Standing Together

Chapter 4

The man must hear them, because he asks, "Pats fans?"

"Not me, but this guy loves them," Castiel says, gesturing to his fiancé. Dean sends him a brief bitchface that the man probably doesn't notice.

"From New England?" the man guesses.

Dean nods. "Yep, Massachusetts."

"Oh, me too!" the man says. "Where in Mass?"

"Foxboro."

"Ah, so right by the stadium, huh?" the man says. "I'm from Boston, so a ways away."

"So, right by everything but the stadium," Dean jokes — is it a joke? What's in Massachusetts that isn't in the capitol city? What's in Massachusetts, period?

"Pretty much," the man says with a light laugh. "You see a lot of games at Gillette?"

"Most of them," Dean replies, and Castiel bites back a laugh. Of course Dean sees all the games. He plays in them.

"Ah, lucky," he says. "My wife and I try to go once a year, but that's about it. Hey, what do you think about the new guy?"

"Winchester?" Dean guesses, and there's nothing in his expression that would make anyone think that's more than just a name to him.

"Yeah. He's good, isn't it?"

Dean shrugs. "Yeah, could've been worse."

"'Could've been worse'?" the man repeats. "He's one of the best — if not the best — quarterbacks in the NFL, and he's, what, like. 26? So he'll probably be around for a while — unless they trade him like they did Garapollo, but I think that was all on Brady."

"And Belichick," Dean adds. "Probably Brady's idea, but Belichick's the one who had to give it the okay."

Castiel looks between them with a baffled expression. What the hell are they talking about right now?

"Which was a dumbass idea," he says, "if you'll excuse the language. It worked out in the end — Winchester's better than both Brady and Garapollo. The kid's what we needed when Brady left. He might meet the Bill's record for most Super Bowls in a row, at this rate. I mean, two for two, right? They could win the next three."

"Guess we'll see in three years," Dean replies.

"It's gonna be interesting, that's for sure." The man glances at his watch, then says, "I should go find my wife, but nice talking to you. Always nice to see another Pats fan."

"Yeah, really," Dean says. "Always gives me the ego boost I don't need. My name's Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you."

The man scoffs. "You're Dean Winchester?"

He nods. "In the flesh. I mean, I can't really prove it, unless you want me to pull out my Instagram so you can see the little verified blue check mark on my phone, but yeah, that's me."

"Well damn," the man says with a laugh. "You're pretty much the last person I would have expected to see here. What are you doing at Disney World?"

"Getting engaged," Dean replies. "You know: casual, everyday type stuff."

He chuckles. "Well, congratulations on that. Where's the lucky lady? Is she here?"

"Ah, no, you got that a little wrong," Dean tells him. "It's actually 'where's the poor guy'?" He takes Castiel's hand from behind him, and it's honestly really impressive that he knew exactly where he was, because it would have been awkward if he took the wrong person's hand. "He's right here — and I mean this from the bottom of my heart when I say thank you for not knowing we were together, because I swear that's all I hear about from everyone else, and I'd much rather talk about football."

The man laughs. "Well, it's not the first time I've been told I'm a bit oblivious to this type of thing." To Castiel, he adds, "Not to be that oblivious person, but can I ask your name?"

"Castiel," he says, honestly a bit surprised that the man didn't recognize him. Everyone seems to, sooner or later. That's the difference between a twenty-year old and a fifty-year-old, apparently.

"Oh, my niece talks about you all the time," he says. "You're one of those pop singers, right?"

Castiel chuckles. "Yeah, that's me." If the man hadn't made it obvious enough, "One of those pop singers" makes it very clear that he knows virtually nothing about Castiel, which is sort of refreshing.

He can faintly hear Gabriel whisper an exasperated, "This is taking so long," followed by Sam's "Now imagine actually being them and doing this everywhere you go."

"Well, it's nice to meet you both," the man says. To Dean, he adds, "Thanks for doing the Pats proud. I hope you stick around."

"Ah, me too," he says. "I hope to see you in the stands next year."

"I'll be there," he replies. "I don't know if you've got a pen or something, but if you do, any chance you could sign my hat?"

"Usually I'd say no, but you're cool so sure," Dean says. "Hey, Cas, you still got that Sharpie collection?"

"As always." Castiel hands him the metallic silver Sharpie from his pocket, and Dean signs the side of the hat before handing it back.

"Thanks," the man says, seeming to genuinely mean it. "Now I have an excuse for not meeting my wife at noon on the dot," he adds with a small laugh. "Thanks again. Can't wait to see what you bring to the field this fall."

As the man walks away, Gabriel says, "I got bored and started filming you guys being buzzkills to post online but I wanna make sure I can post it before I do."

"Go for it," Dean says.

"Ditto," Castiel adds.

"Yeet."

"No one says yeet anymore," Sam says, rolling his eyes.

"This is my bucket of fucks given," Gabriel says, cupping his hands into a small bowl. "And look! This bitch empty! Yeet!"

Sam shakes his head at the boy, but he can't hide his amused smile. "Why are you like this?"

"I don't know," Gabriel says. "I asked my mom once if she dropped me on my head when I was a baby and she said she didn't, but I don't know if that was 'cause she didn't want to burden little five-year-old me with the cold, hard, truth, or what."

"Wait, did you actually ask Mom that?" Lucifer asks.

Gabriel nods. "Yeah. I had just started kindergarten so I was new to public schools and I was bothering some of the older kids 'cause I'm an idiot, and I think one of them said that to me and, because I'm an idiot, I actually thought she did so I asked her, and basically that's the level of stupidity that convinced me to drop out of college after one semester."

Lucifer laughs. "You're literally my favorite person on the planet."

"I'm everyone's favorite person on the planet," Gabriel replies.

"I don't think you were those fifth graders' favorite person on the planet," Jack says.

Gabriel laughs. "And you are my favorite person on the planet, you little sixteen-year-old cinnamon roll."