Castiel X-Reader - Piano

     Hidden in the deep recesses of the bunker where the boys have yet to explore, lies a room that seems to serve no purpose other than storage. You found it one day when you had been moody and anti-social for no apparent reason. Not wanting to deal with Sam or Dean, you had changed into a pair of loose jeans, a blue hoodie, and mismatched ankle socks and then began to wander through the back hallways.

    Eventually you found the storage room, boxes tucked neatly into corner, against walls, and on shelves with other loose miscellanea. For the better part of an hour, you had sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by multicolored boxes. Dust swirled through the air every time you pulled off a cardboard lid. Most of the contents were files of some sort or faded, yellow folders containing handwritten letters, but occasionally you found the stray charm or pendant hidden in the corners of the containers. At one point, when you had stood up to move to another stack of boxes, you had noticed a very large form covered in a white sheet. Intrigued, you had walked over to it and yanked away the dingy material, revealing a flawless, ivory, baby grand piano.

    Almost immediately, you had pulled out the two-seater bench and positioned yourself on the black leather. After playing a few four-octave scales to see how well it was tuned, you tried to jog your memory back to a time when you knew how to play. Back before you had become a hunter, you had been quite a prodigy when it came to piano, even though it hadn’t been your favorite hobby. A few minutes of light thinking later, you finally remembered the chords to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, so you began to play.

    The tune had been slow and somber, echoing through the storage room with a melancholy tone that almost made you feel a bit sad. Your solitude had been ended by the gentle rustle of wings that let you know that Castiel had appeared in the room, probably behind you because you couldn’t see him. You hadn’t let his sudden presence make your playing falter; you just kept right on gliding your fingers over the keys. Cass hadn’t said a word, but had come over to sit next to you on the bench to watch you play.

    When the song ended, he finally spoke up in a quiet voice. “I have not heard that piece in a while. You play it well, (y/n).”

    "Yeah?” You had grinned a little at him. “You should’ve heard me back before I started hunting. People said I played so well that I could have been a descendant of Mozart himself.”

    Cass gave you a strange look. “You bear no resemblance to Mozart in any way. There isn’t any way you could be related to him.”

    This evoked a little laugh from you at his naivety. “I know that Cass, it was just their way of complimenting me. You into classical music?”

    “Some.”

    “You ever played a musical instrument before?”

    “No, but I have the required knowledge to play any instrument if I wish.”

    “I figured that. Show me.” You had slid over on the seat to give the angel more room, leaning an elbow on one end of the piano.

    “Show you what?” He gave you another confused look.

    “You said you can play any instrument, and I want to see you do it. Please?”

    The angel had looked first at you, and then down at the piano keys. After a moment’s hesitation, he had positioned himself in the center of the bench and placed his hands over the faded ivory. Then he began to play the most beautiful, flawless version of Gnossiene No. 1 that you had ever heard. The song, having played it when you were fairly young, was one that you recognized and therefore impressive because you had been told that you had played it like you had written it yourself. But there you had sat, listening to Castiel play the piece in the most, well, angelic way you had ever heard it played before.

    For the next three-and-a-half minutes, you had watched as Cass played the piano for you, a concentrated, determined look on his face. When the song ended, he slowly brought his hands down and rested them on his knees, tilting his head sideways to look at you for approval. You grinned at him and raised an eyebrow.

    “I . . . thought you might like that one.” He said finally. “I’m still unsure as to your musical preferences.”

    “That was awesome Cass.”

    Your words had elicited a small smile from the angel. With the spark of a sudden idea, you had turned to face the piano head on again, Cass moving over slightly to let you have half of the bench. Raising your left hand to the keys, you had begun to play the repetitive chords of Mozart’s Concerto No. 21. You didn’t have to say anything to Cass; he just automatically came in with his right hand when the melody of the song started.

    For the next hour or two, the both of you had stayed hidden in that little storage room with the piano, playing duets and showing off to one another. The boys never came to look for you, at least not that you noticed, and that was fine. You probably would have been slightly disappointed if they had come in and ruined the moment anyway. For those hours, it was just you, your angel, and the baby grand.