Secrets and Camera Flashes

Chatpter 51

Castiel eyes warily. "Some of them do?"

"At the slight risk of waking Charlie up," Dean says slowly, "can I see one and can I try something with it?"

"No," Castiel says immediately.

"Just one?" Dean asks. He has an idea that he thinks could be really interesting if he's given the chance to try it out.

Castiel narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Just -- trust me, it could be really cool," Dean says. "C'mon, gimme one poem that rhymes and has at least, like, eight lines."

Castiel eyes him for a moment and Dean is almost convinced he's not going to get the chance, but then he sighs. "I will find one old one just because I'm curious, but keep your judgement to yourself before I get more self-conscious."

Dean beams. "Awesome. I will be back in two seconds."

Castiel starts to say something, but Dean darts out of the room before he gets the chance to hear it. He knows Jo keeps a guitar here somewhere. It's here just for him so it's not like she would have gotten rid of it without asking him first -- or at least telling him. It wasn't in the living room and it wasn't in Jo's room (it was the first thing he looked for when he went to her room) so he's at a bit of a loss.

Fortunately, after a lot of running around, he finds the guitar in the basement of all places. Doesn't she know leaving guitars in the basement can damage them? He makes a mental note to tell her that later, but for now, he just grabs the guitar and jogs back to the living room. "Got one?"

Castiel eyes him warily. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Trust me," Dean says vaguely.

Castiel hesitates. "I've never actually shown anyone any of these before. I don't..."

Dean frowns. He's never shown anyone his poems? The way he says it, it sounds like that even excludes Charlie, so he can tell this is a big request, and maybe a simple 'trust me' isn't the best way to convince him it's okay. Maybe he should offer up at least a little about himself first.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little insider secret," Dean tells him, "as a show of faith, okay?"

Castiel cocks his head to the side.

"I don't write a lot of lyrics," Dean admits. "I change a few, sure, but that's about it. So you are absolutely not competing with an actual songwriter right now, if that makes you feel any better."

Castiel purses his lips, and Dean wishes -- not for the first time -- that he knew what was going on in his head. After a brief pause, he just says, "You know, I think I liked the illusion that you were a writer more."

Dean gives a small, apologetic shrug. "Sorry?"

Castiel eyes him for a moment, then holds out his phone. "This is very old so don't judge me for it."

"I won't," Dean assures him.

He puts the bottom of the guitar on the ground, one hand still holding the head stock upright so it doesn't fall over, not because he's afraid of breaking it (he's dropped it a million times before and it still works fine) but because he doesn't want to wake anyone up. He takes the phone and looks at the poem, and...

"Wait, this is actually really good," Dean tells him. "I mean, it's kinda sad, but really good. Like, really powerful." He glances up at the other man, whose cheeks are a faint shade of red, not that Dean can see them well between the dim lighting and the way he seems to be pointedly avoiding Dean's gaze. "Alright, let's see what I can do with this one."