floorboards creak [ch. three]

When Dean had woken up from a nightmare it was 11:37 pm on Saturday, and even still he decided he was done with sleep. It was Sunday now anyway, he could deal with sleeping in the day after New Year’s knowing he doesn’t start work until Monday and it gave him the excuse of completely unpacking and flattening boxes by the time Sammy woke up for his run.

Open on the dining room table is Twitter. He’s pretending that he has the guy’s DMs open to delete it but really he’s trying to find the best way to say he lives around here now. But he’s trying to say it in the most noncommittal way, I mean what if the guy lives in Harlem or something? Or worse, Buffalo? It would be a pretty shitty embarrassment to start the year with but he’d get over it. Maybe it would be a sign from the universe that being with guys was just supposed to stay theoretical to him. Sam always says he had a particular “homosocial” way of being. Maybe that meant he was supposed to just have guys as friends. Good friends. Like…well…not like Benny. Maybe like Garth. 

Benny and him toed the line a lot of times but never quite…Dean looks up at the space and realizes there’s nothing left to unpack, just a bunch of empty boxes that needed flattening and storing. Maybe he could pretend to look for laundry or re-sweep the floors. Anxious cleaning gave him time to think about these things, or choose very loudly not to think about these things because Zeppelin was playing. But it was not 6am and looking longingly out of the window was probably too Hallmark and way removed from Dean’s style. He should maybe pretend to sleep and not think about Benny. Where he might be in New Orleans, if he was safe and seeing anybody…if he missed Dean. Dean sighs and starts to collect the boxes when he hears Sam pad into the living room. 

“Dude, why does it look like we live here now?” Sam asks, folding a box and then another.

“Uh, Sammy, ‘cause we do. Want me to tattoo the lease on your gigantic arms so you can remember next time?” Dean winces, that was a lot. He’s gotta relax on how much he snaps at the kid. 

Sam makes a face, “No, dude, I mean,” Sam sighs, “I mean that it could have easily been a week's worth of casual unpacking we do and I was asleep for like 9 hours. And you’re…just done…with all of it.”

“Yea, well…I couldn’t sleep.” Dean finds a box and then another and then one more. 

“What hour did you stop trying?” Sam asks, clearly having done this line of questioning with Dean too many times. 

“The eleventh,” Dean snatches a box from near the table and flattens it.

Sam sighs and grabs another box. “How fitting,” he snarks. “How long you plan on keeping that up? We’re here for at least 2 years, Dean, I can’t speed the program up.”

“Dude, just chalk it up to moving jitters, man. It’s nothing.” Dean fishes for twine for the flattened cardboard and turns his back to look abundantly harder. 

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dean, you can find a sleep study or a therapist or—” Sam sighs knowing he won’t get another word in after using the t-word.

“Alright, alright, dude seriously I’ll be fine.” Dean cuts in, knowing he’s not going to like where this goes if it continues on course.

“I would believe that if you had been fine, man, but you haven’t. You probably have insomnia, you’re angry all the time, you never talk about what went on when we were kids, you won’t admit what’s behind all the homosocializing you do—”

“Dude, okay, first of all, you said that was a normal thing guys do. It’s just having friends.”

“Well to start, homosocialization and homosocializing are two things you don’t even realize are two different things which is what I am begging you to question. And don’t get me wrong, most guys don’t even realize they want something more with other guys until it hits them in the face.” Dean stammers to interrupt as Sam barrels on with greater volume “And two, being something other than straight is normal, Dean, that's the point.” 

“I don’t…wait—I have girl friends, I’m not all guy friends all the time and you didn’t teach me that other word so I don’t know how to defend myself here but I’m straight as a board, man. I don’t want anything you're talkin’ about”

“Ok, first, you feeling the need to defend yourself in the first place is what the kids call ‘sus’ and Jo does not count as a girl friend since she’s the blonde poster child for “I’m not like other girls.” Pretty sure she just wants to be you, dude. What’s your next refutable point, I’ve got all day.”

Dean falters to counter and almost turns around but busies himself again. “I have friends! I have guy friends, normal guy friends!”

Sam scoffs, “You think what you had with Benny was normal?”

“It was normal, Sam.” Dean shouts as he whips around. “He was there when I needed him to be a friend. Where were you?!”

Sam cuts an icy glare at him, “At Oberlin. Learning words like “parentification” and “father wounds” and begging you to get therapy after I got some myself. You can’t guilt me, Dean. I’m helping you from where I am at. I can’t force you and I won’t exhaust myself trying.” Dean feels the ice but knows Sam’s coming from a good place. He turns back around and spots the twine along with scissors. 

“Yea, well, good for you. Glad you know the exact moment to shove it in my face.”

“You wave a red flag and get mad about the horns, that’s sooooo healthy. You know what’s old? Playing martyr to the person you protected, Dean.” He scoffs and snatches another box to flatten. 

“That’s—” He can’t think of a retort. He didn’t want to play that. He didn’t realize he was. Dean thinks of how to apologize or what to say and his throat starts to feel heavy. The rim of his eyes get misty. “That’s—you know what? Have fun with the boxes. I’m going for a drive.” Dean says, dropping the box he had just touched. He fishes his keys out of his pocket and is out the door as Sam “Dean, c’mons” him the first time, by the the third time he is slamming the door. 

On his way out he brushes past what he can only assume is his neighbor, a redhead who moves fluidly out of his way and lithely up the steps without so much as a “watch out, dude.” His “Sorry, miss” goes unheard, he thinks, as he watches her go up the steps two by two like a ballerina who loved bar routines. He shakes his head and heads out the door. He wanted to learn the layout of the city as soon as possible anyway, now’s as good a time as any. It’ll give him time to think and figure out how to apologize. Hell, maybe he’ll even find a therapist’s office on the drive to book an appointment. 

As he hits the brisk city air, he sees Baby has been pelted by snowballs and silently curses that he probably lives around kids who don’t understand the sanctity of such a precious vehicle. He shakes his head as he opens her door, when he gets in he pats her dashboard.

He sighs and starts the engine, “Sorry, Baby, these kids don’t know you’re a legend,” he says, the mist of his eyes forgotten for the moment as he feels his stomach rumble and realize he’s been awake almost 10 hours already and hasn't eaten since last night. 

“Fuck, okay, food first. Feelings later,” he says out loud to himself. Dean’s decided: it’s gonna be a long day. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cas gets to work around 9:15am. The clink of his keys and the meowing of the cats was the highlight of his days for a few months. Ever since Benny.

When Cas first got to New York, Benny was walking down the street as Cas struggled with a box and, being the fine southern gentleman he is, offered to help. Gabe had encouraged Cas to take his number when Benny offered it. It’s the only reason Cas had suspected this posturing Gabe did around sexuality was a front.

And Benny was good for Cas for a while; they had grown apart as Benny realized that they had taught each other everything they needed to know and it was amicable. Cas had learned about socializing and how to navigate sexuality around people who didn’t have the language for it and Benny had learned technical language as Cas had learned them from the many online resources Cas had found in the months after the move. Cas had also imparted unknowingly how to be graceful in conflict. Benny learned by example. Cas was the one to diffuse situations at bars when Benny was willing to throw down and fight it out. And he spoke to him with tenderness before and after while still remaining bold and assertive with strangers. Benny began to marvel at Cas’ abilities. 

It’s what attracted Benny to Cas in a way that allowed him to ask Cas if they could or should or wanted to explore each other past the concept and praxis of friendship. Cas had given them the language and Benny provided the space. It was nice. But that was all, just friends “blowing off a lil steam” as Benny had put it. Cas never felt taken advantage of and never felt treated anything other than tenderly and for that he was grateful. Benny had told him of what it was like when he first stepped into the scene and how he never wanted anyone to feel that way or have to fight off as many creeps as he did. It was kismet for the time. And both Cas and Benny verbally were appreciative of it. 

But Benny picked up a new job back in New Orleans and he was “missing NOLA something awful.” So Cas wished him the best in his future endeavors and promised to visit as Benny requested. 

Benny was also the person who showed him that the cafe was hiring and figured Cas would like the environment. He was right. And for that Cas was forever grateful for Benny even if their time together was shorter than he anticipated. Cas’ thoughts return him to the present when Havok, a tortoiseshell kitten they had received recently, came barreling at his shin as Cas headed to the treats to refill them before opening to the public. 

Charlie was in the back behind a cat proof door making macarons, Cas could hear the repetitive ‘whack’ of the baking sheet. The sounds around Cas were so pleasant despite seeming cacophonic to other autistic people like him. It’s why, aside from safety regulations, he was glad they got all the baking down before noon when they opened on the weekends. Usually, Charlie has to wake up at 4am to be finished before their 8am opens. 

A few hours later, Cas’ favorite customer Marcia comes in. They were quiet and mainly there for macarons and wifi since their landlord refused to do anything about their upstairs neighbors’ “lovers quarrels” and Marcia hated feeling triggered at their remote job. Apparently their supervisors were enough to deal with. Cas obviously believed them because he learned from Uriel that it’s important to believe Black people’s experiences around microaggressions in the workplace because often many were apprehensive around voicing them or disclosing them at all, preferring to disclose after they leave a workplace as opposed to as they happened. What Cas didn’t expect was to witness it in real-time.  

Marcia was a junior supervisor of neuro lab technicians who had triweekly “specialist reviews'' with an expert before releasing Tuesday and Thursday labs to patients. Occasionally, they would get anxious about meetings because one of the rotating specialists would make particularly pointed comments. Typically Charlie would tell Cas about them but he never got to catch the guy in the act. His therapist always told him that he externalizes his problems by fixing other people’s but in this case he just knew he wanted to use his privilege properly, the way Uriel had told him was necessary for Black people to feel safer around him and in the world. Uriel called it "allyship" but the more Cas researched the more he realized he was more comfortable with being an accomplice or maybe something more actionable. Uriel thought he was joking until Cas started making interventions for him. 

Apparently, Cas was quite substantial in his role. His therapist thought this particular event was a wonderful idea as long as he did so in a way that didn’t jeopardize Marcia’s job or cause violence towards them unnecessarily and that he talked to them about it. Marcia was a fairly shy nonbinary person who was out at their job but was still misgendered fairly often. They didn’t want to “make a big deal” about it no matter how many times Cas insisted there was nothing big about wanting to be treated with esteem or regard by their coworkers. Marcia always said they understood intellectually but that practice was nerve wracking. So Cas made it a point to use their pronouns whenever possible, whether it was talking to Charlie about his favorite customer or Benny whenever he used to come by before his shifts at the pub three blocks down. Marcia always said that they appreciated it and it was affirming, so when Cas had suggested the intervention they were less nervous about it than they normally are with new social scenarios. 

Cas was really just waiting for the moment. He had spoken to Marcia about it just to be sure they would be okay with an intervention, Marcia was surprised but gracious enough to allow him the honor. The two had talked about scenarios and ran them well enough with what Marcia knew about his temperament and the specialist’s and so when Marcia start tugging at their ear and pulling their hair out of their ponytail, Cas knew that the meeting was starting and to “listen out” for anything unsavory. He winked at Charlie and she knew to man the store in his temporary absence as he “swept the play pen area.” 

It turns out Cas and Marcia make a pretty good team. Cas had asked an innocuous question, apologizing for the intrusion, and learned where the specialist works. He explained that he had overheard and noted how much outside of the realm of his expertise he had been witnessing was not only unsavory but distracting as an employee. Cas explained he was not going to kick Marcia out but that he was confident that the expert knew how to talk about metabolization of medications and their effect on the brain without being misogynistic and racist in his analysis. He also explained that even though he was sure the specialist was mature enough to filter their language, should he have any confusion about which choice phrases could be left in his own brain that Cas would be welcome to explain in great detail what and why.

The conversation was strictly professional after an abnormal pause that allowed a nurse to chime in and ask another nurse if they should allow the specialist a moment to gather his thoughts back towards the science or if they should break for the day. The specialist assured everyone that they were “capable of being professional” and the rest of the meeting went smoothly. Marcia didn’t have to even say anything. People in the meeting even started using their pronouns which were always in their Zoom name but went ignored until that moment. Cas had put things to right, he thought. Marcia had hugged him on the way out. Cas felt humbled, honored, and high at the same time. Charlie had given a high five at closing and went in for the biggest hug before skipping towards their electric bike. 

Cas thought it was a win of a day. That was until running smack into a man as he rounded the corner near the bar on his way to the park. 

“I knew that was coming eventually, sorry, man.” Cas looked up and with only the power of a gut punch that came with the recognition of that smile from the internet almost shouted. 

“No!” Before recoiling and playing it off as fixing his hair as the other guy looked stock still while fidgeting with a ring. His expression was a very different iteration on the face of the man who had been unpacking early this morning. 

“It was my fault,” Cas begins in a calmer tone,  “Apologies, my mind has been preoccupied. I’ll see you later,” he says, unthinking and begins to turn to walk away. He truly wishes they had just met formally in the brownstone. He doesn’t even know the guy’s real name, he never looked at the tenant leases.

“T-Tom?” The man croaks out, bewildered. 

“No, Cast-Cas.” Castiel calls back to him as he walks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean to me, man, what do you mean 'see you later'?” The guy walks, jilted, after him, still wild and confused. The man grabs his arm and turns him around and puts up his hands as he hears the question.

Is that what gay panic looks like? Cas distantly wonders for his safety but the man seems more curious than angry. He’s cute in person too.

“Wait, why did you say this was gonna happen?” Cas asks, buying him time to bring his brain to a decent introduction. The guy sputters. 

“I—I almost bumped into someone in my building today, but didn’t. Figured it would catch up eventually.” He shakes his head and continues before Cas could extend his hand. “I know your face from Twitter, are you stalking me?”

“No, you’re my new downstairs neighbor—wait, that’s—you manifested that? You spoke that into existence? You’re gonna cross yourself, don’t speak things like that into your day, now look.” Cas wonders if this is really the conversation they should be having but there are too many to have. And they’re strangers. Technically. 

“You-are you dating Gabriel?” The man asks before shaking his head. “What do you mean I’m crossing my stuff?” Okay, he’s just as lost in the order of conversations. Perfect. 

“I’m not dating my brother, we’re all siblings upstairs. And yes, crossing yourself by speaking things into your day you don’t want to happen. Anna taught me that. She’s probably who you ran into as the only lesbian in the space. Wait—did Gabe tell you anything about us? He doesn’t live here. That’s not typically how it works in this city. Living with your landlord is insufferable. Even if they’re family. Anyway, I think we should start from the beginning so you know I’m not a stalker. My name is Cas, youngest of your 6 new neighbors.” Cas extends his hand. 

“Dean, uh, oldest of your two new tenants, I guess.” Dean seems to hover his other hand over where they are joined and then abruptly shoves it into his pocket. Odd, but probably not homophobic. Cas decides he doesn’t need to bolt for fear of actual gay panic. Situation, seemingly inoculated. 

“I’m just your neighbor, Gabe’s the only guy who respects the concept of property in our family.” That probably wasn’t entirely true but it’s hard to tell a stranger you technically have over 80 siblings. Cas gives Dean’s hand one last squeeze and releases his hand to rest in his black peacoat, Benny used to say it made his eyes “sparkle like diamonds.” Cas did tend to appreciate wearing darker colors so he didn’t have to put too much effort into matching so it worked out. Dean, though, seems to appreciate earth tones, it worked for what Cas can now see are the nature of his eyes. 

“Oh, you all anarchists or something?” Dean said, like he was suddenly helping him in a jailbreak. Cas thought he was weird. A good weird. A workable weird. 

“Or something,” Cas supplied. Trauma dumping on an attractive neighbor sounded like an awful idea and seeing as Gabe already said he would offer another lease to “the new boys” it would suck to lose his potential friendship from over exposure.

“Okay wait, look, man. Me and Sa-my brother don’t want any problems. Or to be recruited into anythi—”

“We would never do anything like that, we left a life like that. We would never put anyone through that pain. Let’s both calm down and start from the top. This interaction is bordering on painful, I can not do a year of this,” Cas says as he starts to feel his chest tighten. He puts his hands on his knees mostly expecting the guy to give him a minute to breath. Instead, Dean inches slowly closer, putting a hand on his back and one the top of his head. Cas wants to wrench away as he sees him but something calms within him. 

“Cas, you okay, man? Can we sit some—how about we sit? Huh?” Dean sounds just as nervous and despite Cas’ panic, Cas looks up to comfort him. 

“I’m okay, D-” Cas was not expecting to see him this close. Dean looks just as struck. Cas sits up straight to add some distance and side steps to the wall, putting the hand Dean had on his back on his shoulder, Dean seems to move with him fluidly before he realizes what he’s doing. 

“Sor-Start over, Cas, let’s start over.” He says as he shoves his hands in his pockets.