that just wasn’t what it seemed, okay? I…”
“Dean,” she smiled as she nodded, “it’s alright. Also, considering how he was congratulating me earlier, I doubt that you’re lying here. And he didn’t seem like he was lying either. So… you said nothing happened, then nothing happened. All’s forgiven. And oh my God, a themed ball. It’s so romantic!”
Well, Dean thought, he did owe Castiel one.
“So, see you tomorrow night?” he asked, shooting her his best smile.
“Of course,” she answered as she kissed him again.
Today wasn’t going to end as bad as it started, or so it seemed.
--
“It appears that this odd little box is controlling that magic mirror,” Prince Sam said as he sat on the bed of a kind of cheap motel near the underground which was the closest to the park Crowley could find; and effectively, it did; right, Crowley knew that it was called a television and that it aired things that in this world were called movies and stuff, but…
Sam changed from some movie with knights at the crusades to the news where Crowley recognized the bus driver ranting about the chipmunk (who was currently locked in a popcorn leftover box) and then it ended up on some show where a nurse was apparently arguing with an hospital intern.
“Do you really have so little self-respect?” the nurse said, not looking impressed at all with the intern.
“I don’t need any self-respect,” the intern said, “I just need your lips against mine,” he kept on as he stood up to get close to the nurse. And then Sam changed channel, but what had aired had been enough to grasp Crowley’s attention.
“Sire! Please, get back on that one!” Crowley said, and Sam just shrugged and did. The camera was still set on the nurse.
“How could I love a man who doesn’t even like himself?” she asked scornfully. “You disgust me! You’re nothing like Dr. Sexy!”
“I can’t help my feelings!” the intern shouted, and Crowley was so wound up and so recognizing himself in that poor guy (well, see, Crowley did like himself just fine, but in comparison to such a bright star as Lucifer was, how could he even begin to compare?) he didn’t realize that the chipmunk had broken out of the box and was trying again to get Sam to understand Crowley’s plan.
“Oh, you think I’m handsome even when I sleep?” Sam asked, and as the chipmunk positively seemed to be considering suicide, Crowley took the occasion and locked him in the closet before sighing and deciding to go and end this whole mess.
“Sire, I will be out for some air,” he said straightening his velvet black suit before turning to Sam again. “Sire, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like yourself?”
“What’s not to like?” Sam answered cheerfully, and Crowley sighed again and closed the door, wondering if killing Castiel would really make Lucifer notice him that way, or maybe accept his attentions.
--
How stupid could someone be? Or lovesick, whatever?
A lot, apparently, and Gabriel was sure that his sufferings weren’t over.
Goddammit, he thought as he planned his escape from the closet; that idiot didn’t realize that there were a few good five inches between the closet’s door and the floor. He sighed and got out of it, straight out of the window. He surely wasn’t going to ask Sam for help on this. He was going to do this on his own. Surely after five years Castiel would understand him even if he couldn’t talk, right?
And considering that Crowley probably had Castiel’s location, he set on following him.
--
The pizza was the least he could do, really, or so that was what Dean kept telling himself as he and Castiel sat at a table in this small Italian place he knew. After all he did help him with Anna and really, what was a pizza?
Nothing.
Just a pizza.
And the place was warm and the atmosphere comfortable and Castiel seemed to like the opera that the restaurant kindly provided, so…
Castiel suddenly stopped taking small bites from his piece of mushrooms pizza and blue eyes met Dean’s, deep and intent and staring and he felt himself flush.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure thing,” Dean answered as he picked up a piece of his own.
“This is a… a very nice place.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re having dinner.”
“Yes…?”
“So, is this a date?”
“Ye… no! No, this is just… just a friendly thing. Between friends. Yes. Also, usually people don’t bring their kids on dates,” Dean added as he nodded towards another table’s direction where Ben was intently talking with another couple of kids. Another reason this was a cool place: if you came with kids they could just all go eating together and socialize or shit, even if Ben didn’t seem too impressed with whatever the other kid was blathering about.
“He’s such a nice kid,” Castiel murmured as he took another bite, and Dean couldn’t help smiling.
“Yeah. He is.”
“Does… does he miss his mother?” Castiel asked with the face of someone who had an idea that he wasn’t asking appropriate questions.
Dean sighed and suddenly didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
“I… well, it’s a difficult question. I usually don’t talk about it. But… it could have been one of your dreams come true kinda stories, except that it wasn’t.”
“What… what happened?”
Dean sighed, wondering if he should refuse. Then again, he hadn’t talked about Lisa with anyone in years and he hadn’t talked about Cassie ever, so… maybe it could help. Who knew.
“Well, he isn’t… technically mine. See, me and Lisa, we were together in college while doing pre-law. She was just great and we had hit off so well, and we had been together for six months when she lost her scholarship and had to go back to her town somewhere in Indiana. I wanted to help her back then but my dad had died a couple years before and I was on a scolarship too, so... it kind of ended there. We lost contact and we didn’t see each other for three years, and then one day I bump into her on the street and she had this two-months old kid on a stroller and we go to catch up and have coffee and she says that she had met this guy who fled as soon as she got pregnant. We said we should see each other again sometime, maybe she could leave the baby with her roommate, and we ended up kissing and stuff and well, we still…”
“You were still in love, right?”
“Yeah. She didn’t want to re-start things though, I mean, she thought that she couldn’t do it with a baby in the picture, but I told her it was okay and that well, that wasn’t exactly the way I thought I’d have a kid but I didn’t care. He was great back then too, anyway. I spent four years trying to convince her that I’d have been glad to give him my surname if she wanted, hell, I wanted it, but she always refused for some reason. But we were great together, you know? It was… it was a fucking fairytale.”
“What… what happened?”
“She died in a car accident when Ben was four and something. At that point I… I already switched for being a divorce attorney, it brought more money in, and I was damn glad I did because otherwise it’d have been way harder. He… he remembers her, I know for sure, but talking about her hurts. Also because her family wasn’t talking to her because she had a baby outside marriage and…”
“That’s just so wrong.”
“Yeah, it is. Don’t you tell me. Anyway, I met Cassie a year later or so. And she was great, too. She was smart, she liked me, we hit off pretty well, we had great sex, and she sort of didn’t seem to mind that I was a goddamn single father or whatever. This until after a year of dating. I asked her if she might want to move in, not even marry or stuff, and… well, she just said that I was asking too much of her and she wasn’t going to be the stepmother of a kid who didn’t even have my surname. That kind of… you know. It was a blow. And I fear… I just, I dunno, but sometimes he, Ben I mean, he behaves more like an adult than he should and it might be because I didn’t even try to hide from him how much the world sucks, but still. I just don’t want him to have a life like mine.”
“What would be wrong with you?” Castiel asked, momentarily forgetting his dinner.
Dean could only snort. “I lost my mother when I was four, too. My dad, after that he moved around a lot and we settled somewhere just when I was twelve or so. And he, he died in another accident the year I graduated from high school. And after my mom died he really wasn’t the same. It was… lonely. And he did his best, I know that, but Ben is a good kid and I might do as much as I can but I want him to have someone else beside me. And hey, I might earn good money, but it took me another two years to work the courage to propose Anna, I hate my job and even if between me and her things go fine it just… it isn’t like it was with Lisa, but it’s okay. I made peace with it. I just want him to know it doesn’t always end well. Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear any of this.”
“That would be a wrong assumption, since I was the one asking you first.”
And then Castiel’s hand which wasn’t holding the piece of pizza slowly reached forward and covered Dean’s free one and by all means, Dean should have put a stop to it, but that slow squeeze Castiel gave felt warm and intimate and safe and he hadn’t felt like that since Lisa, and lately he could barely bring himself to remember how it was with her.
“I think that you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You have done great, from what I see. And who knows, never say that good things don’t happen. They just might,” Castiel finished before taking the hand away, and Dean suddenly felt cold.
What the fuck?
He didn’t have time to think about it because then the waiter, who had an extremely heavy Italian accent which screamed fake to Dean, and it was strange because as far as Dean knew the only person here who was really Italian was the owner who never served the tables, came to offer Castiel a free apple martini.
Castiel started refusing, saying that he really didn’t accept free things, and Dean was glad that at least that stuck, but as the waiter insisted, Hell broke loose.
Because a fucking chipmunk knocked the glass down and then he started to squeal on the table in front of Castiel and Dean let out half a scream because dammit, chipmunks bring diseases, but then Castiel seemed delighted or something, started calling the chipmunk Gabriel and what, he started talking about Sam and asking if he was there, and meanwhile most people were screaming and the kids’ table was making even more of a mess because everyone wanted to see the chipmunk and Dean just dragged Ben to his side. He was seriously freaking out, especially because Castiel wasn’t freaking out, but then the waiter picked the plate up and sent it straight into the brick oven, even if Dean was sure that the chipmunk had kind of jumped out of it before.
He didn’t care though, and as people called 911 and Castiel called for Gabriel and Ben looked at him silently demanding an answer, he ran out of the restaurant with them both not noticing how exactly the waiter was glaring at the chipmunk, who had ended up stuck in an empty bottle of fifty-year-old wine that was on display near the oven.
As you probably all imagined, Gabriel was indeed pissed with the turn of events, but at least he had managed to steal some pizza before and well, the food in this foul place was indeed excellent. Now he just needed to find some way to avoid the disaster for the third time. Considering that he was currently stuck in a bottle, that was going to be a problem, but he had managed up to this point, he was going to manage now.
--
Meanwhile, prince Sam had been staying in the motel room, quite enchanted with the magic mirror otherwise known as television; after finishing that Dr. Sexy show which Crowley had seemed to like so much but which, to him, didn’t really say much, he had started going through the wonder that peasants would call channel surfing. Right now, though, he felt like he had to take decisions and act; after all, what kind of prince he was if he couldn’t find his beloved in two days? A lousy one, that was the answer, and Sam didn’t accept such a word in his vocabulary.
He sprawled on the bed, deciding that American Idol was not going to be the answer to his questions.
“Tell me, magic mirror, what is this place? Why is it so difficult? And will I ever find my true love again?” he asked, in real anguish, and with good reason since he had wished for one so much and having him taken away after twelve hours wasn’t something he could accept. Sam, after all, just wanted his happily ever after while keeping on slaughtering monsters; certainly it wasn’t too hard a wish to grant, right?
And so he changed channel, ending up on the local news.
“… and joining us today, is the man who was actually attacked by the insane rodent…”
And then yes, suddenly, the magic box showed him…
“Castiel!” Sam screamed in joy as he saw his beloved being interviewed on the screen.
“Tell us, how does it feel knowing that this dangerous animal is most likely still alive?”
Castiel just tilted his head at her.
“Oh. I am very happy to know that. See, Gabriel is a friend of mine and…”
Sam didn’t really know why someone ended up dragging Castiel away, but that wasn’t really the point. He was going to kill that someone shortly, anyway. The point was that he just needed a bit more of information.
“Magic mirror, please, tell me, where can I find him?”
“… reporting from 116th, Broadway…”
“116th Broadway! Thanks, magic mirror!” Sam exclaimed, and then ran out of the motel room with a destination in mind. He was really happy for that, also because the underground passing every five minutes was being mostly annoying.
--
Sam reached his destination in a short amount of time, but he hadn’t imagined that the palace where his beloved was held prisoner would have such queer architecture; every floor was divided in two and in every half there were six apartments, and all on six floors.
Sam sighed and set down straight for the first door, knocking boldly and sure; a woman with four children opened and then shook her head.
“Sorry, charming. You were too late.”
“My apologies,” Sam said sincerely as she closed the door. He wished he could help her, but he couldn’t, and he set for the next door.
After some strange person with a strange cat, a dog which barked so loudly that he didn’t even try the door, a man who looked at him in a pretty strange way and who definitely was not as nice as Castiel was and a whole lot of other interesting characters, Sam was at the fifth floor and he couldn’t help collapsing in a corner, exhausted. Castiel was probably being held prisoner on the last one, but for now he was too tired and he needed all of his strength to fight his beloved’s captors. He sighed and set on waiting until morning before resuming his quest, and meanwhile he would sleep for a short while.
--
“So wait, you knew that chipmunk?” Ben asked still looking at Castiel like he didn’t know if he should believe it or not, as they stood in Ben’s room waiting for Dean to get out of the bathroom.
“Sure I did. He has been living with me for five years! Well, I found him by the side of the road with a broken leg back then, I took care of him and then he never really left. He always says that I should quit with all the true love business, but he really doesn’t mean it. He just pretends he’s above that, but he isn’t. He probably also likes the nuts I get him too much to complain.”
“So he talks?”
“Where I come from? Yes, he does. I fear he does not here, but then again this place is different from Heaven.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Dean said, getting out of the bathroom, a bathrobe still wrapped around him. “Were you talking about the chipmunk? Wait. I don’t wanna know. Really.”
Castiel shook his head even if he did feel some weird fondness and Ben just looked at his dad like he should grow a sense of humor even if he already had one before thanking Castiel for the talk and head into the bed. Castiel wondered why did he have a black poster with ACDC written on over it, but he figured it was some of this real world’s customs.
“Hey, listen…” Dean asked as they reached the living room where Castiel had arranged a pillow for the sofa, “I just wanted to say, if you ever decide to stay in New York, I could give you a hand. Just so you know.”
Castiel nodded, feeling warm at having such kindness directed at him; but that was not an option.
“Thank you, but I am pretty sure I will not. Sam is…”
“Coming? Well, it doesn’t seem to me like he is. Why, you think he is because the… the chipmunk told you?”
“Of course. What a question.”
“Right, because chipmunks talk.”
“Well, in this world it seems like they do not, but I’m positive that he is coming.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“He is! Why are you just keeping on asking it?” Castiel asked standing up, feeling way, way uneasy; suddenly Dean’s borrowed clothes for sleeping seemed too large and too warm and too constricting.
“Because I hate to break it to you, but I see that everyday and sometimes it doesn’t happen!”
“Oh, so you think he isn’t?” Castiel shouted at him, a strange sensation making him see red.
“No!”
“Is that everything you know how to say? No, no and no?”
“No! … well…”
“See, it’s always no! You’re always saying no to yourself, too! How can you ever think that you’ll accomplish something good when all you can think about is no? Oh, damn, you make me so… so angry!” he finished before suddenly bringing a hand to his lips.
Anger. This was anger. This must be anger. He had never felt like this in his life. He had known only happiness and sadness, but never this. Never anger. And suddenly it felt… it felt good.
“Castiel… Cas? Are you okay?”
“No… I mean, yes, I’m… I’m angry, but… I’m…”
And then he smiled a tiny smile, realizing that being angry felt… felt good. Different. But good. Like, a different kind of good, and it wasn’t exactly right that Dean should make him like this, should make him feel things he never had, and…
“… how did you call me?”
“Uh, what… oh. The… the Cas bit? It… it just came. I don’t know. We usually do it here when uh, you know someone, you shorten the name, it’s… sort of… showing that you care on a more personal level or… something,” Dean muttered, and he did look embarrassed, and way out of his element, and he was looking at Castiel with two huge, green eyes that seemed way younger than they were.
“I… I think I like it. I’m… sorry. I didn’t want to lash at… it’s alright. I’m fine,” Castiel murmured for an answer, his hand reaching for a part of Dean’s shoulder which was left bare by the bathrobe, squeezing it slightly, and why did it felt like he was closer to Dean like this than… than with everyone else he thought he had been close to? He raised his head a bit, staring at Dean’s slightly parted lips which let out a sigh just then, and their stare met for a second before Dean muttered something about needing to get some sleep and then ran out from the room.
Without his skin under Castiel’s fingertips, his hands felt cold. And oh, if only it was just that, but in that second Castiel had wanted to…
He had wanted to…
He shook his head, forcing himself not to think about it. He just needed some sleep and he was tired. Yes. It had to be that. And if Dean had looked at him like he maybe wanted to kiss Castiel too, well, he was going to ignore that. He just was.
--
Dean woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes; he got into the kitchen, still thinking about that weird moment between him and Castiel last evening, a moment which he should kind of not be thinking about, and then he couldn’t help half-smiling at the sight of Castiel slowly pouring coffee into a mug while Ben was positively devouring pancakes which Dean wasn’t sure he had bought recently. Hell, he hadn’t gone for groceries in four days or so.
“Uh, hi. You… you made breakfast?” he asked as he wrapped his bathrobe tighter around his waist (well, yes, he totally had not even changed into pajamas last night…). Castiel nodded and said something about pancakes not really being hard to cook when suddenly a completely foreign voice boomed from the living room. How did someone even get into the living room?
“Castiel!” it said, or better, the male owner of that voice said, “I’m here to rescue you! Are you still here…?”
And then Castiel suddenly blushed and started to straighten his made-of-curtains suit.
“Oh my. Oh my goodness. It’s Sam, he’s here, oh, I… Dean! How… how do I look?”
“What…?”
“How do I look?” Castiel asked frantically, and well, what could Dean say when he was staring at him with those incredibly huge eyes, those parted pink lips, and when that suit just fit him so well?
“You look great,” he muttered in response, and then Castiel nodded at him with a tiny smile and flung himself into the other room; Dean nodded at Ben and they both went to stay at the entrance of the room.
And… oh.
Prince Sam was indeed a sight. Freakishly tall, at least six feet and something, but it was the right kind of height for someone wearing all that red and golden velvet with a damn sword on his side and looking just so… so… so much like a prince. He had picked Castiel up like he weighed nothing and they were spinning around the room risking to break something, but Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight: they just looked glowing, happy, like two people in love from a goddamn fairytale, and Sam had such a charming smile, dimpled even. How could it possibly…
Dean shook his head and even if he was happy for them, his living room wouldn’t appreciate a fairytale hurricane sweeping through it.
“Hey, uh, pal, I’m definitely happy for you, but could you… pay attention?”
Sam turned towards him and uh, that was so not a friendly stare.
“You were the one who kept him prisoner?”
And that was how Dean found himself pressed against the wall, in his bathrobe, with a sword to his neck and thankfully Castiel was between them and Ben, at least.
“I will give you some last words before I dispatch you, if you wish so.”
“Oh, dude, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean said shaking his head. No man should die in his bathrobe.
“… strange last words, but that’s your choice,” Sam shrugged, ready to strike, and Dean was very, very relieved when Castiel screamed no fast enough to stop Sam from slaughtering him on the spot.
“Wait, wait. There is a… misunderstanding. They helped me, they weren’t… holding me prisoner,” Castiel said, and Sam just looked at him and put his sword back in place.
“Oh, then sorry about… that. You know. These were two very long days.”
“Don’t you tell me,” Dean muttered as he left the wall.
“Anyway. Sam, this is Dean and he’s Ben. And, this is Sam.”
Dean nodded at him and well, if Ben started rambling about how cool Sam’s sword was, he wasn’t going to interrupt the moment.
After all, the sword… was pretty cool indeed.
And if after Sam had finished the explaining to Ben he and Castiel shared a soft kiss, who was Dean to say anything?
--
“So, this is… it, right?” Dean asked, Ben standing a bit behind him; Castiel had said goodbye to him before and now they were uncomfortably staring at each other.
“Yes,” Castiel answered softly. “I believe that I will ask Sam if we might go on a date before heading back to Heaven, but… we will go, yes.”
“Then… then the best of luck to you both,” Dean said trying not to let disappointment show in his voice. “If… uh, some six months from now you feel like passing by… we could all meet and have hot chocolate in Central Park. I’m saying six months because it’s winter and… it’s a whole other thing when there’s snow. It’s… kind of awesome.”
“That… that would be great. And… if you ever feel like going through that drain, you could always come visit. In Heaven.”
“Yeah. Sure thing,” Dean answered, perfectly aware that they both knew that Dean wasn’t ever going to set foot in Heaven and that Castiel was never going to be back here, alone or not.
“Then… then good luck, Cas. Also for the date,” Dean whispered then.
“Good luck to you with Anna,” Castiel said, and then nodded before leaving with Sam. Dean could faintly hear Sam asking what a date was as they left, even if he thanked Dean for taking care of his beloved before they went. Dean didn’t even mind being called peasant that much, considering the sword and the rest.
Then he looked down and saw that Ben looked… melancholy to say the least.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand ruffling Ben’s hair.
“Nothing. I just… I think I’ll miss him.”
“Yeah. Me… me too,” Dean answered, and if he felt himself choking, he just was going to ignore it.
He should try to get mentally ready for the ball with Anna that night instead.
Part III.