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Take a Look at You

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Take a Look at You


Dean was walking on his way home after finishing up some studying after normal school hours. It was getting closer to the end of this school year, and then he’d be reaching his final year, he liked to be prepared. Having finished his homework before each class had released for the next, he had nothing to worry about when he got home. Some may call him a nerd for this, and most of the time he wore this title proudly, as the Winchester’s did; Dean, the eldest, was an absolute nerd, and Sam, the youngest, a total geek.

Their parents, strong willed and open minded of the future, wanted the best for both of them and always encouraged them to do their best, tried to provide them with the best. And the moment, in their own time, that either of them showed a real knack for this or that, they honed it.

Sam was one for a passion of math and science and theory. He was doing well in all classes, of course, but those were perhaps his favorites. Dean, however, leaned more towards a very worthy knowledge of history and literature; anything that involved research and reading, that he could hunt down the answers to, it was a gift and even fun for him, though he still did well in all others, too.

But that was Dean’s way. He sought to do his best, for the simple joy of both getting it right, and knowing the truth out there, but there was a joy in seeking it out, too. He was a curious young man, and had a passion for searching through each curiosity for answers. It just so happened to be his greatest asset, scholastically.

And that, he was more proud of. Others may label it and define it down to a singular word, nerd, but to him it was so much more of who he was. Even outside of academia, it persisted; vast series, no matter if they were historical, famously renowned, or current popular favorites, he loved delving into the stories and analyzing here and there; the theories he had for the likes of Harry Potter and his adventures, or the opinions over Edger Allen Poe’s history.

If people wanted to label such passion and joy for knowledge and understand it as ‘nerd’, than, well, that was what he was, Dean supposed.

And currently, that nerd was making his way home that usually led him by the book store, even if it took him a slightly longer route home. Perhaps he should stop by, pop in? He had been working hard, perhaps he deserved new book. Or perhaps there were some, still at home and unfinished, he should treat himself to.

Just as he was walking the sidewalk, about to make the turn that would lead him to that solitary but popular store, he heard a honk across the crossroads of the street. Heart dropping at the thought of it sounding like an impending crash, his head shot up to spot it was thankfully not that. But it did seem a case of unwarranted road rage, as he saw another in his late teens, jumping back off the sidewalk, seemingly painfully, while an older balding man in a suit in his car was shaking his fist and spitting remarks about watching where he was going.

As the car turned and took off once more, Dean let his judgment of the jerk go, and focused on the other boy who was now trying to make his way across the road he’d originally been attempting to trek. He looked, to Dean, a bit unusual, or at least, uncommon … He didn’t see many people that looked like this guy. He gave off the look of some typical tatt’d punk rocker kid or something. Black brown hair whose tips were dyed, currently, blue though as the light gleamed down on the strands, it seemed to Dean they may have been other colors in the past. Obviously marked along the arms, seemingly the neck, and more than likely other places by tattoos. He had piercings as well, but more just a few in his ears, and matching ones on his nose. His clothes were dark but colored, not all just shades of black. He were black boots, almost seemingly a size too big, torn black jeans either lightly colored or maybe streaked by paint, a dark red perhaps leather (?) jacket tied around his waist with a short sleeve black tank-top showing off his tattoos…and a few bruises, too.

Dean shook his head, done observing the unique look of this guy from afar after spotting the bruises, and then he noticed that, though some of the tears in the jeans might’ve been on purpose, most of the biggest ones on one side of one of the legs seemed to be an accident…and bleeding…and he was limping. Concerned, Dean looked to him, seeing the permanent scowl look, the guy was obviously NOT in a good mood, and Dean considered that it may not be his business, this guy may not be one to mess with, and perhaps he should continue on to the bookstore.

But part of what gave Dean his learning passion, was a human passion as well. A heart that couldn’t walk idly on. So, swallowing down his hesitance and fear of how this guy might react, Dean hurried over across the street, walking up behind him and making his way closer.

He walked for nearly a whole two minutes, working up the courage to address this guy. It was when the other guy stopped for a moment, hissing, his leg obviously hurting him, and Dean considering that if he was going to offer him help like he thought he should, then it might be best to do it now, before they get too far away from the direction his house was. Just as the guy picked up his feet again, Dean cleared his throat and picked up his pace.

“H-hey..! Excuse me..” he called carefully.

The other guy barely glanced at first, shooting Dean a look once he realized the call for attention came from behind him, and as he looked around and saw there was no one else Dean could be referring to, he slowed and turned to face Dean, making Dean stop abruptly.

“…Are you talking to me?” the other guy asked, around Dean’s age yet with a deeper voice than Dean would’ve imagined him to have.

Dean cleared his throat, taking a step closer and nodding. “Yeah. I just noticed…your pants—I mean, your leg… Are you okay?”

The other boy looked away, obviously not liking such being noticed and questioned. He looked back to Dean with a bitter smile on his chapped lips. “I’m fine. Just peachy.”

“…Are you sure? I mean, I can’t entirely tell through the denim, but that looks kinda bad.” Dean assessed, raising a questioning brow.

“What’s it to you?” the other boy faced Dean completely, crossing his arms and Dean almost wondered if it was a learned act of intimidation, because it almost did intimidate him; it showed the muscle in his biceps while making a show of his tattoos; wings, feathers, weird symbols, some weapons here and there, too. “Trying to earn some neighborhood kindness achievement or something?”

Dean straightened up, put off by the assumption and attitude when he was only offering to help. He was tempted to just say never mind and turn his back on this jerk. But he’d seen real, true jerks before, and he’d seen guys like this. Guys who got shoved around, and learned to just be shitty back, for whatever protection they thought it provided them. Kept them alone, but kept them usually unharmed, too.

Dean wasn’t going to be deterred that easily.

“I already have that achievement, no point in striving for another one.” He retorted wittily. “And it’s nothing to me, really, I just…noticed you seemed to be hurt, and thought I could offer some help. My mom taught me how to use the first aid kit at home when I was younger, and I’ve patched up my brother and myself before after…over-zealous accidents. But if you’d rather keep walking however far it is that you have to go, feel free, I won’t stop you. But my house is just another corner and two houses down this way.” He nodded behind him and to the left.

The other guy stared at him, obviously trying to assess him, questioning his motives and what Dean could gain from this. It made Dean sympathetic, but he didn’t show it currently.

“…You don’t even know me, dude.” The other guy finally said. “I could be some hobo, waiting for the moment to steal some poor, Good Samaritans crap the moment they feel pity for me.”

Dean shrugged. “Then maybe I’m poor and stupid and still willing to offer. You may be right, because I don’t…recognize you at all, though I assume you go to my school?”

The other guy just gave him a look that said ‘What do you think?’, but said nothing.

“But I don’t know if our stuff will fit your style enough to want to steal, so, might as well see, huh?” Dean shrugged.

The other guy scoffed, shaking his head.

Dean just sighed, shrugging again, hands rising up before dropping them. “Look, dude… I just want to help. Because whether you can personally believe it or not, that’s the kind of person I am…that I was raised to be. If you don’t want help, and you want to deal on your own, the just feel free to say, ‘No thanks, I got this handled, buzz off’. But…if you’re willing, then I could at least bandage your leg for you after treating it a little, and give you some extra bandages.. Something to prevent infection, too, maybe… Ice for…the, uh, bruises… Whatever.” Dean shrugged.

He noticed the other guys jaw tighten, and his face seemed heavy for a moment, as if emotions had suddenly flooded him and he was trying to shove it away, to keep it withheld at least. He took a breath and sighed, staring at Dean a little longer, before he shrugged, too. “…Bandages… I’ve managed bruises before, I don’t need ice…”

Dean felt a leap in his stomach, and he smiled smally and nodded. “Alright, follow me.” He told him, turning and leading the way back to his house.

As they walked, they didn’t talk. It was honestly very quiet and uneventful, and sometimes Dean had to glance back on the way to make sure the other guy was still following along because he still kept some distance behind. But he kept following.

He did notice, though, some muttering across the street on the other sidewalk. A group of boys, boys Dean was pretty sure were family of some avid church goers. They weren’t pointing or talking about him, but he could tell they were certainly pointing at the other guy and talking about him. And he seemed to be doing his best to ignore them, jaw tight, obviously used to this.

They were laughing, seemingly at his wound, and sounded as if they might be gossiping over how it happened. Which just sat Dean’s blood somewhat boiling…wondering if they were the ones that did it, or were friends with them, perhaps? Bullies were bad enough, but bullies who hid behind self-righteousness and bathed in hypocrisy made Dean feel more violent than he naturally was.

They turned the corner of the sidewalk, and passing two front lawns, they finally turned onto a noticeable but not pronounced path up to Dean’s front door. His house was pretty decent. Not the best of the neighborhood, but he knew he lived well. He glanced to the other guy as he reached the door. “So, yeah, um…here’s me.” He commented, opening the door and allowing him in.

The guy entered slowly, carefully, eyes flicking as if he were waiting for people to spill out of the woodwork. But the house was silent, and seemingly empty, and he looked to Dean with a raised brow. “Where this health-conscious mom and accident prone brother you spoke of? I’m assuming you have family around…?”

“Dad’s still working up at the shop. My brother just won some achievement at school, so I’m pretty sure mom took him to his favorite candy store (he tries to be health conscious, but he has his weaknesses—plus I’m pretty sure he has a crush on one of the employees there).” Dean explained.

The guy was surprised at him sharing so much, but he just continued looking around. “…Nice place…nice home…”

“Yeah, I know—we live pretty good, so I must seem like one of those uptight pricks around here.” Dean said, more offhand because he was still functioning under the ‘throw dismissive sarcasm to battle this guys defensive judging comments’, as he made his way down a hall to the bathroom.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that, just…” the guy tried to call after him, trying to explained, before sighing and shaking his head. “Just…whatever…”

After some noise of rattling around the bathroom, Dean came out carrying the first aid kit, looking to the other guy with a raised brow. “…So you don’t judge me as being like some of the uptight pricks around here?”

The guy stared at him, looking him over, before straightening up a little. “No... I think I’ve probably judged you enough from before…”

Dean gave a bit of a smile, before nodding towards the couch and leading him over, the guy following, until they sat down and Dean started pulling everything he needed out of the kit.

Amidst his task, with the silence dragging, the other guy apparently felt the need to fill the silence.

“And what about your judgments, then…?”

Dean was taken off-guard, confused, so he looked up. “..Come again?”

The guy stared at him, almost giving a humored smile, before gesturing to himself. “…Come on. Like you don’t have SOME thoughts, everyone in this town does. Kid my age, all tatt’d, piercings, hair dye. Probably a runaway or trouble maker. You don’t seem to know my family background, but then again you might just be waiting for your chance to pull an epic prank over THAT detail, if you do know…” he lowered his gaze.

Dean was very confused about that last part, but he shook his head. “…Well, for one, I don’t know your age. For another, apart from the natural questions of what each tattoo means, and the usual curiosity of ‘damn does that hurt’ and ‘what kind of person do I gotta be to want to endure that or even manage to pull that off’, I haven’t thought much of it. I don’t…see anything really that wrong with…anything you gestured to. Sure, society still doesn’t accept any of that like it should, and not everyone has tattoos or piercings, or colored hair, but it’s not really a rarity either anymore. Self-expression…just as much self-expression as me wearing a star trek shirt or something. You aren’t hurting anybody. Hell, my parents have tattoos. Only a few, but they still have them, for memories, reminders, symbolism, stuff like that…” Dean looked him over, really looking at him. The scowl had mostly faded, and he saw something more than the attitude, or the hurt gaze. Something deeper in this guy’s eyes, and his eyes, wow. The deepest blue Dean had ever seen. Deep eyes that seemed both too old and too young. Chapped lips that mirror each other’s shape, lightly parted… Brows pulled in some sort of emotion Dean couldn’t pinpoint… He saw nothing wrong. “I have nothing to judge. Especially because, apart from your sense of very cool style, and the fact that you must have SOME degree of problems due to your injuries, I know nothing about you. Not even your name.”

The guy just stared him down, almost faintly amazed by him it seemed. He quirked his head lightly, just…considering Dean in silence, before shaking his head lightly and looking down at his hands, which were picking at his nails (which were painted black, though seemed to reflect iridescently). Then he looked back to Dean. “Castiel.”


“My name. It’s…Castiel. Most people that knew me and didn’t have the patience to use the full name, christened my nickname to be Cas, so if you’d prefer that…”

“Oh…” Dean nodded, surprised. It was an unusual and…kind of beautiful name. Sounded…sort of ancient, he could’ve sworn maybe even angelic. As ironically as his mother was NOT of any traditional religious belief, technically, she enjoyed religious mythologies, and she used to tell stories of angels like bedtime stories. “…It’s a nice name, Castiel.”

Castiel just laughed, looking at Dean as if he doubted his sincerity, but the longer he stared at Dean, he seemed to slowly believe it.

With a brief few more seconds of silence, Dean straightened up. “Okay, so…you’ll either have to pull the leg of your pants up, or change into some shorts I could give you. Or if you want to give it an even cooler look, you could cut the side open.” He offered with a teasing smirk.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but he seemed to be smirking a little, too. He started tugging up the pants leg, wincing a bit at the process, before finally working up to his knee, leaving the wounded area perfectly uncovered, as it didn’t go higher than the knee.

Dean bit his lip. “…Might have to dab and stuff at it with alcohol… You okay with that?”

Castiel just shrugged. “Whatever you need to do..”

Dean nodded, and got some cloth, dabbing it with some alcohol as he looked over the wound, to Cas, back to the wound, and back to Cas again. “…Is it rude of me to ask how it happened…?”

“Not rude exactly, no. Not sure I’m up for talking about it, though…” he stated, then hissed, jerking away originally as Dean gave the first dab. As Dean sputtered his apologies, Castiel just shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s fine… Just..wasn’t as prepared as I thought for the pain, I guess.”

Dean nodded, still hesitating, but then he just proceeded to dab carefully but continuously from top to bottom, keep up despite Castiel’s hisses, winces, or noises of discomfort. By the end of it, the cloth was decently red, but most of Castiel’s wound seemed to have clotted over, and Dean didn’t feel up to rubbing too roughly to get all of it away.

Once that was finished, he looked back into the kit. Huge Band-Aids weren’t going to work, because the sticky bits would be on some of the cuts and scrapes. So he reasoned he could just take some of the clothe from the kit, fold it to the right size to cover it all and cover the side that would lay against his wounds with antibacterial stuff, before he’d wrap it up with bandages.

He pulled out all the right stuff, and set to work, folding the cloth to the right shape. As he did so, Castiel seemed to glance around the room, curiously, with nothing else to currently do. Eventually, he looked back to Dean, considering him a moment.

Then he asked in a surprisingly soft voice, “…So you…really don’t know who I am…?”

Dean looked up for a quick moment, raising a brow. “..I, uh, don’t mean to be rude, but…should I?”

“If you listen to neighborhood gossip, or even school gossip, then yeah.” Castiel scoffed a laugh.

“Well, there’s the answer. I don’t listen to gossip, especially when it sounds like kind of shitty conversation.” Dean told him.

Castiel’s lip quirked at the edge, and he stared at Dean a moment. “…That’s kind of a relief, you not knowing, and yet now part of me wants to self-sabotage and tell you…”

“I mean…I won’t stop you, but you don’t have to tell, and…why would it be self-sabotage?” he asked, as he finished covering the cloth, then he was carefully laying it over his leg again. He pressed it, carefully, and Castiel seemed to try his best to contain his wince.

“Because usually, when you come from a religious family that’s very devote and known around here, and denounce belief in solely Christian belief, and they practically disown you, it gives you a shitty reputation.” Castiel stated roughly, though more rough because of bit of pain, but he calmed.

Dean stared for a moment, before catching on at least to the family. “…Are you saying you’re one of the Novak kids?”

“Shurley-Novak, technically, but my mother advertises the church with her last name more often…. But yeah.”

Dean stared. “Well, I mean…I still haven’t heard about you and…what happened with you, before, but.. Wow.”

“Make sense now?” Castiel asked, gesturing to himself.

Dean hesitated to answer, using the bandages to wrap up the cloth and keep it in place, around and around Castiel’s side of his calf before he tied it off at the top. Then he looked to Cas. “I mean…I guess I see what led others to…I guess do this to you out of judgment? And why you’re so defensive and stand-offish. But to say it makes sense is to imply it’s okay, and that’s not okay… You shouldn’t be treated like shit for having a different belief.”

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“I do.” Dean didn’t hesitate to say, sitting up a bit straighter.

Castiel just shook his head, staring at Dean.


Castiel shook his head a little more, then shrugged. “Nothing, just… Seems like the moment I give up looking for someone who won’t…judge me, won’t mistreat me for who I seem to be, someone suddenly pops up, and you’re just…almost unbelievable.”

“…Feel free to pinch me, I’m real.” Dean teased, laughing.

Castiel smirked a little. “…You don’t find me…weird or questionable, or like some problem child?”

Dean shrugged and shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know much more about you than what you’ve shared so far. But, I get the feeling there’s someone reasonable, and cool, and interesting underneath everything you’ve got guarding you.” He assessed.

Castiel sighed and brushed his pants leg back down, carefully. Dean proceeded to get some extra cloth, anti-bacterial stuff, and bandages to wrap his leg with, and hand them all over.

“So… There you are.” Dean shrugged.

Castiel nodded, nipping his lower lip. “…Thank you…” he looked at him then, almost smirking. “…You never told me your name.”

“Oh.” Dean had just realized that as well. “Oh, yeah, um, Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, so you’re one of the Winchester’s, huh? Guess I should’ve gathered…” he scoffed a laugh.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means the few times I go to school (which is just enough to get work done and avoid tardiness, and thankfully I have at least one teacher that understands my situation and lets me off the hook or vouches for me), you’re one of those students I hear the teachers trying to compare other students to; the teaching staff loves you guys.” Castiel stated.

Dean blushed and shrugged. “We’re just…good at the scholastic stuff. But wait…so you do go to my school?”

Castiel nodded. “I don’t really stick around, sometimes I’m in an empty class, doing the homework after a brief summary paper from the teachers. I’ve had too many problems of shithead students distracting me, and provoking me to lash out, so, that was their best option beyond expelling me. Though, I don’t doubt that could come eventually.”

There was a sudden sound of the front door, and voices, and Castiel looked suddenly concerned, looking in the direction of the front door. Dean put a reassuring hand on his upper arm. “It’s just my mom and brother, it’s fine; they don’t bite.”

“I thought you hated twizzlers, Sam, why’d you buy a whole bag from the store?” came the amused voice of a woman.

“I thought Dean would like and appreciate them.” The voice of a younger boy sounded in response to her, only for the woman to laugh.

“Yeah, but you told the guy at the register that you loved them, when he said he enjoyed them for the taste and the ability to goof around with them.” The woman accused.

“I…I meant to say Dean..!”

“You’re a horrible liar, Sam.”

They came into the room then, their mother, glowing with motherly energy, looked very amused and on the verge of teasing, though that’s when she spotted their guest sitting with Dean. “Oh.. Hello.”

Castiel cleared his throat, seeming nervous, and Dean wondered why. Maybe he was uncomfortable around adults, afraid they might judge him.

The woman smiled, looking between Cas and Dean, just as Sam, a boy at the age of 14 and a half, was doing. Then she looked to Dean with a raised brow. “Dean, who’s your friend?”

“Oh, I.. He’s not… Well, I mean…” he looked to Cas, thinking that after this he’d probably just thank Dean appreciatively but ignore him, so could he really say they were friends? But no matter, he still at least answered about who he was. “This is, uh, Cas.”

“Cas?” she asked kindly, smiling to the young man in question.

Castiel nodded, swallowing. He sighed lightly through his nose. “Castiel Shurley-Novak. Um…hi. You, uh, have a lovely home.”

The woman gave him a warm smile and chuckled, though there was a flash of recognition in her eyes. “Well, thank you, Castiel. I’m Mary, this is Sam. It’s nice to meet you, I, uh…well, thanks to Sam’s occasion ‘sweet-tooth’, I believe I’ve come to know…one of your brothers?” she somewhat asked.

Castiel smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah, Gabriel. He’s probably their best employee, just because that’s about his dream job.”

“You’re Gabriel’s brother?” Sam asked, curiously. “Oh, and, uh, here Dean.” His little brother brought over the bag of twizzlers.

“Aw, thanks, Sammy. So nice of you to charm Gabriel into giving you these.” He teased, smirking lightly.

Sam blushed a little, and gave him a face. “…I can take them back, you know.”

Dean just stuffed the bag behind him, laughing but throwing his hands up.

Castiel chuckled at the exchange, as it was amusing to see. He almost…enjoyed the familial exchange.

“Well, Cas—I was going to order some awesome Chinese and work with Dean on a pie for lunch/dinner. Would you like to stay and eat with us?” Mary offered kindly.

Dean looked to Cas, who suddenly looked a bit nervous at the idea. He sputtered for a moment, shrugging and shaking his head.

“I don’t… I mean, I don’t want to impose, and have you wasting money on me…” he tried to say.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a waste unless you just didn’t eat.” She laughed. “But if you have other plans, I understand.”

Castiel’s jaw tightened, and he picked at his nails a little as he seemed to consider the offer a little more. Then he looked back up to Mary, who was starting to look concerned, but she didn’t say anything until after he answered. “…No, I actually don’t have any plans, and… Chinese sounds nice.”

Mary nodded with her smile still on. “Alright then, I’ll go and order now. Dean, think about what kinda pie you wanna make, we’ll fix it after we’re done eating, k? Actually…” she looked between them, before looking to Dean, “..would you mind coming in here with me to check that we have everything we need to make one?”

Dean looked a little confused, as he could obviously tell she wanted him in there for some other reason, because she’d just bought stuff for at least three different pies the other day. But he nodded. “I’m coming.” As she nodded and went to the room, and Sam watched them with consideration a little longer before taking his backpack and sweet upstairs, Dean turned back to Cas. “…You sure you’re okay with staying? I mean, I…didn’t mean to trap you into socializing by inviting you here…”

Castiel laughed but shook his head. “It’s fine, Dean. Haven’t had Chinese in a while,” he reasoned with a smirk, but there was something serious in his eyes, “and besides, like I said…I don’t have any plans anywhere else, so..”

Dean hesitated, but nodded. “Well, I’ll be right back. Um…” he leaned towards the coffee table that was just in front of the couch, and pulled out the TV remote. “Feel free to find something to watch, if you want? I’ll just be right back.” And then he stood, as Castiel chuckled.

“You already said that.” He stated.

Dean blushed a little, but laughed it off. “…Yeah, I did, um…yeah, okay.” With that, he left the room, heading for the kitchen, where his mom was already getting out all the stuff needed to make the pie, obviously not actually needing him for more than the choice of ‘what kind’. He looked over the stuff, and looked to his mother curiously. “…So, why’d you really want me in here?”

“Is he okay?” she asked immediately, nodding back towards the room.

Dean was surprised by the question. “Yeah. Well, I mean, not…entirely, I actually invited him back to…help him with some scraps and cuts he had on his leg, that I think he probably got from some assholes around town. Why do you ask, though…?”

She only barely reacted to the profanity, but dismissed it. “Because… I heard through some distant, and not so close friends, about him. Poor boy, he..” she sighed, shaking her head, getting some of the of the stuff ready for when they’d actually work on the pie, “…I mean, I haven’t asked about much, but I’ve heard enough, and I’ve only seen him around a few times, he seems to keep his distance from most everyone apart from his brother Gabriel, and I think some of Gabriel’s friends. His parents disowned him, pretty much, because he confessed to have vastly different beliefs than their Christian ones, amongst a multitude of other personal  things he felt or liked (not really my place to be tell most of this)…”

“He already told me about the stuff with his parents.” Dean reassured her.

She nodded, but went on, leaning against the counter. “Did he tell you how he’s nearly homeless, though…? He does odd jobs here and there, but I don’t think anyones ever been able to find out where he’s staying, and anyone from his parents church that even thinks or speaks of him seem to have this view like he’s some…stain on their perfect reputation, like he’s some antichrist they cast out of their lives…. It’s very…fucked up, and it really pisses me off.” She sighed.

“I agree… He’s so guarded, and he came off really pissy and attitudinal but, I…I can tell, there’s more to him. There’s some person who’s not allowed to even wander freely around this town because everyone’s treated him like crap… He’s so worried I’d judge him like everyone else.” Dean explained.

Mary gave a small smile to her son. “Yeah, well then, maybe it’s a good thing my boy ran into him… Not trying to..push you into anything but…you might be just the kind of friend he could use in his life.”

Dean felt touched by his mothers’ trust and faith in him, though he wasn’t so sure Castiel would want that. He gave a small smile to her, though. “I could try, see if he’d…welcome that at all. Maybe…”

“It’s worth a try.” She reasoned, and Dean nodded. “Okay, I’m going to call for lunch now, you get back to him.” She encouraged.

Dean nodded again and went back for the living room, finding Castiel had found a show to watch on the TV; some surprising reruns of the cartoon network show Teen Titans. Dean grinned, he used to love watching that when he was younger. He went and sat back by Castiel then.

“You a fan?” Dean asked as he sat with him.

Castiel chuckled and nodded. “I used to love watching it. But then it died off, and from what mom saw of Raven and Beast Boy, she thought that was too freakish and demonic, so she wouldn’t let me buy any of the DVDs. It’s about time they brought this back, though.”

“I agree, it’s one of those surprisingly decent cartoon shows.” Dean stated, considering the show a moment, before glancing to Castiel. “You have a favorite character?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’ve always been drawn to Raven. That’s probably another reason mom didn’t approve. You?” Castiel asked.

“Beast Boy.” He said without hesitation. “The animal transformation thing was always cool, to me, and he was so funny and relatable. I mean, apart from being a vegetarian. I don’t think I can really manage to give up certain foods.” He chuckled, and Castiel laughed a bit, too.

There was brief silence, as they were watching one of the more humorous scenes playing out, but eventually Castiel spoke, asking, “… Is your dad gonna be okay with me eating here…?”

Dean raised a brow, looking at him and shrugging. “Well, yeah… Why wouldn’t he be?”

Castiel just shrugged, focused on the TV.

“…I mean, you don’t have to stay if it’d be too uncomfortable here, Cas, but I promise, you’ll be more than welcome here.” Dean tried to reassure him. “I mean…if you have to get back to…where you’re staying at a certain time, they’d understand…” he tried to sneakily throw that in, seeing if he could figure out a little more about Castiel.

“People that live where I’m staying don’t really set a curfew for me, so don’t worry.” Castiel scoffed.

Dean looked him over, very curiously, but all he said as he nodded was, “Oh…”

Castiel seemed to notice his curiosity, and he considered him a moment longer before facing him. “…You wanna know, don’t you?”

Dean looked embarrassed and guilty. “No, I don’t--… I mean, I’m curious, but I don’t need to know… I…sorry…” he sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“My older brother, Gabriel, that your brother seems to have a crush on?” Castiel spoke, and Dean briefly chuckled, but nodded. “He’s on a similar page as me. But he has more patience and is sort of staying in a religious closet, amongst others. At least where my family’s concerned. It’s easy for him, of course, because he’s got his own place, with a group of friends. He’s really just taking his time, especially after what they did over me, and waiting for the right moment to screw them over somehow, our parents. He says show them a taste of their own medicine…I get the feeling he’s picking up secrets and things about our parents and other siblings that would be greatly hypocritical in the eyes of the church. But, anyways… He’s let me stay with him and his friends…who are actually pretty decent. I mean, I’m not close to any of them, but they’re there for me, and I’m there for them. They understand my views, they’re pagan’s themselves, of different origins and though our beliefs might not be exactly alike, we understand and accept one another’s views. So…that’s where I live. And I sometimes help Gabriel out at his shop, or do jobs for the few people that can trust and respect me enough to, like, take care of their lawns or watch their pets, you know… But yeah… That’s my situation, and pretty much all you’d initially need to know about me.”

Dean nodded, slowly, before dropping his gaze, knowing that it had to have meant a lot, for him to tell him all that. He looked back to him. “…Thank you, for sharing… You didn’t have to.”

Castiel watched him a moment. “…I never share like that, with anyone… It’s nice to, for once.”

Dean smiled at that, glad then, that he could share with him. He straightened up a bit. “So, uh…do you like pie?”

Castiel laughed, but shrugged and nodded. “I don’t eat it often, by I enjoy it.”

“Well, me and my mom will make you enjoy it more, our pies are amazing. And maybe, before you leave, I could… I don’t know, share a bit about myself, to even it all out. You know, if you want to know about me at all…” Dean offered, rubbing his neck.

Castiel just softly smiled at him, seeming as if most his guards were down, more so than they had been this whole time. “I think I would like to know… It’d be interesting to learn what more there is under the great nerd you’ve been said to be.” He teased.

Dean grinned. “Who knows… You might find I’m just as interesting underneath the Nerd as I find you underneath the Punk.”

Castiel grinned widely at that, showing teeth and gum with the grin as he laughed, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh with him, his neck a bit warm. The grin faded into just a simple smile, and he sighed. “…You’re a good guy, Dean…”

Dean stared at him, kindly, but somewhat seriously. “…So are you, Cas.”

Castiel just grinned, smiling happily, it seeming like something he hadn’t done for a while, but something that seemed so nice and genuine from him.

Dean had hope, he may have truly made a new friend in Castiel, and he hoped Castiel thought the same. He could already see, a nice future of them hanging out, Dean being able to help him with the jerks, Castiel being able to maybe explain to him about his beliefs, so many possibilities and he knew, still so much to learn. Then he thought, with a smirk, and sat back and asked…

“….So…when are you going to tell me about those tattoos?”