[it’s like a continuation of this damn thing I meant to delete and ahaha it’s rough I’m sorry]
"What kinda name is "Castiel," anyway?" Dean mutters, poking through the other man’s thing and generally being a pain in the ass.
Dean pauses in his examination of the hot water heater to level Cas with a look the latter can’t see and rolls his eyes with an exaggerated huff, choosing instead to pick his way around a few miscellaneous shoe-boxes and a plastic bag of empty take-out containers the other man had plowed through earlier. He nudges one of the boxes with his foot, spilling a few remaining clumps of white rice onto the concrete floor, hoping to get a rise out of the man pointedly ignoring him. He frowns at the general lack of response, throwing his head back to glower at the ceiling because who the hell decides to eat dinner in their basement and sort through old taxes or whatever anyway? Friggin’ Castiel, that’s who.
"The hell kind of nickname is that?"
Cas decides to ignore him again, so admittedly Dean gets a bit pissed and then demands to have his presence acknowledged, whether or not Cas actually wants to listen. Dean’s gone years without someone so much as pretending he was there, so screw it, Cas can deal.
Dean plunks himself down on the unused kitchen chair (the one Cas didn’t have to bring down but did anyway, because that’s apparently what gracious hosts do, etheral roommates or not) and makes it a point to kick his feet, scattering the few stacks of papers Cas had so meticulously organized and smirking at the annoyed squawk that ensues.
"You little shit," Cas hisses, staring at the mess before turning to glower at his roommate. "Was that really necessary?"
"You were ignoring me," Dean mock-pouts, too damn smug for the other man’s liking.
"So I repeat: was that really necessary?"
"Well what kind of nickname is Castiel?" Dean shoots back, because he can act like a four-year-old all he wants, dammit, but he’s not about to be treated like one.
By means of response the other man simply groans, tossing the manilla envelope he was sorting through onto the floor and muttering something about Dean that really wasn’t all that amiable.
The dead bastard has the nerve to fold his hands behind his head, leaning back and stretching out his legs. He makes it a point to rest his heel on a small, disoriented stack some of the more important-looking documents before crossing his ankles.
After a few minutes, Cas finally speaks. “I’m adopted.”
That doesn’t really answer anything, Dean thinks. It just raises more questions, but whatever.
"My father’s name was James." Cas continues and Dean glances over at him, faced with his profile as the other man’s gaze settles elsewhere. Anywhere but the dead man, really. Cas reaches up to scratch the bridge of his nose idly. "The name James Novak had some negative connotations with it, and I kind of…decided I didn’t want much to do with it."
Cas’ hand shifts to tug at his collar instead. “I got lucky, I guess. I mean I didn’t find out much about him until after I’d been taken in by the Miltons, so I took what measures I could to change it. I mean…I don’t know. I never really liked being called James to begin with, and Jimmy or Jimbo just made me feel like the three-year-old my brothers used to mess with.” Cas shrugs. “The nickname Cas just sort of started with Mom and it’s…kinda stuck ever since.”
"How’d you get that nickname?” Dean cuts in, trying to add some levity to the situation because from the sounds of things Cas is about to start getting deep and neither of them are ready for that. “I mean, hell, I’d just start calling you Fred or something, but Castiel?”
"Is my name really that big of an issue that you need to harangue me about it all night?"
"Apparently!" Dean exclaims, arm flailing because what the hell, man? "And I mean why not something cool? Y’know, something like—"
"What, like ‘Dean?’"
Dean frowns and mutters, “Asshole.”
Cas smirks. “Too much of a hassle, I don’t know. No one calls me James or Jimmy anymore, and the nickname Cas stuck.” Cas shrugs. “It’s better than Balthazar, I think.”
"Balthazar?" Dean interjects, brow pulling together because the name just doesn’t click. Gabriel and Michael he’s heard of, briefly, sure. He figures a name like Balthazar would stick out.
"Older brother," Cas says. "He and Anna are adopted too. Gabriel and Michael are biological."
Dean more or less looks at his house-mate with a dumfounded look. As far as he can tell, the Milton clan just keeps multiplying and he’ll be damned if he’s going to keep all of their names straight. Not that he really needs to, he thinks. But it wouldn’t hurt to have them stored for reference whenever some stranger come over to the house looking for Cas, just because.
Also, wait a second—“Anna?”
There’s a brief twitch in Cas’ face when he turns to make eye-contact with Dean. “Anna’s my sister,” he states flatly.
Dean either doesn’t pay heed to or simply ignores the tone. “Anna? You mean that realtor chick?” Cas’ half-nod is all he needs and then yeah, yeah he remembers Anna. Bright red hair, great smile, offering her condolences to a quiet Sam, leading Cas through a tour of Dean’s childhood home, saying it’d be a great fit for him and a nice new start, all the while completely oblivious to the guy standing in the foyer telling them not to touch shit. “She’s hot.”
"Anna, my sister the realtor." Cas repeats, putting a heavy emphasis on the relation, adopted or not. Dean’s just being a dick, really, and besides, getting Cas this riled up? This is fun, something he hasn’t had in, well, a while.
"Is hot."
Cas figures a good blow to the end might knock some, if any, sense into the other man all but drooling over his sister just to get on his nerves, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to stoop to his level. For lack of a better plan, he simply retaliates with the a threat: “I’ll lock you down here.”
Dean stops laughing shortly after the basement door closes. He finds Cas settled in the den a little later, passed out on the couch. He settles on the armchair opposite and takes watch for the night. Not that he really has to, but he figures it can’t hurt.
they do it's so not fair, but they make lots of gifs that are actually good sigh life is not fair
arthurpendswagon replied to your post: ...
what??? (and i just realized my reply to that ask u sent me about imrorysqueen never sent im s orry) what???? what??? WHAT????????????????????? HOLD UP
DUDE WHO DID YOU THINK HAD HER URL SHE DIDN'T GIVE IT AWAY I WAS SUPPOSED TO PUT A HIATUS THEME ON IT FOR HER BUT THEN SOMEONE TOOK IT BECAUSE OF THE SAME GLITCHES THAT IMRORYSQUEEN WASN'T SAVING
