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Four months after the fact at seven in the morning, Meg slides a box with a red ribbon tied around it towards Sam, who's trying to finish his first cup of coffee to turn his brain on for his Legal Research and Writing course at 8:30.
"What's this?" he asks, mustering up the effort to have a conversation with Meg so early in the morning.
"A belated birthday present," she answers like he's slow, one eyebrow twitching and all.
He dazedly watches her pour cereal in a bowl and cut up fruit for a minute. "My birthday was four months ago."
"Hence, belated."
He places his mug on the table, forgetting that it's rickety and needs to be fixed, his coffee sloshing precariously over the edge.
"Yeah, you have to fix that, Mr. Handy-Man."
Sam ignores her as he unties the ribbon and opens the box. Inside there's a piece of paper with an address written down in her messy handwriting. "Seriously?"
"What, were you expecting a pair of earrings to go with your hair?"
He grimaces and curls a strand behind his ear. "What is this? Is this the address to some secret BDSM store you found and want me to feel uncomfortable in?"
"No, but damn, that would've been a great idea. I'll do that to baby Kev for his twentieth. Thanks, Sammy."
"Don't call me that," he mutters, trying to figure out where in Palo Alto this store is located.
"It's actually a bookstore. Nobody from school goes in there really, so it's a nice hideaway."
"You're…gifting me a location."
She rolls her eyes. "You didn't know it existed until two minutes ago. You'll be singing my praise when you go see it – there are old, dusty books everywhere."
"Wait, isn't this by that lounge bar? The one with the waitress –"
"Who rolled her ankle in her heels and slip n' slided down the bar, destroying a set of glasses and flashing her thong? You betcha," Meg fills in for him, a wicked grin on her face. "Still one of the greatest nights of my life."
"I felt so badly for her – she was horrified," Sam says with a disapproving glare.
"Hey, that's what you get for wearing heels you can't handle."
"Says the nurse who lives in her walking shoes."
"At least I can stand on my feet for fifteen hours – heels for a couple of hours are a fucking synch." Meg looks down at her watch. "I better go. I'll see you in twelve hours."
"Before you go, wake up Ruby, we're in the same section and I don't feel like getting scratches on my face for my first day of graduate school."
She cackles. "You're too slow. But sure."
She heads into Ruby's room and Sam continues drinking his coffee, wincing when he hears Ruby shriek. It's way too early for this.
**
"All I'm saying, Sam," Ruby starts, shaking her blonde bangs out from her eyes, "is that you can be ruthless when you put your mind to it." She leans in, her green eyes alight, "Join the dark side, Winchester. We have wealthy clientele."
He sighs, spearing a grape tomato with his fork. "I'm pretty set on being a public defender. Have been since my junior year."
She snorts. "Good luck making jack-shit."
"I'm pretty used to living on nothing, I think I'll manage."
She manages to give him a somewhat apologetic look. "It's a good thing you saved me in that awful Philosophy class in freshman year because I owe you one. I can give you floor space in my future loft apartment."
"How thoughtful."
She grins. "Don't you have Contracts at 2:15?"
He glowers. "So do you."
"Nope! Cancelled. Apparently my prof has the stomach bug."
"I see you feel really sorry for him."
"Have fun in class," she singsongs.
He flips her off as he throws away the rest of his salad.
**
"Busy. With readings," Sam answers shortly, eyes fixed on the page, but he knows he's not going to get anything done with Dean calling him. "And I won't be a lawyer if I don't get all this reading done and then I fail my exams and –"
"Whoa, it's day one and you're already freaking out – calm down. You're gonna do great. You don't have class 'til…9:45 tomorrow, yeah? You'll get it done."
Sam smiles. "How're you doing?"
"Same old, same old. Except some douche ruined the brakes on this stunning first-gen T-Bird. I nearly punched the guy out on principle."
"Well, it's a good thing you refrained because you have a business to run, so. Can't be punching customers." He pauses. "How're Ellen and Jo?" he asks and it's weird and sad that he won't ever ask how their dad is doing again.
"They're good. You should call them soon if you want to be fed at Thanksgiving."
Sam laughs. "I'll call them tomorrow morning." He flips ahead and groans at the number of pages he has left. "Hey, I need to do a ton of reading, but. I'll call you this weekend, okay?"
"Okay. Don't study too hard. Have a drink. Or five. You're still a college student, after all."
Sam rolls his eyes, not bothering to correct him. "Talk to you later."
"Bye, bitch."
"Jerk," Sam quips and hangs up.
**
It's called MOR Books, and Sam's not sure if MOR is an acronym, or if there's supposed to be an E and they're meaning to repaint it. If it is actually an acronym, it's going to bother him everytime he comes here and Meg would know it, the witch.
Except once he steps inside, the bells jingling above him, he falls in love: the smell of old books, the coziness of the wooden bookshelves and the worn, thick books that fill them. He can feel his constant stress he carries around with him alleviate a little and he hasn't even explored yet.
There's nobody standing behind the ornate wooden desk, which has an old-fashioned cash register on it. He figures that whoever is working must know someone is inside, so he heads toward the furthermost shelf on the left.
…His brain is having an orgasm when he realizes that all the books seem to be about religions and the occult and magic –
(MOR: magic, occult, religion – hah.)
Sam doesn't care if it's weird, he's going to bake Meg a cake for this because this is the greatest gift he's received in the last ten years, and his ex gave him the 1768 Encyclopædia Brittanica replica set for his twenty-first birthday.
He pulls out a random book and winces at the price – way beyond his thirty dollars and eight cents – although as he's flipping through the pages with care, discovering that it's about American folkloric creatures, he's tempted to sell his body for it.
He's halfway through reading about Bigfoot – or 'Sasquatch,' which Dean likes to call him on occasion since "bigfoot is totally your long lost cousin, Sammy" – when –
"There's an armchair on the other side of the store, if standing is uncomfortable."
Sam jumps, heart pounding in his chest.
"My apologies," the man says, serious. In fact, everything about this guy is serious from his buttoned-up oxford shirt, tucked into pressed slacks and his dress shoes. The only thing about him that isn't impeccable is his bedhead, which somehow makes his outfit seem more casual than it is.
"Uh, no, I'm sorry – I tend to get in a zone when I read," Sam stutters.
The guy nods once in understanding, still as serious as can be. "My name is Castiel. If you have any questions or require my assistance, I will be at the front of the store behind the cash register."
Sam is about to question his name – he must be named after an angel – but holds his tongue, figuring that the guy is probably so used to being asked about his name by ignorant people. So he just says, "Thank you," and goes off to find this armchair.
(It's a large armchair and he can actually fit in it and this is his new favorite bookstore ever.)
**
Although for all he knows, he's probably hated by Castiel for barging into his bookstore and reading his books without a hope of buying any one of them. It's not like this store is a Barnes and Noble that has everything and anything you can possibly want – there can't be a lot of people who come in here, let alone buy a book or two, so who knows if this store is on the brink of closing down.
Sighing, he leaves the store, glancing at the desk to find Castiel engrossed in a book of his own, blue eyes shooting across the page at a speed that probably surpasses his own, which is a surprise.
He doesn't look up as Sam opens the door, bells jingling with his departure.
**
"I haven't been kissed in a while," Meg drawls, raising her eyebrows a few times.
He rolls his eyes. "But seriously, why did you keep that a secret? Do you have a secret obsession with folklore and magic because I'm the last person to judge."
"Oh, I know, you dork. Believe it or not, I've only heard about the place a few weeks ago. Didn't have a chance to check it out until a few days before you moved in."
He tries to drill her for more information, but she responds vaguely or with innuendos and frankly, he's surprised she's even allowed to work in a psychiatric hospital.
Eventually he drops it and tries to finish this chapter for Civil Procedure I before Ruby comes back and drags him out.
**
I think you need to remind Dean that the US is divided by time zones and that I'm an hour ahead of him, so his random texts about how to make the best Bloody Mary in the wee hours of the morning are not very appreciated.
From Jess Moore:
Oh, and I hope law school is going really well!!!
From Sam Winchester:
I'm so sorry – he's only just managed to get that California two hours behind and that just because it's 8am by him doesn't mean the rest of the world is there.
From Jess Moore:
Have to say, I don't miss those early morning wake up calls.
From Sam Winchester:
Nobody misses them, believe me. I still can't listen to Asia without wanting to kill him.
From Sam Winchester:
How's the east coast treating you?
From Jess Moore:
I absolutely LOVE it. I don't know how I managed to live in California my entire life when I could've been here.
From Sam Winchester:
I'm really happy for you :)
From Sam Winchester:
Dean does make amazing Bloody Marys though. You should be honored he decided to share his secrets to you – he has yet to share it with the Harvelles.
From Jess Moore:
Wait, seriously??? Horseradish? I thought he was trying to pull a prank on me!!!
From Sam Winchester:
Pure horseradish, never creamed.
From Jess Moore:
Okay I have to go to the store and get all these ingredients so I can make one tomorrow haha
From Sam Winchester:
Let me know how it is – I've tried making them but it never tastes as good as when he does it. Maybe you have the gift and he sensed it in you.
From Sam Winchester:
And if that's the case, then I'm booking the next flight to Boston and you're going to make me one.
From Jess Moore:
LOL I'll let you know how it goes! Call me sometime next week! I'm free after five on Monday and Wednesday.
From Sam Winchester:
Wednesday is better – I only have three classes instead of four – I'll call you then!
From Jess Moore:
Great! Talk to you later <3
Dean always says that Sam's the only person who can somehow still be great friends with his exes, even ones he was dating for over two years, but he always thought the trick was have a solid friendship base (he did meet Jess during freshman orientation back when he was barely five-foot-ten).
Besides, just because she wanted to give the east coast a try and both agreed that trying a long distance relationship while both of them will be busy with graduate schools, doesn't meant that they can't go back to being friends.
(Okay, so maybe it's a little weird, but not having drama is a good thing, right?)
**
It's his Legal Research and Writing course that's giving him too much grief and he only has it twice a week – it's mostly because half the people in his group aren't the best of writers, to put it kindly (which, what the hell were they thinking in deciding on this career path?), and the other half are very obnoxious and he hopes beyond hope they don't get into public defending.
So after a particularly trying week with his Legal Research and Writing study group, he goes back to the bookstore with a venti vanilla latte in one hand, determined to drink and read in peace for a few hours.
It's been two weeks since he was in here and nothing seems to have changed when he walks in, except Castiel is sitting behind the desk this time, head down in a book until he hears the jingle of the door, blue eyes bright and wide as he whips his head up.
Sam waves and Castiel waits almost a beat too long to lift a hand in greeting. Feeling awkward now, he heads straight for the book he was reading weeks ago, except it's no longer on the shelf.
It figures someone would buy it before he could finish it, Sam thinks sadly, but before he can browse for another book to read, a throat is cleared – Castiel's – and Sam turns to find Castiel holding out the book.
"Oh," Sam says dumbly, staring at the book in Castiel's hands. "I –" He feels his cheeks grow hot. "Did you…save this for me?" he asks, touched and horrified at the same time.
Castiel doesn't seem to register Sam's meltdown in the middle of his store. "This book has sat on its shelf for as long as I've been working here. You're the first person to touch it besides me during the occasional inventory. I assure you, it was no hardship." He holds out his arms a little further. "Please, it makes me happy that someone is reading this for pleasure."
Sam slowly takes the book from Castiel. "Thank you…so much." He brings the book to his chest with one arm and holds out his free hand. "I'm Sam."
Castiel stares at the hand for a moment before shaking it. His palm is hot and smooth against Sam's. "It's nice to meet you, Sam. Enjoy reading."
Sam smiles at him. "Thanks."
There's a warmth in his chest that doesn't go away, even after he finishes his latte.
**
When he turns into the aisle, Castiel is standing on top of a footstool on his toes, reaching for a book with the tips of his fingers. Sam tries not to stare at the way his shirt stretches around Castiel's waist.
Once Castiel has the book in his hands, he looks down at Sam. "Did you finish?" he inquires, tilting his head, distinctly reminding him of an Animal Planet show involving birds he watched with Dean when they were kids.
Sam plans on lying, but it's hard under his gaze, which is pretty much the most intense thing he's ever experienced. "Uh…no."
Castiel nods, opening the book in his hands. "Then leave it on the desk on your way out." He reaches into the pocket of his slacks (a darker shade of khaki than last time) and takes out a piece of paper, comparing its contents with the books.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want –"
"Yes, it's quite alright." Castiel glances up and flashes him a small smile.
"What if I just ran out with it?" Sam blurts and way to go, Winchester, now he's officially going to get banned from this store and he'll never get to sit in that wonderful armchair again –
"You seem like an honorable person." Castiel pauses. "I would also be able to chase you down and retrieve the book back. Either way, the book will end up on the desk."
The guy is shorter than Dean – there's no way he can catch up to Sam's long strides. Except Castiel is still looking very serious and doesn't seem to be gearing up for a 'just kidding,' so Sam runs a hand through his hair and says, "Well, thank you. For keeping it."
"You're welcome. Have a good day, Sam."
"You too, Castiel."
Sam places the book on the desk and he can't wait for next Friday when he'll have time to finish it.
**
Sam rushes into the store to find Castiel on the ground, lifting himself up to his elbows and glaring harshly at the highest shelf above him.
"Oh my God, Cas, are you okay?" Sam asks, kneeling to help Castiel get to his feet.
Castiel sighs, standing up himself without much need of Sam. "Yes, I'm fine. I unfortunately lost my footing while trying to reach one of the books on the top shelf." He winces and rubs his lower back. "Although I may have bruised my tailbone."
"Which book did you need?" Sam asks, already picking up the stool and righting it.
Castiel hands him a piece of crumpled paper. "The ISBN number is located –"
"I know," Sam says with a smile. "I'm a law student."
"Ah."
Sam finds the book easily enough and is surprised by how much it weighs, his muscles straining his sleeve a little as he holds it out for Castiel to take.
"Thank you, Sam."
"It's no problem. I'm used to being used. For that sort of thing."
Castiel eyes him. "Yes, I can imagine." He tucks the book under his arm. "Would you like to finish the book you were reading before?"
"Uh, yeah, thanks."
Sam follows him to the front of the store. Castiel places the book on the desk and pulls out a drawer where the book he's been reading is resting, a card on top of it with "RESERVED" written on it. He takes book out of the drawer, moving the card into his back pocket, and slides it over to Sam.
"Thank you, again," Sam says, picking up the book. "I don't know how I could possibly repay you – I would buy this in a heartbeat if I could, but. Law student. With barely any money, so."
Castiel smiles a little. "Perhaps if I need another book from one of the top shelves, I will take advantage of your capabilities."
Sam considers offering his number – a perfect opening, really – but maybe that would be really, really weird, to give his number to the owner (or is Castiel even the owner? He seems young, but maybe he has one of those faces) of a bookstore, who seems like a very professional person and would undoubtedly frown at the idea of beginning a tryst (wow, Sam dug that word out of nowhere) with a guy who isn't even a potential customer because he is, as said, a law student with barely any money.
So like a moron, Sam just responds with, "Yeah, definitely," and goes to hide in his corner and berates himself for five minutes before reading his book.
**
"Hey! I was studying!"
"No, you were staring at the same line for the past two minutes," Ruby counters with a roll of her eyes. "What's on your mind, Sammy boy?"
He glares at her for the nickname and doesn't say anything.
"Okay, I'm going to take a wild guess and say you've met someone and you're having angsty thoughts about it, which would explain your occasional puppy-eyes as you glance forlornly out the window."
Sam raises an eyebrow at her.
She shrugs. "What? I was an English major for five minutes. But don't try to change the subject – I'm so right. So, who is it?"
"Oh, look at the time, I better leave and go do the thing I was planning to do at this time."
"Uh huh. But you do realize I'm going to find out eventually, right? Jess was a badly kept secret for what, a week?"
"Ten days," he admits with a frown.
She wiggles her eyebrows. "I'm very good, what can I say."
**
Except when it's the middle of October and he's trying not to smile as he gets properly dressed for the bookstore (he barely slipped on a shirt and sweatpants for his Criminal Law class at 9:45 due to oversleeping and there's no way he's seeing Castiel in sweatpants when they guy is always so well put together).
"Your mystery crush is totally at that bookstore," Ruby says, a triumphant smile on her face despite the fact that she's suffering from a hangover.
Sam can feel his cheeks flush a little as a give away. "You can't say a word to Meg."
"I hate Meg, why would I tell her something when I can taunt her instead?"
"You don't hate Meg," he says for what must be the hundredth time this month.
"Go get 'em, tiger. And watch out for paper cuts – sex against a bookshelf is hot in theory, but it's a very real threat."
"Personal experience?" he asks as he heads toward the door.
"Not mine, but his, definitely."
He's not sure if he wants to figure out how that's possible.
**
"I wasn't sure if you preferred your full name or not. I have a friend who will only answer to Isabella and refuses to be called 'Bella,'" Sam admits.
"Understandable, given that Bella now has the unfortunate association with a book series that glorifies domestic violence and other awful things."
Sam swallows hard and that night he may or may not jerk off to the idea of Cas growling Pablo Neruda poems in his ear.
(Pablo Neruda is a very sensual, beautiful writer and Sam is just going to blame this on Jess for awakening that particular kink.)
**
Sometimes Sam doesn't read at all and they just talk about books, which mostly consists of Sam writing down books since he can't even touch the number Cas has read, something that will no doubt shock Dean when he tells him.
But beyond books, Cas seems to have missed the last forty years of pop culture, notably TV shows and movies, which would probably give Dean a hernia (although it would be hilarious to see all of Dean's 'jokes' be met with a blank expression).
"I've been trying to watch what I've missed growing up, but I have a tendency to fall asleep in the middle of films," Cas explains with a somewhat sheepish expression. "You've been the nicest person about it, though, which is appreciative. It's very strange how angry people get, as if it's a personal offense."
Sam doesn't pry about it, like how the fuck can he not have watched Indiana Jones with his interests, but he's curious, even though he figures the people that raised Cas were nothing like his own father, leaving his sons to their own devices while drinking days away.
(The cross tattoo that's on Cas' right forearm is somewhat of a giveaway though, a revelation that almost had Sam choke on his tea because he did not expect that. Also rolled up Oxford sleeves are a good look for him.)
((This is not good at all.))
**
**
"Four – no, five. Six."
"Jesus Christ, Sammy, if this is how you're gonna be during midterms, you're going to kill yourself during finals –"
"Don't say that word to me," Sam hisses.
He can practically hear Dean rolling his eyes. "Drama queen. You're arriving at seven still, right?"
"Yeah, no delays or cancellations – look, I'll talk to you when I'm in Nebraska, okay? I have to go and fail another midterm –"
"You're not going to fail –"
But Sam hangs up on him.
**
**
Sam grimaces and twists the cap off his beer as he looks around the Roadhouse, which is moderately full on a Saturday afternoon and will only fill up more as the day goes on.
"Come on, you can tell me without the possibility of Dean making fun of you for the next year," she continues, sitting next to him. He figures she has about five minutes before Ellen yells at her to get back to work.
"It's just – I didn't visit a friend before I left for Thanksgiving break and I feel like a horrible person."
Jo tilts her head to the side. "Visit? Not a fellow law student, then."
"No, he works in a bookstore in Palo Alto."
She whips out her phone from her back pocket. "What's his name?" she asks as she fiddles with her touch-screen phone.
"Are you going to Facebook stalk him?"
"Duh. What's his name?" she answers without looking up.
Frankly, he's wondering why he didn't think to do it himself in the first place (until he remembers the time his Facebook was fucked around with when he accidentally left the page open on his computer to go to the bathroom).
"I…don't know his last name," he admits, embarrassed because how the hell has that not come up, and when she's about to take his beer away, he adds, "But his name is Castiel – there can't be a lot of guys with that name, right?"
She raises an eyebrow, but types it in – "there's an 'I' after the 'T'," he corrects her – and he's the first listed result.
His profile picture consists of Cas standing in front of a mural with wings, so he looks like an Angel of the Lord with his Serious Face (he should trademark it), with a stunning woman with red hair and Sam will literally die if that's his girlfriend or fiancé because that would be a new low.
But before he can properly breakdown, Jo figures out that, no, that's his older sister Anna and she seems to be an artist, so she may be responsible for the mural (thank the Lord). She also gathers that he grew up in a small town in Illinois with a large family – at least five siblings, from what she can gather, although Cas only lists Anna and an older brother Gabriel – lead by a father who was either never there or too overbearing, depending.
She whistles lowly. "He's smart – went to MIT before going to UC Santa Barbara – hey, Ash!" she yells out in the general direction of where Ash's 'office' is, "Get out here for a sec!"
Ash, in all his mullet glory, saunters out from the back hall and towards them, a can of PBR in his hands. "What's shakin'?"
"Did you know of a kid named Castiel Milton at MIT?"
Ash hums in thought, looking more like he's smelling something rotten as opposed to thinking. Eventually, his shoulders drop and he shakes his head. "No – there are thousands of people that go to MIT, I don't fucking know everyone."
"Well, he was only a year younger than you, it's a pretty reasonable –"
Ash snorts. "I can name maybe five people during my time at MIT, and they were all dicks. Sorry, Sam."
"Isn't he your friend?" Jo says pointedly to Sam as Ash walks away. "Shouldn't you know at least some of this?"
He tries to stutter an explanation, but she gets it in an instant and starts laughing until Dean gets in the Roadhouse after working at the shop.
"What's up with her?" Dean asks, eyeing her weirdly.
Jo lowers her hand from her face, eyes alight and a grin a mile wide and if Sam didn't know any better, he would say Dean's just a little bit distracted by it.
"Nothing, I'm gonna see if Ellen needs help in the back," Sam says and quickly retreats.
He's sure Jo will blab everything because she's probably liked Dean for as long as he can remember and she falls victim to his stupid green eyes like so many other girls every now and again, but there's way he's going to sit there for it.
**
"So, Sammy, does this mean you're going to fulfill your lifelong dream of living in a bookstore? Sleep with the books?" Dean sniggers, elbowing Sam during dinner.
"Fuck off," Sam snaps, blushing against his will.
**
Ruby and Meg are still gone when he arrives Sunday afternoon, so he drops off his bags and heads for the bookstore, even though he figures it won't be open, especially given it's a holiday weekend.
Except when he arrives, the OPEN sign is flipped forward, so he heads inside.
Cas isn't behind the desk, but Sam can hear him and another man murmuring in the back of the store. He wonders if he should announce himself, if they're on that friendship level, or if Sam should just keep quiet and find a book to read and 'accidentally' bump into Cas and whomever he's with.
The latter, definitely.
Sam picks a random book about vampires across cultures and heads over to his armchair, finding Cas standing on the stool on his toes, looking more frazzled than usual, face pink with exertion. The portly man standing beside him, checking him out, immediately rubs Sam the wrong way.
"I suppose I should've given you my number so you could avoid falling," Sam says, heart flying into his throat as he watches Cas' eyes widen and then find his, smiling with delight.
"Hello, Sam," he greets him evenly enough.
"Hey, Cas. Here, let me – what book do you need?" Sam says, glancing at the customer, whose facial expression is neutral, but his jaw clenches as Cas steps down from the stool.
"Well, Zachariah believes he miswrote the ISBN number, so he has been having me recite titles in this particular section in hopes of sparking his memory," Cas explains and Sam can detect impatience in his tone.
"I'm a very busy man, Castiel, as you're well aware. My secretary made the mistake," Zachariah says in a snotty tone before turning to face Sam properly, holding out his hand. "Dr. Zachariah Zachary. Professor of Classics at Stanford University."
It takes every ounce of willpower to not laugh because what the hell.
(He can hear his brother laughing loudly and obnoxiously in his head.)
Sam shakes his hand with a tight squeeze. "Sam Winchester, first year law student at Stanford."
"Go Cardinals, then," Zachariah says with a tight smile.
Sam smiles back and steps on the stool. "So, where did you last leave off?"
**
"Thank you," Cas says as soon as Zachariah leaves the store. "He is one of the more…important customers," he winces, "and has known the owner Joshua for years. But his rudeness gets weary."
"So you don't own the store," Sam blurts.
Cas smiles wryly. "No, although I'm temporarily overseeing everything while Joshua takes care of personal matters."
It's minimal and maybe a little silly, but Sam really likes how Cas respects other people's privacy, which makes him feel creepy and borderline awful about Facebook stalking him, even if that information is readily available.
He swallows as he looks into Cas' eyes, especially blue against his blue and white pinstriped shirt. "Uh, did you have a good Thanksgiving?" he asks, feeling clumsy and awkward like he was at thirteen.
"It was enjoyable, I suppose. Rather unorthodox, really, given that we had fried chicken instead of turkey, but that's neither here nor there." Pause. "And yours?"
"It was good. But…sad too. It was the first big holiday without my dad, so," Sam admits.
"I'm sorry," Cas says.
There's another pause that's longer and it almost becomes awkward until Cas adds,
"I haven't had Thanksgiving with my father in almost fifteen years, but my siblings and I have always made do."
So they talk about their siblings. Sam describes Dean, how he played Mom, Dad, and Older Brother while growing up and how he's one of the biggest dicks he knows, but also loves fiercely and gives himself over more than Sam thinks he should, but Sam always thought himself selfish in comparison.
And Cas explains that he's the youngest of six: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Anna, and then Castiel. He only talks to Gabriel – a jokester, Cas explains, who bounces around the world with no intention of settling down – and Anna – a kind artist who is currently living in San Francisco with her boyfriend. He hasn't heard from his other siblings in years. Cas doesn't go into detail about Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, but does say they're cold and obedient, which Sam doesn't question.
By the time he checks his watch, it's dinner time and he promised Meg and Ruby that he'd take care of dinner, so he quickly writes his number down for Cas – "For future reference," he says casually, hoping he's not coming across forward or desperate – and rushes out the door.
**
Thank you again for today – I hope you stop by on Friday; a few new books are coming in on Wednesday that I think you will like. – Castiel
From Sam Winchester:
No problem. And YES, I will be there! Sorry I was MIA for a few weeks – I got swamped with midterms.
From Castiel Milton:
No need to apologize, I understand the desire to do well in school. I will see you then.
Poor guy is even more awkward with texting, Sam thinks as he puts the phone down and goes back to stirring the sauce he made for pasta.
**
He's halfway through his second beer when he Cas leaving the shop, locking the door behind him and pulling his coat closer to his body against the chill. The collar is popped up and it should be stupid, but Sam can't help but think he looks cool, and even wishes he kept it up after Cas folds it down.
Almost like a sixth sense, Cas looks up, staring directly across the street and at him through the glass. Sheepishly, Sam smiles and waves at him.
"Why do you look constipated-slash-who the fuck are you waving at?" Ruby asks, following his line of sight and locking in on Cas. "Dear God, what a pretty man I'd fuck hard."
"Ruby!" Sam exclaims.
She ignores him and gestures towards Cas to come inside, winking and all. Sam is convinced that Cas is going to ignore her and go on his way, but to his surprise, he looks both ways before striding across the street towards the bar.
"What did you just do?" Sam hisses.
"Invited your crush over for a drink," Ruby responds with a growing smirk that's downright evil.
"What crush?" Meg demands, eyes narrowing and how the hell did she even overhear their conversation from across the table?
And suddenly Cas is standing right near the table, staring at Sam. "Hello, Sam."
"Hey, Cas," Sam replies before chugging his beer a little.
"Well, well, well, look what the bitch dragged in," Meg drawls and Ruby says, "Fuck you."
Cas' eyes widen. "Meg?"
She grins. "Good to see you too, Clarence."
Ruby chokes on her drink and Sam feels like he's in a sick nightmare because how the hell does Meg know Cas and why is Ruby getting that ecstatic expression on her face that she only whips out in awful situations?
"This is the guy? From –"
Meg drags a stool over from the nearby table, much to the annoyance of its occupants, and gestures for Cas to sit down. Sam wants to warn him, tell him to run away and to go back to whatever he was planning to do tonight before he got sucked into this insanity, but Cas lowers himself onto it and Meg squeezes his shoulder. "A lady on the street, but a freak in the sheets," she says and that's enough for Ruby to squeal.
Cas, on the other hand, glares at Meg. "I see you're as socially inappropriate as always, Meg."
Meg smiles at him. "Why fix what isn't broken?"
"Oh, I can think of a few things to fix in your head," Kevin drawls.
Sam slips Kevin a ten for his next beer before asking, "So, uh, how do you two know each other?"
"Oh, it's a long story," Meg teases at the same time Cas says, "We met four summers ago while I was temporarily living in LA."
Sam snorts into his beer, which Meg catches.
"So, Sammy," she starts, "How do you know Castiel?"
Fuck.
"He frequents the bookshop in which I work at from time to time," Cas answers for him, bless his soul for not noticing how he's setting Sam up for potentially the most embarrassing moment of his life.
It all clicks behind Ruby's eyes and please, for the love of –
"Oh, yes, Sam really loves that bookstore. He's always so excited to go there every week," Ruby tells Cas, every time she enunciates a word, Sam drinks a little more from his beer.
"Why do I feel like I'm missing something?" Kevin asks.
Sam hands him some more cash. "Just go get Cas a beer, would you?"
**
Ruby informs Sam that Cas and Meg were apparently fuck buddies when Cas was at UC Santa Barbara and Meg was playing groupie to an LA-based band ("I was not a groupie," Meg states threateningly, spilling some whiskey onto the table, "I actually did shit for them – my cousin was the drummer, for fuck's sake." Although later in the night she admits she fucked the bassist.).
At one point, Cas and Meg disappear outside and Sam's surprised Cas smokes, but maybe he only smokes when he drinks. Or at least he hopes so because he's never found the smell or taste attractive in anyone's mouth.
(Yet again he wonders why he started sleeping with Other Ruby in the first place.)
"I like him," Ruby states as he takes the beer from Sam's hands. He should probably fight it, but he thinks he's done drinking for the night anyway.
"Wait, what?" he asks, surprised. "But you never like anyone I like."
"No, the only one I really hated was Ruby 2.0," she counters, sipping on his beer with a grimace.
"Why can't you call her Other Ruby instead of making her sound like a robot?"
"Well she is a shittier model of me. I'm the original Ruby and I'm that much better."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'm just – he's not exactly…he's kind of…"
"Yeah, he's kind of strange, but he can keep up with us and has a dry sense of humor." She shrugs. "Also that mouth is a sin – the things Meg told me: she's never gotten better oral after him."
He can feel his blush start from the top of his head and go down his neck to his chest. "I'd rather not think about that."
"No, you'd rather imagine those lips around your cock."
He clenches his fingers and thinks of Ash belly-up on the pool table during last year's New Year's Eve party.
"Hm," she hums, looking thoughtful. "That's not a bad mental image, actually."
"Ruby," he hisses.
An hour later, it's almost one in the morning and he's sitting outside on the curb, dizzy and queasy from the tequila shots that Kevin thought would be a good idea.
Cas plops down next to him, probably dirtying his khakis, and fiddles with his hands. He remembers Ruby doing that after sex sometimes, refraining from pulling out a cigarette for his sake (she only truly refrained half the time).
"You can smoke, if y'want," Sam says to him.
Cas sighs in relief, plucking a cigarette from behind his right ear. "I quit a few years ago – after I stopped seeing Meg – but I break the habit whenever I drink too much," he explains, still sounding sober.
Although it does take him a few tries to light his cigarette.
"Although I don't think my voice can get any deeper than it is now," he considers before taking a long drag. "Genetics and a year-long colic were enough without being a chain smoker for two years."
"You had a year-long colic?" Sam asks, grimacing at the thought.
"My siblings still give me grief about it."
In drunken clarity, Sam's convinced that's why Castiel doesn't talk much, at least on some level: a subconscious need to serve penance.
Sam sees the cross tattoo peak from his shirt cuff, which is unbuttoned and drooping to his elbow as he brings the cigarette to his mouth.
(He knows smoking is unhealthy but there are just some people who make it so goddamn appealing - Cas is one of them.)
"When did you get that tattoo?" he asks, not caring about personal boundaries until, "If you don't mind me asking. My asking." Yep, drunk as hell.
Cas smiles a little. "When I was eighteen at MIT. I thought it was a little melodramatic to get it on my back like Gabriel – his goes from the back of his neck to his lower back. It's a beautiful thing, really. And Anna has one on the back of her shoulder, but." He eyes what's left of his cigarette, takes one more puff, and then drops it onto the pavement, squashing it out with his heel.
To fill the silence, Sam talks about himself and Dean getting matching tattoos as soon as Sam turned eighteen, before going off to Stanford. How he read about anti-demon-possession tattoos in a book when he was thirteen, the wistful desire to expel his dad's demons that he carried until his death a few months ago.
"It's stupid, but. It's a reminder to never be like him, that we can't, really, not as long as we have each other," Sam rambles, a little embarrassed, but ready to defend himself to the death if he laughs or makes a joke about it all sounding incestuous, which is why he doesn't tell a lot of people the real reason behind getting it.
But Cas just stares at him, almost with reverence, and Sam squirms under his intense gaze.
"I have one other tattoo," Cas says after a minute and proceeds to talk about dropping out of MIT, the last straw and the last time he's seen his other brothers. He had run off to California, but instead of going north like Anna, he went south where it was sunny every day and the weather was picture-perfect, a nice change from Boston.
He was reading Albert Camus for the first time and au milieu de l'hiver, j'apprenais enfin qu'il y avait en moi été invincible resonated more than anything else he's ever read, and when he received a scholarship for UC Santa Barbara, he got it tattooed on his back, between his shoulder blades.
"What does it mean?" Sam asks, shivering a little in the cold.
Cas smiles, his eyes bright. "'In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.'"
At this rate, Sam is going to fall in love with this guy.
**
"Please, don't be ashamed, I know how hard you were studying," Cas says, smiling, "Besides, your friendship is quite a remarkable gift to me."
Sam doesn't know how to respond to that kind of earnest declaration, even if he feels the same way.
"I do have a gift for you right now," Cas states, going into one of the drawers in the desk, pulling out a book (it has to be a book) wrapped in recycled book print paper.
"Cas – you really didn't have –" Sam starts as Cas forcibly places the book in his hands.
"Yes, I did. Please," he gestures towards the gift.
Sam is careful about unwrapping the gift, a habit he developed as a kid, even though it's not like he could save or reuse any wrappings, and the book is definitely from the store since Sam has been meaning to get to reading it.
"I believe you'll end up really enjoying this one," Cas explains, looking at the worn cover with a Chinese artist's representation of a demon.
When Cas looks up at Sam, Sam is pretty sure he's so fucked beyond salvation at this point; he has to force himself to simply grin and say thank you, instead of pushing him against the nearest hard surface and kissing him.
He holds out his hand to shake when he leaves for the airport, but Cas surprises him by hugging him tightly. Sam loses the tension in his shoulders and returns it, getting a whiff of spice and old books.
"Happy holidays and have a happy new year," Sam says. "I'll see you next year," he jokes.
Cas smiles. "Yes, you too. See you next year."
**
"A Christmas present," Sam answers.
It takes Dean a half second to realize whom it's from. "Ah, it's from that librarian," he says, grinning.
"He works in a bookshop, not a library, therefore, he's not a librarian."
Dean waves a hand. "Whatever. I have to meet him."
Sam finally looks up from his book. "What?"
"Yeah, I mean, I know all your friends, including that bitch Two Ruby."
"…What? Two Ruby?"
"You know two Rubys! What else am I supposed to call the one you were fucking?"
Sam rolls his eyes, but admits, "Most call her Ruby 2.0."
"What is she? A robot?"
"That's what I said. I just call her Other Ruby."
Dean thinks about it for a second before shaking his head. "Ruby 2.0 is better. Look, can you do me a huge favor tomorrow and pick up this part from Bobby's? I'm on crunch time with this one customer who's the biggest dick, but he pays well –"
"Yeah, that's fine, I haven't seen Bobby in a few months, so."
Dean winks. "You're the best, Sammy."
"Yeah, yeah."
**
Instead, Sam stares at his phone in horror when he receives a text that Dean and Jo will be flying into San Francisco right this second and will be arriving in a few hours.
"Why is he coming here for his birthday?" Sam bemoans, his head resting against a bookshelf as he contemplates hitting his head against it.
"Is he having a crisis about his age?" Cas inquires before sipping at his tea – Sam's Christmas gift, which included a large mug, which he's drinking from.
"He's turning twenty-seven – are you supposed to have a crisis at twenty-seven?"
"I didn't have a crisis when I turned twenty-seven – maybe when I turn twenty-eight I'll have a nervous breakdown. Although I believe the common year to have a nervous breakdown is thirty, from what I understand."
Sam smiles and lifts his head. "And why is Jo coming?"
Cas looks at him above the rim of the mug, his blue eyes deep and bright. "Perhaps she's coming to help you support your brother," he deadpans.
Sam brings his head back to the bookshelf.
**
"You know you guys don't have to…warn me in person or whatever you were planning on doing," Sam says while they're out to dinner.
Dean looks like a deer in the headlights and Sam is so incredibly fond of his stupid older brother.
"Well, good, because I'm really just here to meet Castiel in person," Jo says, but she's smiling gratefully at him.
"Yeah, we have to make sure he's good enough for you," Dean adds, clearing his throat.
"I'm not a teenage girl who needs her daddy to scare away the boyfriend with a shotgun," Sam argues. "And we're not even dating – we're friends."
It still doesn't deter them when they force Sam to invite Cas out for Dean's birthday outing on Friday night.
"I apologize in advance for him," Sam mutters as he hands Cas a beer.
Cas places a hand in the middle of Sam's back. "I grew up with Gabriel – I'm sure your brother will be fine."
Sam hasn't met Gabriel, but he has a hard time believe anyone can be worse than Dean.
"I think I need a shot," Sam announces.
"Me too," Dean says, patting Sam hard on the back. "Go get 'em."
**
(Sam will admit to being very disappointed when he came to that realization when he was fifteen.)
But Dean's never been comfortable with it, at least not in the way Sam has and Sam doesn't know if it's because their dad had more time to spoon-feed his ridiculous logistics in Dean, or if Sam was more of a rebellious child than any teacher they ever had suspected, but. Not a lot of people get to see this side of him and if Dean is slipping after only a few hours of meeting Cas, then.
"Dude," Dean hisses, all excited and very drunk, "He likes Led Zeppelin's blues songs the best. He actually has an opinion about it – you have to nail this guy."
"Oh my God," Sam groans, rolling his eyes.
Jo finds him later on in the night and says, "He's really fucking top notch, Sam – Mom n' Ash n' Bobby gotta meet him."
At this point, Sam has stopped arguing about it.
**
I'm never going out with you and your friends and especially your brother again. My hangover is obscene.
From Sam Winchester:
I doubt it's as bad as mine – I've been vomiting all morning.
From Castiel Milton:
I'm wearing sunglasses in the shop. It's so inappropriate, but any kind of light triggers a migraine.
From Sam Winchester:
I can't imagine you in sunglasses.
From Castiel Milton:
*attached 1 photo
From Sam Winchester:
What the hell decade are those from- the 30s??? and are they women's sunglasses???
From Castiel Milton:
They're not mine – they must be Joshua's wife's. I found them in storage a few months ago.
From Sam Winchester:
Oh my god, Cas, please tell me nobody has come into the shop today.
From Castiel Milton:
No, thankfully I've been sitting alone in my misery. I'm afraid I would be quite a horrible sales associate.
From Sam Winchester:
In a few hours when my stomach has settled, I'm going to get a bagel – I can get you something and we can complain together.
From Castiel Milton:
If you can get a bacon egg and cheese with extra cheese, I will be eternally grateful.
From Sam Winchester:
What does being 'eternally grateful' entail? Do I get another book? :p
From Sam Winchester:
Do not tell Dean I used an emoticon he will never stop making fun of me. I think they're cute.
From Castiel Milton:
I will refrain from telling him. Although if his Bloody Mary recipe he texted me this morning is bad, I may change my mind; I will curse you for bringing that kind of negativity in my life.
Sam stares at his phone in shock before kicking Dean, who's groaning on the couch, which has pulled out into a bed.
"What the fuck?" Dean grumbles.
"You gave Cas the Bloody Mary recipe after one night?" Sam demands.
"Yeah, what of it?"
"Are you kidding me? You gave it to Jess after four years of my knowing her and you knowing her. You hang out with Cas for a few hours last night – with alcohol involved! – and you just hand it on over?"
Dean sighs into his pillow before looking at him, eyes bloodshot. "I'm literally going to kill you."
Sam purses his lips at him and waits.
"I like him," Dean says. "He's really fucking cool and totally fucking weird and even if you never date or fuck or whatever, you better still be fucking friends with him."
Sam blinks. "Wow, you're passionate about this." A horrible thought crosses his mind. "Do you…?"
Dean hits Sam with his pillow and collapses on the mattress. "You're still drunk. I'm going back to sleep."
Sam smiles and then his stomach churns, so he rushes to the bathroom.
**
When he arrives at the bookstore with a pizza (half vegetable, half Hawaiian), Cas is near the front on the stool, trying to reach a book with Zachariah cheerfully checking him out once more. Cas looks like he's barely reigning in his patience, his face bright red and the hand that's not reaching for a book is gripping the shelf in front of him so tightly that his knuckles are white.
"Hey, Cas! Professor Zachary," Sam says cheerfully, placing the pizza box on the desk before heading over to them.
"It's Dr. Zachary," Zachariah sniffs, clearly annoyed.
(Professors with PhDs, at least the obnoxious ones, get so snooty and upset when you simply call then professors.)
"Oh, right, I'm sorry," Sam responds, eyes widening. "Here, Cas, let me. You said you would text me when you'd need a book from the top shelf," he says while patting Cas on the back. "Guess it slipped your mind."
Cas stares at him like he's a savior as he steps down from the stool.
"It's just so funny that the books you need seem to always be on the top shelf," Sam continues as he gets on the stool. "Now, which one is it?" He turns to Zachariah, a smile on his face.
Sam hands over the book easily enough and Zachariah pays with barely contained fury while Sam stands behind him, arms crossed and feeling like a bodyguard. He drops the act as soon as Zachariah leaves the store, stepping closer to the desk.
"I'm sorry if that was rude and unnecessary, it probably was," Sam starts, smiling sheepishly at Cas, who's staring at him with an intensity he doesn't think he's ever seen before. "Uh, I can leave if you want, although I'd like my half of the pizza because I'm still a poor college student and –"
Cas pulls him forward by the front of his shirt and kisses him hard, their lips smacking in the silence when he pulls away a moment later, a slightly horrified expression on his face. He seems ready to run out of the store when Sam places his hands on either side of Cas' face and kisses him as slowly as he can, sparks firing under his skin because finally, finally –
"Wait, wait," Sam gasps, pulling away. "Isn't it bad luck or something to hook up the day before Valentine's Day?"
Cas stares at him like he's crazy. "Does it look like I'd care about that?" he growls and huh, that's really hot.
Although later while they're making out against the stacks (Sam can cross that off his bucket list), Sam remembers that no, it's just a day feared by men who hook up with girls the day before Valentine's Day, worried that she'll expect more, which he always thought was dumb.
Fortunately, Sam considers himself to be intelligent and Cas doesn't care much about social norms, so they're more than willing to have their first date on Valentine's Day, even if it includes ordering in Thai food and attempting to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark (when really they'll end up making out most of the time).
"Good luck with your Federal Litigation test tomorrow," Cas murmurs against the corner of his mouth before stepping back.
"Thanks, I'm going to need it," Sam says, rubbing the back of his head.
"No, you're not. I thought it was a common expression to wish a person luck as a means of boosting confidence, which was the point – you have no need for luck."
Sam kisses him just because he can.
**
"Nice hickey," Meg drawls.
Sam slaps a hand to his neck, knowing exactly where it is. "Fuck!"
"Who made the first move?" Ruby asks, grabbing the chair closest to him. "And you better say you did because I have fifty bucks riding on it."
Sam winces and Ruby smacks him upside the head.
"Your brother is going to be so fucking annoying about this," Ruby groans as she leaves the table in a dramatic fashion – angrily swinging hips and all.
Meg cackles as she heads over to the fridge, pulling out things for dinner. "I told her that Cas would break first at the right moment, but she was convinced by your impressive pectorals that you'd push him into the bookshelf." She shakes her head. "He's great, right?"
"What, Cas? Uh, yeah…"
She rolls her eyes. "Get a dirtier mind, Winchester."
He grimaces immediately. "I'm definitely not talking with you about this."
"Why not? We can compare!" she argues, a teasing grin on her face.
"I think I'd rather chew on nails."
She pouts. "You're no fun." She pulls out red peppers from a bag and says, "You do realize that if you make any sort of noise when you have him over, I'm literally going to be on your ass because you're an annoying fuck when it comes to that."
He blushes crimson and mutters, "I'm studying in my room," as he gathers his books.
**
"That'll be forty-two-sixty-seven," Cas states, looking up and undoubtedly stunning them with the blueness of his eyes.
Sam purses his lips together to stop himself from laughing as one girl scrambles to get her money out of her purse and the others sigh and whisper, "he's just so pretty."
When Cas gets exact change and hands one of the girls the receipt, he glances up and smiles at Sam.
The girls finally take notice of Sam and shuffle slowly towards the door, watching them with wide eyes.
"Hello, Sam," Cas greets him.
"Hey," Sam says, waiting until the last girl leaves the door, the bells chiming in their wake. "Did you notice how they were ogling you the entire time?"
Cas furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side. "I thought they were very excited about their purchase, which is an interesting read about the development of love potions throughout the centuries."
Sam sighs and shakes his head.
"Would you be interested in making out against one of the book shelves until Zachariah's TA arrives?" Cas inquires, eyes dark with intent.
Sam grins and drops his bag on the desk. "I'll do you one better," he says, walking around the desk and hooking two fingers into one of Cas' belt loops, leading him towards the back of the shop.