Chapter Text
Castiel feels the alarm, his phone vibrating against his skin through the thin fabric lining of his pocket. Grabbing a pair of mitts, he pulls the oven door open, the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins escaping into the air around him and mixing with the scent of the sugar cookies he baked earlier. With a quick glance back over his shoulder to check that the coast is clear, he turns and slides the pans into the cooling rack on the opposite wall.
With the displays fully stocked and the rest of his morning preparations finished, Castiel takes a moment to sit and check on his website, solemates.org, a passion project he started with the help of Ash, one of his closest friends and self-described computer geek extraordinaire. He also happens to be one of the best hires he ever made at the bakery he owns with his brother Gabriel.
The bakery was Gabe’s brainchild, every item on the menu his creation from the flavors down to the names. Even the name of the business was his idea and Castiel, despite trying desperately, had failed to talk him out of it. Turns out, his brother has a knack for branding because Soulnuts has been a huge success since day one. Gabriel enjoys the flirtatious names of menu items like Afternoon Delight, which is a coffee shake, beans included. When Castiel warns him he’s flirting with indecency laws, his brother simply pushes him out of the counter area and back into the kitchen.
That suits Castiel just fine.
In his element, elbow deep in batter, he feels at home. In his kitchen, no one speaks too quickly for him to read their lips. No one stares at him because of his voice and his awkward inflection and tone that he's stuck with despite how much effort he has put into practicing.
Tucked away back here, he only has to watch out for Ash dashing around or Gabriel playing his stupid pranks and that leaves Castiel with enough free time to monitor Solemates throughout the morning while he works. Fortunately, everyone seems to be behaving themselves, so he jumps up and starts packing the muffins, still warm as he places them four to a box, nabbing one for himself.
Sliding his laptop into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he grabs his box of muffins and his mug of coffee and leaves through the back door, hoping his exit is quiet enough that he slips out unnoticed, but of course, he can never tell. He figures he’s good after making it a full block without Gabe catching up to him and dragging him back.
As he walks, Castiel pulls out a muffin and turns it over in his hand, eating it from the bottom up, saving the best part for last. Feeling like Holly Golightly, he stops along the way and browses the windows, occasionally stuffing another bite into his mouth. He nods at a few of the shop owners who recognize him as he passes.
Once he reaches the back of his building, he jogs up the stairs to his loft and rushes inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. Leaving his empty mug next to the box on the counter as he passes through the tiny but bright kitchen, he licks the sticky mix of blueberry and crumbs from his fingers as he drops onto the plush couch. Wrenching the bag from his shoulder, he drags his laptop out and places it on the coffee table before him, Solemates still open in his browser.
With a feeling of pride, his eyes flow easily over the home page, the minimalist style, the no-nonsense Merriam-Webster definition of the word sole: being the only one; having no sharer; functioning independently and without assistance or interference. While all of those meanings are rather poignant, it’s that last definition that perfectly expresses what the website means to Castiel.
Even after coming to certain realizations relating to his disability, it was some time before the question of soulmates even occurred to him. Once it had, it was always there, taking up residence in the back of his mind, sprouting more questions. How will he ever find his soulmate if he’ll never hear their voice? And how could he trust anyone who claimed they were soulmates? Would it even be fair to get involved with his soulmate knowing he’ll never feel that connection himself?
Without finding any answers, Castiel could have sunk into darkness and despair, but then he and Gabriel opened the bakery, and he met Ash who encouraged and eventually convinced him to pursue his other passion. Together, they worked out the concept and the design and his tech genius friend helped him build it from scratch. Solemates would not exist without Ash, just another idea stuck inside Castiel’s head.
He has to admit that the general atmosphere of the website seems to draw in some fairly laid-back users, and he rarely finds himself having to interfere or kick anyone out. People looking for a fight or wanting to troll tend to drift on to more promising sites quickly enough on their own. There’s nothing for them here.
Baking is still one of his passions, but this is his baby.
Castiel knows the story of how he lost his hearing over time while the doctors and his parents scrambled to figure out why or how to slow it but that’s not how he remembers it at all. In his mind, he simply woke up one morning to utter silence. No birds singing outside his window. No creaking floors or doors. No hiss or rumble of the furnace. No bodies moving around in other parts of the house.
When he dragged himself out of bed, there was no rustle of his clothes against his sheets, and he stood staring at the doorknob turning in his hand without the familiar squeal of metal on metal. He crept down the hall, glancing into the living room where the television displayed morning cartoons in brilliant technicolor but without the hammering of a falling anvil or the soft meep-meep of the roadrunner as he sped away in a swirl of dust.
As he turned toward the kitchen, the realization hit him squarely in the face when he discovered his family gathering around the table for breakfast, their mouths opening and closing around words devoid of their familiar voices, giving him the unnerving feeling of watching an old home movie. The chair moved against the floor without squeaking as his mother turned to him, her eyes growing ever wider the longer she spoke without receiving any answer.
No one ate breakfast that morning. The entire family squeezed into the station wagon, abandoning the most important meal of the day still spread out over the table. His father drove like a madman, likely hung up on the thought that time would somehow make a difference. While their father parked the car, their mother herded the rest of them into the doctor’s office, everyone staring at Castiel, leaning in and whispering to each other as if he might hear them if they spoke out loud.
In the cold, sterile examination room it was just Castiel and his mother, his hand enveloped and squeezed in hers, more for her comfort than his, the doctor rushing in and out with different nurses. No matter how many tests and examinations he was subjected to, the answer was the same: profoundly deaf, permanent and irreversible.
That was the beginning of being talked about more than he was talked to.
Even now, when in mixed company, he notices conversations about him, new people asking his friends or family whether he reads lips or speaks or signs as if unable to answer these questions himself. He sometimes wants to scream that he’s deaf, not braindead. He’s still a functioning human with the same complicated range of feelings and emotions as anyone else.
He can read a book or watch a movie and he can discuss the themes. He can play a video game, though he obviously misses the dramatic musical cues and ends up walking his character into deadly situations far too often because of it. He can take a walk in the park or cross the street without help. He can live on his own in his tiny loft apartment, which is really the way he prefers it anyway.
Alone and unbothered. Without assistance or interference.
Well, alone except for his cat Crowley, a Maine coon with tuxedo markings who is also deaf, and he thinks they make a fine pair. When he found him at the shelter and read his bio, he just knew they were meant for each other. Kind of like soulmates. He reaches out and strokes his thick black fur absentmindedly as he reads over new posts and comments, smiling as he climbs over his leg and curls up in his lap.
Castiel opens his other browser where he’s logged in with his regular username and types out a comment in his weekly mod post meant for introductions or for those too shy to start their own post.
blue_eyed_angel:
Should you even look for your soulmate if you know that you’ll be a disappointment?
Relaxing into the soft cushion behind him, he turns the television on and scrolls back to the limited series he had been watching the night before on the wildlife of the Sahara Desert, pleased at the idea of even the smallest animals adapting and surviving against the odds in such a harsh environment. He pauses, returning to the kitchen to refill his mug and grab another muffin, which he places on a plate this time. Back in the living room, he unpauses and settles back in.
Streaming has been a gift for Castiel, not only offering such a broad range of series and films at the touch of a button, but also giving him the opportunity to watch new releases with subtitles. Sure, he’s never had to complain about others talking at the theater, but without captions or subtitles, movies are difficult to follow. Curled up on the couch with Crowley next to him, eating his own delicious baking and drinking his own fresh coffee, this is much better.
After a couple of episodes, he spends the rest of his afternoon reading, occasionally monitoring the website but, as usual, all is calm and peaceful. In fact, he’s not had to ban anyone in quite some time. By the time late afternoon rolls around, he’s feeling good about leaving it alone for a few hours while he goes out with Meg later tonight.
She loves the smell of the bakery on him, but this is the first time he’s been looking forward to a night out in a while and he’s not going out smelling like donuts and cookies, especially on the off chance that he might meet someone. He closes the laptop and puts it away before Crowley can hop over and curl up on top.
Jumping up from the couch, he enters the bathroom, getting the shower turned on so it can warm up while he undresses. He takes his time and, by the time he gets out, relaxed and calm, the entire room is fogged so that he has to open and fan the door to get the mirror cleared. When he can finally see his reflection, he tries to do something with his hair, but it’s a lost cause.
Giving up, he shrugs and moves to the bedroom where he pulls a random t-shirt out of his closet, pairing it with some faded jeans and boots. His phone lights up across the room, vibrating across the top of the dresser. He manages to grab it before it falls to the wood floor and catches the message from Meg letting him know that she’s here. Before he can second guess himself, Castiel grabs his keys, locks his door, runs down the stairs and jumps into the car, scrambling to get buckled in with her already tearing down the alley.
Rocky’s, their favorite haunt, is already starting to get crowded but they find a small table near the front and make their way over, ordering a couple of drinks when the waitress swings by. Meg watches her leave with a look that tells him he’s probably going to be calling for a ride later.
Even though he never sings, despite Meg’s sweet attempts at trying to talk him into it, karaoke night is their favorite. Sure, he misses out on all the tone-deaf singing, but there’s something charming about the way people can put themselves out there and sing their hearts out. Besides, it’s not like he can appreciate a live band or a jukebox either and Meg’s colorful descriptions keep him more than entertained. She even signs some of the lyrics when the microphone gets in his way, though the drunker the singer is, the harder it becomes to read their lips clearly.
“Did she just say ‘you’re simply the pest’ or am I too drunk to read lips?” Castiel asks, leaning close so that no one around can hear him.
Meg tosses her head back, her body shaking with laughter. She shakes her head no and signs the lyrics for him, her hands moving gracefully through the words. “Okay, my unicorn,” she says, using her sign for him, “I’m going to see if I can’t get our waitress to take me home with her. Wanna drive my car home?”
“I appreciate it, but not tonight. I’ll call for a ride,” he says, already pulling the app up on his phone.
“Be safe.” Meg leans in for a long and warm hug before she’s gone in search of the dark-haired waitress with the very long legs.
Castiel stumbles towards the door, his head spinning just a little as he steps outside into the fresh air, breathing in deeply. Glancing around, he spots a bench he missed when they arrived, taking a seat and waiting for his ride. Either he is a little too drunk and he’s unaware of the passing of time, or his driver was already close by. He steps up to the open window of the black SUV and they confirm they’ve got the right people before he hops in the back seat. The driver gives him a strange look and ignores him for the entire ride.
He’s used to it.
When they arrive at his building, he takes the front door this time to avoid the now dark alleyway at the back, carefully climbing the stairs up to his front door and slipping inside, remembering to lock the door now that it’s dark and he’s reminded of how alone he is there. He drops his keys on the table beside the door and kicks his boots off, dragging his feet to the bedroom where he collapses, still fully dressed, into bed. The room spins around him when he closes his eyes but he’s soon drifting and then nothing.