Archive of Our Own ^beta

Castiel doesn’t know what to do with himself once the concert ends. Or, he knows what he should be doing, something along the lines of packing up, guitar in case, cords wrapped. Probably soothing his throat a bit better, getting ready for the next night early.

Instead, he’s stumped. Waved down from the front of the bar, a shout of “Priya?” leaving him just as he takes the first step down off the stage. Not that he didn’t expect to see some friendly faces in the crowd, of course. Few people had moved from the area, and Castiel always watched the messages on his pages climb out of control as those he wasn’t that familiar with clambered to get some form of time with him. Always a little amusing, considering that those people avoided him so well during school.

There were exceptions for the few who managed to move past how he was in high school, naturally. Like how Priya pulls him into a solid hug, one he returns with a certain amount of enthusiasm. Which easily turns to flagging down a bartender, beer handed over with ease for the both of them, until they were tucked in the corner. 

“Long time, no see,” Priya laughs, a slight punch to the shoulder. Castiel waves off the comment, focusing on the neck of his bottle. How condensation falls until hitting his fingers, nice and cool. Momentarily distracting from how he still wasn’t sure what he was doing. Something about that particular night felt a little off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

So he asks, “How’ve you been?” Small, polite talk. Can’t help the way his eyes scan the crowd. Well, he was feeling a little unsettled, like something big was going to happen.

Castiel wasn’t sure he was ready for anything like that.

“Good. Really good tonight as well, actually.”

Quirking a brow in her direction, Priya just smiles, all mysterious. Like she knew something he didn’t. Which didn’t surprise him nearly as much as it should’ve, as Castiel looked those few inches down at Priya, and had to frown. “What?” he pressed, because she wasn’t going to say a word, unless he did first.

“You’ll see.” So mysterious. Rolling his eyes, Castiel motions for her to lead on. Might as well get this over with, he muses, knowing full well that it was going to be a long night, regardless of whatever Priya had in store.

As he keeps close, Castiel notes the particular direction taken was to the tables towards the opposite side. Close to the area reserved primarily for dancing, notably, which he was not in the mood for at all. Castiel’s one and only time tended to dancing was a long past thought. A thought remembered fondly, but so far in the past, he surprised himself by thinking of it then. 

In the middle of all the tables cluttered together, was a familiar crowd. Alexy was the first to notice them approaching, a nudge aimed at Rosalya, who turned next. Clamours of his name hit him, and Castiel wouldn’t admit that he was embarrassed at the response, but he shakes Alexy’s hand, gives Rosalya a hug. Waves awkwardly in the direction of Melody and Amber, and a face he didn’t recognise.

“This is Chani,” Rosalya offers, ever helpful, at his side. He forgot how quick she was.

Chani offers her hand upon the introduction. “So, you’re Castiel.” Not so much a question, as a very powerful statement.

Returning the handshake, Castiel narrowed his eyes. “That’d be me,” was all he could say in response. Just what had they been saying? He could only imagine the kind of bullshit they were saying, if only to attempt to embarrass him. Especially when he wasn’t there to defend himself.

“I get it now.” Speaking as if she had some profound revelation, Chani looks at Amber with a certain amount of understanding. “I totally get it.”

“Get what?” Question going ignored, despite the small amount of laughter offered, Castiel opts to simply stand awkwardly. Maybe he should’ve just gone back with the band once the show was over. Answers the old questions of ‘how are you’, before asking himself ‘enjoy the show?’. Routine was familiar, yet he felt poked and prodded, by just how they were measuring him. 

Did something happen while he was away? It hadn’t been that long between concerts, compared to the previous year. 

And then Castiel hears the whispers, despite Rosalya and Priya’s best efforts. Perhaps they shouldn’t have made it so obvious, bowing their heads together. But he catches the tail end of the conversation, at least. 

“Where is she?”

“Getting another drink.”

Turning to look at them, Castiel goes to open his mouth to ask who ‘she’ was, when Chani was the next one to speak up.

“Hey, over here!”

Now, Castiel didn’t believe that everything that happened in the movies was capable of happening in his life. But he wasn’t one to deny that up to a certain point, his life was playing out like a movie. Music softening. Eyes on him. Eyes on her. Time not seeming to be a thing as he turns, slow and steady, trying to find who they were looking at. And when Castiel sees her, spotlight catches the shine of her hair, his heart skips a beat. 

Until someone hits play, taking the scene off pause. Reality catches up with him in the form of music suddenly filling his ears, laughter and cheers erupting around him, floor feeling like it was going to give out at any moment. Castiel just couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She approaches the table, careful, handing over a drink or two that didn’t belong to her. His eyes don’t move, couldn’t move. Right here, in front of him, she stood. Tall in her heels, back straight, not breaking eye contact. Castiel didn’t think he was even breathing, when she squeezed in beside him, until he smelt her perfume. Still the same. 

Releasing the breath he’d been holding for far too long, he finds that distracting himself by polishing off his beer was the best possible choice. Oh my god, he thinks, she’s here. A million questions race through his head, all whys and hows and is this real? Nearly pinching himself out of disbelief, Castiel couldn’t believe it. Almost didn’t want to. For years, he’d thought of so many different situations, just to see her one more time. Of course it happened in the most unplanned way possible.

“How—how are you?” he asks, lowly, finally, when he can finally force himself to look away. To not get caught up in those eyes.

With a gentle smile, more than he deserved, probably, she answers. “Good. And you?”

“Good, yeah. Like the show?”

“It was amazing.” And Castiel believes her, without a second thought. Doesn’t ponder on if she knew that a good few of those songs were about her, and several more about their breakup. Not a good time to focus on those little facts. So many other scenarios of how they would meet again, and Castiel had always pictured himself singing something other than about how she haunted him, or how he regretted how it ended. Maybe even a love song.

“Thanks.” Poor effort on his behalf, but his heart was caught in his throat. Castiel was trying his best not to let it get the better of him.

A silence that could only be considered awkward settled over them. Feeling how everyone else at the table was staring, despite conversations carrying on around them, Castiel felt the nerves bundle in his fingers. Idly tapping on the tabletop, he could only think about escaping. And maybe a cigarette, too. 

Until she swoops in, quietly, with a way to save them both. “Do you want to go somewhere to talk?”

“Yeah, sure.” Nonchalantly as possible, Castiel answers. Far too quick to play it off, and he notes the door behind them. Access to the terrace, at least. Nodding towards it, she smiles with understanding, following his lead. Unlike with Priya, Castiel was hyper aware of her presence, sticking closer. Maybe even the ghost of her hand grabbing the back of his jacket, just so they wouldn’t be apart from each other. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking. He’d wake up soon, overtired and throat raw, having gone home straight from the concert. And nothing would’ve happened.

Around the side of the bar, a little decorated area sat. Not much to look at, the bare minimum in the way of a beer garden, but more than enough for what Castiel was looking for. Against the far wall was a nice bench that just begged for some attention, offering more in the way of solitude than others. It was a little deeper in the edges than he’d like, but there was no way to really be alone, anyway. Not with how the inside of the bar was packed, wall to wall, of fans and the general regulars. Also, it meant he was away from the prying Rosalya and Alexy, who he no doubt believed had her best interests at heart, but he didn’t want to be on watch for them. Not right now.

Without hesitation, Castiel fishes for a smoke from inside his jacket, lighting it with years of practice. Deep inhale, exhale in the other direction. “Sorry,” he says, when he notes the way her eyes kind of screw up. “I can put it out if you want.” That’s right. The last time they were together, he’d given up. Another thing to add to the list of ‘oh, by the way’, for sure.

“It’s fine.” Next to him, she settles carefully, hands clasped in front of her. . No more questions of if it was alright, if he minded. Not that he did, and it was completely fine. Castiel did have to think about whether to voice those little things aloud, if only to get her to relax her shoulders, but he bites his tongue.

“So…” she starts, stretching her hands out in front of her, as she finally sits. 

“So,” he agrees. Not sure where to start. Castiel was out of his depth, and it was showing. Plenty of questions he could ask, but none of them seemed appropriate. What were the chances he met her again, and did he really want to blow it?

Whatever argument she was having in her head, finally seemed to end. Tilting her head towards him, Castiel can feel the scrutiny, heavy in her eyes. Didn’t blame her in the slightest, as he took in everything about her too. They weren’t strangers, and they weren’t friends. A strange impasse, one Castiel wasn’t quite sure how to end on.

And then, she laughs, a bark of noise, accompanied with an expression that was watery, and yet so undeniably happy. “I’m so glad I got to see you tonight.”

Castiel blinks slowly, the weight behind her words filling him gently. Only she had the balls to actually say how she felt, and he figures he couldn’t rely on the cigarette to occupy his mouth. Taking it in his hand, away from his face, Castiel doesn’t stop how something like a smile takes over his face. Fiddles with the end of his smoke, he watches his feet. Notes how she reaches out to rest her hand over his, giving a little squeeze. “I missed you,” and she admits it so easily it puts him to shame.

Eyes finally rising, Castiel finds her face. Just as wonderful as it had been, when it first made an impression on his life. Only now, it was a little splotchy, the threat of tears ever present at the corners of her eyes. Chewed her lip, brushed some hair out of the way. Nervous signs, and Castiel

Well, Castiel had always loved to watch her squirm, but not tonight. Not anymore. “I missed you too,” he says, assuredly, so strongly that he catches himself off guard with how easy the words left him. So many ways he had thought about telling her how he felt, and it fell into his lap like this.

A bubble of laugher leaves her, torn between relief and stress, and she dabs her eyes dry. Just when he thought he was being a little overboard with the worry, she had to go and cry. God, she was so ridiculous. 

Castiel missed her so much. 

Resting the cigarette between his fingers, Castiel watches the way she gradually begins to relax. How her face lights up as she explains a class, or her job, or maybe it was just a weekly magazine. Hands vivid, motioning, pointing excitedly. So wrapped up in what she was trying to tell, Castiel almost forgets to finish his smoke, letting it burn out, preferring to just cover his face. To cover his smile.

Despite everything, he still missed her. Castiel thought that something like this, which he had never thought would happen, not in a hundred years, was supposed to hurt. But the way she talks — rapid fire, four consecutive conversations and the only offering he had was nods and hums — just makes him remember everything. Nothing. Anything. How she’d wake up in the mornings, hair pointed out every way possible. How she had to keep a diary of significant dates, because she was so bad at remembering them, but would remember mathematic theorems from primary school, and lyrics to songs that were older than the both of them combined. 

The colour of her nails on one particular Wednesday, but not on their anniversary. Dying his hair on a Saturday night, while Grease played on tv, and she sang every part awfully. What food was served at the one year reunion organised, and yet Castiel could not remember the colour of her bathing suit that one summer. But he remembered blue, always the colour blue.

And, as Castiel took in how she smiled at him, soft and warm and so damn familiar, he had to note that her dress, on this particular night, was blue.