A/N Chapter break and perspective swap brought to you by the fact that I've written so many Phineas and Ferb one-shots lately that I apparently forgot how to write chapter-size chapters

"While we're on the topic of being open about things," Dean says, changing the subject because why the hell not, "can I ask what you were doing before I came in here to bother you?"

Castiel visibly tenses, his grip on his phone tightening. "Nothing."

Dean cocks his head to the side. "Okay..." Weird reaction for someone who wasn't secretly watching hentai. "I just saw google docs and I figured I'd ask if it was something fun."

Castiel stares at him. "You recognized google docs from 20 feet away."

"I would recognize google docs anywhere," Dean says. He uses it far too often to keep track of random things because he absolutely despises the Notes app for no other reason than it's a celebrity go-to for apologies. He needs somewhere to keep track of jokes or entertaining stories he could tell in an interview, and google docs works well for that. He got this gig purely because he sucks at drunk karaoke; it's essentially a given that he's supposed to be funny, and sometimes that takes a little preplanning.

Castiel apparently has another take on it, because he says, "I guess that makes sense. You probably write song lyrics there or something, right?"

Dean hesitates. He would feel bad lying right after such a vulnerable moment with him, but at the same time, is it really worth mentioning that he doesn't actually write the lyrics to his own songs? Of course, he doesn't necessarily have to lie; he can just strategically avoid telling the truth, which is what he does. "It's where I write a lot of stuff I think of while I'm out."

"Cool," Castiel says.

"So, what, you writing a book or something?" Dean asks. He'd definitely give it a read if that is the case. He'd honestly be interested in anything that comes out of Castiel's brain, especially after this conversation (but totally not because he's feeling exceptionally bisexual right now) (okay, maybe that is why).

Castiel shakes his head. "No, I'm not creative enough to write a novel and I'm not interesting enough to write an autobiography so that's not gonna happen."

"Well, you gotta be writing something," Dean says.

Castiel grips his phone ever tighter, like a weird protective stance. "Just, you know, shitposting to myself."

Dean just raises an eyebrow. He's not going to ask again because he doesn't want to make the guy uncomfortable (he apparently fucked up enough when he kept asking about Jo, but at least he can pin that on trying to be a good wingman) and he doesn't want to pull something like that again by accident. Still, he absolutely does not believe a word Castiel just said, and he wants to make it known. If Castiel decides he wants to explain, it will be entirely his choice (with a little help from The Eyebrow Of Skepticism™, of course).

And apparently it works, because Castiel sighs. "Just a poem -- which I'm only saying because I don't want you thinking it's something more embarrassing."

"A poem?" Dean repeats, an idea forming in his mind.

Castiel just nods.

"Do you write a lot of them?"

Castiel cocks his head to the side. 'I don't know. I write some but it's not like I have a thousand of them tucked away somewhere or whatever."

"Do they rhyme?" Dean asks.

Castiel stares at him.

"I know, I know, it's a weird question," Dean says. "I'm just... thinking."

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."

Dean sits down on the floor and puts his guitar in his lip. He sets the phone in front of him, and he has to squint to see the words but it works well enough. He takes the pick out of the strings and carefully sets it down next to Castiel's phone so he won't lose it in the dark, then starts to strum quietly with his thumb. He hadn't taken into account that the guitar would be very out-of-tune after months of being ignored, but it's not easy to tune it quietly so it's certainly not perfect, but it's close enough. He has to try out a few different chord progressions before he finds one that works, but once he's content with the one he has, he takes Castiel's words and turns them into a song.

Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake.

If I should have just stayed home and ignored that ache

Telling me that it's not where I belong

The question still haunts me. "What if I was wrong?"

I still hear the voices of ghosts from my past

"You're not going to make it." "It's not going to last."

Things are finally starting to look up for me.

But I don't know if I can be who they want me to be.

Dean looks up at the self-doubting poet in question. "Look at that! We just wrote a song together!"

Castiel, who had been intently staring at his lap from the moment he handed Dean his phone, finally looks at him. "I wasn't actually expecting any sort of payoff when I gave you my phone, but that was surprisingly good."

Dean grins. "I know, right?" He has a lightbulb! moment that he just has to share. "Have you ever considered writing an actual song?"

Castiel cocks an eyebrow. "I am the least musically gifted person you will ever meet, so no."

"But, like, a poem in song format," Dean insists. "Verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus. You don't even have to do the music. I'm more than capable of that."

Castiel shakes his head. "I'm not gonna lie, I did kind of enjoy this, but not enough to show you anything else I have written or will write."

"Are you just worried about being, you know..." He pauses. Ugh, words are hard. "Vulnerable? 'Cause they don't have to be songs-slash-poems about you. I mean, Taylor Swift wrote a whole album about fictional people."

"Taylor Swift is also one of two people to have a songwriting award named after her," Castiel says. "I don't think I can compare."

Dean gapes at him. "How do you know that?"

"I told you I like lowkey music," Castiel says with a shrug. "Taylor Swift, Adele, and Ed Sheeran are the holy trinity of singer-songwriters of lowkey music."

Dean has to admit, he has a point. No one can rock an acoustic performance like Taylor Swift or Ed Sheeran, and Adele truly is in a league of her own. It still doesn't explain why he knows what awards she's won off the top of his head, but Dean decides that's probably the only answer he'll get, and maybe the only answer Castiel has at all.

"Well, still," Dean says. "If this is how you used to write a long time ago, I can't even imagine how well you write now." He pauses. "How old was that poem, anyway?"

He hopes the guy wasn't exaggerating when he said it was from a while ago. It's not much of a stretch to assume that those words of loneliness and self-doubt were directed at least in part to the family he said he hasn't spoken to in years. He'd hate to think that he's still haunted by the thought of them, especially now that he knows their relationship seems to have gone south after Castiel came out to them. Maybe it's just the (questioning?) bisexual in him, but he doesn't think homophobes deserve to occupy Castiel's late-night thoughts.

"I don't know; I didn't look for a date," Castiel says. "It was probably around when I got the..." He makes a face, though probably not on purpose. "Karla gig."

Dean can hear his discomfort when he says the name, and if he wasn't already convinced he should never mention that he watched that movie (and still occasionally rewatches some scenes), he sure is now. He's vaguely aware that Karla is an old movie, though, so it's oddly comforting to know that poem has to be at least, like, six years old, if not more. In fact, it probably is more; he looked pretty young in the movie, and it looked like his first big role just judging by his imdb page.

Dean changes the subject to something a little happier, because he knows Castiel doesn't like that movie. "So I repeat, I can't imagine how well you write now." He decides to voice his lightbulb! moment because even though he's sure Castiel won't go for it, it can't hurt to mention it. "You know what would be really cool?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Castiel says warily.

"If you ever do decide you want to give writing songs a shot," Dean says, "you could choose a pseudonym to go by in the writing credits and I could release one just to see how people would react -- or, more specifically, so you can see that people would think it's great."

Castiel scoffs. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

"Well, if you ever change your mind..."

"I won't," Castiel says. "Trust me."

"If you insist," Dean says. "But, for the record, I would be more than happy to co-write some songs with you, even just for kicks."

Castiel shakes his head, but Dean swears he can see a small smile on his lips. Maybe he's got a chance here...

Charlie squirms a little bit, readjusting her position on the couch and Castiel's chest. Both men freeze, watching to see whether or not she'll wake up -- and it seems she won't, thank god, but it's probably a sign.

"I should go back to bed," Dean says. "Don't want Jo to wake up and realize I'm not there."

Castiel's smile fades at that. "I guess I should probably go to sleep, too, actually."

Dean grabs the guitar pick -- which he's very proud of himself for not losing -- and slips it between the strings. He stands up and takes his guitar to the far side of the room, leaning it against the corner so it won't fall over. He gives Castiel one last smile. "G'night, Cas."

"'Night, Dean."

A/N This chapter was sponsored by evermore, the sister album/sequel of folklore by Taylor Swift. The song at the beginning of the chapter is kinda foreshadowing where this fic is gonna go soon, and the one below this is the lead (and presumably only) single off the album and easily in the top three songs 10/10 would recommend

https://youtu.be/RsEZmictANA