deancasbigbang:

Title: Gods in the Chrysalis
Author: JhanaMay
Artist: violue
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Endverse Castiel, Musician Castiel, traumatic brain injury
Posting Date: 11/7/2017

Summary:  Olympic hopeful Dean Winchester has always felt more at home in the water than he did on land. Pressured by his father to carry on his mother’s dream, Dean’s entire life has revolved around swimming and competing. Everything changes when he sustains a head injury in an accident at the pool and is left unable to swim. The fear of disappointing everyone in his life is heightened when he realizes his love of the water has been replaced by a strange talent for playing the piano. With the help of Castiel, the high-school dropout/weekend musician who runs a local music store, Dean learns to question everything he thought he knew about himself, his family, and his life. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the butterfly calls just the beginning.

– – –

Dean opens his eyes, and blinks, registering for the first time the damp tear tracks streaked down his face. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, but his sinuses ache enough to tell him it’s been a while. Reaching up to scrub the wetness away, Dean turns to face the person behind him.

The man from the behind the counter stands a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. Dean hadn’t noticed before, but he’s wearing a pale blue t-shirt with a colorful pony on the front, the words Rainbow Dash in glitter below it. Intricate designs—musical notation shot through with dark green vines and bright splashes of flowers—wind their way up both arms and disappear into his shirt sleeves. A single musical note drips from the right corner of his bright blue eyes and two silver balls frame the outer edge of his left eyebrow.

The man rocks back on his heels and clears his throat. “Holy fuck,” he says, his voice a deep, rolling timbre. “I’m glad Raph listened when I told him not to get rid of that piano.”

He steps forward and Dean shifts back, pressing himself against the keys and wincing at the discordant sound. “Sorry, I, ah, I saw it and—”

“Don’t apologize. We don’t get classically trained pianists in here, like, ever. That was fucking beautiful.” He pulls one hand out of his pocket and tugs at the hem of the too-small t-shirt where it’s pulling up, revealing a sliver of skin at his hip.

Dean follows the long fingers with his eyes. Piano keys cover the back of his hand, tattooed across his knuckles and down to the first joint. “I’m not—” Dean stands up, knocking the bench back against the piano, and edges away from the man. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to go. I’m Castiel,” the guy says, holding out his hand. “Where’d you study? Not K.U., not playing Satie like that. Tell me you didn’t go to Juilliard.”

Dean studies the man’s outstretched hand, then looks back up at his face. Dark stubble dusts his strong jawline, and Dean’s mouth goes dry. Despite the tattoos and the piercings and the fucking god-awful abomination of a t-shirt, he’s gorgeous, and Dean can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he’s going to pass out and he doesn’t even know where the hell he is or how he got here. Sucking in a rasping gasp of air, he stumbles backward. He can’t do this, not with the song echoing in his head and his hands twitching to play it again. “I can’t,” he forces out, shoving past the man. “I’m sorry; I have to go. I’m sorry.” He rushes to the door and out into the bright afternoon sun.