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Castiel sputtered a bit at being caught in the act. At first he worried that Tristen might think it was weird but he was relieved to see that that wasn't the case. Castiel didn't consider himself charming, though his parents were actor the talent must have skipped him because he was an open book. It often didn't take much to know what he was thinking. Though thankfully it looked like Tristen didn't mind.

Castiel listened intently to Tristen, that was something that he could do well. He actually perked up a bit at the mention of music. Whatever the genre his time at college had given him an appreciation of all types of music. While he was mostly trained to play classical he also enjoyed playing versions of some of the better pop or rock songs. Though it sounded like what Tristen listened to was a little darker then most of his playlist a few of the bands he discovered in college could easily match those categories. In fact one of the songs that often found itself on repeat was 'Heart Shaped Box' by Nirvana. Even if he was pretentious enough to consider his music superior one of his teachers would have made quick work of it. He remembered an assignment that had him listening to scream-o for a week. By the end of it he learned to appreciate the emotions the music could induce and understand how people could enjoy it. Even if he would never do the assignment twice.

Castiel wasn't about to let Tristen change the subject so quickly. His curiosity demanded a test. "Really? I doubt I could remember my mom's birthday if it wasn't a neat 5/5. How about when Lewis and Clark started to go west, I always got that question wrong in history." After Tristen's reply Castiel realized that it was his turn to answer. He blushed a bit. "Well, I can name just about any note I hear. No matter the instrument. Some of the band members at the theater decided to test it out and it seems I'm almost accurate enough for them to tune their instruments by. So,umm, what's your favorite movie? How about your favorite band?" Castiel looked at the clock on the cable box and notice that it was around dinner time. He wondered if Tristen had the time to eat earlier. "Hey, ah, are you hungry at all? I can make us something if you want?"

Tristen thought about it for a few seconds, frowning as if it were the most serious question he'd ever been asked. He'd watched a documentary on Lewis and Clark once, but it wasn't one of his favorite subjects in history so the memories weren't all that clear. Too bad Castiel hadn't asked something about the American Revolution or the French Revolution, because he'd seem so many documentaries about those that he could recite dates and facts from memory. "Well, Lewis and Clark weren't one of the topics I was really interested in, but I know they started west in 1804," he said, "In the spring I think. May, maybe? May 1804 sounds about right. I think that's about as specific as I can remember with that one." Still, he seemed pleased with himself, figuring that was more specific than a lot of people could guess. "I did say there was a decent chance I could tell you, not that I definitely could," he added, "So it's still true."

Tristen grinned when he heard Castiel's strange talent. "That sounds a hell of a lot more useful than reciting random history trivia," he said, "Maybe I'll give that a test if I get a new guitar. Is that something you've had to practice or is it a natural sort of talent?" Tristen could recognize chords when heard them, but only because he'd practiced so much when he was younger. Maybe Castiel was one of those prodigy types who just had a feel for music. Tristen was quiet for a moment before answering the movie question, deciding if he wanted say something like Fight Club or Pulp Fiction or one of the other movies guys always said were their favorites or to give his actual favorite. "Okay, don't laugh," he said, deciding to be honest, "But my favorite movie is actually the Lion King. It was my favorite growing up, so sentimental value, I guess?"

The band question was a little harder to answer. It was hard to pin down a single favorite. "I can only pick one? There are too many to choose from," he huffed. "Then I'll go with Nirvana. Can't go wrong with Nirvana." He liked more recent music too, but no matter how many interesting new bands he listened to, Nirvana would always be one of his favorites. "I guess you're probably into classical composers and stuff, huh?" he said, "Famous violinists, maybe?" There wasn't any judgement in his tone. He saw the appeal of music like that, even if he wasn't exactly knowledgeable about it. At the mention of food, Tristen's stomach grumbled a little and he winced. He didn't know how he felt about this, taking up this guy's space and now eating his food, too. He felt like an inconvenience.

"Well...if you're hungry, sure," he said slowly, as if he was being more careful about his answer than he needed to be. "Don't worry about me if you're not."

Castiel blushed as Tristen commented about his talent. "Yeah, I guess. A bit of both I think? I could always sorta tell if a note was off, but not what it was or how it was off. Like looking at the spelling of a weird word. It was always just me and my mom so I could only get a violin through the school and I couldn't afford a tuner. So when I practiced at home I would spend almost an hour trying to tune it by ear. It wasn't quite right but it was enough to practice with. Over time I got better at it and learned the names. Once I got into college I was introduced to playing with other people in an orchestra. So eventually I started to recognize the other instruments as well." Castiel smiled, he enjoyed his time at the college and it brought back some good memories.

He couldn't help but chuckle a bit when Tristen told him his favorite movie. Not at the movie itself but at Tristen's caution over it. "Why would I laugh? Lion King is amazing. It's beautifully drawn and animated, it has some of the best songs, and it's Shakespeare with lions. Sentimental or not it's a classic." Castiel was definitely beginning to loosen up. He wasn't completely out of his shell though, but he was no longer so nervous.

"Actually I'm more into rock and pop music. Though I do like movie scores, even for movies I've never seen." Castiel stood up and walked towards the kitchen. "Yeah I can eat. Don't worry about the food, Michael mooches of my fridge all the time. He comes from a community that shares everything you know? Last time I went to his house I had to tell his family about fifteen times that I wasn't hungry." He sorted through the cabinets, thinking of possible meals. "Anything you want in particular? I can make spaghetti or soup and sandwiches. I also got a frozen pizza if you'd rather."

Tristen noticed the blush on Castiel's face but didn't mention it. Maybe the guy wasn't used to getting compliments - Tristen could relate. "That's pretty incredible," Tristen said, "To just have a sense for it like that. I'm kinda jealous. I can kinda do that, but it took me years to get a feel for it." He was mostly joking about being jealous. It only made sense for Castiel to be better at such things, since he was the professional. Tristen realized he wanted to hear Castiel play some more. Hopefully he'd have to practice again before Tristen left.

Tristen put on a mock scowl when Castiel started to chuckle. "Hey, I said don't laugh! You just laughed!" he said, but there was amusement in his tone and he couldn't keep up the fake scowl. His face cracked into a grin. "Well, y'know, it's a kids movie. Some people would think I'm immature because it's still my favorite," he said, feeling glad Castiel didn't think that way. With a short laugh, he added, "I even like the shitty sequel, with the Romeo and Juliet lions."

Tristen shifted positions so he could look over the back of the couch at Castiel. "Reminds me of my dad's family. You can't ever tell southerners you're not hungry," Tristen replied. Never mind that he hadn't seen his dad's side of the family in years- he preferred to remember the good times.

"Um, I can eat anything, really," Tristen said, frowning a bit. Anxious thoughts started to bubble up. What if he picked he wrong thing, something Castiel didn't really want? What if Castiel got annoyed that he couldn't make up his mind? You're worrying about nothing, he told himself. "Uh, spaghetti sounds nice. I-if you don't really have a preference," Tristen said.

"Sphegetti it is then." Castiel grabbed a pot from the cabinet and filled it with water. He placed it on the stove while he set off to gathering the other ingredients. "umm, if you want there should be some remotes on the table next to the couch. The long black one does the cable box and the tv." When the water started boiling he added the spaghetti, submerging them totally once they had softened enough to bend.

Cooking always reminded him of his mother. She didn't spend much time at home because of her job, or sometimes job, but every Sunday she always made a point of getting home in time to make dinner together. It was usually just easy stuff, like spaghetti or hamburgers. On hard weeks it was sometimes just a frozen pizza or lasagna. On rare occasions or for a birthday or holiday she would pull out one of her mother's old cook books. Neither of them were more then basic at cooking so more often then not they came out looking not quite right. But the fun was in the cooking. He could remember a few times that they would get so caught up in having fun that they would forget the food and have to order delivery to replace the charred lumps.

When Castiel went into the kitchen, Tristen felt even more awkward. Just sitting there alone on someone else's couch. It would be one thing if Castiel was one of his friends. He felt like Castiel probably could be one of his friends, but they hadn't known each other long enough. He realized that if Castiel was bigger or louder or more threatening somehow, he probably would have been too nervous to stick around.

"Um, sure," Tristen said, reaching for the remote. It took him a minute to figure out the buttons, and when he got it on, he started scrolling through the guide channel. He scanned through the titles, but he wasn't paying much attention. He looked over the back of the couch again.

"I could help, maybe. I mean, spaghetti's not exactly a two person job..." Tristen said, "But I know how and everything." Tristen could cook a bit too, though it had been a long time since he'd done anything more complex than scrambled eggs.

The water began to boil so Castiel added in the noodles and waited for them to soften. "Oh, umm, sure. You can heat up the sauce or start putting the frozen garlic bread on a baking sheet. Unless you don't like garlic bread of course. Then I guess it's just the sauce." Once the noodles softened enough to bend he stirred the pot so that they were submerged. As they cooked he lifted the box of texas toast garlic bread to read the cooking temp, entering the number into the oven so it could preheat. Then he returned to stirring the noodles, abolishing the beginnings of foam.

He waited for Tristen to make his choice. Once they were settled he once again felt the need to avoid an awkward silence. "So umm, do you cook often? Who taught you?" It wasn't a thrilling conversation topic but it was comfortable and relatable at least.

Tristen nodded, relieved to have something to do other than sit there. Even if he did feel a little silly doing things as simple as heating things up or putting things on a baking sheet, like he was a little kid trying to help a parent in the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen and reached for the box of toast after Castiel was done with it. As he went about spreading the bread out on the baking sheet, he half turned his head towards Castiel to show he was listening.

"Well, I stopped cooking for a while. I was eating more junk food than actual meals," Tristen said. "Mostly my grandmother. On my dad's side," he said. Those happy memories were somewhat spoiled since his grandmother had all but disowned him before she died. When he was done with the bread, he moved on to the sauce. "Do you like cooking?" he asked.

"Umm, yeah. My mom, she used to work a lot. But she would always get home on sundays in time to have a family dinner. Usually it was stuff like this or frozen foo but sometime we would use a recipe from an old cookbook that used to be my grandmother's." He stepped aside to let Tristen put the bread in the oven. After that he fished out a noodle with his spoon and cooled it in the sink before testing it. Still too firm. "What made you stop, if you don't mind me asking of course?" He had a feeling that Tristen didn't stop because he wanted to. And he didn't think it was work. But he also didn't want to make the boy feel pressured. He didn't have to know.

Tristen leaned against the counter next to the oven, waiting for the bread. The question made him frown. "Well, there's a couple of different reasons, I guess," he started slowly, "My grandmother didn't want to spend time with me anymore after I came out," He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit of hit. "Then, uh, with my ex- he wasn't into the whole family dinner thing, y'know. And for a while there, I just sort of...stopped caring. It didn't really matter what I ate." When he was done, he realized this conversation was probably too heavy to be having with someone he'd just met.

He tried to play it off, giving a laugh and a shrug. "Look at me, being a buzzkill," he said, "You don't want to hear about that kinda stuff, I'm sure." He tried to make himself busy by checking the bread, even though it had only been in there for a couple of minutes. He struggled to think of something else to say, to change the subject. "D-do you like southern food? I used to cook stuff like that all the time," he said.

"I love southern food and if you're offering to cook sometime then I can't wait to try it. You don't have to worry about being a buzzkill. I don't mind, it's healthy to vent sometimes. Michael has told me I'm a good listener. I don't know if he meant it or he was just being nice but either way I don't mind being your soundboard for a while. I know we're still pretty much strangers but If it helps you I'm game." Castiel grabbed the jar of sauce and handed it to Tristen to give his antsy guest something to do. The noodles were done by now so he picked up the pot and took it over to the sink while he looker for a strainer.

"Oh, I guess I could. Um...it's been a while since I've cooked anything like that, though." Tristen gave a sheepish grin, half-nervous and half-excited at the thought of cooking for someone else again. If Castiel wanted to hang out with him again, then that was a good sign, wasn't it? Tristen took the jar and poured the sauce into a saucepan to warm up over the stove. It was better to use the stove than the microwave when he could, or so his grandmother had believed.

"Well," Tristen started, his smile faltering a bit. "I hate cooking just for myself. Makes me feel lonely, y'know? And with everything that's been going on with my boyf- um, my ex, we haven't been eating together. And I guess I just didn't care enough to bother feeding myself right." He shrugged, rolling his shoulders back. He started stiring the sauce slowly as he spoke, keeping it from burning. A thought occurred to him, and he blushed a bit in embarrassment. "I just realized. You can probably hear us fighting in here, can't you?" he said, "Jesus, I'm sorry. That must be annoying."

He listened to Tristen while he strained the noodles, blushing sympathetically when he called out that Castiel could hear them. "Well, umm, yeah, sometimes. Usually only when my door or the windows are open but yeah sometimes. " Thankfully he was at least two floors above them so he wouldn't hear them when everything was closed up. But when he did, it was less the yelling itself and more the quiet afterwards that bothered him. He placed the strainer of noodles on top of the plate and put the pot into the sink to wash after dinner. "Umm, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but to be frank..... your ex seems like an asshole..."

"I'm really sorry about that," he repeated the apology. "At least you won't have to hear it anymore." The knowledge that most of their neighbors could probably hear how bad things had gotten made Tristen sick to his stomach. He forced a laugh at Castiel's assessment. "'Asshole' is putting it lightly," he said, "I've actually been planning to leave him for awhile. But, um, it took me a bit to work up the courage."

After a few minutes, Tristen tested the sauce with a spoon to check the temperature. He was satisfied with it, so he handed the sauce over to Castiel to finish. "Well, since we're sharing-- what about you? Anyone special in your life? Or terrible exes you'd like to complain about?" Tristen offered a nervous smile.