Title: Our Lady of Modesty
Author: @unforth-ninawaters - AO3
Major Tags: Alternate Universe â Modern; Alternate Universe â Magical Realism, Jimmy and Castiel are twins, Incest, Twincest, Past Major Character Death, Implied Past Wincest, Creature Dean, Top Dean, Bottom Jimmy, Bottom Castiel, Virgin Castiel, Internalized Homophobia, Pining, Nature, Nature Magic, Writer Jimmy, Artist Castiel, Mystery, Language of Flowers, PoV Castiel
Pairings: Jimmy/Castiel; Dean/Castiel/Jimmy
Summary: The death of Jimmy and Castiel Shurleyâs parents grants them a modest inheritance and, more importantly, freedom to make their own choices. After hunting for the perfect house, they find what theyâre looking for in an old farmhouse in the mountains of upstate New York: nice neighbors not too close, the beauty of nature surrounding them, and solitude, save for each other. The isolation is both a blessing and a curse; Castiel has pined for his brother since puberty, but incest is forbidden and homosexuality is taboo, and he knows if he speaks about his feelings heâll lose his brother as a best friend and destroy their careers as childrenâs book authors as well. Fortunately, Castiel finds a new friend in Dean, the strange man who hangs around their property. Sure, itâs a weird, especially since Dean refuses to enter the house or even meet Jimmy, but Dean is gregarious, beautiful, kind, and brilliantly knowledgeable about the natural wonders surrounding them. Castiel isnât the best at assessing people but heâs absolutely sure thereâs no harm in DeanâŚ
âWillows are junk trees,â the inspector explained. âTheir root systems are shallow and spread wide. They grow damn fast, too. One this old? There are roots all over your yard. Itâs only a matter of time before they get into your well water â if they havenât already â and they can even burst a septic tank depending on how they grow. Theyâre short lived, too. Youâre thinking that âcause this one is so big, it must be old, but Iâd be surprised if itâs stood here more than 20 years. As if that werenât enough, the branches are weak. In a bad storm, if youâre lucky youâll only lose some of them; if youâre unlucky the whole thing will go down right into your pond. Then youâll have a right mess. Iâm sure thatâs why this other one was cut down,â she added, gesturing at the stump that Castiel had noted previously.
The corpse of the tree that once stood side by side with the existing willow was nearly as large around as the bole of the remaining tree. Thick moss, dark green, each sprig resembling a tiny tree, spread over the old, dead bark, covered the exposed roots, and forced its way through the lichen growing on the wood. What Castiel had thought from a distance was some kind of decoration proved to be, on closer inspection, a shrine. A sculpture of an angel carved from a pale wood rested on the stump, so intricate that every feather was articulated and Castiel thought heâd recognize the face if it was someone he knew. A plaid scarf was wrapped around the angelâs neck and a small hat was tugged over its head. Sunlight struck the finish and it gleamed, the wood polished to a lustrous shine. Something metal twinkled, a pendant, Castiel realized, shaped like a horned face. Other items, clearly deliberately selected though Castiel didnât see a pattern to them, were arranged neatly about the base of the sculpture, nestled in the moss: an antler, a blue feather, a small carven box, a wind-scoured bone, and more.
âSheâs wrong, you know,â said a gruff, unfamiliar voice. Startled, Castiel jerked around. There was a man standing beneath the boughs of the willow tree, tall, a smattering of freckles scattered over his tanned cheeks. His hair was the same shade of brown as the angel sculpture, and the gel that swept it back from his forehead gave it a similar burnished gleam.
Castiel wasnât one for eye contact. Jimmyâs eyes were blue, brilliantly blue, but Castiel couldnât think of another person heâd ever met whose eye color heâd taken note of.
The manâs eyes were impossibly green.
