Supernatural Fic: The Prank (Part 3/4)
Title: The Prank That Filled the Spank Bank
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Bookkbaby
Rating: NC-17 (By reading this, you certify that you are of legal age to view such material in your area/country)
Pairing: Dean/Cas, mentions of Sam/Jess and Bobby/Ellen
Warnings: cursing, explicit M/M sex, brief Dean/Anna, brief M/F/F threesome, brief RPS mentioned
Summary: Based off of this prompt on Tumblr. It starts with a prank war and a chance meeting at the auto shop Dean works at.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or anything else I’ve referenced in this fic. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. I make no money from this, so please don’t sue.
NOTE: There is ANOTHER fic written for this awesome prompt! Ainoche, a very good friend of mine, wrote a shorter and way more angsty piece for this same prompt. Hers is really great, so please check it out! You can find it here: http://ainoche.livejournal.com/8827.html
The title for this fic was provided by Ainoche, because I fail at titling things.
The Prank That Filled the Spank Bank
Part 3
Dean walked into his apartment and then shut locked the door behind himself.
"Sam?" he called out, loud enough to catch his brother's ear if he was awake, but not enough to wake him if he had already gone to bed. There was no response.
Dean headed further into the apartment, shucking his coat as he walked and carrying it with him. Sam was probably asleep, rather than out. He was never out this late on Sundays. Hopefully he had left his laptop on the table. Sam slept too lightly for Dean to sneak it out of his room.
Dean grinned triumphantly when he saw that Sam had indeed left his laptop out. It wasn't a particularly rare occurrence, but neither was it very common. Dean took a glance around the apartment, making certain that Sam was nowhere to be found. He then quietly lifted the laptop and headed to his room.
He shoved his bedroom door shut with his foot as soon as he cleared it. He dropped his coat on the floor and dug his car keys out of his pocket. He set them on his nightstand. Finally, he sat down on his bed, his back against the headboard, and placed the laptop on his lap.
It was the work of moments to get to Sam's desktop and open up the browser program. Dean quickly checked Castiel's LiveJournal account to see if it had been updated. He typed in the web address from memory, but saw nothing that hadn't been there the last time he had checked.
It was time to move on to the actual business he had with Sam's laptop tonight. Dean went to Google and searched for 'FictionPress' and 'Dmitri Krushnic', Castiel's penname. The first link seemed to be the right one, so he clicked it. as he waited for the page to load, he glanced towards his bedroom door. Unlikely as it was, if Sam woke up and went looking for his laptop, Dean would never live this down.
Damn if he wasn't as nervous as an underage kid sneaking porn.
The page finally loaded and scrolled down, ignoring the sparse biography at the top of the page and looking at the posted stories. There were only three.
Dean frowned and tried to keep scrolling, assuming the page simply hadn't scrolled enough to show the rest, but there seemed to be nothing more to see. Castiel only had three stories posted to this account. Dean had five tapes worth of his work in the box underneath his bed and he hadn't even downloaded any of the tame stories. He knew Cas had more than this.
He narrowed his eyes and read the summaries. It took less than two minutes and then he blinked and reread them. Something seemed off.
Dean had gotten used to Castiel's Jimmy Novak account where, even if the story wasn't pornographic, every story focused on a gay couple, or a lesbian couple, or something else with an obvious rainbow bent. Even though Dean hadn't read every story, he had read all of the summaries. Every story in the Dmitri Krushnic account was about a heterosexual pair. Two seemed to be chick lit, the kind of stories that girlfriends would drag their reluctant boyfriends to go see if they were movies. The third was about a boy dying of cancer while pining for some girl he had known in high school.
No wonder Cas had so easily admitted to this account. Chick lit though it might be, it was still more acceptable for a guy to be writing that than anything with non-straight main characters. Jimmy Novak had written a small rant two weeks ago about how it was more socially accepted to write formulaic, romantic crap starring a busty beauty and a musclebound he-man than an emotional, original tale starring a gay couple. Dean may or may not have read it. Maybe.
It had been two pages long and actually kind of interesting.
Dean turned his thoughts back to the stories in front of him. Chick lit wasn't his thing when he did read, as he tended towards Vonnegut when he did pick up a book. Still, he had promised Cas that he'd check his stories out.
He could break the promise, explain to Cas that romance novels were not his thing, but the memory of Castiel's surprised and grateful expression when Dean had sworn to read his work surfaced in his mind. There went that idea.
With a sigh and one last glance to his door, Dean clicked on the title of the first story. This would be ten times more embarrassing if Sammy caught him at it.
LINE BREAK
Sam was gone when Dean woke up the next morning. A quick check of the schedule posted on the fridge confirmed that the younger Winchester had one class in the morning and one in the afternoon. He'd be gone all day.
Dean fixed himself breakfast, though a glance at the clock told him that the meal should be more properly called 'lunch'. He had the afternoon shift at Bobby's garage, so he didn't have a lot of time, but he had enough to make a quick phone call if he did it now. He could shower after breakfast.
Cas picked up after two rings.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hey, Cas. It's me," Dean said. He grinned and leaned back on his chair, pushing his scrambled eggs around on his plate.
"Dean." Castiel sounded pleased to hear from him, which sent an answering thrill of happiness through Dean. "It is good to hear from you."
"I said I'd call," Dean reminded him. "I wanted to know when you'd be free. I'd like to hang out again." He took a bite of his eggs. Maybe he was meeting up with Cas a bit more than was usual for friends, but hopefully Cas wouldn't realize that. If Cas didn't have many friends, it was perfectly possible that he didn't.
"I believe I'm free Wednesday evening, if that would work for you," Cas said carefully. Dean's grin widened, albeit ruefully. Castiel wanted to see him again, and soon. It would be a great sign if they were dating, but Cas didn't want Dean the way Dean wanted him.
You take what you can get, Winchester, Dean reminded himself firmly. He thought back over his schedule and winced.
"Wednesday is no good for me," he said. He was working a double that day. "Thursday'd work, though," he added quickly.
"I'm busy with the shop on Thursday," Cas said.
"How about Friday?" Dean asked. He didn't want to wait until the weekend, but if that was the only option, he'd deal.
"I'm free Friday evening," Cas replied. He sounded pleased at having finally set a date to meet.
"Awesome. Want to do dinner at the Roadhouse again?" Dean asked. He took another bite of his eggs, grimacing a bit when he realized how quickly they were cooling off. On the other end of the line, Castiel was quiet for a moment.
"There is a small restaurant near my house that you might enjoy. Could we perhaps eat there instead? I know it's a bit of a drive..." he said.
"Cas, it's fine. What's this restaurant of yours called?" Dean asked.
"It's Angelo's," Castiel replied. Dean was about to say that he knew that the restaurant didn't belong to Cas, he didn't need to be told who the actual owner was, when Cas continued. "The address is 22 Northumberland Street."
"I'll be able to find it," Dean said, making a mental note of the address. "Five o'clock work for you?"
"Yes," Cas said. There was a brief lull in the conversation when Castiel didn't continue. Dean cleared his throat and so missed the sound of the apartment door opening.
"I read one of your stories last night," Dean blurted out.
"You did?" Cas asked, surprised. "You didn't... I mean, I didn't expect you to read anything so soon."
"I wanted to," Dean said. It was true enough. He'd wanted to be able to talk to Cas about his work, maybe make him happy. Chick lit was not and would never be his thing, but the story had been enjoyable enough despite that.
"Which one did you read?" Cas asked.
"The one about the chick talking to her fiancée," Dean told him. "You're good, Cas. I don't usually like chick lit, but the story was good. I didn't get this one thing, though-"
Dean spotted motion out of the corner of his eye and turned towards it, voice dropping off abruptly when he saw Sammy. Sam was standing by the door, messenger bag slung over one shoulder and laptop tucked under the other arm. One eyebrow was raised incredulously.
"Dean? Cas asked. "What is it?"
"Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. See you on Friday," Dean said quickly, keeping his gaze on Sam. Sam raised his other eyebrow in response.
"All right. See you on Friday," Cas said. He hung up and Dean followed suit.
"Who was that?" Sam asked the second the older Winchester lowered the phone. Dean scowled.
"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" he demanded, shoveling more eggs into his mouth and washing them down with gulps of orange juice. The flavors mixed unpleasantly in his mouth, but he needed to finish this quickly.
"The professor cancelled. Some kind of conference or something," Sam said dismissively. "Come on, Dean, who is she?"
"'She'?" Dean repeated dumbly. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Don't play stupid. Cas. I'm asking, 'who is Cas'?" he said, voice hinging between patient and exasperated.
"Cas isn't-" Dean started to say, but Sammy wasn't done.
"I haven't seen you this secretive about someone since you started dating Cassie," Sam said. "I'm happy for you, I really am, even if I am a bit miffed that you didn't tell me."
"Dude, Sam, Cas and I - we're not dating," Dean sputtered. "And what do you mean, 'secretive'?"
"I heard some of your conversation when I came in," Sam said by way of explanation. "Since when do you read? Something that's not Vonnegut."
Dean shut his mouth.
"I've never heard you mention Cas, but you're close enough that she can get you to read a romance novel? One she wrote? Come on. When do I get to meet her?" Sam asked.
"Wasn't a novel," Dean muttered. He shoved the rest of his now-cold eggs into his mouth and gulped down the last bit of his orange juice.
"My point still stands," Sam said. Dean placed his empty glass on his plate and dropped his fork into it. He stood up and walked into the kitchen to put his dirty dishes into the sink. He could feel Sam following him.
"We're not dating, Sam. You know me," Dean said, not looking at him. He started washing the dishes. "I do one night stands, not relationships." He tried to shoot his brother a lecherous smirk, but something else must have shown on his face or in his voice. Sam's expression suddenly morphed from curious and slightly irritated to curious and sympathetic.
"Dean..." Sam said slowly. "Do you-"
Dean practically slammed his now clean dishes onto the counter to dry and made a beeline for the bathroom.
"Gotta leave for work soon, haven't showered yet," he said deliberately ignoring whatever Sam had been about to say.
"Dean," Sam tried again, but the older Winchester had slammed the door shut.
LINE BREAK
Dean walked into the bar with a carefully calculated hint of swagger in his step. Sam may have rolled his eyes at Dean's 'methods' before, but chicks dug a guy with confidence.
No matter what, tonight Dean was going to get laid. It was Thursday night and tomorrow would mark the third time he would meet with Cas one on one. He'd jerked off twice to the sound of Castiel's voice and once while showering to fantasies of big blue eyes and pale skin. And that was just since Sunday.
This had to stop before Cas picked up on it or Dean did something stupid, like proposition Castiel after one too many drinks. If he was still this sexually frustrated tomorrow, he might do just that.
He walked up to the bar and sat down. He gave the room a subtle once-over as he waited for the bartender. The pickings were pretty slim, this being a weekday instead of a weekend, but there were a few women that looked to be Dean's type. Pretty, easy, and interested.
Dean gave a busty brunette down at the end of the bar a smirk. She smiled coyly in return and leaned forward, her low-cut top showing off more than a hint of cleavage. Possibility number one.
Dean glanced over to another table, where a cute blonde in a short skirt was sitting. She took a sip of her drink and then licked her lips slowly, keeping eye contact with Dean the whole time. Possibility number two.
Possibility number three was a quiet redhead sipping a daiquiri in a booth in the corner of the bar. She didn't seem to notice Dean at all and was dressed pretty conservatively, in a leather jacket and jeans, meaning she was probably neither easy nor interested, but sometimes Dean liked a challenge. There was something about her that, while it didn't drive the other women in the bar from his mind completely, it drew him towards her. Dean couldn't put his finger on it.
The bartender walked up and gruffly asked what he wanted. Dean ordinarily would have smirked as he ordered his beer, to better display the confidence a potential partner might find attractive, but the redhead in the corner was holding his attention. He absently placed his order, only vaguely noting the bartender walking off after having received it.
The redhead looked up and her eyes met Dean's. She had a strange kind of look, innocent and somehow lost, and for a second Dean was so strongly reminded of Castiel that he forgot to breathe. That was it. Something about her was just like Cas and just like that, Dean's decision was made.
The bartender put his drink down and Dean tore his eyes away from the girl for a moment to take his beer and pay the man. When he looked back, the girl was no longer alone. A man at least a decade older than the redhead had sat down next to her. The girl was visibly uncomfortable, edging away slowly and backing herself into a corner. The man was boxing her in, cutting off her only escape route with his body.
Dean was over there almost before he realized that he was moving.
"-come on, I can show you a real good time," the man was saying, voice viscous and oily. His hand was high on the girl's thigh and moving higher and more inward even as she tried to move it off of her leg.
"No, I already told you I-" she said, voice shaking ever so slightly. Dean had heard enough.
"This guy isn't bothering you, is he, sweetheart?" he asked, doing his best to loom over the table. The girl and the asshole with grabby hands both looked up at him, the guy visibly annoyed and the girl cautiously hopeful. The man had taken his hands off of the redhead at the sound of Dean's voice, so that was one problem taken care of.
"Sorry I'm late, baby," Dean said to the redhead, hoping she'd play along. "Traffic was worse than I expected." He set his beer down on the table, giving the man a pointed look. The man scowled, but got up off the bench. Dean kept his eyes on him, staring him down.
"She didn't tell me she was with anybody," the man said suspiciously. Dean smirked coldly.
"Well, she is. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out."
"I was just leaving," the man muttered, giving Dean a dark look as he shouldered passed him on the way to the exit. Dean returned the stare levelly until the door swung shut behind him.
"Good riddance," Dean muttered. If there was one thing Dean couldn't stand, it was douche bags like that. He turned back to the girl, who was watching him with an intent expression. It was like a watered down version of Castiel's usual stare and Dean ached.
He cleared his throat and indicated the recently vacated spot on the bench.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
"Please do," the girl said, voice light and musical. "Thank you for doing that."
"Not a problem, trust me," Dean said, sitting down next to her without attempting to crowd her. She smiled at him and he grinned back. "I'm Dean."
"Anna," she said. She took a sip of her daiquiri. It was nearly empty.
"Pleased to meet you, Anna," he said. He glanced towards the door. "Not all guys are like that. Some of us know how to treat a lady."
"Oh?" she asked, interested. "And how do you treat a lady?" That was definitely flirtatious. Dean grinned, turning on the charm full force.
"Well, for starters, how about I buy you a drink to apologize for not getting here ten minutes ago?"
"I'd like that," Anna said, smiling.
LINE BREAK
Friday didn't come nearly as quickly as Dean would have liked, but at long last it arrived. Dean groaned as he stumbled into the bathroom, lightly hung over and a little frustrated.
Anna had been good company and they'd talked for almost two hours before she had followed Dean to the backseat of the Impala. That was something of a record for Dean, who usually spent a half hour, or an hour maximum if the girl was especially pretty and playing hard to get, before taking them to his car.
Anna had been good, if still a bit inexperienced and uncertain, and Dean had made certain that she enjoyed the encounter. That he had thought about Cas as he touched her, moved inside of her, and came was his problem, not hers. He felt a stab of guilt at that, since he hadn't set out with the intention of finding a substitute. In the end, that's what Anna had been and she had deserved better than that from Dean, if only for that one night.
He splashed some water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. There were small marks on his body that Anna had left the night before and each one seemed almost accusatory. She had been real, she had been there, and Dean's thoughts had been miles away.
He had to get over this stupid... thing. Soon.
But not today. He was meeting Cas in a few hours and he could hardly show up smelling like booze and sex.
LINE BREAK
Dean parked the Impala at the curb in front of the restaurant. He'd missed it the first time he had passed, since the place was tiny. It was maybe a third the size of the Roadhouse. The name was written in elaborate white script over the door, but otherwise was unmarked.
Dean got out of the car, locked it up, and headed into the restaurant. A bell chimed overhead as he walked in, drawing the host's attention.
"Welcome to Angelo's," he said with a slight Italian accent. His nametag read 'Billy'. "Table for... one? Or two?"
"Two. I'm expecting someone," Dean said, glancing around the room. There weren't many tables and a few were occupied by couples, most holding hands across the tiny tabletops. There were lit candles in the center of every table and the lighting was low, giving the place a cozy, intimate feel. Dean shifted uneasily.
It seemed like a place that Dean might bring one of his classier one-night stands, if they were the type that needed to be wined and dined before putting out. He usually just went for the type that wanted a shot of tequila and a come-hither look.
Not that this was a date, despite the atmosphere, Dean reminded himself.
"Right this way, please."
Dean tore himself from his thoughts and followed Billy to a small table nestled in a corner of the room. The candle in the centerpiece flickered gently, as if mocking him. Dean hid his frown as he sat in a chair and scooted forward. The host set a menu down in front of him.
"Thanks," Dean said. Billy nodded politely.
"I'll be right back for your drink order," he said. He walked off, headed for another table that was calling for service.
"Friendly," Dean muttered, flipping open the menu. The bell chimed again and Dean looked up, grinning when he saw Castiel walking through the door. Castiel must have spotted him as well because he waved Billy off and headed directly for the table Dean was seated at.
"Hello, Dean," Cas said, shrugging off his overcoat and draping it over the back of the chair before sitting down.
"Good to see you, Cas," Dean replied. "Great timing, by the way. I just got here."
Castiel nodded. Billy reappeared by the table, holding a second menu, which he handed to Cas. Cas nodded his thanks and opened it up.
"I'll be your waiter tonight," Billy said. "My name is Billy. Would you like to see our wine list?" He looked at Dean, who stole a quick glance at Castiel. Cas seemed to be absorbed in his menu, reading over the dinner choices carefully. Dean shook his head.
"No thanks," he replied. This wasn't a date. Wine wasn't a drink for a casual dinner with a friend. Not unless you were super classy, anyway, which Dean was definitely not.
"Can I get you something to drink, then?" Billy asked.
"Could I get a beer?" Dean replied. Billy nodded and turned to Castiel.
"Do you need a minute?" he said.
"Iced tea, please," Cas answered, looking up from his menu. Billy nodded again.
"I'll be right back with those," he said. He walked off, heading for another table where one of the occupants was raising his hand for the check.
Dean went back to flipping the pages of his menu. Castiel folded his menu neatly and set it on the table. The far edge of the menu was almost touching Dean's hand, the table was so small, and Dean was again struck by how intimate the whole setup was. The candlelight cast shadows across Castiel's face and was reflected in his eyes, making the blue brighter. It was oddly mesmerizing.
"How's the lasagna here?" Dean asked in an attempt to distract himself. Castiel's eyes briefly met Dean's before dropping back down to the table.
"I have not actually eaten here before," he admitted. "My brother recommended it to me when he heard that I was planning on meeting you again."
"That-" Fucker, Dean didn't say. Even when he wasn't here, he managed to taunt Dean and make Cas miserable. Dean forced himself to smile. "That's nice. This place is good. Cozy."
Castiel nodded in agreement but then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dean so owed Gabriel a punch in the face the next time he saw the man. Dean searched for something to say, hoping to lessen Cas's discomfort by distracting him.
"Your story was good," he blurted out. Castiel looked up, startled.
"I know. You said as much over the phone," he replied. He gave Dean a small smile. Dean relaxed. "You didn't have to read it."
"Hey, I said I would," Dean replied. Castiel's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression.
"You said that there was something you didn't understand," he said slowly. "May I ask what that was?"
Dean frowned thoughtfully and began to form a reply, but just then Billy returned to the table with their drinks.
"Ready to order?" he asked them, setting a beer down in front of Dean and an iced tea in front of Cas. Dean gave him a short, tight smile.
"Yeah. I'll take the lasagna," he said. Billy nodded and made a small note on the notepad he had been carrying in his apron pocket. He turned to Castiel.
"And for you?"
"The pennae alfredo, please," Cas said, picking up his menu and holding it out. Billy noted the order quickly and collected the menus. Just like that, he was gone again.
Dean took a sip of his beer and looked around the room again, eyes lingering on the couples. He felt a brief stab of envy, wishing he could reach across the table and take Cas's hand in his own or lean over the table and have Cas meet him halfway, mouth to mouth.
"You do not need to answer if you don't wish to," Cas said, jerking Dean from his fantasy. "I just wanted to know."
It took Dean a minute to remember what they had been talking about before Billy had shown up.
"Just needed to find the words," he assured Cas. He scratched the back of his neck. "I guess I just thought it didn't make a lot of sense."
"What didn't?" Cas asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"Her big 'relationship-destroying' secret," Dean said. He took a sip of his beer. "So what if she wasn't a virgin? It's not that big of a deal."
"She had not been married before-" Cas started to say. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Dude, she was twenty-nine. No one's still a virgin by choice at twenty-nine," Dean said. "Her fiancée shouldn't have been that surprised. That by itself I guess I could buy, but that he cared so much about her being 'pure' when he married her to nearly call the whole thing off? And she just accepted it." Dean shook his head. Castiel had tensed visibly at some point, though Dean had no idea what had triggered the sudden stiffness to the set of his shoulders.
"Her fiancée was very devout and so were his parents. I didn't think it was that unlikely, even though he did overreact. But even so, would you not want to be the first man to touch your wife intimately?" Cas said.
Dean felt a shiver move through his body as Cas spoke, mind conjuring up images of stripping a white tuxedo off of Cas's body and touching him in ways no one had before. If he'd been the first to touch Cas, the first to see him sated and lethargic in the aftermath, the first to hear how he moaned and gasped and begged for it, Dean had to admit that he would be pretty damn happy.
He carefully didn't ask himself why he pictured Cas in a white tux. Or why, in his fantasy, he was dressed in a black tux despite hating all forms of formal wear.
Dean would have loved to be Cas's first, but he knew that he couldn't be. Not just because Cas seemed to have no interest in him, but because of how much Castiel seemed to know about sex. Castiel had to be experienced. Granted, his experience had probably all been with women, given that he was apparently a Church-going, God-fearing man, but Dean had been with a few women that hadn't been shy about slicking up their fingers and caressing his prostate while they blew him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something even larger would probably feel even better. Chicks were just as capable as guys at taking it up the ass and hell, some were more eager. Any heterosexual guy that had those two experiences could probably write gay porn.
Why Cas wrote and recorded gay porn, Dean had no idea. He wouldn't be surprised if he was being paid to do it. With a voice like that, people would probably pay him to recite the ABC's. He vaguely recalled Cas saying that writing was his hobby, that he wasn't paid, but he might have just been talking about the stories he had posted on FictionPress. As far as Cas knew, Dean had no idea that the LiveJournal account existed.
Dean wondered if any of Castiel's lovers (or perhaps even 'lover', singular, and the thought gave his stomach an unpleasant, envious twist) had appreciated Castiel's voice like he did. He could picture Cas in bed with a group of faceless women, all doing the dirtiest things to him and teaching him what they could with their bodies so he'd be able to write as Jimmy Novak. Or maybe it really was just one woman, a really adventurous girl. Cas seemed the type to look for a long-term relationship before taking someone to bed. In real life, he probably even called it 'making love'.
The thought sent stabs of possessive longing and envy through him. He tried to squash the feelings down, knowing he had no claim and that it was pointless to wish for impossible things.
"If I ever liked someone enough to marry them, I wouldn't care," Dean said finally.
"You wouldn't prefer your bride to be a virgin?" Cas asked. "If you had a choice?"
"Honestly?" Dean replied. "No. I'd prefer someone who knew what they were doing."
"Oh." Castiel seemed rather taken aback. "What if they did-" He stopped himself and looked down.
"Did what?" Dean prompted him. Cas chuckled hollowly and Dean frowned.
"It is not of import," Cas said, shaking his head. He lifted his gaze. "May I ask why you'd prefer an experienced woman?"
Dean shifted in place and took another drink.
"Getting a little personal there," he said, feeling like he really should be more uncomfortable with the question. Castiel looked apologetic.
"You don't need to answer, but if I could understand why, I might be able to make the story more believable," he said. Dean shrugged.
"I'll see if I can explain, then," he said. He took a long gulp of his beer. Cas waited, watching Dean with that intent expression of his. "Look, you never forget the first person you have sex with. It just doesn't happen. The first person is important, don't get me wrong, but they're not the most important. That 'first, last, only' bullshit only happens in fairytales."
Dean took another sip of his beer before continuing, briefly dropping his eyes to the table to avoid Castiel's gaze.
"The most important lover is your last one, not the first one. The first never lasts, but the last one is the one you're supposed to be loyal to. The last is the one you marry, if you're the type that does that." If John Winchester had taught Dean one good thing, it was that marriage was a big deal. Dean had no compunctions about sleeping around, but he had never been 'the other man'. Dean knew that his idea of marriage was a bit idealized, given that his only examples were his parents and Ellen and Bobby. It was precisely why he usually ran in the other direction if he got a hint that a person he was interested in was the kind that was looking for a ring rather than something without strings.
Castiel looked thoughtful and a touch surprised.
"I never thought of it that way," he said. "The Church stresses marriage before sex and that adultery and premarital sex are sins. Divorce is frowned upon, so the person one marries is supposed to be your first, last, and only lover. I don't agree with everything the Church preaches, but I thought that the concept of saving oneself for one's spouse was... romantic."
"But only for girls, huh," Dean muttered, frowning. Cas hadn't been 'saving himself' for his future bride, whoever the lucky bitch would be. Maybe his conversion to the Church was recent and he'd been celibate since discovering the concept? Would be a bit too late, but maybe he'd been re-virginized or something.
"What?" Castiel asked, leaning forward. Dean waved a hand dismissively.
"Nothing. What do you disagree with the Church about, anyway?" he asked. Cas's eyes widened with what looked like alarm, but just then Billy arrived with their food and saved Castiel from having to reply.
LINE BREAK
Dean yanked the door open to his apartment and headed towards his room, irritated and confused.
Dinner had been going well. The food had been good, the company great, and the atmosphere relaxing. At least, Dean had thought so. Cas had been relaxed and smiling and so had Dean. They had been in the process of making plans for a movie marathon at Castiel's house, since he had never seen the Indiana Jones movies and that was a tragedy, when Cas had suddenly clammed up.
Cas had had a bit of alfredo sauce at the corner of his mouth. Dean had naturally been transfixed, fantasizing about leaning over the table and licking it off, then licking his way into Castiel's mouth to chase the taste.
Cas had done the job for him, his tongue darting out and clearing away the sauce. The urge to kiss him rose tenfold at the sight of his tongue. Dean had leaned back in his chair and looked away to try and stop himself from doing something stupid. The date-like atmosphere in this place was doing things to his head.
He'd tugged at the collar of his shirt, body too warm. When he had looked back up, Castiel's eyes were focused on his neck and his expression was closed off.
Cas had backpedaled and gave Dean some bullshit excuse about having just remembered that he'd promised to watch the movies with Gabriel. He had apologetically refused all other potential marathons. Then, to top it all off, he had said that he couldn't stay for dessert and had to leave.
Dessert wasn't exactly a given, but it was Dean's favorite part of their not-dates. Not only did he get pie, but by then the small talk was over and they had a proper conversation going.
Goddamnit, he was turning into a chick.
He tore off his jacket and tossed it aside the second he entered his room. He tried to toe off his boots and though one came off easily, the other remained stubbornly stuck. With a muttered curse, Dean sat down on his bed and began yanking at the lace.
"Dean?"
Dean tensed but did not look up. He kept picking at his shoelace, but more slowly.
"What do you want, Sam?" he said.
"Is anything, er... wrong?" Sam asked hesitantly. Dean snorted a laugh, unable to help himself.
"No, everything's just fucking peachy." He finally got his boot loose and pulled it off before tossing it in the general direction of its mate. He still refused to look at Sam, not certain what would be reflected in his face if he did.
There was a soft rustle of cloth and the sound of feet shuffling across carpet. When Sam spoke next, his voice sounded closer.
"Did your date not go well?" Sam actually sounded concerned, damnit.
"Don't you have a project or something you should be doing?" Dean asked, finally lifting his head to glare at his younger brother. Sam was standing maybe two steps inside the door, watching Dean. "And for the last time, we're not dating."
"So it didn't go well, Sam said sympathetically. "Do you want to talk abou-" Dean stared at him incredulously. Sam snapped his mouth shut and shifted in place. "Okay, that was a stupid question."
"And you're supposed to be the smart one, college boy," Dean muttered, voice only just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam leveled one of his bitchfaces at Dean, but then took a deep breath and forcibly cleared his expression.
"So, what did you do to get banished to the couch tonight?" Sam asked. Dean scowled.
"Do you always just assume that I've screwed up, or...?" he asked snidely. Sam shrugged.
"Well, you were with Cas most of last night, right? You were covered in hickies this morning. You must have done something to piss her off, since I know you had a date with her tonight, but she's not here and you are, so..." Sam shrugged again. Dean frowned, confused.
"I wasn't with Cas last night," he said. Sam stilled.
"What?"
"I wasn't with Cas," Dean repeated. "I went out to a bar."
Sam slapped a hand over his face.
"So the hickies..." he said. His voice trailed off. Dean put a hand to his neck, to one of the small marks that Anna had left. He hadn't thought much about them that morning and hadn't thought too much about keeping them covered during dinner.
"What about them?" he asked defensively. Sam shook his head and turned towards the door, muttering about clueless older brothers and the poor girls who dated them.
"Cas and I are not dating," Dean insisted testily. Sam looked at him, bitchface out in full force. Dean shifted back a little, eyes widening in surprise.
"Good," Sam snapped. "And I never thought I'd say it, but it's good that you aren't dating her. I never thought you were disloyal, Dean."
Dean resisted the urge to flinch, but it felt like he'd been slapped. Sam took a deep breath and his expression softened, now merely disappointed instead of angry. Dean would rather have the anger. That he could handle and respond to in kind.
"I know you like her, Dean," Sam said gently. "I don't know what you were trying to prove with this-" He gestured vaguely in the direction of Dean's neck. "-but you're not going to be happy with meaningless relationships forever. This thing with you and Cas could mean something, if you pull your head out of your ass and stop running away."
"Nobody asked you," Dean said. "And meaningless relationships are the best kind. Worked just fine for me so far." Dean could hear the uncertainty in his own voice where before he had been convinced. He winced inwardly, knowing that Sam couldn't have missed it.
"That's a bunch of bull and you know it." Sam gave him a pointed look. "Apologize to her. She'll forgive you."
"What the hell makes you so sure?" Dean demanded. He added quickly, "And we're still not dating."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"I know, but you should be. You like her and she obviously likes you, or else she wouldn't have put up with you this long."
"Hey," Dean said, equal parts relief and mock-anger. That last comment had been teasing rather than in earnest. Sam smiled.
"You should ask her out on a real date," he said. Dean shook his head.
"Cas isn't interested in me like that, Sammy," he said firmly. Sam raised his eyebrows.
"If you say so," he replied, not even trying to mask his doubt. "But can I ask if you happened to pull down your shirt collar before she kicked you out?"
"You can ask," Dean said gruffly. He had tugged on his shirt collar, just a bit. Maybe Cas had seen the mark. Maybe it had been what caused him to go home early, but it couldn't be for the reason Sam thought. "Maybe I did. So what?"
"So," Sam said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "That's probably why Cas was angry. You've been going on dates with her, whether or not you realized what you were doing, and then you show up with a hickey on your neck. She was jealous."
"That's not it, Sam," Dean said. How he wished it was, though. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, I know you want to believe that I'm finally settling down, but Cas just isn't interested." He could try to argue that he wasn't interested, either, but Sam would definitely call him out on the lie.
"What makes you so sure?" Sam asked, more challenging than curious.
"I just am, all right?" Dean couldn't explain that Cas probably wasn't interested in guys, since Cas was a man and more than likely straight. He wasn't ready to tell Sam, not yet.
Silence fell in the room. After a minute, Sam sighed and shook his head.
"Fine," he said. "Just... keep an open mind?"
"You got it," Dean said blandly. Sam sighed again and left. Dean watched him turn down the hallway and heard the door to Sam's room shut quietly a few seconds later. He flopped backwards on his bed and folded his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
Sam couldn't be right. Cas couldn't be jealous. He was probably just irritated with such an obvious sign of Dean's manwhore ways, being devoutly religious, 'first, last, only', and all.
But, a little part of him couldn't help thinking, what if Sam was right?
His phone rang and derailed that train of thought. Dean grumbled as he lifted his hips from the bed and dug in his pocket for his phone. He hit 'talk' and lifted it to his ear.
"Hello?" he said shortly.
"Hello, Dean." It was Cas. Dean's temper immediately cooled off and he sat up.
"Hi, Cas," he said. "What's up?" He could almost feel the hesitation on the other end of the line. He wiped his free hand on his pant leg, suddenly nervous.
"I wanted to apologize for cutting our meeting short earlier," Cas said. "I had... urgent business."
Dean resisted the urge to call him on his bullshit.
"Not a problem, Cas. Don't worry about it," he said.
"I'd like to treat you to dinner to apologize," Cas said. "I'm free next week at the same time, if that would work for you."
Dean chuckled, something inside his chest relaxing.
"Dude, I'm not a chick. You don't need to buy me dinner to make it up to me," he said.
"I am very aware that you are not a woman, Dean," Cas said, voice low and oddly intense. Dean's breath hitched in response, a hot flash of arousal shooting straight to his groin. Damnit, that was not fair. His body had been trained to respond to that voice and didn't care if an erection was totally inappropriate right now.
Castiel cleared his throat and when he next spoke, his voice was normal again.
"Even so, I'd like to treat you. You have been a good friend to me."
"Okay," Dean said, feeling a brief stab of guilt. He hadn't been a good friend to Cas, not really. A good friend wouldn't jerk off to fantasies of Cas while in the shower, nor would a good friend continue listening to the pornographic cassette tapes made from recordings of Cas’s voice, all unbeknownst to Castiel. Even so, Dean couldn't refuse. He was pretty certain that he had that Friday free. Even if he didn't, Bobby would let him take the day off since Dean never took sick time unless Sam forced him to. "I'll see you on Friday. Roadhouse sound good?"
"Yes. I will see you then, Dean," Cas said.
"See you then," Dean parroted back. Cas hung up. Dean hit 'end' and sucked in a deep breath. He let it out slowly and muttered a curse, then rolled awkwardly off of the bed to dig beneath it for his Castiel cassette tape collection.
He'd get over this fixation another day.
LINE BREAK
It was Thursday night. Dean stared blankly at the TV. He was leaning back on the couch and had a beer in one hand. He looked, for all intents and purposes, settled in for the night, but his ears were alert to the sounds of Sammy getting ready to go out rather than the noise emanating from the idiot box. Dean had been feigning interest in the TV for fifteen minutes before Sam was finally done.
"I'm heading out," Sam called, tugging on his jacket as he walked towards the door. Dean gave him an absent nod. He waited until he heard the door to the apartment shut and then gave it five minutes before he was certain that Sam was gone. He got off of the couch, abandoning his beer, and then shut off the TV. He set the remote aside.
He hadn't been able to steal Sam's laptop in over a week. The younger Winchester had either been using it or had it with him every time Dean had planned to take it. Tonight, however, Sam was on a date and his laptop was left behind.
Dean headed to Sam's room and opened the door. He made a beeline across the clean floor to the organized desk, where the laptop rested between neat stacks of paper. With the computer and the charge cord securely in hand, Dean left and headed to his own room. He shut both Sam's door and his own behind himself as he passed through.
He set the laptop on his bed. Within five minutes, he had it powered on and the Internet loaded up. He typed in the URL for Castiel's LiveJournal and waited impatiently for the page to load. When it finally did, he grinned. There was a new entry. Even better, it was one of the dirty stories with an accompanying audio track. Dean hit the download link before even glancing at the summary. Once he was certain that the download had started up just fine, he went back to the entry and scrolled to see the description.
He froze, eyes going wide with shock as he reread it. He read it a third time, just to be sure. The words remained unchanged.
'Dean and Castiel have been friends for years, but Castiel has always wanted more. One drunken night, he gets his chance.'
This had to be a dream. Or something. Cas couldn't have actually written porn starring the two of them. Dean briefly wondered when he had fallen asleep and why he was dreaming about reading rather than the real deal. He thought about pinching himself, but the thought of Cas reading a sex scene featuring the two of them was too good to pass up.
The computer beeped an alert that the file was done downloading. Dean opened it immediately, grateful that Sammy was out and that he didn't need to mess about with finding headphones. He waited with eager anticipation as Castiel introduced himself to the listener as Jimmy Novak and stated the title of the story; 'One Drunken Night'.
The story opened up in the fictional Castiel's living room. The fictional Dean was well on his way to drunk whereas Cas was just slightly tipsy. Slightly tipsy, and staring. Any doubts Dean had about the character in the story being modeled after himself fled. Castiel could probably have given his description to a sketch artist and gotten a perfect likeness drawn up, though Dean doubted sketch artists often worked with flowery descriptions like 'plump lips the color of rose petals, made for passionate kisses'.
The descriptions weren't just bordering on sexual, either. Dean swallowed heavily, heart swelling with emotions he refused to name as Cas waxed poetic on his eyes, how he had never seen such a beautiful pair. Dean's eyes were deeper than most people's, Cas claimed in a soft voice, deeper and darker but breathtaking.
This was a definite chick flick moment, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care all that much. No one was here to see.
Fictional Dean was too drunk to drive, so Castiel helped him upstairs and into Castiel's bed. When Cas turned to go, Dean was holding him back.
The real Dean felt a brief stab of envy as his fictional counterpart pulled Casiel into a hungry kiss. Dean licked his lips, imagining that he could taste Cas on them as the kissing in the story intensified.
Dean laid back on the bed and ran a hand over the half-hard bulge in his jeans as story!Dean stripped both Castiel and then himself. Dean could hear a slightly breathless edge to Castiel's voice as he read out loud, an edge that Dean had never heard before no matter what Castiel had been reading. He groaned in time with Cas, his hips jerking up into the touch of his hand.
Story!Dean was on his knees between Castiel's legs now, pressing kisses to all available patches of skin before finally giving in to Castiel's pleas and closing his lips around the head of Cas's cock.
If Dean had thought that Cas's moans were hot on the tapes before, they were nothing compared to now. The sounds before had seemed scripted, after two or three listens, but these were raw, needy, and frequent. It was like listening to someone actually get blown, though Castiel's voice was still too steady when he read for that to be the case.
Dean opened up his jeans and shucked his underwear along with them. He was getting too close too quickly to leave them on any longer and it was just from hearing Castiel's voice. Any immunity Dean may have formed to protect himself from getting inappropriate erections while in Castiel's presence seemed to have evaporated at Cas's first hoarse cry.
Was this a fantasy of Castiel's? To take Dean home, get him drunk, and exchange mind-blowing blowjobs in Castiel's room? Story!Cas was now lying between Dean's legs, Dean's dick in his mouth and Dean's hands in his hair.
Dean licked his palm and stroked himself, wishing his hand was Castiel's mouth. He could imagine it clearly, even without the help of the tape, as this had always been one of his favorite fantasies. Cas's eyes would be lust-glazed but intent, lips slick and stretched wide as Castiel's tongue swirled around the head of Dean's cock.
Dean moaned, quickening the motion of his hand. He was already leaking precome and he'd only just begun.
"Cas," he groaned, in time with his fictional counterpart. He chuckled breathlessly at that, only to draw in a ragged breath as story!Dean pulled Castiel's mouth off of his dick and asked to fuck him. Story!Cas wanted it. He wanted it as badly as the real Dean did.
Dean held the base of his cock, not daring to stroke himself as he listened to story!Dean prepare Cas for penetration. Cas's voice on the tape was low and husky, little hitches in his breathing audible even when he wasn't trying to do sound effects for the sex scene. Dean shuddered, trembling with the effort of keeping his hips still. He wanted to thrust into something, even if that something was only his own loose fist. He wanted to lay kisses all over Castiel's face and whisper encouraging comments as he slid a second spit-slick finger into Cas's body. He wanted to press his mouth to Castiel's and swallow his brief cry of pain as he pushed inside and Castiel's body swallowed him.
Dean began stroking himself again, rhythm jerky and erratic as he listened to Castiel's voice describe their frantic coupling. Cas was obviously affected by what he was reading, voice speeding up with excitement and then slowing down as he remembered himself. Then, just before the characters climaxed, there was a slight skip to the audio track. It was just for a split second, almost unnoticeable, but afterwards Cas's voice was smoother, calmer, and measured.
Cas had needed to stop recording and then had come back to pick up where he left out, clumsily editing the two audio tracks together to make one story. Cas had been so affected by it that he'd needed to stop and probably had jerked off before continuing.
On the heels of that thought, Dean groaned loudly and came. He stroked himself frantically through the climax, Castiel's shout of his name ringing in his ears. Dean came down from his orgasm slowly. Come was cooling on his hand and his stomach, creating a sticky mess that he'd deal with later. He listened to the rest of the story, enjoying the pleasant lethargy that had taken over his body. He didn't think he had ever come so hard without someone else being there to witness it.
The final scene in the story was Cas watching Dean wake up. The pair talked, Castiel nervous as Dean realized what had happened the night before and then surprised as Dean kissed him. Castiel's voice on the recording was tight and heavy with what Dean thought might be longing. Story!Dean confessed that he'd wanted to be more than friends with Cas for some time. He wanted Cas to be his lover, not just his friend. They kissed again as the story ended.
Dean closed the media player, some of Castiel's longing echoing in his chest and hope beginning to bloom alongside it. Cas had no reason to suspect that Dean knew about his Jimmy Novak account. Dean had made no mention of it and had been careful not to hint at his knowledge of its existence. Cas had no reason to believe that Dean would ever stumble across this story. He couldn't have written this as some kind of a veiled message to Dean.
Did Cas want him? Had he written out and recorded one of his fantasies to post on the Internet?
Dean knew that it was silly to assume that everything in the story was true. For all he knew, none of it had any basis in reality. It was still fiction, after all, but even so. There had been no reason for Castiel to name the starring characters after himself and Dean. There was no reason for the characters to look and act exactly like them. If the names had been anything else, if they had looked differently or acted differently, Dean wouldn't have thought anything of it. However, since the characters were Dean and Castiel... it was hard not to think about what that might mean.
Dean shivered. If he had thought the wait for Friday night was annoying before, now it was just infuriating.
Part 3.2
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Bookkbaby
Rating: NC-17 (By reading this, you certify that you are of legal age to view such material in your area/country)
Pairing: Dean/Cas, mentions of Sam/Jess and Bobby/Ellen
Warnings: cursing, explicit M/M sex, brief Dean/Anna, brief M/F/F threesome, brief RPS mentioned
Summary: Based off of this prompt on Tumblr. It starts with a prank war and a chance meeting at the auto shop Dean works at.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or anything else I’ve referenced in this fic. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. I make no money from this, so please don’t sue.
NOTE: There is ANOTHER fic written for this awesome prompt! Ainoche, a very good friend of mine, wrote a shorter and way more angsty piece for this same prompt. Hers is really great, so please check it out! You can find it here: http://ainoche.livejournal.com/8827.html
The title for this fic was provided by Ainoche, because I fail at titling things.
The Prank That Filled the Spank Bank
Part 3
Dean walked into his apartment and then shut locked the door behind himself.
"Sam?" he called out, loud enough to catch his brother's ear if he was awake, but not enough to wake him if he had already gone to bed. There was no response.
Dean headed further into the apartment, shucking his coat as he walked and carrying it with him. Sam was probably asleep, rather than out. He was never out this late on Sundays. Hopefully he had left his laptop on the table. Sam slept too lightly for Dean to sneak it out of his room.
Dean grinned triumphantly when he saw that Sam had indeed left his laptop out. It wasn't a particularly rare occurrence, but neither was it very common. Dean took a glance around the apartment, making certain that Sam was nowhere to be found. He then quietly lifted the laptop and headed to his room.
He shoved his bedroom door shut with his foot as soon as he cleared it. He dropped his coat on the floor and dug his car keys out of his pocket. He set them on his nightstand. Finally, he sat down on his bed, his back against the headboard, and placed the laptop on his lap.
It was the work of moments to get to Sam's desktop and open up the browser program. Dean quickly checked Castiel's LiveJournal account to see if it had been updated. He typed in the web address from memory, but saw nothing that hadn't been there the last time he had checked.
It was time to move on to the actual business he had with Sam's laptop tonight. Dean went to Google and searched for 'FictionPress' and 'Dmitri Krushnic', Castiel's penname. The first link seemed to be the right one, so he clicked it. as he waited for the page to load, he glanced towards his bedroom door. Unlikely as it was, if Sam woke up and went looking for his laptop, Dean would never live this down.
Damn if he wasn't as nervous as an underage kid sneaking porn.
The page finally loaded and scrolled down, ignoring the sparse biography at the top of the page and looking at the posted stories. There were only three.
Dean frowned and tried to keep scrolling, assuming the page simply hadn't scrolled enough to show the rest, but there seemed to be nothing more to see. Castiel only had three stories posted to this account. Dean had five tapes worth of his work in the box underneath his bed and he hadn't even downloaded any of the tame stories. He knew Cas had more than this.
He narrowed his eyes and read the summaries. It took less than two minutes and then he blinked and reread them. Something seemed off.
Dean had gotten used to Castiel's Jimmy Novak account where, even if the story wasn't pornographic, every story focused on a gay couple, or a lesbian couple, or something else with an obvious rainbow bent. Even though Dean hadn't read every story, he had read all of the summaries. Every story in the Dmitri Krushnic account was about a heterosexual pair. Two seemed to be chick lit, the kind of stories that girlfriends would drag their reluctant boyfriends to go see if they were movies. The third was about a boy dying of cancer while pining for some girl he had known in high school.
No wonder Cas had so easily admitted to this account. Chick lit though it might be, it was still more acceptable for a guy to be writing that than anything with non-straight main characters. Jimmy Novak had written a small rant two weeks ago about how it was more socially accepted to write formulaic, romantic crap starring a busty beauty and a musclebound he-man than an emotional, original tale starring a gay couple. Dean may or may not have read it. Maybe.
It had been two pages long and actually kind of interesting.
Dean turned his thoughts back to the stories in front of him. Chick lit wasn't his thing when he did read, as he tended towards Vonnegut when he did pick up a book. Still, he had promised Cas that he'd check his stories out.
He could break the promise, explain to Cas that romance novels were not his thing, but the memory of Castiel's surprised and grateful expression when Dean had sworn to read his work surfaced in his mind. There went that idea.
With a sigh and one last glance to his door, Dean clicked on the title of the first story. This would be ten times more embarrassing if Sammy caught him at it.
LINE BREAK
Sam was gone when Dean woke up the next morning. A quick check of the schedule posted on the fridge confirmed that the younger Winchester had one class in the morning and one in the afternoon. He'd be gone all day.
Dean fixed himself breakfast, though a glance at the clock told him that the meal should be more properly called 'lunch'. He had the afternoon shift at Bobby's garage, so he didn't have a lot of time, but he had enough to make a quick phone call if he did it now. He could shower after breakfast.
Cas picked up after two rings.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hey, Cas. It's me," Dean said. He grinned and leaned back on his chair, pushing his scrambled eggs around on his plate.
"Dean." Castiel sounded pleased to hear from him, which sent an answering thrill of happiness through Dean. "It is good to hear from you."
"I said I'd call," Dean reminded him. "I wanted to know when you'd be free. I'd like to hang out again." He took a bite of his eggs. Maybe he was meeting up with Cas a bit more than was usual for friends, but hopefully Cas wouldn't realize that. If Cas didn't have many friends, it was perfectly possible that he didn't.
"I believe I'm free Wednesday evening, if that would work for you," Cas said carefully. Dean's grin widened, albeit ruefully. Castiel wanted to see him again, and soon. It would be a great sign if they were dating, but Cas didn't want Dean the way Dean wanted him.
You take what you can get, Winchester, Dean reminded himself firmly. He thought back over his schedule and winced.
"Wednesday is no good for me," he said. He was working a double that day. "Thursday'd work, though," he added quickly.
"I'm busy with the shop on Thursday," Cas said.
"How about Friday?" Dean asked. He didn't want to wait until the weekend, but if that was the only option, he'd deal.
"I'm free Friday evening," Cas replied. He sounded pleased at having finally set a date to meet.
"Awesome. Want to do dinner at the Roadhouse again?" Dean asked. He took another bite of his eggs, grimacing a bit when he realized how quickly they were cooling off. On the other end of the line, Castiel was quiet for a moment.
"There is a small restaurant near my house that you might enjoy. Could we perhaps eat there instead? I know it's a bit of a drive..." he said.
"Cas, it's fine. What's this restaurant of yours called?" Dean asked.
"It's Angelo's," Castiel replied. Dean was about to say that he knew that the restaurant didn't belong to Cas, he didn't need to be told who the actual owner was, when Cas continued. "The address is 22 Northumberland Street."
"I'll be able to find it," Dean said, making a mental note of the address. "Five o'clock work for you?"
"Yes," Cas said. There was a brief lull in the conversation when Castiel didn't continue. Dean cleared his throat and so missed the sound of the apartment door opening.
"I read one of your stories last night," Dean blurted out.
"You did?" Cas asked, surprised. "You didn't... I mean, I didn't expect you to read anything so soon."
"I wanted to," Dean said. It was true enough. He'd wanted to be able to talk to Cas about his work, maybe make him happy. Chick lit was not and would never be his thing, but the story had been enjoyable enough despite that.
"Which one did you read?" Cas asked.
"The one about the chick talking to her fiancée," Dean told him. "You're good, Cas. I don't usually like chick lit, but the story was good. I didn't get this one thing, though-"
Dean spotted motion out of the corner of his eye and turned towards it, voice dropping off abruptly when he saw Sammy. Sam was standing by the door, messenger bag slung over one shoulder and laptop tucked under the other arm. One eyebrow was raised incredulously.
"Dean? Cas asked. "What is it?"
"Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. See you on Friday," Dean said quickly, keeping his gaze on Sam. Sam raised his other eyebrow in response.
"All right. See you on Friday," Cas said. He hung up and Dean followed suit.
"Who was that?" Sam asked the second the older Winchester lowered the phone. Dean scowled.
"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" he demanded, shoveling more eggs into his mouth and washing them down with gulps of orange juice. The flavors mixed unpleasantly in his mouth, but he needed to finish this quickly.
"The professor cancelled. Some kind of conference or something," Sam said dismissively. "Come on, Dean, who is she?"
"'She'?" Dean repeated dumbly. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Don't play stupid. Cas. I'm asking, 'who is Cas'?" he said, voice hinging between patient and exasperated.
"Cas isn't-" Dean started to say, but Sammy wasn't done.
"I haven't seen you this secretive about someone since you started dating Cassie," Sam said. "I'm happy for you, I really am, even if I am a bit miffed that you didn't tell me."
"Dude, Sam, Cas and I - we're not dating," Dean sputtered. "And what do you mean, 'secretive'?"
"I heard some of your conversation when I came in," Sam said by way of explanation. "Since when do you read? Something that's not Vonnegut."
Dean shut his mouth.
"I've never heard you mention Cas, but you're close enough that she can get you to read a romance novel? One she wrote? Come on. When do I get to meet her?" Sam asked.
"Wasn't a novel," Dean muttered. He shoved the rest of his now-cold eggs into his mouth and gulped down the last bit of his orange juice.
"My point still stands," Sam said. Dean placed his empty glass on his plate and dropped his fork into it. He stood up and walked into the kitchen to put his dirty dishes into the sink. He could feel Sam following him.
"We're not dating, Sam. You know me," Dean said, not looking at him. He started washing the dishes. "I do one night stands, not relationships." He tried to shoot his brother a lecherous smirk, but something else must have shown on his face or in his voice. Sam's expression suddenly morphed from curious and slightly irritated to curious and sympathetic.
"Dean..." Sam said slowly. "Do you-"
Dean practically slammed his now clean dishes onto the counter to dry and made a beeline for the bathroom.
"Gotta leave for work soon, haven't showered yet," he said deliberately ignoring whatever Sam had been about to say.
"Dean," Sam tried again, but the older Winchester had slammed the door shut.
LINE BREAK
Dean walked into the bar with a carefully calculated hint of swagger in his step. Sam may have rolled his eyes at Dean's 'methods' before, but chicks dug a guy with confidence.
No matter what, tonight Dean was going to get laid. It was Thursday night and tomorrow would mark the third time he would meet with Cas one on one. He'd jerked off twice to the sound of Castiel's voice and once while showering to fantasies of big blue eyes and pale skin. And that was just since Sunday.
This had to stop before Cas picked up on it or Dean did something stupid, like proposition Castiel after one too many drinks. If he was still this sexually frustrated tomorrow, he might do just that.
He walked up to the bar and sat down. He gave the room a subtle once-over as he waited for the bartender. The pickings were pretty slim, this being a weekday instead of a weekend, but there were a few women that looked to be Dean's type. Pretty, easy, and interested.
Dean gave a busty brunette down at the end of the bar a smirk. She smiled coyly in return and leaned forward, her low-cut top showing off more than a hint of cleavage. Possibility number one.
Dean glanced over to another table, where a cute blonde in a short skirt was sitting. She took a sip of her drink and then licked her lips slowly, keeping eye contact with Dean the whole time. Possibility number two.
Possibility number three was a quiet redhead sipping a daiquiri in a booth in the corner of the bar. She didn't seem to notice Dean at all and was dressed pretty conservatively, in a leather jacket and jeans, meaning she was probably neither easy nor interested, but sometimes Dean liked a challenge. There was something about her that, while it didn't drive the other women in the bar from his mind completely, it drew him towards her. Dean couldn't put his finger on it.
The bartender walked up and gruffly asked what he wanted. Dean ordinarily would have smirked as he ordered his beer, to better display the confidence a potential partner might find attractive, but the redhead in the corner was holding his attention. He absently placed his order, only vaguely noting the bartender walking off after having received it.
The redhead looked up and her eyes met Dean's. She had a strange kind of look, innocent and somehow lost, and for a second Dean was so strongly reminded of Castiel that he forgot to breathe. That was it. Something about her was just like Cas and just like that, Dean's decision was made.
The bartender put his drink down and Dean tore his eyes away from the girl for a moment to take his beer and pay the man. When he looked back, the girl was no longer alone. A man at least a decade older than the redhead had sat down next to her. The girl was visibly uncomfortable, edging away slowly and backing herself into a corner. The man was boxing her in, cutting off her only escape route with his body.
Dean was over there almost before he realized that he was moving.
"-come on, I can show you a real good time," the man was saying, voice viscous and oily. His hand was high on the girl's thigh and moving higher and more inward even as she tried to move it off of her leg.
"No, I already told you I-" she said, voice shaking ever so slightly. Dean had heard enough.
"This guy isn't bothering you, is he, sweetheart?" he asked, doing his best to loom over the table. The girl and the asshole with grabby hands both looked up at him, the guy visibly annoyed and the girl cautiously hopeful. The man had taken his hands off of the redhead at the sound of Dean's voice, so that was one problem taken care of.
"Sorry I'm late, baby," Dean said to the redhead, hoping she'd play along. "Traffic was worse than I expected." He set his beer down on the table, giving the man a pointed look. The man scowled, but got up off the bench. Dean kept his eyes on him, staring him down.
"She didn't tell me she was with anybody," the man said suspiciously. Dean smirked coldly.
"Well, she is. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out."
"I was just leaving," the man muttered, giving Dean a dark look as he shouldered passed him on the way to the exit. Dean returned the stare levelly until the door swung shut behind him.
"Good riddance," Dean muttered. If there was one thing Dean couldn't stand, it was douche bags like that. He turned back to the girl, who was watching him with an intent expression. It was like a watered down version of Castiel's usual stare and Dean ached.
He cleared his throat and indicated the recently vacated spot on the bench.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
"Please do," the girl said, voice light and musical. "Thank you for doing that."
"Not a problem, trust me," Dean said, sitting down next to her without attempting to crowd her. She smiled at him and he grinned back. "I'm Dean."
"Anna," she said. She took a sip of her daiquiri. It was nearly empty.
"Pleased to meet you, Anna," he said. He glanced towards the door. "Not all guys are like that. Some of us know how to treat a lady."
"Oh?" she asked, interested. "And how do you treat a lady?" That was definitely flirtatious. Dean grinned, turning on the charm full force.
"Well, for starters, how about I buy you a drink to apologize for not getting here ten minutes ago?"
"I'd like that," Anna said, smiling.
LINE BREAK
Friday didn't come nearly as quickly as Dean would have liked, but at long last it arrived. Dean groaned as he stumbled into the bathroom, lightly hung over and a little frustrated.
Anna had been good company and they'd talked for almost two hours before she had followed Dean to the backseat of the Impala. That was something of a record for Dean, who usually spent a half hour, or an hour maximum if the girl was especially pretty and playing hard to get, before taking them to his car.
Anna had been good, if still a bit inexperienced and uncertain, and Dean had made certain that she enjoyed the encounter. That he had thought about Cas as he touched her, moved inside of her, and came was his problem, not hers. He felt a stab of guilt at that, since he hadn't set out with the intention of finding a substitute. In the end, that's what Anna had been and she had deserved better than that from Dean, if only for that one night.
He splashed some water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. There were small marks on his body that Anna had left the night before and each one seemed almost accusatory. She had been real, she had been there, and Dean's thoughts had been miles away.
He had to get over this stupid... thing. Soon.
But not today. He was meeting Cas in a few hours and he could hardly show up smelling like booze and sex.
LINE BREAK
Dean parked the Impala at the curb in front of the restaurant. He'd missed it the first time he had passed, since the place was tiny. It was maybe a third the size of the Roadhouse. The name was written in elaborate white script over the door, but otherwise was unmarked.
Dean got out of the car, locked it up, and headed into the restaurant. A bell chimed overhead as he walked in, drawing the host's attention.
"Welcome to Angelo's," he said with a slight Italian accent. His nametag read 'Billy'. "Table for... one? Or two?"
"Two. I'm expecting someone," Dean said, glancing around the room. There weren't many tables and a few were occupied by couples, most holding hands across the tiny tabletops. There were lit candles in the center of every table and the lighting was low, giving the place a cozy, intimate feel. Dean shifted uneasily.
It seemed like a place that Dean might bring one of his classier one-night stands, if they were the type that needed to be wined and dined before putting out. He usually just went for the type that wanted a shot of tequila and a come-hither look.
Not that this was a date, despite the atmosphere, Dean reminded himself.
"Right this way, please."
Dean tore himself from his thoughts and followed Billy to a small table nestled in a corner of the room. The candle in the centerpiece flickered gently, as if mocking him. Dean hid his frown as he sat in a chair and scooted forward. The host set a menu down in front of him.
"Thanks," Dean said. Billy nodded politely.
"I'll be right back for your drink order," he said. He walked off, headed for another table that was calling for service.
"Friendly," Dean muttered, flipping open the menu. The bell chimed again and Dean looked up, grinning when he saw Castiel walking through the door. Castiel must have spotted him as well because he waved Billy off and headed directly for the table Dean was seated at.
"Hello, Dean," Cas said, shrugging off his overcoat and draping it over the back of the chair before sitting down.
"Good to see you, Cas," Dean replied. "Great timing, by the way. I just got here."
Castiel nodded. Billy reappeared by the table, holding a second menu, which he handed to Cas. Cas nodded his thanks and opened it up.
"I'll be your waiter tonight," Billy said. "My name is Billy. Would you like to see our wine list?" He looked at Dean, who stole a quick glance at Castiel. Cas seemed to be absorbed in his menu, reading over the dinner choices carefully. Dean shook his head.
"No thanks," he replied. This wasn't a date. Wine wasn't a drink for a casual dinner with a friend. Not unless you were super classy, anyway, which Dean was definitely not.
"Can I get you something to drink, then?" Billy asked.
"Could I get a beer?" Dean replied. Billy nodded and turned to Castiel.
"Do you need a minute?" he said.
"Iced tea, please," Cas answered, looking up from his menu. Billy nodded again.
"I'll be right back with those," he said. He walked off, heading for another table where one of the occupants was raising his hand for the check.
Dean went back to flipping the pages of his menu. Castiel folded his menu neatly and set it on the table. The far edge of the menu was almost touching Dean's hand, the table was so small, and Dean was again struck by how intimate the whole setup was. The candlelight cast shadows across Castiel's face and was reflected in his eyes, making the blue brighter. It was oddly mesmerizing.
"How's the lasagna here?" Dean asked in an attempt to distract himself. Castiel's eyes briefly met Dean's before dropping back down to the table.
"I have not actually eaten here before," he admitted. "My brother recommended it to me when he heard that I was planning on meeting you again."
"That-" Fucker, Dean didn't say. Even when he wasn't here, he managed to taunt Dean and make Cas miserable. Dean forced himself to smile. "That's nice. This place is good. Cozy."
Castiel nodded in agreement but then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dean so owed Gabriel a punch in the face the next time he saw the man. Dean searched for something to say, hoping to lessen Cas's discomfort by distracting him.
"Your story was good," he blurted out. Castiel looked up, startled.
"I know. You said as much over the phone," he replied. He gave Dean a small smile. Dean relaxed. "You didn't have to read it."
"Hey, I said I would," Dean replied. Castiel's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression.
"You said that there was something you didn't understand," he said slowly. "May I ask what that was?"
Dean frowned thoughtfully and began to form a reply, but just then Billy returned to the table with their drinks.
"Ready to order?" he asked them, setting a beer down in front of Dean and an iced tea in front of Cas. Dean gave him a short, tight smile.
"Yeah. I'll take the lasagna," he said. Billy nodded and made a small note on the notepad he had been carrying in his apron pocket. He turned to Castiel.
"And for you?"
"The pennae alfredo, please," Cas said, picking up his menu and holding it out. Billy noted the order quickly and collected the menus. Just like that, he was gone again.
Dean took a sip of his beer and looked around the room again, eyes lingering on the couples. He felt a brief stab of envy, wishing he could reach across the table and take Cas's hand in his own or lean over the table and have Cas meet him halfway, mouth to mouth.
"You do not need to answer if you don't wish to," Cas said, jerking Dean from his fantasy. "I just wanted to know."
It took Dean a minute to remember what they had been talking about before Billy had shown up.
"Just needed to find the words," he assured Cas. He scratched the back of his neck. "I guess I just thought it didn't make a lot of sense."
"What didn't?" Cas asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"Her big 'relationship-destroying' secret," Dean said. He took a sip of his beer. "So what if she wasn't a virgin? It's not that big of a deal."
"She had not been married before-" Cas started to say. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Dude, she was twenty-nine. No one's still a virgin by choice at twenty-nine," Dean said. "Her fiancée shouldn't have been that surprised. That by itself I guess I could buy, but that he cared so much about her being 'pure' when he married her to nearly call the whole thing off? And she just accepted it." Dean shook his head. Castiel had tensed visibly at some point, though Dean had no idea what had triggered the sudden stiffness to the set of his shoulders.
"Her fiancée was very devout and so were his parents. I didn't think it was that unlikely, even though he did overreact. But even so, would you not want to be the first man to touch your wife intimately?" Cas said.
Dean felt a shiver move through his body as Cas spoke, mind conjuring up images of stripping a white tuxedo off of Cas's body and touching him in ways no one had before. If he'd been the first to touch Cas, the first to see him sated and lethargic in the aftermath, the first to hear how he moaned and gasped and begged for it, Dean had to admit that he would be pretty damn happy.
He carefully didn't ask himself why he pictured Cas in a white tux. Or why, in his fantasy, he was dressed in a black tux despite hating all forms of formal wear.
Dean would have loved to be Cas's first, but he knew that he couldn't be. Not just because Cas seemed to have no interest in him, but because of how much Castiel seemed to know about sex. Castiel had to be experienced. Granted, his experience had probably all been with women, given that he was apparently a Church-going, God-fearing man, but Dean had been with a few women that hadn't been shy about slicking up their fingers and caressing his prostate while they blew him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something even larger would probably feel even better. Chicks were just as capable as guys at taking it up the ass and hell, some were more eager. Any heterosexual guy that had those two experiences could probably write gay porn.
Why Cas wrote and recorded gay porn, Dean had no idea. He wouldn't be surprised if he was being paid to do it. With a voice like that, people would probably pay him to recite the ABC's. He vaguely recalled Cas saying that writing was his hobby, that he wasn't paid, but he might have just been talking about the stories he had posted on FictionPress. As far as Cas knew, Dean had no idea that the LiveJournal account existed.
Dean wondered if any of Castiel's lovers (or perhaps even 'lover', singular, and the thought gave his stomach an unpleasant, envious twist) had appreciated Castiel's voice like he did. He could picture Cas in bed with a group of faceless women, all doing the dirtiest things to him and teaching him what they could with their bodies so he'd be able to write as Jimmy Novak. Or maybe it really was just one woman, a really adventurous girl. Cas seemed the type to look for a long-term relationship before taking someone to bed. In real life, he probably even called it 'making love'.
The thought sent stabs of possessive longing and envy through him. He tried to squash the feelings down, knowing he had no claim and that it was pointless to wish for impossible things.
"If I ever liked someone enough to marry them, I wouldn't care," Dean said finally.
"You wouldn't prefer your bride to be a virgin?" Cas asked. "If you had a choice?"
"Honestly?" Dean replied. "No. I'd prefer someone who knew what they were doing."
"Oh." Castiel seemed rather taken aback. "What if they did-" He stopped himself and looked down.
"Did what?" Dean prompted him. Cas chuckled hollowly and Dean frowned.
"It is not of import," Cas said, shaking his head. He lifted his gaze. "May I ask why you'd prefer an experienced woman?"
Dean shifted in place and took another drink.
"Getting a little personal there," he said, feeling like he really should be more uncomfortable with the question. Castiel looked apologetic.
"You don't need to answer, but if I could understand why, I might be able to make the story more believable," he said. Dean shrugged.
"I'll see if I can explain, then," he said. He took a long gulp of his beer. Cas waited, watching Dean with that intent expression of his. "Look, you never forget the first person you have sex with. It just doesn't happen. The first person is important, don't get me wrong, but they're not the most important. That 'first, last, only' bullshit only happens in fairytales."
Dean took another sip of his beer before continuing, briefly dropping his eyes to the table to avoid Castiel's gaze.
"The most important lover is your last one, not the first one. The first never lasts, but the last one is the one you're supposed to be loyal to. The last is the one you marry, if you're the type that does that." If John Winchester had taught Dean one good thing, it was that marriage was a big deal. Dean had no compunctions about sleeping around, but he had never been 'the other man'. Dean knew that his idea of marriage was a bit idealized, given that his only examples were his parents and Ellen and Bobby. It was precisely why he usually ran in the other direction if he got a hint that a person he was interested in was the kind that was looking for a ring rather than something without strings.
Castiel looked thoughtful and a touch surprised.
"I never thought of it that way," he said. "The Church stresses marriage before sex and that adultery and premarital sex are sins. Divorce is frowned upon, so the person one marries is supposed to be your first, last, and only lover. I don't agree with everything the Church preaches, but I thought that the concept of saving oneself for one's spouse was... romantic."
"But only for girls, huh," Dean muttered, frowning. Cas hadn't been 'saving himself' for his future bride, whoever the lucky bitch would be. Maybe his conversion to the Church was recent and he'd been celibate since discovering the concept? Would be a bit too late, but maybe he'd been re-virginized or something.
"What?" Castiel asked, leaning forward. Dean waved a hand dismissively.
"Nothing. What do you disagree with the Church about, anyway?" he asked. Cas's eyes widened with what looked like alarm, but just then Billy arrived with their food and saved Castiel from having to reply.
LINE BREAK
Dean yanked the door open to his apartment and headed towards his room, irritated and confused.
Dinner had been going well. The food had been good, the company great, and the atmosphere relaxing. At least, Dean had thought so. Cas had been relaxed and smiling and so had Dean. They had been in the process of making plans for a movie marathon at Castiel's house, since he had never seen the Indiana Jones movies and that was a tragedy, when Cas had suddenly clammed up.
Cas had had a bit of alfredo sauce at the corner of his mouth. Dean had naturally been transfixed, fantasizing about leaning over the table and licking it off, then licking his way into Castiel's mouth to chase the taste.
Cas had done the job for him, his tongue darting out and clearing away the sauce. The urge to kiss him rose tenfold at the sight of his tongue. Dean had leaned back in his chair and looked away to try and stop himself from doing something stupid. The date-like atmosphere in this place was doing things to his head.
He'd tugged at the collar of his shirt, body too warm. When he had looked back up, Castiel's eyes were focused on his neck and his expression was closed off.
Cas had backpedaled and gave Dean some bullshit excuse about having just remembered that he'd promised to watch the movies with Gabriel. He had apologetically refused all other potential marathons. Then, to top it all off, he had said that he couldn't stay for dessert and had to leave.
Dessert wasn't exactly a given, but it was Dean's favorite part of their not-dates. Not only did he get pie, but by then the small talk was over and they had a proper conversation going.
Goddamnit, he was turning into a chick.
He tore off his jacket and tossed it aside the second he entered his room. He tried to toe off his boots and though one came off easily, the other remained stubbornly stuck. With a muttered curse, Dean sat down on his bed and began yanking at the lace.
"Dean?"
Dean tensed but did not look up. He kept picking at his shoelace, but more slowly.
"What do you want, Sam?" he said.
"Is anything, er... wrong?" Sam asked hesitantly. Dean snorted a laugh, unable to help himself.
"No, everything's just fucking peachy." He finally got his boot loose and pulled it off before tossing it in the general direction of its mate. He still refused to look at Sam, not certain what would be reflected in his face if he did.
There was a soft rustle of cloth and the sound of feet shuffling across carpet. When Sam spoke next, his voice sounded closer.
"Did your date not go well?" Sam actually sounded concerned, damnit.
"Don't you have a project or something you should be doing?" Dean asked, finally lifting his head to glare at his younger brother. Sam was standing maybe two steps inside the door, watching Dean. "And for the last time, we're not dating."
"So it didn't go well, Sam said sympathetically. "Do you want to talk abou-" Dean stared at him incredulously. Sam snapped his mouth shut and shifted in place. "Okay, that was a stupid question."
"And you're supposed to be the smart one, college boy," Dean muttered, voice only just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam leveled one of his bitchfaces at Dean, but then took a deep breath and forcibly cleared his expression.
"So, what did you do to get banished to the couch tonight?" Sam asked. Dean scowled.
"Do you always just assume that I've screwed up, or...?" he asked snidely. Sam shrugged.
"Well, you were with Cas most of last night, right? You were covered in hickies this morning. You must have done something to piss her off, since I know you had a date with her tonight, but she's not here and you are, so..." Sam shrugged again. Dean frowned, confused.
"I wasn't with Cas last night," he said. Sam stilled.
"What?"
"I wasn't with Cas," Dean repeated. "I went out to a bar."
Sam slapped a hand over his face.
"So the hickies..." he said. His voice trailed off. Dean put a hand to his neck, to one of the small marks that Anna had left. He hadn't thought much about them that morning and hadn't thought too much about keeping them covered during dinner.
"What about them?" he asked defensively. Sam shook his head and turned towards the door, muttering about clueless older brothers and the poor girls who dated them.
"Cas and I are not dating," Dean insisted testily. Sam looked at him, bitchface out in full force. Dean shifted back a little, eyes widening in surprise.
"Good," Sam snapped. "And I never thought I'd say it, but it's good that you aren't dating her. I never thought you were disloyal, Dean."
Dean resisted the urge to flinch, but it felt like he'd been slapped. Sam took a deep breath and his expression softened, now merely disappointed instead of angry. Dean would rather have the anger. That he could handle and respond to in kind.
"I know you like her, Dean," Sam said gently. "I don't know what you were trying to prove with this-" He gestured vaguely in the direction of Dean's neck. "-but you're not going to be happy with meaningless relationships forever. This thing with you and Cas could mean something, if you pull your head out of your ass and stop running away."
"Nobody asked you," Dean said. "And meaningless relationships are the best kind. Worked just fine for me so far." Dean could hear the uncertainty in his own voice where before he had been convinced. He winced inwardly, knowing that Sam couldn't have missed it.
"That's a bunch of bull and you know it." Sam gave him a pointed look. "Apologize to her. She'll forgive you."
"What the hell makes you so sure?" Dean demanded. He added quickly, "And we're still not dating."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"I know, but you should be. You like her and she obviously likes you, or else she wouldn't have put up with you this long."
"Hey," Dean said, equal parts relief and mock-anger. That last comment had been teasing rather than in earnest. Sam smiled.
"You should ask her out on a real date," he said. Dean shook his head.
"Cas isn't interested in me like that, Sammy," he said firmly. Sam raised his eyebrows.
"If you say so," he replied, not even trying to mask his doubt. "But can I ask if you happened to pull down your shirt collar before she kicked you out?"
"You can ask," Dean said gruffly. He had tugged on his shirt collar, just a bit. Maybe Cas had seen the mark. Maybe it had been what caused him to go home early, but it couldn't be for the reason Sam thought. "Maybe I did. So what?"
"So," Sam said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "That's probably why Cas was angry. You've been going on dates with her, whether or not you realized what you were doing, and then you show up with a hickey on your neck. She was jealous."
"That's not it, Sam," Dean said. How he wished it was, though. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, I know you want to believe that I'm finally settling down, but Cas just isn't interested." He could try to argue that he wasn't interested, either, but Sam would definitely call him out on the lie.
"What makes you so sure?" Sam asked, more challenging than curious.
"I just am, all right?" Dean couldn't explain that Cas probably wasn't interested in guys, since Cas was a man and more than likely straight. He wasn't ready to tell Sam, not yet.
Silence fell in the room. After a minute, Sam sighed and shook his head.
"Fine," he said. "Just... keep an open mind?"
"You got it," Dean said blandly. Sam sighed again and left. Dean watched him turn down the hallway and heard the door to Sam's room shut quietly a few seconds later. He flopped backwards on his bed and folded his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
Sam couldn't be right. Cas couldn't be jealous. He was probably just irritated with such an obvious sign of Dean's manwhore ways, being devoutly religious, 'first, last, only', and all.
But, a little part of him couldn't help thinking, what if Sam was right?
His phone rang and derailed that train of thought. Dean grumbled as he lifted his hips from the bed and dug in his pocket for his phone. He hit 'talk' and lifted it to his ear.
"Hello?" he said shortly.
"Hello, Dean." It was Cas. Dean's temper immediately cooled off and he sat up.
"Hi, Cas," he said. "What's up?" He could almost feel the hesitation on the other end of the line. He wiped his free hand on his pant leg, suddenly nervous.
"I wanted to apologize for cutting our meeting short earlier," Cas said. "I had... urgent business."
Dean resisted the urge to call him on his bullshit.
"Not a problem, Cas. Don't worry about it," he said.
"I'd like to treat you to dinner to apologize," Cas said. "I'm free next week at the same time, if that would work for you."
Dean chuckled, something inside his chest relaxing.
"Dude, I'm not a chick. You don't need to buy me dinner to make it up to me," he said.
"I am very aware that you are not a woman, Dean," Cas said, voice low and oddly intense. Dean's breath hitched in response, a hot flash of arousal shooting straight to his groin. Damnit, that was not fair. His body had been trained to respond to that voice and didn't care if an erection was totally inappropriate right now.
Castiel cleared his throat and when he next spoke, his voice was normal again.
"Even so, I'd like to treat you. You have been a good friend to me."
"Okay," Dean said, feeling a brief stab of guilt. He hadn't been a good friend to Cas, not really. A good friend wouldn't jerk off to fantasies of Cas while in the shower, nor would a good friend continue listening to the pornographic cassette tapes made from recordings of Cas’s voice, all unbeknownst to Castiel. Even so, Dean couldn't refuse. He was pretty certain that he had that Friday free. Even if he didn't, Bobby would let him take the day off since Dean never took sick time unless Sam forced him to. "I'll see you on Friday. Roadhouse sound good?"
"Yes. I will see you then, Dean," Cas said.
"See you then," Dean parroted back. Cas hung up. Dean hit 'end' and sucked in a deep breath. He let it out slowly and muttered a curse, then rolled awkwardly off of the bed to dig beneath it for his Castiel cassette tape collection.
He'd get over this fixation another day.
LINE BREAK
It was Thursday night. Dean stared blankly at the TV. He was leaning back on the couch and had a beer in one hand. He looked, for all intents and purposes, settled in for the night, but his ears were alert to the sounds of Sammy getting ready to go out rather than the noise emanating from the idiot box. Dean had been feigning interest in the TV for fifteen minutes before Sam was finally done.
"I'm heading out," Sam called, tugging on his jacket as he walked towards the door. Dean gave him an absent nod. He waited until he heard the door to the apartment shut and then gave it five minutes before he was certain that Sam was gone. He got off of the couch, abandoning his beer, and then shut off the TV. He set the remote aside.
He hadn't been able to steal Sam's laptop in over a week. The younger Winchester had either been using it or had it with him every time Dean had planned to take it. Tonight, however, Sam was on a date and his laptop was left behind.
Dean headed to Sam's room and opened the door. He made a beeline across the clean floor to the organized desk, where the laptop rested between neat stacks of paper. With the computer and the charge cord securely in hand, Dean left and headed to his own room. He shut both Sam's door and his own behind himself as he passed through.
He set the laptop on his bed. Within five minutes, he had it powered on and the Internet loaded up. He typed in the URL for Castiel's LiveJournal and waited impatiently for the page to load. When it finally did, he grinned. There was a new entry. Even better, it was one of the dirty stories with an accompanying audio track. Dean hit the download link before even glancing at the summary. Once he was certain that the download had started up just fine, he went back to the entry and scrolled to see the description.
He froze, eyes going wide with shock as he reread it. He read it a third time, just to be sure. The words remained unchanged.
'Dean and Castiel have been friends for years, but Castiel has always wanted more. One drunken night, he gets his chance.'
This had to be a dream. Or something. Cas couldn't have actually written porn starring the two of them. Dean briefly wondered when he had fallen asleep and why he was dreaming about reading rather than the real deal. He thought about pinching himself, but the thought of Cas reading a sex scene featuring the two of them was too good to pass up.
The computer beeped an alert that the file was done downloading. Dean opened it immediately, grateful that Sammy was out and that he didn't need to mess about with finding headphones. He waited with eager anticipation as Castiel introduced himself to the listener as Jimmy Novak and stated the title of the story; 'One Drunken Night'.
The story opened up in the fictional Castiel's living room. The fictional Dean was well on his way to drunk whereas Cas was just slightly tipsy. Slightly tipsy, and staring. Any doubts Dean had about the character in the story being modeled after himself fled. Castiel could probably have given his description to a sketch artist and gotten a perfect likeness drawn up, though Dean doubted sketch artists often worked with flowery descriptions like 'plump lips the color of rose petals, made for passionate kisses'.
The descriptions weren't just bordering on sexual, either. Dean swallowed heavily, heart swelling with emotions he refused to name as Cas waxed poetic on his eyes, how he had never seen such a beautiful pair. Dean's eyes were deeper than most people's, Cas claimed in a soft voice, deeper and darker but breathtaking.
This was a definite chick flick moment, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care all that much. No one was here to see.
Fictional Dean was too drunk to drive, so Castiel helped him upstairs and into Castiel's bed. When Cas turned to go, Dean was holding him back.
The real Dean felt a brief stab of envy as his fictional counterpart pulled Casiel into a hungry kiss. Dean licked his lips, imagining that he could taste Cas on them as the kissing in the story intensified.
Dean laid back on the bed and ran a hand over the half-hard bulge in his jeans as story!Dean stripped both Castiel and then himself. Dean could hear a slightly breathless edge to Castiel's voice as he read out loud, an edge that Dean had never heard before no matter what Castiel had been reading. He groaned in time with Cas, his hips jerking up into the touch of his hand.
Story!Dean was on his knees between Castiel's legs now, pressing kisses to all available patches of skin before finally giving in to Castiel's pleas and closing his lips around the head of Cas's cock.
If Dean had thought that Cas's moans were hot on the tapes before, they were nothing compared to now. The sounds before had seemed scripted, after two or three listens, but these were raw, needy, and frequent. It was like listening to someone actually get blown, though Castiel's voice was still too steady when he read for that to be the case.
Dean opened up his jeans and shucked his underwear along with them. He was getting too close too quickly to leave them on any longer and it was just from hearing Castiel's voice. Any immunity Dean may have formed to protect himself from getting inappropriate erections while in Castiel's presence seemed to have evaporated at Cas's first hoarse cry.
Was this a fantasy of Castiel's? To take Dean home, get him drunk, and exchange mind-blowing blowjobs in Castiel's room? Story!Cas was now lying between Dean's legs, Dean's dick in his mouth and Dean's hands in his hair.
Dean licked his palm and stroked himself, wishing his hand was Castiel's mouth. He could imagine it clearly, even without the help of the tape, as this had always been one of his favorite fantasies. Cas's eyes would be lust-glazed but intent, lips slick and stretched wide as Castiel's tongue swirled around the head of Dean's cock.
Dean moaned, quickening the motion of his hand. He was already leaking precome and he'd only just begun.
"Cas," he groaned, in time with his fictional counterpart. He chuckled breathlessly at that, only to draw in a ragged breath as story!Dean pulled Castiel's mouth off of his dick and asked to fuck him. Story!Cas wanted it. He wanted it as badly as the real Dean did.
Dean held the base of his cock, not daring to stroke himself as he listened to story!Dean prepare Cas for penetration. Cas's voice on the tape was low and husky, little hitches in his breathing audible even when he wasn't trying to do sound effects for the sex scene. Dean shuddered, trembling with the effort of keeping his hips still. He wanted to thrust into something, even if that something was only his own loose fist. He wanted to lay kisses all over Castiel's face and whisper encouraging comments as he slid a second spit-slick finger into Cas's body. He wanted to press his mouth to Castiel's and swallow his brief cry of pain as he pushed inside and Castiel's body swallowed him.
Dean began stroking himself again, rhythm jerky and erratic as he listened to Castiel's voice describe their frantic coupling. Cas was obviously affected by what he was reading, voice speeding up with excitement and then slowing down as he remembered himself. Then, just before the characters climaxed, there was a slight skip to the audio track. It was just for a split second, almost unnoticeable, but afterwards Cas's voice was smoother, calmer, and measured.
Cas had needed to stop recording and then had come back to pick up where he left out, clumsily editing the two audio tracks together to make one story. Cas had been so affected by it that he'd needed to stop and probably had jerked off before continuing.
On the heels of that thought, Dean groaned loudly and came. He stroked himself frantically through the climax, Castiel's shout of his name ringing in his ears. Dean came down from his orgasm slowly. Come was cooling on his hand and his stomach, creating a sticky mess that he'd deal with later. He listened to the rest of the story, enjoying the pleasant lethargy that had taken over his body. He didn't think he had ever come so hard without someone else being there to witness it.
The final scene in the story was Cas watching Dean wake up. The pair talked, Castiel nervous as Dean realized what had happened the night before and then surprised as Dean kissed him. Castiel's voice on the recording was tight and heavy with what Dean thought might be longing. Story!Dean confessed that he'd wanted to be more than friends with Cas for some time. He wanted Cas to be his lover, not just his friend. They kissed again as the story ended.
Dean closed the media player, some of Castiel's longing echoing in his chest and hope beginning to bloom alongside it. Cas had no reason to suspect that Dean knew about his Jimmy Novak account. Dean had made no mention of it and had been careful not to hint at his knowledge of its existence. Cas had no reason to believe that Dean would ever stumble across this story. He couldn't have written this as some kind of a veiled message to Dean.
Did Cas want him? Had he written out and recorded one of his fantasies to post on the Internet?
Dean knew that it was silly to assume that everything in the story was true. For all he knew, none of it had any basis in reality. It was still fiction, after all, but even so. There had been no reason for Castiel to name the starring characters after himself and Dean. There was no reason for the characters to look and act exactly like them. If the names had been anything else, if they had looked differently or acted differently, Dean wouldn't have thought anything of it. However, since the characters were Dean and Castiel... it was hard not to think about what that might mean.
Dean shivered. If he had thought the wait for Friday night was annoying before, now it was just infuriating.
Part 3.2