Destiel Fanfic: Appearances Can Be Deceiving Ch 4
TITLE - Appearances Can Be Deceiving
Author - angelina1210 & riotousricochet
RATING - PG
GENRE/PAIRING - M/M Castiel/Dean Winchester
SPOILERS - None
WARNINGS - None this chapter
WORD COUNT - 1500 WIP
SUMMARY - After the most amazing night of his life, Castiel shares with Meg.
Cas watched the morning sun glisten off of that sleek black paint as Dean drove away. Standing on his front stoop, he took a moment to relish that first intense coupling they had shared. And then to relish the second, the third and the amazing breakfast Dean made. But reality reared its ugly head early and called Dean to his shop and Cas to his own home.
Dean was, in fact, not just a mechanic but owner of the local auto body and repair shop downtown. Business was booming on Saturdays and taking the day off had not been an option. For Cas, at least weekends off was a perk of being an accountant. Being a defunct priest does not the bills pay, he had reminded himself when he’d dusted off his old resume.
With a content smile, Cas turned to the door and let himself in. If he was lucky, Meg would still be sleeping. If he was really lucky, Meg would not even be home. If she stood him up last night, it may have been for tastier fish. He let himself in and quietly shut the door behind him. Toeing off his shoes, he tiptoed down the hall and past the kitchen. He paused in the living room to stand in the sunlight pouring in through the large windows. All the lights were off but the thick shafts of sun cascading in gave the house such a warm feel. Cas loved that about the place. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and started for his room.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Meg drawled.
Cas jumped at Meg's voice and turned slowly to see her standing in the wide archway that lead to the kitchen, her hip cocked against the door frame. She brought a coffee mug up to her mouth, smirking at him over the rim.
Cas felt a hot blush creep its way up his neck. "I - I uh..." he sputtered helplessly, not even sure how to begin.
“Spit it out, Clarence,” she quipped and moved into the room with him.
She plucked the devil horns from his hand and placed it on her own head as she lounged on the couch. Cas grimaced at the familiar nickname.
“If I give you a dollar, will you stop calling me Clarence?” Cas asked as he took the opposite spot on the couch.
Meg adjusted the horns on her head, considering his request. “Nope,” came her reply.
Cas snickered and tucked his feet under Meg as she did the same. This prickly beauty was a piece of work. She ran her tattoo business with an iron fist, but earned the undying loyalty of customer and employee alike. He admired her “devil may care” attitude and often allowed her to corrupt him. It was a hobby of hers now that he was no longer a man of the cloth. Only Balthazar liked Meg but Cas thought it was because he wanted to get into her pants. Too bad for him, Meg didn’t swing that way.
Cas swallowed his embarrassment and asked what he meant to ask last night. “Why did you stand me up?”
Her answer was quick, “Because you need it.”
“How do I need it? It was rude and unnecessary.” Cas frowned at her.
Meg hummed in agreement. “Yes,” she said. “It was. But if I went with you, you would have rolled in before midnight and slept like a precious angel in your own bed.”
Cas grimaced as he flushed again. Dammit, she knew how to get under his skin. Dammit, she knew how to be right.
“That’s not the point...” he started.
“Yes it is the point,” she interrupted. “So, what’s his name?”
Cas glanced down at his hands, a thoughtful smile curving at his lips. “Dean,” he said after a moment, looking back up at her. “Dean Winchester.”
And he was amazed at how easily the name rolled off his tongue, how right it felt when his mouth shaped those letters. He had shouted the name enough times last night to make his voice raw and hoarse, but even then he knew he could never tire of it. He could say it ten thousand more times, in a hundred different ways, and it would still make his chest feel tight and warm with the quietly thrumming elation he was feeling now.
Cas ducked his head down briefly as a happy blush flushed his cheeks. "And he's amazing," he said softly.
"Wow," Meg chuckled at the wistful sigh in Cas voice. "You know how I get all dewey when you spill details, Clarence. Spill away." Meg placed her empty mug on coffee table and pulled the blanket down over their shared lap. She was settling in for the long haul.
Cas smiled to himself as he recounted the costume, the bar and the car ride. He hesitated here in his story. "He was just so..."
"Strong? Sexy? Flexible?" Meg helpfully supplied.
"Amazing!" Cas blurted again.
"He rendered you speechless? That's all I get? Boring!" Meg declared and gave Cas a soft kick.
Cas dutifully returned the kick with a smile.
"Wait," Meg sat up as she remembered something. "Winchester as in Winchester Customs?"
"Yes, Meg," he answered, concern creeped into his voice.
"He came in with his brother for matching tattoos a few years ago. Is he the hot, tall one or the hot really tall one?" Excitement shone in her eyes as she looked over at Cas, brows arched.
"What?" Cas frowned incredulously at her question. “Dean is hot and tall so I suppose he's the first one. But," Cas countered himself, "he didn't mention how tall Sam is. Just that he's younger but I don't see..."
"So then, he's the hot, tall one." Meg deduced. "The moose is his kid brother."
"Moose?" Cas asked, only slightly perplexed, feeling a vague sense of jealousy from the fact that Meg seemed to know more intricate details about the man he had spent the night with than he did.
Meg smirked at him, shifting under the blanket covering them. "I guess you didn't have much time to discuss your family backgrounds, bein' so busy and all."
She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Cas blushed again, his mind instantly flashing back to Dean's bed and exactly how busy they actually had been.
He cleared his throat and absently wrung his hands together. "You'd be correct in that assumption, " he admitted.
“You’re so naughty, Clarence,” Meg declared with a chuckle from deep in her throat. She sobered quickly, though, as she asked her next question, "Did the topic of your family come up?”
Cas frowned deeply at her question. “He knows about my former… occupation. He does not know why I left or what they think about it.” Cas sighed and pulled himself up off the couch, letting his half of the blanket fall onto Meg’s lap. “If he calls, I guess I’ll be forced to cross that particular bridge. Not a fun prospect but it will come up eventually.”
Cas knew better than anyone that you didn’t turn your back on God in the Novak family without dire consequences. They practically owned the small cathedral downtown with all the money they had donated over the years. There had been a Novak leading vespers for as long as the Novaks had been breathing; his family was nothing if not archaically traditional.
Meg stood with him and pulled him close for a warm embrace. He leaned his head down to touch her forehead with his own and drank in her consoling words. “I’ve figured one thing out about this world, just one, pretty much,” she sighed and held him tighter, “You find a cause and you serve it. It just wasn’t your cause, Castiel, and that’s okay.”
Cas let out a shuddering breath and nodded against her forehead. It was not that he did not believe in God or enjoy his work; Castiel turned his back on the church because he was taking vows for the fear of his “unnatural” desires, not for his love and dedication to God. His father was convinced that taking those vows would “purge his soul of that abdominal need.”
He sighed deeply with the memory. Of his four brothers and one sister, only Balthazar and Gabriel seemed to take his side.He had spent most of his high school years ignoring his preferences and rolled into college carrying a hefty suitcase of denial. Yet being away from his family, away from the oppressive traditions of staunch Republicanism and Catholic Orthodoxy, he slowly unpacked the suitcase and eventually sampled every flavor his innocent taste buds could handle. It was the resultant promiscuity that angered his brothers, even Luci who was the defiant one. Sweet Anna had been disappointed that he brother had left a trail of lovers behind him instead of maintaining a monogamous relationship. But it was his father’s rejection of Castiel’s true self that hurt the most. The others didn’t mind men; they minded the baby spreading himself so thinly amongst the student body. His father called him an abomination. That was what ultimately made Cas stop and take stock. That’s what made him stop his behavior, finish his degree and enter the seminary.
“Okay,” Meg pulled back from him after another moment. “Enough with the hugging.”
Cas chuckled, pulling her tiny frame in for one more tight embrace and to press a kiss the top of her head.
“You are very good for me, Meg.” Cas sighed into her hair, feeling unendingly grateful for her companionship.
“Shut it,” was her quip. She wrestled out of Cas’ hug with a mostly straight face.
Cas chuckled again as he watched her head back into the kitchen with a haughty sway to her hips. “You first,” he called after her.
Author - angelina1210 & riotousricochet
RATING - PG
GENRE/PAIRING - M/M Castiel/Dean Winchester
SPOILERS - None
WARNINGS - None this chapter
WORD COUNT - 1500 WIP
SUMMARY - After the most amazing night of his life, Castiel shares with Meg.
Cas watched the morning sun glisten off of that sleek black paint as Dean drove away. Standing on his front stoop, he took a moment to relish that first intense coupling they had shared. And then to relish the second, the third and the amazing breakfast Dean made. But reality reared its ugly head early and called Dean to his shop and Cas to his own home.
Dean was, in fact, not just a mechanic but owner of the local auto body and repair shop downtown. Business was booming on Saturdays and taking the day off had not been an option. For Cas, at least weekends off was a perk of being an accountant. Being a defunct priest does not the bills pay, he had reminded himself when he’d dusted off his old resume.
With a content smile, Cas turned to the door and let himself in. If he was lucky, Meg would still be sleeping. If he was really lucky, Meg would not even be home. If she stood him up last night, it may have been for tastier fish. He let himself in and quietly shut the door behind him. Toeing off his shoes, he tiptoed down the hall and past the kitchen. He paused in the living room to stand in the sunlight pouring in through the large windows. All the lights were off but the thick shafts of sun cascading in gave the house such a warm feel. Cas loved that about the place. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and started for his room.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Meg drawled.
Cas jumped at Meg's voice and turned slowly to see her standing in the wide archway that lead to the kitchen, her hip cocked against the door frame. She brought a coffee mug up to her mouth, smirking at him over the rim.
Cas felt a hot blush creep its way up his neck. "I - I uh..." he sputtered helplessly, not even sure how to begin.
“Spit it out, Clarence,” she quipped and moved into the room with him.
She plucked the devil horns from his hand and placed it on her own head as she lounged on the couch. Cas grimaced at the familiar nickname.
“If I give you a dollar, will you stop calling me Clarence?” Cas asked as he took the opposite spot on the couch.
Meg adjusted the horns on her head, considering his request. “Nope,” came her reply.
Cas snickered and tucked his feet under Meg as she did the same. This prickly beauty was a piece of work. She ran her tattoo business with an iron fist, but earned the undying loyalty of customer and employee alike. He admired her “devil may care” attitude and often allowed her to corrupt him. It was a hobby of hers now that he was no longer a man of the cloth. Only Balthazar liked Meg but Cas thought it was because he wanted to get into her pants. Too bad for him, Meg didn’t swing that way.
Cas swallowed his embarrassment and asked what he meant to ask last night. “Why did you stand me up?”
Her answer was quick, “Because you need it.”
“How do I need it? It was rude and unnecessary.” Cas frowned at her.
Meg hummed in agreement. “Yes,” she said. “It was. But if I went with you, you would have rolled in before midnight and slept like a precious angel in your own bed.”
Cas grimaced as he flushed again. Dammit, she knew how to get under his skin. Dammit, she knew how to be right.
“That’s not the point...” he started.
“Yes it is the point,” she interrupted. “So, what’s his name?”
Cas glanced down at his hands, a thoughtful smile curving at his lips. “Dean,” he said after a moment, looking back up at her. “Dean Winchester.”
And he was amazed at how easily the name rolled off his tongue, how right it felt when his mouth shaped those letters. He had shouted the name enough times last night to make his voice raw and hoarse, but even then he knew he could never tire of it. He could say it ten thousand more times, in a hundred different ways, and it would still make his chest feel tight and warm with the quietly thrumming elation he was feeling now.
Cas ducked his head down briefly as a happy blush flushed his cheeks. "And he's amazing," he said softly.
"Wow," Meg chuckled at the wistful sigh in Cas voice. "You know how I get all dewey when you spill details, Clarence. Spill away." Meg placed her empty mug on coffee table and pulled the blanket down over their shared lap. She was settling in for the long haul.
Cas smiled to himself as he recounted the costume, the bar and the car ride. He hesitated here in his story. "He was just so..."
"Strong? Sexy? Flexible?" Meg helpfully supplied.
"Amazing!" Cas blurted again.
"He rendered you speechless? That's all I get? Boring!" Meg declared and gave Cas a soft kick.
Cas dutifully returned the kick with a smile.
"Wait," Meg sat up as she remembered something. "Winchester as in Winchester Customs?"
"Yes, Meg," he answered, concern creeped into his voice.
"He came in with his brother for matching tattoos a few years ago. Is he the hot, tall one or the hot really tall one?" Excitement shone in her eyes as she looked over at Cas, brows arched.
"What?" Cas frowned incredulously at her question. “Dean is hot and tall so I suppose he's the first one. But," Cas countered himself, "he didn't mention how tall Sam is. Just that he's younger but I don't see..."
"So then, he's the hot, tall one." Meg deduced. "The moose is his kid brother."
"Moose?" Cas asked, only slightly perplexed, feeling a vague sense of jealousy from the fact that Meg seemed to know more intricate details about the man he had spent the night with than he did.
Meg smirked at him, shifting under the blanket covering them. "I guess you didn't have much time to discuss your family backgrounds, bein' so busy and all."
She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Cas blushed again, his mind instantly flashing back to Dean's bed and exactly how busy they actually had been.
He cleared his throat and absently wrung his hands together. "You'd be correct in that assumption, " he admitted.
“You’re so naughty, Clarence,” Meg declared with a chuckle from deep in her throat. She sobered quickly, though, as she asked her next question, "Did the topic of your family come up?”
Cas frowned deeply at her question. “He knows about my former… occupation. He does not know why I left or what they think about it.” Cas sighed and pulled himself up off the couch, letting his half of the blanket fall onto Meg’s lap. “If he calls, I guess I’ll be forced to cross that particular bridge. Not a fun prospect but it will come up eventually.”
Cas knew better than anyone that you didn’t turn your back on God in the Novak family without dire consequences. They practically owned the small cathedral downtown with all the money they had donated over the years. There had been a Novak leading vespers for as long as the Novaks had been breathing; his family was nothing if not archaically traditional.
Meg stood with him and pulled him close for a warm embrace. He leaned his head down to touch her forehead with his own and drank in her consoling words. “I’ve figured one thing out about this world, just one, pretty much,” she sighed and held him tighter, “You find a cause and you serve it. It just wasn’t your cause, Castiel, and that’s okay.”
Cas let out a shuddering breath and nodded against her forehead. It was not that he did not believe in God or enjoy his work; Castiel turned his back on the church because he was taking vows for the fear of his “unnatural” desires, not for his love and dedication to God. His father was convinced that taking those vows would “purge his soul of that abdominal need.”
He sighed deeply with the memory. Of his four brothers and one sister, only Balthazar and Gabriel seemed to take his side.He had spent most of his high school years ignoring his preferences and rolled into college carrying a hefty suitcase of denial. Yet being away from his family, away from the oppressive traditions of staunch Republicanism and Catholic Orthodoxy, he slowly unpacked the suitcase and eventually sampled every flavor his innocent taste buds could handle. It was the resultant promiscuity that angered his brothers, even Luci who was the defiant one. Sweet Anna had been disappointed that he brother had left a trail of lovers behind him instead of maintaining a monogamous relationship. But it was his father’s rejection of Castiel’s true self that hurt the most. The others didn’t mind men; they minded the baby spreading himself so thinly amongst the student body. His father called him an abomination. That was what ultimately made Cas stop and take stock. That’s what made him stop his behavior, finish his degree and enter the seminary.
“Okay,” Meg pulled back from him after another moment. “Enough with the hugging.”
Cas chuckled, pulling her tiny frame in for one more tight embrace and to press a kiss the top of her head.
“You are very good for me, Meg.” Cas sighed into her hair, feeling unendingly grateful for her companionship.
“Shut it,” was her quip. She wrestled out of Cas’ hug with a mostly straight face.
Cas chuckled again as he watched her head back into the kitchen with a haughty sway to her hips. “You first,” he called after her.