entrancelogs | all in the name of misbehavior

Entry tags:

all in the name of misbehavior

Who: ~~Castiel~~ Caston Shurley, ~~Dean Winchester~~ Dean Campbell, and ~~Peter Rumancek~~ Andrew Bell
Where: Storybrooke, Maine (at the mechanic shop)
When: 10/26
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It says a lot when the best part of someone's day is their visit to the local mechanics.
The Story:
It's Sunday, and after the bizarre things that Caston experienced the day before, the last thing he wants to do is have to visit with Michael and Luke. But it's Sunday, and the Hell he'll bring upon himself if he doesn't show up for Sunday dinner (with Gale in tow, of course) is not worth the relief he might get from not going.

If he's lucky, then whatever it is he experienced yesterday had been nothing more than a fluke. He could have sworn that a flick of his wrist had knocked some product off of one of the shelves at work, and he still can't quite remember how he got from the front door of the house into his bed after getting home from the late shift.

He's overtired, maybe. Or he's finally gotten so sick of his mundane work that he's starting to lose his mind.

What he can't do is spend the only part of day that he isn't expected to be around his older siblings holed up at home with Gale and his estranged son. Caston's gotten used to Daniel by now, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's comfortable around him.

He is comfortable around Dean, and that's worth a lot given how his weekend's gone so far. So that's why Caston picks up a cup of coffee and then drives over to the mechanic shop even though he doesn't need any repairs on his car, not even an oil change. Dean usually doesn't mind if he simply drops by to say hello.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

all in the name of misbehavior

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject