Chapter Text
It was the summer of 1967. When everyone still called him Castiel and it didn’t occur to him to mind. It was before Martin Luther King was assassinated. Before the battle of Khe Sanh. And two years before The Stonewall Riots, an event that would begin a revolution for....for people like him. It was when he couldn’t wait to break out. Out of what, at the time, he hadn’t known.
That was the Summer he went to Garrison’s. Where they had ping-pong in the West Arcade, Softball in the East Diamond. And complimentary dance lessons in the gazebo.
He stepped out of his brand new...well, new to him, Peugeot 404, the sun hitting his neck, immediately creating a sheen of sweat beneath the stiff collar of his blue and white check button down. The glare from the rays hit the lens of his black rimmed glasses, casting the people in his periphery in to dark silhouettes. He breathed in the warmth, his face turned to the sun, with the distant aroma of sunscreen and fresh seafood pervading the air. He listened to the whining voice of a young woman near by “mom! I should have bought those coral shoes. You said I was thinking too much”
“Well, sweetheart, you bought ten pairs”
“But the coral shoes match that dress!”
Castiel quietly snorted his derision, thinking to himself
‘ This is not a tragedy. A tragedy is three men trapped in a mine. Or police dogs used in Birmingham, monks burning themselves in protest. A tragedy—‘
Zacariah’s booming voice broke into his reverie.
“Professor! After all this time I finally got you up on my mountain”
Castiel held out his hand to greet his father’s old friend. He had never really cared for Zachariah, Castiel always found him smug and entitled. But, he needed this vacation so why not cash in on the long ago extended offer?
“Zachariah” he greeted “How’s the blood pressure?”
Zachariah leaned in, still gripping Castiel’s hand and his voice lowered as if what he was about to say next was to be taken to the grave.
“I want you to know, if it wasn’t for your father, I’d be standing here dead”
‘That would be some feat” Castiel thought to himself, sarcastically.
“Samuel, get the bags! Get the bags!” Zachariah snapped his fingers at the tall man stood off to the side
“Yes, sir. Right away” he replied, his freakishly long legs carrying him to the car’s trunk. Castiel followed behind and helped him remove the luggage.
“Hey, do you want a job here?” Sam asked, a friendly smile on his boyish face. “By the way, it’s Sam, not Samuel”
Zachariah appeared behind Castiel, interrupting before he could offer Sam a response
“There’s a merengue class in the gazebo in fifteen minutes.” Zachariah leaned in, once again lowering his voice as he continued “The greatest teacher. Used to be a rockette. Legs up to here” Zachariah moved his hand above his waist to demonstrate just how long this teacher’s legs were. Castiel just nodded along as he always did when the discussions turned to the female form. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, this objectification of women’s looks, and he refused to participate other than to offer a nod here, a false smirk there. He was schooled in the art of masking his disinterest.
“It’s my first real vacation in six years, Zach, I plan on taking it easy.” He readjusted the glasses on his nose with his pointer finger where the sweat lacing his face had caused them to slip slightly.
“Three weeks here, Castiel, and it will feel like a year!”
*********************
“One! Two! Three! Four! Stomp those grapes and stomp some more”
Castiel stood as far back as he could and just observed. Zachariah hadn’t been wrong. The teacher was indeed very beautiful. Her olive skin and long brown hair complimented her red dress.
“One! Two! Three! Four! Listen to the music!” She instructed, using her skirt as if it were an extension of her movements, the sequins catching the light in rainbow strobes. “Move your caboose and shake it loose! One! Two! Three! Four! Start the train”
An older lady makes a grab for Castiel, giving him no option but to join the train, much to his chagrin. Castiel wasn’t the most graceful mover. He was awkward and squirmish, his mother had told him. Many times. He followed the train, all the while awkwardly looking for his out. There wasn’t one.
“Come on, men! Follow me into the round Robin! Ladies, the inner circle.” The teacher Instructed, as she confidently lead them around the gazebo.
“Come on, Ladies! God wouldn’t have given you maracas if he didn’t want you to shake ‘em” and she proceeded to shake her ‘maracas’ drawing a quiet laugh from Castiel. He liked her a lot.
“Okay now, ladies. When I say stop you’re going to find the man of your dreams! Stop!” And suddenly she was taking Castiel’s arms and placing them in partner position.
“Oh no, I think you should—“ Castiel started
“Remember, he’s the boss on the dance floor if nowhere else” and she gave Castiel a look as if to tell him that wasn’t at all true.
He watched his feet awkwardly, ensuring not to step on her toes and resulting in the end of her career there and then.
“The trick is not to watch your feet, head up”
Castiel snapped his head upright on her command
“There you are, blue eyes” She smiled an almost too bright smile. There was a vulnerability there, he thought fleetingly but that thought didn’t last long as he tripped over his own feet.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be looking at my feet?” He asked, a brow raising as if to say now look what happened.
She didn’t answer as the music faded out and she let him go, the tension immediately loosening his body.
*********************
After the gazebo disaster, it was still a little early for dinner so Castiel decided on a walk to the main house to look around. The sun was a little cooler now as the evening drew nearer, an orange glow cast over the grounds of Garrison’s. He could see why his parents had enjoyed their stay here so much, it had a tranquility to it that couldn’t be found in the big city.
He took a step up to the open door, the voices inside stopping him in his tracks
“You waiters are all college guys and I went to Harvard and Yale to hire you” Zachariah’s voice boomed “And why? Why did I do that? I shouldn’t have to remind you this is a family place. That means you keep your fingers out of the water, your hair out of the soup...and show the goddamn daughters a good time. All the daughters. Even the dogs. Schlep them out to the terrace, show them the stars, Romance them any way you want—“
“Got that, guys?” Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. He heard his voice before he saw him. It was deep and gruff, and Castiel’s skin felt every part of it.
But the affect of his voice did no justice to the affect it had on Castiel when he came into view. Dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans that clung to his body, the sleeves perfectly shaped around his biceps. He had a leather jacket slung over his shoulder and Raybans concealing his eyes. His brown hair long enough to just hang over his forehead. Castiel couldn’t take his eyes from him. He’d always scoffed at the term “weak in the knees” but now he understood. Now he got it.
“Hey, hold it! Hold it!” Zachariah’s voice bellowed, jolting Castiel back to the here and now, he hadn’t realised he had been holding his breath.
“Well, if it isn’t the entertainment staff” Zachariah sneered.
“Listen, Winchester, you wise ass. You got your own rules.” Castiel listened closer.
“Dance with the daughters. Teach them the mambo, the cha cha, anything they pay for. That’s it. No funny business, no conversations and KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF!”
Castiel could see the man’s jaw twitch from here, he could see he was restraining himself.
“It’s the same in all these places” a British voice started, Castiel’s eyes found where it was coming from. It was a short, smarmy looking guy in waiter’s fatigues, fixing up the table as he spoke.
“Some ass in the woods maybe but no conversation” he waggled a finger
“Watch it, Crowley” Zachariah said as he walked out.
Crowley continued, clearly not one to follow orders. “Think you can keep that straight, Dean? What you can and can’t lay your hands on?” Castiel sensed a double meaning to Crowley’s words.
Dean stepped up into Crowley’s space, a smirk playing on his lips as he removed his raybans to look Crowley in the eye.
“You just put your pickle on everybody’s plate, trust fund boy and leave the hard stuff to me” Dean knocked the contents of the table on to the floor with a smooth flick of the wrist and began to, what can only be described as saunter, in Castiel’s direction. He was frozen to the spot, the knowledge of how to move his legs suddenly obsolete. The closer Dean got, the wilder Castiel’s heart beat against his ribs. Their eyes met for the first time. Green, Castiel realised. Green framed by lashes that had no business belonging to a man. They were like magnets, stuck on eachother.
“Enjoy the Show?” Dean bit out. And he didn’t wait for Castiel to answer. He threw a look over his shoulder back in his direction and carried on walking, leaving Castiel a muted mess against the door jamb. His interest piqued and his heart in chaos.