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heavenonearth) wrote2015-12-25 09:52 pm
heavenonearth) wrote2015-12-25 09:52 pm
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[ getting to know sam winchester has been a pleasure.
he's young, but he's smart, and more than that he is engaging, and that is something that too many full-time, serious students sorely lack. castiel doesn't consider himself particularly entertaining, blames his lack of friends on it rather than his own introverted tendencies, but the point remains that his peers can be so terribly boring that it's all but mind numbing to spend time around them. research labs are enough to make him want to suck his own brains out with a straw, sometimes, and that's saying something, considering his threshold for entertainment is really rather low. and there are some of them who aren't so bad, really, but it isn't like the movies make it seem, that's for sure.
still, castiel is a graduate student. he's quiet and serious, so climbing the social ladder isn't terribly important to him, but even still, sam winchester is a breath of fresh air, smart and clever and funny, with a winning smile and an incredibly active mind. interacting with him is a privilege.
it had started as a tutoring job. sam had asked for a little help understanding his physics course, and someone had directed him to castiel, who had graciously, if uncertainly, agreed to do it. he doesn't fancy himself a teacher, and he certainly didn't think he'd be very good at it, though after a stiff and uncomfortable start, sam had begun to warm to him, and castiel found that he was glad of it. he'd worried that the gap in age might have been a deterrent, but sam is friendly and more mature than any undergrad he's ever known, and they get along well, swimmingly even now that castiel has begun to open to him more, unfolding himself bit by bit as their friendship develops into something more comfortable, something less about classes and more about simply spending time with one another.
they study together twice a week, on fridays and tuesdays. sam doesn't need much help with physics anymore, so castiel brings his own books and notes, works on whatever it is that he's writing or researching while sam buries himself in biology or organic chemistry. it's nice.
it's friday today, when castiel arrives at the little house sam rents off campus, and he tightens his overcoat against the brisk spring breeze as he moves quickly down the block; it's not far from the campus, so castiel always walks. he's rounding the corner when he feels his
Excuse me.
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for the hell of it. for a more rounded curriculum. i've got a focus on science, dean. physics is science.
physics is impossible.
you thought geometry was impossible, and you still passed.
well, yeah, but –
suffice it to say that it hadn't been an argument that he'd won, and he'd dropped it, because there's only so much arguing you can do with your little brother about things like string theory and keep your head on straight. he'd gotten a tutor, and he's been passing everything with flying colors, so he can't complain. let him be a nerd if he wants, because he's always been the one with the straight-up brainpower while dean has always been better with hands-on learning, and that would be why they're studying on opposite ends of the spectrum.
besides, you can only learn so much about cars from your old man if you want to end up building them from the ground up. this is way more his style than sitting in a lecture hall for the better part of three hours and expected to take notes instead of using it as naptime. ( let's just say his freshman and half of sophomore year had been a little harder on him than they'd needed to be, just because getting all of his prerequisites out of the way had involved a lot of falling asleep in class and getting smacked in the forehead a few times by several different professors.
college is hard, okay. leave him alone. )
he's never been around for those study dates, but that doesn't mean he hasn't heard all about castiel. how smart he is, what he's researching, how he's been working on his thesis for so long already that his defense should go off without a hitch when it actually comes up – and even though dean doesn't exactly get all of it ( because why would you want to be in college for longer than four years? ), he listens to all of this schoolboy-crush-gushing with a tiny smile curving the line of his mouth at the edges, nods along with all of the excitement and pretends that he has at least a loose grip on the subject matter.
sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't, but he's good enough at bluffing that he's pretty sure he's managed to get away with it.
this particular friday afternoon finds him in the garage, under the hood of his baby with grease up to his elbows. nothing wrong with her, just a little bit of routine maintenance that he's been putting off in favor of a couple of shop projects to get him through the end of the semester. sam's off who-knows-where, maybe having his playdate at the nerd's place this week, and he isn't expecting to nearly bonk his head on the underside of the impala's hood when he hears a voice he isn't familiar with.
talk about graceful.
he peers around the impala, both brows raised at the intrusion, and even though he's never so much as seen a glimpse of this so-called hot nerd, he knows that's exactly who he has to be looking at.
… hm.
not bad. ) Castiel, right? Hey. ( and here comes the flash of one of his winning smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he reaches for a rag to wipe his hands on. ) Sammy's told me a lot about you.
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there's enough of a vague resemblance that he can see the relation to sam, and he knows instantly who this must be - dean winchester, his elder brother, the one who works on cars and likes to get his hands dirty. castiel hasn't met him yet, dean's never been around when he's been over, always out working, or at the bar, or whatever it is that men like dean do with their time. truth be told, castiel's hardly given the idea of him more than a passing thought; he's had no reason to, no drive to find out anything more about him than he's already been told. castiel's people skills, after all, aren't exactly in tip top shape.
but dean is - ahem. ]
Um, yes, I'm - [ castiel clears his throat, his eyes dropping to dean's hands, stained and dirty with grease, strong and callused, working hands. ] - yes, I'm Castiel.
[ and he's a grown man, for heavens sake, and dean winchester is very attractive, all flashing hazel eyes and long eyelashes, tanned skin scattered with freckles, strong arms smudged to the elbows with grease, but that's no excuse to trip over his own words like an overgrown schoolboy. inhaling sharply, castiel squares his shoulders. ]
You must be Dean.
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now, sam has a tendency to ramble about things even on a bad day – the good days are the ones in which he gets all kinds of stories, whether about his classes or work study or the sad salad he had for lunch in the student union – so it's really no surprise at all that he's heard quite a bit about the awkward little nerd boy now standing in his garage looking about as out of place as that errant onion ring you sometimes get in an order of fries. he might have never had any intention of going out of his way to introduce himself to the guy, but now that he's finally getting a good look at him, he's a little bit glad that he'd decided to stay home and work on his baby a little before going out for the night.
castiel might have a few years on him by dint of being a grad student, but he'll be damned if he doesn't look almost small, shy and – maybe? – just this side of flustered, standing there staring at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world. at least while he's busy staring at grease-stained hands dean has a chance to really look him over, looking every bit the part of a student that takes his responsibility as one way too seriously. but that dark, messy hair and those bright blue eyes are enough to draw his attention for a second longer than he'd intended, and if castiel catches his gaze lingering, well. that's just going to have to be that. )
The one and only. ( he briefly reaches down to retrieve a socket wrench that is precariously close to falling from the edge of the engine block and getting itself lost in a mess of wires and hoses, but then his attention is back to where it belongs. that little stutter, the way he looks like he's trying way too hard to keep from tripping over his words even more than he already has, oh … that's just begging for a little bit of teasing. ) Want a beer, or something? I'm guessing you're here for one of your little study dates, and I'll be damned if I know where Sam is, but he's gotta come back sometime. ( whoops, have a wink and a grin. )
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that dean winchester is damned good looking certainly doesn't help, and he's everything that castiel isn't - easy and loose, grinning warm and comfortably. castiel has always envied people like him, in some ways, people who are so at ease around others, who saunter through conversations like their own backyards while castiel's always searching for words, or tripping over them, or blurting them out thoughtlessly. generally speaking he's usually not so tongue-tied as this, but his social grace is no better even when he isn't. he's too honest, too blunt, too forward; even among his own peers he's a bit alienated, a little more odd and eccentric even among his odd, eccentric kind, but that's fine. it might be nice, to be more like dean, but in the end he can only ever be himself.
when dean winks, he looks uncomfortable, and decides at once that he's going to be petulant about it, because it's certainly better than stammering like an adolescent. so castiel lifts his chin and squints his eyes thoughtfully, jaw tightening. his eyes linger on dean winchester now if only because he's beginning to recover, and refusing to act any more foolishly bashful than he already has. ]
No, thank you.
[ he says stiffly, because of course he doesn't want a beer. ]
Sam is picking up lunch. He should be back soon enough.
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well. they can hope, aspire to be, but there can be only one. dean is the highlander of smooth operators.
( yes, that just happened. and no, there is no coming back from it. what's done is done, and you're just going to have to deal with it. )
he plays well at being all those things castiel is currently noticing about him; all that smoothness, the ease with which he interacts with anyone around him, quick with a smile or a laugh or a stupid joke. really, it all comes from being more of an extrovert than his brother, which isn't all that difficult, truth be told – but he's always picked up where sammy has left off, making it easier on the kid without him really knowing it, and maybe he's picked up a thing or two from their dad along the way, because if anything can be said about john winchester, it's that he's the man that dean is always going to aspire to be.
whether he willingly acknowledges it or not.
he's looking forward to seeing what kind of reaction his wink merits him – and, truthfully, he isn't all that disappointed. petulance is kind of cute on the guy, all things considered, and with the way he tilts his chin up like that, it gives him a nice view of that long, pale throat, something that he finds himself gazing at for a bit longer than he cares to admit, more than he thinks he can get away with, and he breaks contact long enough to saunter over to the mini-fridge up against the far wall, bending low to reach the bottom shelf and extract a bottle.
never mind that such an action nearly bends him double, and his grungy t-shirt rides up the slightest bit in the back. never mind that at all, because it's there and gone just as quickly as it takes to right himself as he twists off the cap and tosses it into the nearby trash. ) Your loss – it's the good stuff. Never skimp on the beer. ( he raises the bottle to his lips and takes a long pull, a satisfied sort of rumble sifting up from the back of his throat as he swallows. )
Ah, good boy, Sammy … he's always had this weird sixth sense thing when it comes to knowing when I'm hungry. ( and here, there's a cheeky sort of grin, because he knows this has to be one of their study dates, and who in the world even invited you, greaser!? the nerve! ) What's he bringing back?
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college was a little easier. he grew a little, found his independence, cast off some of his shyness, but the desire to interact with human beings still wasn't very strong, and while he did it when necessary - in study groups or for group presentations - he still never felt the need to seek it out. it felt a little lonely, sure, but castiel always accepted that he was different, always knew that he was strange, had known it from the first moment he could remember. that he couldn't fit in well with other people was fine when he was happy enough to simply watch them, to participate by observing.
and now? well, now he's more or less found his comfort zone, inasmuch as he ever could. he keeps people at a comfortable distance, doesn't allow himself to be treated like a doormat while still maintaining a polite veneer and cool, composed disposition. he knows himself better, and feels about as comfortable in his own skin as he ever will, because he knows that it will never quite fit but he's made it work, found an equilibrium within himself that serves as best as it can.
dean winchester's dumping it all onto its ear. ]
Pizza.
[ he says, stiffly, and it makes sense now, knowing that dean is here, why sam would bring something like pizza for lunch. castiel's not nearly so fastidious about his eating habits as sam is, but he knows him well enough to know he'd generally prefer something green and leafy to something greasy and cheesy, but dean - dean certainly looks like a pizza sort of guy. and castiel likes it well enough, too.
slowly, he's pulling himself back together, even if it's difficult to keep his eyes off of dean winchester, even if he's having a hard time staying focused, has to force his eyes to dean's face and keep them there. thankfully he's never been shy about direct eye contact. still, castiel clears his throat, shifts his weight. ]
I should.. wait inside.
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maybe he's still unconsciously picking up where sam had left off, but he doesn't like to think in terms like that, because his little brother has come a long way as far as his social compass is concerned. leave him be, let him find his own way, that sort of thing. dean knows he'll find his way sooner rather than later –
especially if this little nerd has anything to do with it.
dean takes another purposeful, long pull from his beer and comes back around to the front of the impala, studying his work thus far. he's been working on updating things a little bit, putting some better-looking valve covers in, but forgive him for the smallest second if he's more concerned with the body that's currently taking up space in his garage. a body that –
… seems hell-bent on putting distance between them. hm. that just won't do. ) Pizza … hope he remembered the extra pepperoni. ( like it was meant for him. honestly, dean, you're too privileged for your own good.
he keeps eye contact, because he's never been all that adverse to such a thing – even if, sometimes, depending on the person keep the contact with him, it ends up feeling a little … skeevy – but he ends up looking away for a tiny moment, making a small, contemplative sound in the back of his throat. ) Actually, before you go, could you hand me that? ( he makes a vague motion to the box of tools he's left on the workbench just to castiel's left, just to see if he picks up on what he wants him to toss him, every little bit the little shit he's been accused of being before. )
I could use your help, if you don't mind …
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and all right, he doesn't really know much about sam and dean's relationship beyond what sam's mentioned, and he's certainly done a lot of bitching about dean, but it's always been innocent enough. normal enough. castiel hasn't really pressed for more.
at any rate, he's making ready his escape, more than prepared to jump on it now that he's clumsily excused himself. ]
What?
[ he asks, bluntly, because he hadn't expected to be opposed. most people follow the general flow of conversation, pick up what he's putting down when he's trying to escape, and more often than not they're happy enough to see him gone. but dean's engaging him further, and that's.. confusing, really, because this guy has all the social ease of a politician, castiel can't imagine that he didn't get the hint. he's just choosing to ignore it. ]
I don't..
[ bewildered, castiel glances toward the box of tools, each and every one of them as alien to him as a rabbit might be to a fish. ask him to chart the night sky in either hemisphere and he can do it, ask him to solve a complicated calculus equation and he's your man, or to rattle off the escape velocity of the earth's gravitational pull - but ask him to tell you the difference between a socket wrench and a screwdriver, and he's lost. but god damn dean winchester for his easy, winning smile that has castiel politely offering his assistance, anyway. ]
Which do you need?
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eh. he'll see. push comes to shove he'll go out and get some himself, a whole one that is meant for him and no one else. because whoever coined the phrase 'sharing is caring' deserves to be tossed into a ditch and left for the worms. sharing is not caring. sharing is the devil.
he knows good and well that castiel is trying to make his great escape, and wouldn't you know it, he's just not ready to relinquish his hold on what could potentially be his new toy just yet. ( yeah, he's already thinking this is going to be interesting, and he can't help but to keep going with it. ) and castiel is right not to believe that he just hadn't gotten the hint, though he tries to remain impassive when the bewilderment flickers across his expression.
man … if he would stop being so ridiculously cute, it wouldn't be so much fun to mess with him a little. ( and then a little becomes a lot, and then … ) ) Three-eighths socket wrench. Right there. ( he keeps pointing, making vague gestures on purpose – because he's nothing if not a bit of a twerp when he's being cute about it – and ducks back under the hood for a small moment to needlessly tighten a hose. )
Find it?
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dean knows exactly what he's doing, leading castiel around deliberately, knowing full well that he has no idea what a goddamned three-eights socket wrench even looks like; bitch does he look like an experimental physicist to you? he knows what a hammer looks like, a normal hammer, knows the difference between a flathead and phillips head screwdriver, and those little allen wrenches that come with ikea furniture, and that's about the limit of his knowledge of tools. a socket wrench could be any one of these dingle dongles that isn't the hammer.
considering he'd been tormented and bullied for most of his young life, castiel doesn't take particularly well to being teased, even by handsome, well-built, greased up mechanics. his expression flattens out into something far more dry, sharp with defiance, and castiel wraps both hands around the toolbox itself and hefts it up, carrying it over to where dean's standing, and dropping it from an inch or two above the workbench so that it lands with a crisp, exclamatory bang. ]
Here.
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it's just that people like castiel have a tendency to react beautifully to having their feathers ruffles, and really, there's no malice or ill intent behind his teasing. he's quite literally just being himself, and there's not much he can do in the way of stopping himself when the ball gets rolling, so … hey, it's all in good fun, right?
still, sammy had been one of those awkward nerdlets that had been picked on a fair bit when he was younger, before he'd grown a good two feet and filled out more than dean had ever thought he would, learned how to take care of himself when it came to … well, jerks like him that rarely had anything better to do with their time than to raise a little hell.
ducking back under the hood leaves him entirely open to being startled by the sound of his toolbox being dropped unceremoniously onto the workbench, and if he jumps a bit in surprise, er. you didn't see anything. his eyes do go a bit wider, though, and he looks over at castiel with a bit of a knowing look, like damn, this ain't your first rodeo, is it?
still, it doesn't catch him off-guard for too long – and with the other in such close proximity, it's all he can do to lean in close as he reaches for the wrench he "needs," lips quirking upward in that tell-tale smirk and, oh, have another wink for your trouble, huh? )
Thanks.
( turning back around and making it look like he's really using what he'd asked for? mhm. master of bullshittery, this one.
but at least castiel will get a nice view of his back from where he's standing, if he chooses to remain standing there long enough. )
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so you can find your own damned socket wrench, dean winchester.
still, for as irritated as he is, castiel bounces back quickly enough; he isn't actually angry, only driving a point home, and he's already forgetting about it once he glances back toward dean, and the car, again. he certainly knows what he's doing, doesn't he? castiel doesn't know the first thing about cars, but he knows how things work - that's what physics is all about, after all. the car is an atom, or a chemical compound, made up of different parts that make it what it is, little blocks that fit together to create a bigger, better thing. it's all the same, when it comes down to it. the fabric of the universe, and this car. it's all made of the same stuff. and this stuff, that this car is made out of? it's very nice. well kept. well loved.
pointedly ignoring dean's entirely too distracting smirk and wink, castiel leans toward the impala, his blue eyes squinting thoughtfully, a deep crease appearing in his brow. for what it's worth, he makes no attempt to widen the distance between them, but then again castiel has never been particularly mindful of personal space. ]
This is your car?
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you'd better believe this is going to get interesting.
now, dean will never pretend to know how physics works, but he knows the impala like the back of his hand – better than that, if he really thinks about it, because there just happens to be a scar skating across the back of his knuckles on the left side that he swears, for the life of him, he can't remember where it came from. but everything to do with his baby? he can't not know everything about her. not when he'd spent so much of his younger years helping their dad keep her looking sharp, clean, in the best shape a lady could possibly be in.
besides, john would never forgive him if he started slipping. he has to take care of her.
now, dean has a deep and profound respect for personal space, but the way castiel leans in and peers at the inner workings of the impala, the crease of his brow that he catches in his periphery, he doesn't bother moving away or widening what gap there is between them. more to the point, he shifts after a moment of faux-fiddling with the wrench and turns back to toss it in the box, picking up another tool that he can actually do something with. the tweak of a wire here, and then he rests both hands against the front end, smiling about as fondly as any man can about a car that is more a part of the family than any inanimate object should be.
dean winchester, you are embarrassing. )
Mhm. My baby. Grew up working on her.
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but he is.. comfortable around dean, and that is a strange and impossible and precious thing. dean is genuine. he's smart and he's tough, but there's a warmth and kindness in him that never ceases to amaze him, and beneath all that tough-guy, beer drinking pool shooting overblown masculinity there is a gentle softness the like of which he has never known before, and it wasn't really until he began to see and understand that side of dean that he really began to open to him. that, he thinks, is far preferable to the hard cover he tries to maintain - all that machismo, the leather and the car and the tough-guy voice - sure it's all attractive enough on the surface, but it's all the things beneath it, dean's warmth and affection, how genuinely he cares about people.. that is truly what castiel finds praiseworthy, what has him caught on dean every moment he is near him.
it is a gift, this friendship that he has built with dean, this ease in his company.
still, he can't help but feel a little guilty for dragging him here. this was supposed to be he and sam, and while he will always enjoy dean's company, castiel knows that this isn't really his thing. he's tagging along to be nice, because sam's too sick to come, and castiel had offered to cancel, to stay behind, but with such short notice there's no chance of their money being refunded, and sam had known how very much castiel had been looking forward to this, and there won't be another meteor shower again 'til july, and it won't be as good as this one so cas should just shut up and go. still, he'd hesitated, guilty as a loyal dog until finally dean had rolled his eyes and piped up, offering to come along in sam's place to keep him company, and he'd brook no damned argument.
castiel had still been apologetic when they'd left, promised sam he would tell him all about it, and book the hotel for the july shower the moment they walked in the door, and sam, of course, was satisfied.
it'll be nice, he thinks, to spend some time with dean, even if it might be a little distracting, because he's been mooning over dean for months and he knows it, has done nothing about it, won't do anything about it beyond suffering through it, and that's fine. being close friends with dean - that's good enough. that's plenty. and castiel wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that.
the drive is comfortable and easy, several hours to cherry springs state park in upstate pennsylvania, one of the top twenty best night sky reserves in the entire world, certainly the best on the eastern seaboard, and castiel has been pining to go for years. he'd meant to pack his telescope and star charts and books, but in the end he'd left most of them behind and brought only a single atlas. visiting with dean will be very different than it would have been to come here with sam, and maybe it's best if he keeps things simple. not because dean couldn't understand it, of course, but because he's just not as into it as he and sam are, he's doing castiel a favor, here, keeping him company here, and the least castiel can do is be personable, not keep his eye glued to the lens of a telescope while ignoring dean all night.
they check in, and as promised, castiel immediately reserves the time for he and sam in july, and he's giddy as a schoolboy while they drop off their duffels and pile back into the impala for the short drive up to the viewing area. the parking lot is relatively full; meteor showers are in high demand for astronomy fans, after all, but the viewing area is large enough that they're easily able to find a spot at the crest of a small hill away from anyone. a thick blanket is spread over the grass, and castiel sits cross legged, his jacket still on to protect him against the spring chill, a half-empty beer tucked against his knee, his sky atlas open, the red light of his cellophane flashlight bleeding over it, but it's largely ignored.
instead he's tucked in near to dean's side, half-turned toward him and speaking rapidly, animated, his hands moving and his eyes bright. ]
Well no, it's entirely possible that Eta Carinae's collapse could certainly end the world - I mean, it's not likely, and even if it goes hypernova, chances are slim that it would affect us.. but, you know, you never know. There's a lot that we still don't know about the stars, and life is very fragile.
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it had been kind of cute, really, the thought of the two of them gearing up for one of their nerd dates. he's been thinking recently, maybe no more than a month by now that they're already starting to act like an old married couple, taking delight in the smallest things that any normal human being would tend to overlook without any thought to it at all – and sam, he'd been so ready for this trip that dean is pretty sure he'd packed his things and had everything ready to go a couple of days prior to leaving. which just makes it even more sad that he kid's been taken down for the count by something as simple as a stomach bug, too damned nauseous to do anything but lie in his bed and whine about how nauseous he is, how the world is spinning and would dean please bring him some diet ginger ale with exactly five ice cubes?
… that last part is an exaggeration, of course, but the song remains the same. and the look in castiel's eyes when he'd thought he would have to miss out on this trip? the way his eyes had gone all round and wide, and he'd tried to hide his disappointment, tried his best to reassure sam that there would be other times, other meteor showers that they could see together –
he's gotten close enough to cas in the past months that he hadn't wanted that disappointment to stay. and of course he isn't going to understand everything that comes out of the other's mouth when he goes for an explanation, or simply goes on rambling about a certain cluster or the like, but he can certainly appreciate the beauty of it all, the things in nature that gather together to make everything on their earth just a little bit miraculous.
so the drive is peaceful. pleasant. idle conversation slipping back and forth between small stretches of silence, and it's more than enough for him to just get out and stretch his legs when they check in, when castiel reserves the time in july for him and sam to come up for themselves – and at the top of that hill, blanket laid down, dean doesn't bother the little sigh of pleasure he gives as he lowers himself to the ground, unconsciously leaving very little personal space between himself and his resident stargazer. bracing himself on his elbows, stretched out and crossed at the ankle comfortably, and while he's listening to everything that castiel says, the high point of his amusement is, as always, the animated way the other talks about something like a star going hypernova. )
Isn't that what killed off the dinosaurs? ( he reaches for that half-empty beer can, takes a sip of it for himself even though the cooler he brought with them is well within reach – because the look cas gets on his face when he infringes upon little things like personal space and sharing cooties, it's all the entertainment he thinks he'll ever need, and …
well, it's kind of adorable. there. he said it. ) Some big rock smacked into the Earth and they all got turned into dust, or something?
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still, he can't help but scowl a little when dean snags his beer, because the cooler is right there dean winchester. ]
Err.. no, not exactly. There are many theories surrounding the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event, and in truth we still don't know what happened, but assuming that the asteroid theory is correct, it certainly didn't turn them to dust. An asteroid that massive, striking the Earth, would have kicked up enough debris into the atmosphere to blot out for sun for years, potentially, which would have wiped out most plant life. The food chain collapsed, and not only the dinosaurs, but nearly all life on Earth would have deteriorated and died out. Less a Hollywood explosion, more a sad, slow, painful death.
[ .. he really can go on, when he wants to. for a man who seems so quiet most of the time, castiel really has it in him to blather, and blather, and blather, when he's really interested in something, and he rarely has the wherewithal to stop himself. bless dean for his patience, because he's often the victim of castiel's scientific spewing if sam's not around, or if dean asks a question that gets the ball rolling. he bites his lip thoughtfully, already forgetting the beer, lifting his eyes briefly to the stars, the bright strip of milky way above them, before lowering them to dean's face again, flushed and excited. ]
But if Eta Carinae goes hypernova, it won't be like that. It's a star, not an asteroid. It won't hit earth, it will explode in space, and it'll be so bright that it will light up the night sky, even 7500 light years away. In all likelihood we wouldn't be affected, our atmosphere would filter most of the radiation and gamma rays, but it's possible that it could instead burn away our ozone layer, leaving us susceptible to terrible UV radiation, which would also be slow, and painful.
[ castiel's hands spread wide, his eyebrows lifting and his eyes shining, a slow smile creeping over his face; he's a kid at a science fair, never happier than when he's explaining things like this, especially to dean, someone new, someone fresh. lowering his head, he drops his voice, almost conspiratorially, his eyes fixed on dean's. ]
But the real, wild possibility is the threat of a gamma-ray burst. We'd really be in trouble.
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but he does set it back down, right next to his knee where he'd gotten it, the tips of his fingers very briefly brushing against the fabric of cas' pants before he lets go entirely. resumes his previous position, lax but attentive as he speaks in almost-hushed whispers, the excitement barely contained enough that his voice doesn't carry beyond their personal space.
and really? he knows a tiny little bit about the theory surrounding the extinction of the dinosaurs – but he'd wanted to see what sort of reaction he would get if he said the wrong thing, given a bit of false information that needed fixing, and wouldn't you know that it sends him off in this tirade of a ramble in explanation, all but vomiting information almost too quickly for his tongue to keep up with it. his eyes are shining, and dean can't help but to grin at the way he leans in to whisper that last part, chuckling low and genuinely amused, rough and rumbling. ) A gamma-ray burst, huh?
( his mouth pulls to the side in a lopsided smirk, and he leans in the tiniest bit closer, eyebrows raised. )
Tell me about it. Talk nerdy to me, baby.
( DEAN FUCKING WINCHESTER YOU ARE INCORRIGIBLE. )
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still, talk nerdy to me, baby - it's enough to have him flushing warm and hot, and castiel is thankful for the darkness to cover it, even if he's sure he's burning bright as a star himself. everything about dean is so.. disarming, and that stupid, slanted smirk has castiel's belly twisting uncomfortably, warmth tingling at the base of his spine. he promptly ignores it. ]
A.. um, yes, a, err, a gamma-ray burst--
[ he goes on, then clears his throat, pulling himself together to look into dean's face again. science. think science. don't think about dean's too-pretty mouth, or the way it sounds when he says baby in a voice that low, leaning close. ]
It's the brightest, most powerful explosion in the universe. That we know of, at least. You see, when stars die.. particularly, when very big, massive stars die, they collapse into black holes, or neutron stars, or something of the like. Sometimes, if that star is spinning very rapidly, when it collapses in on itself, its energy.. erupts out.
[ exhaling sharply, castiel's brows draw together thoughtfully, a deep crease appearing between them as he lifts his hands again and pinches together his index fingers and thumbs, as if he's pantomiming holding a golf ball, or a marble. ]
Imagine a grape between your fingers. If you crush that grape, hard and fast, what's going to happen? It's going to split, and its juice and guts are going to burst out of either end. The same thing sometimes happens to a star.
[ he touches his index fingers together, then draws them outward from one another in a straight line, pointing in opposite directions. ]
These concentrated jets of radiation are violent and deadly, they spring out of the poles of the dying star and fly hundreds or thousands or millions of light years into space, obliterating everything in their path. The energy required is absolutely staggering, Dean, there's nothing in the known universe more powerful, or deadly. It would be a literal death beam, frying our planet.
[ and he's.. excited about this. ]
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he doesn't see the way heat flushes over the rise of his cheekbones, but he practically hears it in the tone of his voice, and there's a sort of smugness in the curve of his grin as he briefly lets his eyes slide shut. as he gives himself a proverbial pat on the back for being able to rile him up so easily, so quickly, and over something as simple as a single word. two syllables. ( he knows that's what it is, has to be, because there's nothing else in that sentence that would have had any bearing on a reaction like that. ah, you predictable little nerd. )
dean breathes in, a slow and easy thing and lowers himself fully onto the blanket, linking his hands behind his head and maintaining his focus on the sky above, the soft glow offering just enough light to outline castiel's prominent features, the fire in his eyes and the firmness of his mouth as he delves yet again into a string of explanations. ) Black hole – I know that one. ( he turns his head, winks, laughs softly again.
and the way he describes it, it sounds … well, phenomenal. in a way that he's sure he can't describe under his own power, because he doesn't know the right words to make sense of it all, but that doesn't take away from the underlying information. sam might have been the one to initially break him into this whole science thing, but biology and astronomy are on two separate ends of the spectrum, and the way castiel talks about it all –
like it's the only thing he's ever known, the only thing he wants to know –
it's more than enough to keep him interested, to keep him rapt, even if he feels the need to chime in every once in a while with a quip or a comment to keep it all light. )
So a star-born death ray could mean the end of life as we know it. ( he sucks the inside of his cheek between his teeth, makes a thoughtful sort of noise that slips out between parted lips. ) Bitchin'.
What's the general shelf-life of a star these days?
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[ an easy shrug. ]
Still, chances are something else will end us before a gamma-ray burst could.
[ an asteroid, climate change, nuclear war and self-destruction - there's a whole lineup waiting for the human race, and while castiel thinks that a gamma-ray burst could spell an incredibly spectacular end, chances are it will be something more insidious. but perhaps that's simply his own cynicism showing.
he settles down onto the blanket beside dean if only to keep perspective, lying on his side propped up on his elbow, his gaze focused on dean's profile and the reflection of the stars in his eyes, rather than the stars themselves, which is really a feat, truth be told. but he's enjoying his time here with dean more than he ever could have imagined. bitchin', dean says, and castiel can't help but grin in that shy sort of way, a soft laugh echoing in his throat; months ago he would have rolled his eyes and sighed. when dean asks yet another question, castiel is happy to pounce on it, like a dog on a bone. ]
Well, that depends on the star. Smaller, lighter stars burn their fuel more slowly, and live a long time, billions of years. The larger, more massive stars die more quickly, live a few million years at best. Live fast, love hard, die young I suppose.
[ the edge of his mouth curls up just so; that would be dean, if he were a star. just like eta carinae, big and bold and reckless, burning bright and exploding in a staggering burst. ]
Our sun is middle of the road. It's about five billion years old, and should live about another five billion. We'll be long dead before it goes.
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more likely, the human race will be taken under by something far less interesting, far more redundant and mundane like global warming or another plague or radiation poisoning. the idea of being blown into not even the base molecules that make up his dna is a hell of a lot more preferable to anything boring, and if there's one thought castiel has gotten right so far – it's that he would vastly prefer burning out fast and bright and sharp than wither away to nothing. live fast, love hard, die young … yeah, that's dean winchester in a nutshell. no damned doubt about it.
he keeps right on grinning as the other settles next to him, casting a sidelong glance just to reassure himself that giddy, almost childish sort of happiness in cas' expression is staying well intact, and he hums out an almost-melodic breath, about as close to a purr as he's ever managed, just by dint of being incomparably comfortable. at peace. enjoying himself.
he feels bad, for a small second, for momentarily being okay with the fact that sam's falling sick is the entire reason he'd been able to come out on this venture in the first place. sure, it sucks for the kid, but he'll get his in july – so, of course that means dean is free to enjoy himself to the fullest, right?
up to and including enjoying more than just the presence of a certain space cadet.
… right? ) Five billion years … hell of a lifetime. ( he sounds almost wistful, like it's unfathomable to live so long, but then again he has to remind himself that they're talking celestial bodies and not human ones. there's a hell of a difference there. )
Anybody ever tell you you're kind of adorable when you start babbling all that science junk? ( he's casting another sidelong glance in cas' direction, eyes hooded, a half-smirk painted across the line of his mouth. ) Like a damn kid at Christmas.
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Err..
[ he states, elegantly, his eyes dropping away from dean's face, warmth creeping up his neck and into his face and ears again. ]
No, I'll have you know that no one has ever said that.
[ he finally answers, a little more strongly, lying full on his side with his head pillowed against his folded arm, his eyes lifting up to the glittering skies. the view here truly is spectacular. thousands of stars dot the night sky, and flung across it, a wide swath of glowing milky way like the arm of god himself encircling the globe, possessive and vigilant. castiel's voice softens. ]
It's just that I've.. always felt this way. Like I belong up there. Like I could fly into the stars and never look back. I love everything about it, everything about the universe, how great and grand and profound it all is.
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and it may just be that castiel's lack of in-depth experience with such a matter aids in how deeply it affects him, or he may just be that susceptible, but dean hasn't backed down yet, and he doesn't plan to. not in the slightest.
it may be dark, dim, but he swears he can see the flush of heat that seeps to the surface of the other's skin, painting him in shades of pink and red all the way to the tips of his ears, and it's so damned endearing that he can only have been entirely, one hundred percent honest with the admission of how cute he is when he talks science. it's distracting, in a way that has his stomach twisting pleasantly with it, giving a brief little flip-flop before it settles again and he pulls his eyes away from that wistful upward gaze.
but not before – ) Really? Nice to know I popped that cherry, then. ( dean don't ruin it. don't you dare.
but then he listens to the follow-up, everything that gives him away as someone that doesn't belong on this earth so much as above it, among those stars he covets, respects so much. it has him turning to look at him again, eyes softened around the edges as he regards him curiously, almost as though he were another being entirely. )
I don't think I've ever heard anybody that way about … hell, anything. ( he shakes his head. ) You're somethin' else, man. All that passion you've got in you. ( there's a pause, and he chews thoughtfully on the inside of his bottom lip. )
Sam would miss you if you ever got to go through with it, y'know. ( which, of course, is an offhand way of saying that he would, too – but you'll never catch him saying something like that out loud. )
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relationships, after all, are fragile, and castiel isn't like dean, he doesn't make friends easily, can't talk with people like others can. those friendships that he manages to build are precious gemstones to be guarded fiercely, to never be jeopardized by such trivial things as lust, no matter how handsome and devilishly shameless dean is. dean's like that with everyone. he's a natural flirt, a skirt-chaser, wild and free and certainly not someone that a guy like castiel would ever have a chance with. and that's fine. he's content just being dean's friend, simply sharing his life is a privilege, and castiel is thankful for it.
but god, he sure does make it difficult when he grins lopsided and says things like that. castiel promptly ignores it.
once dean's going on about passion, though, castiel's eyes lower to his face again, careful and steady. what dean calls passion, most have called obsession and abnormality. he'd learned to simply stop talking about it, to not bring it up unless he's asked directly, or if not, then to not expect to be looked upon as anything but weird. he's weird. he knows it. he's accepted it. he's always been weird, he will always be weird. beyond meg, dean is the first person to ever speak of it like it was something positive. ]
I would miss him too. [ he says, quietly, not really sure what to make of that, of what sam has to do with any of it. his eyes drop again, thoughtful and solemn, and he toys idly with the half-drained can of beer between them. ] Thankfully for him, that isn't possible. I won't be going anywhere.
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still, he's never been beyond chasing down what he wants, generally having more fun with the chase itself to allow it to go any other way – and if he's perfectly honest with himself, this whole playing coy thing he thinks he's getting going with cas is far more amusing than he'd thought it would be, especially considering he's pretty sure the guy has no idea at fucking all what's going through his head. that he's even remotely doing and saying certain things on purpose instead of playing them off as a simple slip of the tongue or a shift in a brain-to-mouth filter that doesn't even really exist.
dean winchester might not be the greatest at relationships, or even thinking about them, but some things are worth checking out even if they don't work out in the long run, and cas … for all his pining, his nerdery, his passion, it's worth at least poking around and testing the waters to see what it gets him.
he stretches idly, reaching for the beer can between them and purposely-but-accidentally brushing the tips of his fingers against the other's as he picks it up and drains it of what remains of its contents. he's sure he'll get another look for having done so, and he's looking forward to it, because it's just one more thing that endears castiel to him in the smaller scheme of things. ) How come?
( he keeps his gaze leveled on the solemnity of the other's expression, genuinely interested in what response he might get in explanation. if he's been reaching for the stars for so long, why be convinced that that dream won't ever be actualized? why try at all if that's the case? )
I mean, not that it's the worst thing to keep both feet on the ground. ( coming from someone that hates flying, well. that doesn't even count. ) But it kinda seems like a waste, y'know?
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