entrancelogs | all in the name of misbehavior

It's not as if this is the first time that Andrew has tried to encourage Caston to not give up on his real dream to become an English teacher. It shouldn't feel so insurmountable, and yet he's always felt crushed under the weight of his brothers' disapproval.

Today, though, that weight is gone. Would it be so hard to take some more classes on education when he's not working? He'd be busier, but maybe that would be for the best. There's a community college here, and regardless of what Michael thinks, Caston's life is his own.

Why shouldn't he give it a try?

So he's actually in a better mood than he had been when he first arrived at the mechanic shop, and Dean's return only adds to that. Caston watches as Dean drives in and parks, having apparently gone on a run for some supplies and food.

"Hey," Dean greets Caston -- or Cas, as he much prefers -- with a smile as he climbs out of his car. In his arms is a bag of multiple items, as well as a grilled sandwich still wrapped and warm, but his attention seems to be mostly on Cas.

"Finally decide to ditch your dreams and embrace your true callin'? 'Cause we got plenty of cars waiting." He knows all about Cas' situation with his brothers, and those long-term dreams of teaching and whatnot. Not much one for school, Dean can't quite see the appeal of having to deal with a bunch of whiny students daily, but he knows how important it is to Cas. They all gotta have some dreams in this small town of theirs, right?

"Or is this a time out visit from normal life?"

'Cause Dean can always roll with that, too. Cas' presence in the shop is nothing short of great.

It's not difficult to identify Dean's remark as a joke, given that he's all too aware of Caston's unfortunate circumstances. At this point he might actually prefer repairing cars to standing in that convenience store all day working the cash register. It's mindless and not at all stimulating. At least being a mechanic involves figuring out what's broken in something and then fixing it. He can understand how that's rewarding.

"At this point, I might consider it," he says with a tiny smile. Except for the fact that he knows next to nothing about how cars run. He's picked up a few things simply from hanging around here so often, but it's hardly enough to qualify him as mechanic material.

The truth is, his real reason is the second one Dean gave, but he doesn't think he needs to say that. He steps forward to take Dean's bag from him.

"Does this go in the office?" It's not like Dean expects his help, but Caston never minds giving it.

"Well, you know, our doors are always open for more able hands." Cas isn't the worst would-be mechanic Dean's seen in his years, seeing as he seems to take everything Dean's shared over the course of their odd friendship with more than keen interest. Maybe that knack isn't quite there, that spark for talent like it is for other things, but considering Caston's situation, Dean could bend the rules.

No matter what the guys at the shop might say or think.

Dean nods once as Cas steps closer, the bag handed to his friend, which is just about as grease-stained as Dean himself appears most days. Sorry about that. "Yeah, yeah, it does. Come on," he nods at Caston to follow, heading to the office, only glancing back at his friend briefly as he goes. "You hungry? Got another sandwich."

A real sandwich, too. With nothing green or healthy included.

If Caston had a true passion for it, maybe he would spend his free time here learning the tricks of the trade. He isn't certain he will, though, because it would be more or less like putting a band-aid on a large gash. It isn't what he truly wants and it won't fulfill him the way he needs.

As a way to spend time around people he enjoys, though, it works just fine. He follows Dean over to the office and sets the bag down on the cluttered desk inside.

Come to think of it, he is hungry, but that sandwich must not have been meant for him. Dean hadn't known he was coming. It doesn't seem right to take it.

"I'm fine. I have dinner with my siblings tonight." It's good food, he'll admit that much, but he looks more like someone who'll be marching right up to a noose. Family time is never a good thing in his experience.

The office is small and packed full of things from god only knows how many years back, but it looks well-used. Papers stack a small table, with memos littering a filing cabinet just beside it. Dean steps in to clear the surface of the table, making just about enough room for Caston to set down the bag.

"All the more reason to fill up so you can keep it as short and painless as possible," he laughs as he takes the mentioned sandwich from the bag, then promptly pushes it into Cas' hands. It might not have been meant for him, but Dean doesn't exactly need to eat two...

"Or could always ditch 'em and join me for a good old night at the bar. They make a mean pair of wings." Easy enough to have a plus-one when it's Dean's usual after-work routine either way. What's more, he's pretty sure Cas would dig it there despite the quiet demeanor he wears.

And yet... Dean knows what Caston will choose -- it's what he always chooses -- but he'll never not put it out there.

Dean won't take no for an answer, apparently. Caston takes hold of the sandwich if only because it's being shoved into his hands, and he peers down at it quizzically. If Dean insists, then he'll eat it, and he makes a good point about using it as an excuse to leave early.

Except it won't happen that way. Caston has to help with the dishes tonight, which means staying the whole way through. Skipping out early isn't done in the Shurley family.

Caston takes a seat in one of the office chairs and sets the sandwich in his lap, unwrapping it so that he can start eating. He ponders Dean's offer, one that he's been given plenty of times before, but the answer will always be the same. It isn't worth the strife that would come if he ditched his weekly family gathering.

"I can't tonight, but maybe another night," Caston says after a pause, and then he takes a sizable bite of the sandwich. It's greasy and delicious and the exact opposite of anything Michael will cook, which is reason enough to enjoy it.

What can only be described as a pleased smile lights up Dean's face when Cas takes the sandwich, as he's never nothing but happy to help Cas with anything that might make his family situation a little more tolerable. Even something as minor as feeding him so that he can hopefully excuse himself from a longer dinner.

Leaning against the table, Dean digs out his own sandwich and bites into it. "Not even after the weekly Shurley show," he asks with careful nonchalance in his voice, all the while chewing on the bread. He might be pushing a little-- more so than he would normally, even if he knows how difficult it is.

It's just that... the whole thing kinda sucks, if Dean's being honest about it. There's nothing shittier than knowing a friend's going through something crappy and family-caused.

"You know, one day I'm gonna be forced to just kidnap you. Hold you hostage at the bar, or something, with promises of free beer."

Afterward? It's not something that Caston had considered. He could, but he would have to drop Gale and Daniel back off at the house first, then drive back to meet Dean at the bar. It would mean a late night, but given that he's working closing shifts more often than not, what's the harm?

"It depends on how late you're there," he says. He hasn't quite agreed yet, but he's definitely considering it now. It would be a nice change of pace, and God knows he needs that.

Though at the mention of kidnapping, something like panic overtakes Caston's face and he almost chokes on his bite of sandwich. He forces the food down with a harsh swallow before he speaks.

"I don't want to imagine what Michael would do to you if you did that." He isn't being dramatic. Michael finds a way to get to people who wrong him (at least from his perspective). He'll find a way to implicate Dean in something and then sentence him to sit behind bars for a few months, just to teach him a lesson.

"Late enough. Way past your bedtime, I'm sure," he huffs with a quiet laugh, eyes on Cas curiously. It's the closest he's heard to Cas actually agree to anything he suggests, so color him a little hopeful. At least until he unknowingly ruins it.

The look of actual panic which flashes over Caston's face over the joke is alarming, especially since Dean hadn't thought anything about it before saying it. The sandwich is forgotten for a moment, with Dean waving a hand, then reaching to lightly touch Cas' arm.

"Hey, hey, easy. I'm just kidding. Kidnapping-- it'll be a last resort deal, alright? No need to look so freaked." He won't do anything that'll get Cas in trouble-- which, if Dean's being honest, is what he thinks it would be more likely. Ain't no asshole brother going to kick him where it hurts for trying to get Cas to have fun. It'll be the other way around.

But then Cas would be the one caught in the crossfire.

A last resort. Caston wonders what that would even look like. He doesn't want to think too hard on it. Hopefully it will never come to that.

It's not as if he meant to unnerve Dean, either, but Michael isn't someone that anyone should underestimate. It might seem ridiculous for any grown man to be scared of an older sibling, but his particular situation is... unique, to say the least.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he takes another bite of the sandwich to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Once he's swallowed, he speaks up again. "I'll come by afterward. I don't have to wake up early tomorrow, so it should be fine."

Though it occurs to Caston that even though he's aware of Dean's after-work activities, he's never learned the specifics. "Which bar do you go to?" he asks.

Dean shrugs eventually, too used to this odd routine of theirs-- Cas will always live in fear of his brothers, Michael especially, and Dean will always try to pry him away from it all. Mostly to little avail.

"S'alright," he says, and a beat later his words find something a little more cheery again. "The Fish Hook's the place. It's small, but they got nice beer on tap and it's cheap." One of those simple joys in life type of deal, even if there's nothing fancy about the place.

But it's good enough for Dean, at the least.

"I bet you've seen it-- towns not exactly big enough to get lost as far as bars go." Though there are a few options in Storybrooke, most of the pretty similar in the end. He sometimes rotates through them -- hell, sometimes in one night, too -- but those are details Caston doesn't really need to know.

"But awesome, I'll keep a seat all cozy and warm for you," he chuckles before biting into his sandwich.

No, there's not a surplus of bars in Storybrooke. Caston's familiar with all of the establishments, he'd simply needed to know which one to go to.

He's usually not one to stop in at bars. He's been to The Fish Hook before -- he goes once every few months, if that, which is likely why he and Dean have never actually run into each other there.

Still, even making a small change in his life might make him feel better about the rut he's gotten himself into. Even if it's something as trivial as going out to a bar with Dean a few nights each week.

No doubt Michael will love that if it ever gets back to him. And it will, no doubt, but Caston doesn't let that stop him this time around. He's not sure what's changed, but he's not going to question it.

"I know it," he says with a nod. "I'll need to drop off Gale and Daniel after dinner, but then I'll come by." His lips twitch into a brief smile and then he takes another bite of his own sandwich. He feels surprisingly good about this idea, like his chest is just a little lighter.

It's always a small victory to get a confirmation from Cas, so Dean all but beams at his friend, a grin on his face looking every bit genuine. It'll be a nice change of pace from his usual nights at the bar, that's for sure, so color him excited-- something he's poorly hiding at the moment.

"Sweet." Have a hard smack on the shoulder, one that might leave a grease print or too. It's common knowledge that when you work at a mechanic's shop, you never really leave or enter completely clean. Sorry, Caston.

"Haven't had something to look forward to in a bit, this is great." It's not only Caston's day that's gotten considerably better, that's for sure. Dean enjoys his work, the people he surrounds himself with, but this is a little more special... even if it's just a bar outing.

"Anyway, I should hurry up with this," he says before biting into the sandwich, working double to wolf it down now. "Cars don't fix themselves weirdly enough." And thankfully enough.

It's rare for anyone to be that excited to get to spend time with him, and so Caston isn't entirely prepared for the bright smile or the hand that claps onto his shoulder. He spends a few seconds staring at the stain that's left behind, but he can clean it later. It doesn't bother him; in fact, he's used to it by now.

Trivial as it may seem in the grand scheme of things, Caston's excited too. After holding himself back for so long, it feels as if he can finally take a few steps forward. He's not sure why it suddenly feels attainable. Maybe he simply woke up on the right side of the bed today.

While Caston had wanted to discuss Andrew with Dean, as his conversation with him earlier had been rather enlightening when it came to the other mechanic's past, it seems that Dean's in a hurry. That's all right. They can talk it over at the bar later.

"Of course," he says as he takes another large bite of his sandwich in an attempt to finish it off. "I need to get going anyway so I can get cleaned up for dinner."

There's always a lot to do at the shop, with the frequency at which they get cars and such to fix, too. He's never really without work, a fact Dean can hardly complain about. Whatever keeps his hands busy is fine with him. But it also means he never has too much time to spare during the day, and even this extended lunch break has gone on for a little too long...

Though for Caston he's always quick to break the rules.

But the excitement in the air is enough for him to not feel too bad about forcing himself back to work. If anything, it technically means that the evening will come sooner. Sort of. Valid reasoning on his end, he thinks.

Gulping down the rest of his sandwich, Dean's done in no time and wiping his hands some off-hand towel. His smile grown a little smaller, though no less pleased with their plans.

"I'm glad you stopped by," he admits, as it's always a nice break during the day. "I'll see you tonight, Cas."

Caston should know his way around the shop by now, so Dean doesn't hesitate to slip out of the office.

Just a few more bites and Caston's polished off his sandwich too. He tosses the wrapper into the trash can and then stands up and stretches. "Thank you for the food," he says with a nod. It's not like he had come here for free hand-outs, but Dean hadn't really given him the chance to refuse.

It's nice to know that they'll be seeing each other later, and so Caston doesn't feel his stomach sink when Dean disappears out the door. He just has to get through family dinner and then he'll actually be able to have a good time.

So after he tidies up a few things in the office, Caston returns to his car and takes off back to the house to get ready.

Unfortunately for Caston, Dean isn't at the shop. On the bright side, Andrew doesn't mind if he stops to say hello either. Caston's a pretty good guy as far as Andrew's always been able to tell, a pretty good friend to Dean who's always been on Andrew's good-list.

He's still half way under a car when another rolls in and, assuming it's a customer, he wheels himself out to scope it. Cas's car is familiar by now, though, and he recognizes it as soon as he spots it. He cleans his hands off on a rag while the other man pulls himself out of the car, and greets him with a nod and an open palm.

"Hola," he greets, butchering the Spanish language swiftly and easily.

Andrew hardly needs to abandon his work on Caston's account, but by the time that he gets out of his car, Dean's coworker has already moved over to greet him. Part of the reason Caston enjoys visiting is because of the warmth he's treated with here. It's so much less complicated than spending time around his family.

Dean's his friend, and he supposes that Andrew is too, even if that friendship was only struck up by proxy.

"Hello," he replies quickly, taking Andrew's hand to give it a shake. The shop's quiet today, more so than it usually is on a Sunday, and Caston takes a quick look around. "Dean isn't here?"

Maybe he shouldn't be so transparent, but Andrew no doubt already realizes why he's here.

Andrew's more than willing to abandon work for pretty much any excuse. Not that he's lazy, but because he does the same old shit every day and a distraction every once and a while is exactly what his therapist ordered. Only his therapist didn't actually order that and Andrew's making shit up as he goes, but fuck it, right?

He's got something of a wry smile on his face when Caston shakes his hand, but he keeps his smartass to a minimum. He's a nice guy, you know, whatever. He can shake hands if he wants to, even if it's the 21st century and that's practically the equivalent of bowing now. At least he doesn't mind shaking dirty ass hands, some of the uppity bitches he deals with on the daily would sooner shake an asshole with their mouth.

"Nope," he answers, tossing the rag back onto the workbench. "But he should be back soon. Come on, I'll unlock the break room for you, you can wait in there."

It's not usually locked anyway, but with Dean gone and Peter's shift drawing to a close, most of the building's on quiet mode.

The handshake may not be necessary, but Caston doesn't mind it either. It's a more formal way of greeting, but it also shows that Andrew has some sense of respect and manners. Not that Caston necessarily deserves either of those things, but that's not something that he needs to bring up now.

Or ever. To anyone but Gale, perhaps.

The offer to let him wait inside where he can sit is a nice one, but it's not actually what Caston wants. So he digs his heels in instead of following Andrew in that direction.

"I wouldn't mind watching you work." He doesn't have much knowledge about fixing automobiles. In fact, most everything he knows about it he learned here, from watching Dean and Andrew. He wouldn't want to pull Andrew away from his work, so why not watch quietly and maybe ask a question here and there?

The protest stops him and he turns, that amusement and interest in this whole exchange only deepening in the way it always seems to do when Caston is involved. Andrew's met a lot of people, he's got most people pegged and most people have him pegged, but something's always weird and different when this guy's involved. He's just a little off, just a little different in a way Andrew can't place, and he kinda likes it. It's a change in the monotony, a breaking in the ever present people cliche.

And he's nice, so fuck it.

"Suit yourself," He agrees, a conceding sideways-nod of his head. "But I gotta warn you- it's gonna be reeeeeeally boring."

Which doesn't stop him from grabbing that rag back up and a ratchet along with it.

"I mean it. No dancing ladies, no fireworks, even the radio's busted."

Which makes his company all the more welcome, to be honest.

It can't be any more boring than his job at the convenience store. Any interaction he has there doesn't really go beyond whether someone wants regular or sugarfree gum. At least there's something more to the way a car functions.

"I don't see why repairing an engine would involve dancing or fireworks," Caston says with a frown, well aware that he's probably missing the joke, though he doesn't exactly care.

He drags a crate over and takes a seat on it, close to Andrew's workspace without invading it too much. He leaves Andrew plenty of room to move around.

"Couldn't you repair the radio? Or does that take a different skill set?" If Andrew isn't able to, then Caston might just buy them a new one so they can listen to music while they work. It seems only right, given how much time he spends here, to give back in a small way.

"Be a lot cooler if it did, though," Andrew says seriously, pointing his ratchet at the man. He rounds the hood of an old Ford, propping it up with a rod. It does get a little tedious sometimes, it's not exactly a huge town. Occasionally they get a nice hotrod or an interesting domestic dispute story, but for the most part it's all faulty transmissions and oil changes.

He shoves his face into the hood, loosening rusty bolts as they talk. "Nope, radios are a whole different ballgame, amigo. Electronics and motors are like... fucking... bees and watermelons basically."

If that turn of phrase is unusual (and it is), he doesn't seem to give much of a shit about it. With a strain and a pop, a bolt comes off and he sets it aside.

Caston takes a moment to imagine what mechanics with those two elements added might look like, and it's enough to bring an amused smile to his lips.

It's difficult to resist the urge to hover closer so he can actually watch what Andrew's doing, but he would rather not distract him and cause him to make a mistake as a result. That car belongs to someone in Storybrooke, which means that Caston would no doubt hear about it later if he indirectly caused harm to someone's car.

Bees and watermelons is a strange analogy to make, but it gets the point across. There's something else about Andrew's statement that Caston notices, though, and he doesn't miss the opportunity to make a bad joke. "I'm not sure why the bees would need to be fornicating, but I understand your point."

If he looks a little too pleased with himself in that moment, Andrew would just have to forgive him.

"What's wrong with it?" he asks with a nod to the car.

Honestly, it's more likely Andrew would hear about it later, what with him being asshole behind supposedly fixing the shit, right? It wouldn't be Caston's fault if he fucked it all to hell, it'd be the fault of the asshole that let himself get distracted. At least, that's how he sees it.

Caston's response brings Andrew up short and he pauses, struck by the word fornicating itself, let alone what he's implying. He can't tell whether or not it's a joke, so he just shakes his head and accepts for the billionth time that Caston's one strange guy.

He sighs. "Same thing that's always wrong- transmission. Seriously, I don't know what the fuck it is with this place, but every other car is the same problem in the same place, I shit you not. I don't know if these people just can't fucking shift, or what."

He shakes his hair out of his face, grunting as he pops off another bolt.

"This shit's boring anyway- what about you? What's new in your life?"

It appears that his joke doesn't have much traction, given that Andrew doesn't know how to reply to it. That tends to be how it always goes with Caston's jokes, and so sometimes he has to wonder why he still tries.

(Except that sometimes Dean laughs at them, even if he may only be doing it as a favor.)

It does strike him as odd that it's always the same thing that's broken in the cars here. How could that even be possible? It's not like at the convenience store, where people who come in usually always buy the same thing. Everyone has their order, but that's a sign of routine. Each car is different, so they shouldn't all break in the same way.

He doesn't think it's that boring. He thinks it's bizarre, and maybe even a sign of something. Of what, he can't say, but...

At that question, Caston smiles wryly and shakes his head. "I would say that's the problem. There's never anything new in my life. I wish I had something of interest to report, but..." He shakes his head, gaze dipping down to his shoes on the pavement.

The weird thing is, Andrew's never really put much thought into it. Sure, he's noticed the trend, sure he's noticed it's strange, but the drive to do some investigating never kicked into gear. He's only really paid much attention to it over the last couple of days, but by now he's been dealing with it for so long he doesn't see the point. At least it's an easy fix at this point.

He pauses his super detailed very technical mechanic-ing to glance through his hair at the other man. Not a very happy answer from Mr. Caston over there, from the sound of things. He flicks his hair out of his face.

"What, you don't get out? Go on dates or anything? Party?"

Okay, the party part isn't a genuine question, guy doesn't seem like the partying type to him, but hey, he's a good looking guy. He's got to have something going on.

No, Caston isn't the partying type. Even when Dean offers to meet up with him at the local bar, Caston usually finds some reason to turn him down.

He's not certain why. He would likely have a good time if he simply went for it, and yet it's like there's something holding him back -- like there are invisible chains around his wrists and ankles. In reality, he realizes it's his own uncertainty with who he is that usually stops him from enjoying himself. As if he doesn't deserve it.

"It's not particularly easy to court someone while working at a convenience store," he replies with a self-deprecating smile and a shrug.

But Caston would prefer that he get the subject off of himself as quickly as possible, so he peers over at Andrew with genuine curiosity. "What do you do with yourself when you're not working?"

"Not exactly easy to court someone in a fuckin' auto garage, either." He points out, shrugging a shoulder. And yet, despite that, he's got a steady girlfriend and a ring he's thinking about throwing at her. All he's saying is that it isn't much of an excuse, all things considered. The only thing holding him back is himself.

He's got to pause at the question, blowing air from his lips slowly as he considers it. He pokes his head out away from the engine a little.

"Truth?"

He asks. He's sure Caston will want it, so he proceeds a beat after.

"Therapy, mostly. Couple of times a week. When it's not that, spending some time with my girl, spending some time drinking with my best friend. Just fucking around, I guess."

Andrew makes a point. Despite the limitations that his job offers him in terms of socializing, he still has a girlfriend who he seems to be serious with. Caston isn't aware of his intent to propose, but even so.

He always prefers the honest truth of things, but Caston isn't prepared for the answer that Andrew gives him. Andrew quickly jumps from the mention of therapy to some more typical responses, but it's impossible not to fixate on that one thing.

This has never come up between them before. Caston wonders if that means that Andrew trusts him.

"Therapy," he echoes. He would probably benefit from some, but Michael would never allow it. "Could I ask what for? If you don't want to discuss it in detail, I understand, but..." It seems remiss not to ask.

Yeah, he figured that's what Caston would choose to focus on. You don't just drop the therapy bomb and not expect a few questions, but... hey. He knows Cas is a good guy, he can tell he's going through something of a rough patch- well, if not rough, at least... stagnant. He's not all that embarrassed by it, to be honest. Fuck what anyone thinks.

He stands up straight, no longer bent over the hood, and runs his hands through his hair. Some of it sticks up, sticks back, messy and undoubtedly dirty, but he doesn't give a shit how it looks.

"My mom died," He admits finally, dropping his eyes for a moment. "It was a while back, but it... messed me up pretty bad. I had some... anger problems. Broke a lot of shit, got into fights, hurt some people... Got into a bar fight with some guy I don't even really remember, and the cops came into play. I had a choice- ninety days, or anger management."

He's not proud of what he did, how he acted, how he lashed out at the people that mattered to him. That's more embarrassing than the therapy itself.

It's only now that Caston's hearing all this that it occurs to him how little he'd known about Andrew before. They've always made small talk, but delving this deep -- well, there's never been the chance before. He's almost glad that he happened to come at a time when Dean wasn't present, if only because it means that he's had this opportunity to engage in a longer conversation with Andrew.

Losing a parent isn't easy. Caston doesn't even remember his mother, and his father? Well, he walked out on the all of them without more than a word of explanation. Caston had been angry then too, angry and upset and it had been hard to get out of bed for a while there. It's not the same as a beloved parent dying, there's a lot more resentment involved, but Caston can relate to some degree.

"You've never struck me as an angry person," he says after a pause. "It seems that the therapy has done some good." Far preferable than three months behind bars. Gale went through a much longer sentence and he's still not completely recovered from it.

"My condolences for your mother," he says quietly, bowing his head.

"I'm not an angry person, " He agrees seriously. At least, he never was before all this went down. His mother was always so proud of his level head, his ability to take a whole bunch of bullshit and just roll with it. He almost never got into fights, at least, he never started them, though as an outsider it can be hard to avoid them completely. That isn't to say he never got mad, but up until that point he always had a pretty level grasp on it all.

And then she died, and it was like... he lost all measure of control, lost the fuse that kept him in place, and he was just... so... angry all the time. He'd needed the therapy, he really had.

Finally, he shrugs, lips quirking up into a not-quite-smile. "Yeah, thanks. It was a while ago, though, so. Time heals all wounds or whatever bullshit it is they tell you."

Time heals all wounds. Caston can only hope that's true. There's been a lot of damage done in his life, not just to him but to other members of his family, and sometimes he isn't certain he'll come out on the other side.

But if Andrew can recover from something as devastating as losing his mother, then perhaps Caston can put his life back on the right track too.

"Maybe I should try some therapy myself," he says, though not with any explanation for why he might need it. Dean may have already told Andrew some of the details, though he'll explain them all the same if asked. It seems only fair after Andrew opened up to him. "But it would have to be done discreetly."

Just like everything in his life, he has to keep it from Michael.

Now that's a pleasantly surprising thing to hear. Sure, he was just thinking about how Cas could benefit from it, but he didn't think the guy would go along with it so quickly and willingly. His eyebrows arch in good-natured interest, and he pauses to lean against the rim of the hood with his elbows braced on the metal.

"Oh yeah?" He questions nonchalantly, though interest in his eyes exceeds his tone. "For what, if you don't mind me asking? And why so secretive?"

He's heard a few mentions about "douchebag brothers" from Dean, but he doesn't know all the details. Now might be a good time to learn.

It's not as if this is easy for Caston to speak about, but in some ways there's less pressure with a person he doesn't know as well. Which is why a therapist could be such a good idea. It would be someone completely separated from his issues, who could look at it with a clear head and from an unbiased perspective.

"It has to be secretive because my older brothers wouldn't approve," Caston explains first. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears, that he would let Michael and Luke control him so thoroughly.

"And that's also what I would need the therapy for. They're involved in many aspects of my life, and it makes it difficult for me to pursue my own goals." Hence why he's over thirty and working at a convenience store instead of making something of his life.

Wow, okay. He might be an only child, he might not know shit for fuck about sibling relationships, but if his brothers are such assholes they won't let him go to fucking therapy? There's nothing cool about that. His opinion's written clearly on his face, incredulous and unhappy about the whole thing.

"What, are you shitting me?" He motions absently with one hand, gesticulating his enthusiasm like jazz hands. "Screw that, you're a grown fuckin' man, you gotta live your own life. If you want therapy, get fuckin' therapy and let 'em be pissed. What's the worst that could happen?"

Andrew's reaction is more or less in line with how anyone would respond when Caston explains his situation. It's not the sort of thing that most would understand, because they haven't grown up under Michael's watch.

What's the worst that could happen. That's the question, isn't it? Is he delusional about worrying so much about their opinions? Is it just an excuse for holding himself back? Caston doesn't think so, obviously.

"Both Michael and Luke have powerful positions in the court system here." With Michael as a judge and Luke as a politician, they work rather well together. "I'm sure they could pull some strings if they wished to." Part of it is also dreading that he'll hear no end of it if he does go ahead and see someone.

Okay, yeah, this car can wait for a hot fucking second. He puts the wrench down and edges around the hood. Leans back against it and crosses his arms.

"Are you shitting me right now?" He asks, though he knows Caston isn't. "You wanna get therapy, but you're afraid they'll have you arrested?"

Which might be a pretty rough summary of the situation, maybe a slight exaggeration on his part, but that's what it sounds like.

"You realize they can't do that, right? It's not illegal to make your own decisions, man, and if you're afraid they're gonna ruin your life, it looks like they're already doing that."

Edited 2014-11-29 21:19 (UTC)

It had hardly been Caston's intention to rile Andrew up to the point that he would abandon his work, and he watches with a frown as he sets down the wrench. Maybe he should have avoided this subject after all.

But everything that Andrew's saying is something he should hear, as hard as it may be for him to accept it after years of being under Michael's thumb.

It's that final point that really rings true, though. His life's already been put on hold because of his fear of his siblings. At this point, what does he really have to lose?

So he's silent for a few seconds too long before he nods, peering down at his hands that are clasped in his lap. "Standing up to them is easier said than done. But you're right. I'll do what I want with my life and endure the consequences whenever they come." What other option does he have? To work at the general store for the rest of his life? That's not a real option, it's not sustainable, he'll likely end up snapping if he keeps that up.

all in the name of misbehavior

for Dean (after thread with Andrew)

slams in here

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