The Return of the 'Santorum/Porn Story' :)
Sorry that I couldn't find it all guys, but have the last few chapters returned to you anyway - curtesy of my memory stick.
Mature rated.
Newcommers, all you need to know is that, Porn has been outlawed, and Dean (who is as straight here as he is in canon) has decided to make his own, with the help of Gabriel's illegal website, and a pale and interesting artists model, desperate for cash.
Dean looks on, half nauseated, half really nauseated, as Gabriel feeds a strip of perfectly cooked steak, smeared with Dijon mustard, into Sam’s mouth. Sam is acting like a puppy, or, to be more accurate, like a twink in heat - clearly loving the attention, and accepting the small snippet of meat with barely concealed relish.
“Seriously, do it again and I’m gonna turn this table over and run.” Dean warns.
Sam blushes, and Gabriel licks the traces of steak from his fingers. “Spoilsport.”
Castiel clears his throat, “I would also find it less uncomfortable if you’d stop feeding Sam.”
Gabriel sighs. “Like you two can judge? Last time I saw you, bro, you had eight inches of heaven down your throat.”
Sam chokes on his steak, and Dean thinks that’s probably all the proof about karma that he needs.
“That was different.” Dean points out, “that was work.”
Sam, if anything, blushed deeper.
“Oh my God, you’ve seen it.” Dean kind of wanted to crawl under the table and die.
“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” Sam muttered, “Gabriel just sent it over, told me it was the hottest thing he’d seen since...”
“Since?”
Gabriel petted Sam’s thigh affectionately. “Since I’d had his ass on my desk that morning.”
Dean was really, really starting to wish that he’d invited Cas out to dinner some other night.
“Eight and a half.” Castiel suddenly piped up.
Gabriel and Sam looked away from each other (and if Gabriel’s hand was still on Sam’s thigh, Dean would eat his own legs) to stare at Castiel in puzzlement.
“Eight and a half, inches of heaven.”
This time, it was Dean who chocked.
“Little bro - why don’t we hang out more?” Gabriel said, (now doing something with his hand that Dean was sure was going to get them kicked out of the restaurant, even though it was a total dive). “You, are a hoot. Possibly two.”
“You’re the first of Gabriel’s brothers that I’ve actually met,” Sam said.
“And probably the last,” Gabriel admitted, “the others...well, they make the Pope look open minded and downright funky.”
“Except Zachariah.” Castiel said.
“True, the Pope would beat him in a dance off, definitely not as funky.”
Sam squeaked and batted Gabriel’s hand away, Dean glared at them both.
“So, what are you guys cooking up for your next video?” Gabriel said, “I’ve practically got my customers beating down the door, and it’s only been a day. You have something special, and it’s more than the combination of twinky lips and that hulkish-Kansas physique of yours.”
Sam’s face took on a moue of grossed-out-ness. “Can we not talk about my brother and sex?”
“Ok, lets talk about us and sex.” Gabriel said, all business. “Dean, did you know that your brother is a needy little bottom?”
The waitress chose that moment to bring them the next round of beers. She gave Dean a downright weird look, and then went back to the bar to whisper to her friends. Great. He’d never be able to live this down, not to mention that this was the kind of place where peanut shells were left all over the bar, and the urinals were never cleaned. Where sports was the order of the day and beer was the only beverage on tap. A guy bar. And Dean’s natural habitat. But he was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.
And he didn’t know why.
Ok, so he was hanging with his (apparently) gay brother, his gay brother’s sex-buddy and the guy who he was currently doing on camera. But, that didn’t make him gay, and it certainly didn’t mean that he didn’t belong here.
He got up, “I’m gonna go get a drink.”
“You have a drink,” Gabriel pointed out.
But Dean was already on his way to the bar. He leant on the dented wood, smiled his half-smile (one known to waitresses up and down the land - or at least up and down town) and let loose with a ‘How are you ladies this evening?”
He talked up the cute redhead who’d bought over their beers, and when he next looked back at his table, Gabriel and Sam were making out, and Castiel was nowhere to be seen.
He made a momentary excuse to the waitress and swung by the table to prise his brother and Gabriel apart with a glare.
“Where’d Cas go?” Sam asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and at least having the good grace to look sheepish.
“He left a while after Dean started putting the moves on oh...every woman at the bar.” Gabriel sighed, still trying to work his hand out of Sam’s pants. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little employer-employee dispute on your hands.”
“Like Cas cares who I’m talking to.”
“I’d certainly care if I sucked some guys dick, made him thousands of dollars and then saw him chatting up six waitresses, at a meal he’d offered to take me out to.” Gabriel pointed out, “but hey, that’s just me, and we both know how socially blasé I can be - don’t we Sambo?”
Dean grimaced. “Stop, with the pet names, please? Like, five hours ago I didn’t know my brother was taking it up the...I don’t want to think about it! So just stop.”
Sam and Gabriel separated themselves and sat upright and attentive like sarcastic schoolboys at lesson. Great, now he was going to have school-boy Gabriel in his head. That was really going to give him nightmares.
“Right, when did Cas leave?”
“Sometime between us sneaking off to get it on in the men’s room...and us coming back from the men’s room so your brother could wash his mouth out with prime microbrew.”
Dean ignored that statement through sheer effort of will. “When was that?”
“About twenty minutes ago.” Gabriel looked over at Sam, “which means, we should be good to go again.”
Dean didn’t comment, because he was already gone.
Out in the parking lot, there was no sign of Castiel, but Dean started walking in the direction he’d come from, the way back to Cas’s apartment, and after a while he saw the back of the other man’s trench coat.
“Hey! Cas!”
Castiel stopped and turned around, a mild look on his face. “Hello Dean.”
“What’s with the disappearing act?”
“I thought the evening was over.” Castiel paused for a moment, then said, politely and stiffly, “thank you, I had a nice time this evening.”
“Were you sure to collect your gift bag on the way out?”
Castiel frowned.
“Was it...” Dean felt uncomfortable just suggesting it. “was it because I was talking to that waitress?”
“Which waitress?” Castiel said, still mild, but looking archly at him.
“Ok, that was a dick thing to do, just abandoning you like that, but, I was just...”
“Worried that everyone in the bar, all six waitresses and three patrons, would take you for ‘one of us’.”
“What do you-”
“Gay, Dean. You didn’t want them to think you were gay.”
Dean shook his head. “Dude, I’m not like that. Whatever you want to do, with whoever, it’s not like I care...”
“Just so long as you make it absolutely clear that you’re straight. That you belong in a ‘normal guy bar’.”
“No, that’s not what that was about.”
“It’s fine Dean, really.” Castiel looked at him pityingly. “We don’t need to socialise outside of work. It was nice to meet your brother, I hope he wasn’t offended by my leaving.”
“Cas...”
“I’ll see you.” Castiel said, turning around and walking away.
“At least let me give you a ride home.”
Castiel didn’t turn around, by that point he was far enough away that he could pretend he hadn’t heard, without causing more upset.
Dean stood on the sidewalk for a moment, frozen in indecision. He felt like he should go after Castiel. Ok, so the guy hadn’t said he had a problem, but Dean could sense disappointment and pissyness rolling off of Cas in waves. The rest of him was telling him to forget about it, let Castiel stew, and go back to the bar for a round of shots with the incredibly friendly waitresses.
So that’s exactly what he did.
When he rolled home at about two in the morning (by cab, because he was way too drunk to drive) he wasn’t alone, and he didn’t have a clue which of the waitresses he had pressed up against him as he opened his front door.
They stumbled into the living room, pitched onto the couch, and he had his shirt, her blouse, her skirt and his boots off before she gasped, “I’m so glad you weren’t with those fags.”
Dean sat up, looked blearily down at her and said, with as much articulation as he could, “What?”
“You know, that they weren’t your boyfriends or whatever.” She wriggled under him, still smiling.
“One of those ‘fags’ was my brother.”
Her forehead creased. “Ew.”
“And the other two...well, one of them’s a jerk. But the other one’s my friend. And he’s cool, ok, and not...look, I think you should go.” He rolled off of her, staggered a little, but retained his balance, just.
“If you like him so much, why don’t you go screw him?” muttered the waitress, scooping up her clothes and shooting him a filthy look on her way to the door.
Dean slumped down on the sofa and glared at the wall. Trust him to pick the one chick who had more issues with Gabriel, Sam and Cas than he did.
You’re a dick, you know that?
Dean took it as evidence of his advanced drunken state that he looked upwards and shouted, ‘Shut up brain!”
He was also fairly certain that alcohol was to blame for the fact that he called Cas’s home and left a long message on his machine before he passed out on the way to bed and slept for six hours with his head on a pile of dirty laundry.
Mature rated.
Newcommers, all you need to know is that, Porn has been outlawed, and Dean (who is as straight here as he is in canon) has decided to make his own, with the help of Gabriel's illegal website, and a pale and interesting artists model, desperate for cash.
Dean looks on, half nauseated, half really nauseated, as Gabriel feeds a strip of perfectly cooked steak, smeared with Dijon mustard, into Sam’s mouth. Sam is acting like a puppy, or, to be more accurate, like a twink in heat - clearly loving the attention, and accepting the small snippet of meat with barely concealed relish.
“Seriously, do it again and I’m gonna turn this table over and run.” Dean warns.
Sam blushes, and Gabriel licks the traces of steak from his fingers. “Spoilsport.”
Castiel clears his throat, “I would also find it less uncomfortable if you’d stop feeding Sam.”
Gabriel sighs. “Like you two can judge? Last time I saw you, bro, you had eight inches of heaven down your throat.”
Sam chokes on his steak, and Dean thinks that’s probably all the proof about karma that he needs.
“That was different.” Dean points out, “that was work.”
Sam, if anything, blushed deeper.
“Oh my God, you’ve seen it.” Dean kind of wanted to crawl under the table and die.
“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” Sam muttered, “Gabriel just sent it over, told me it was the hottest thing he’d seen since...”
“Since?”
Gabriel petted Sam’s thigh affectionately. “Since I’d had his ass on my desk that morning.”
Dean was really, really starting to wish that he’d invited Cas out to dinner some other night.
“Eight and a half.” Castiel suddenly piped up.
Gabriel and Sam looked away from each other (and if Gabriel’s hand was still on Sam’s thigh, Dean would eat his own legs) to stare at Castiel in puzzlement.
“Eight and a half, inches of heaven.”
This time, it was Dean who chocked.
“Little bro - why don’t we hang out more?” Gabriel said, (now doing something with his hand that Dean was sure was going to get them kicked out of the restaurant, even though it was a total dive). “You, are a hoot. Possibly two.”
“You’re the first of Gabriel’s brothers that I’ve actually met,” Sam said.
“And probably the last,” Gabriel admitted, “the others...well, they make the Pope look open minded and downright funky.”
“Except Zachariah.” Castiel said.
“True, the Pope would beat him in a dance off, definitely not as funky.”
Sam squeaked and batted Gabriel’s hand away, Dean glared at them both.
“So, what are you guys cooking up for your next video?” Gabriel said, “I’ve practically got my customers beating down the door, and it’s only been a day. You have something special, and it’s more than the combination of twinky lips and that hulkish-Kansas physique of yours.”
Sam’s face took on a moue of grossed-out-ness. “Can we not talk about my brother and sex?”
“Ok, lets talk about us and sex.” Gabriel said, all business. “Dean, did you know that your brother is a needy little bottom?”
The waitress chose that moment to bring them the next round of beers. She gave Dean a downright weird look, and then went back to the bar to whisper to her friends. Great. He’d never be able to live this down, not to mention that this was the kind of place where peanut shells were left all over the bar, and the urinals were never cleaned. Where sports was the order of the day and beer was the only beverage on tap. A guy bar. And Dean’s natural habitat. But he was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.
And he didn’t know why.
Ok, so he was hanging with his (apparently) gay brother, his gay brother’s sex-buddy and the guy who he was currently doing on camera. But, that didn’t make him gay, and it certainly didn’t mean that he didn’t belong here.
He got up, “I’m gonna go get a drink.”
“You have a drink,” Gabriel pointed out.
But Dean was already on his way to the bar. He leant on the dented wood, smiled his half-smile (one known to waitresses up and down the land - or at least up and down town) and let loose with a ‘How are you ladies this evening?”
He talked up the cute redhead who’d bought over their beers, and when he next looked back at his table, Gabriel and Sam were making out, and Castiel was nowhere to be seen.
He made a momentary excuse to the waitress and swung by the table to prise his brother and Gabriel apart with a glare.
“Where’d Cas go?” Sam asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and at least having the good grace to look sheepish.
“He left a while after Dean started putting the moves on oh...every woman at the bar.” Gabriel sighed, still trying to work his hand out of Sam’s pants. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little employer-employee dispute on your hands.”
“Like Cas cares who I’m talking to.”
“I’d certainly care if I sucked some guys dick, made him thousands of dollars and then saw him chatting up six waitresses, at a meal he’d offered to take me out to.” Gabriel pointed out, “but hey, that’s just me, and we both know how socially blasé I can be - don’t we Sambo?”
Dean grimaced. “Stop, with the pet names, please? Like, five hours ago I didn’t know my brother was taking it up the...I don’t want to think about it! So just stop.”
Sam and Gabriel separated themselves and sat upright and attentive like sarcastic schoolboys at lesson. Great, now he was going to have school-boy Gabriel in his head. That was really going to give him nightmares.
“Right, when did Cas leave?”
“Sometime between us sneaking off to get it on in the men’s room...and us coming back from the men’s room so your brother could wash his mouth out with prime microbrew.”
Dean ignored that statement through sheer effort of will. “When was that?”
“About twenty minutes ago.” Gabriel looked over at Sam, “which means, we should be good to go again.”
Dean didn’t comment, because he was already gone.
Out in the parking lot, there was no sign of Castiel, but Dean started walking in the direction he’d come from, the way back to Cas’s apartment, and after a while he saw the back of the other man’s trench coat.
“Hey! Cas!”
Castiel stopped and turned around, a mild look on his face. “Hello Dean.”
“What’s with the disappearing act?”
“I thought the evening was over.” Castiel paused for a moment, then said, politely and stiffly, “thank you, I had a nice time this evening.”
“Were you sure to collect your gift bag on the way out?”
Castiel frowned.
“Was it...” Dean felt uncomfortable just suggesting it. “was it because I was talking to that waitress?”
“Which waitress?” Castiel said, still mild, but looking archly at him.
“Ok, that was a dick thing to do, just abandoning you like that, but, I was just...”
“Worried that everyone in the bar, all six waitresses and three patrons, would take you for ‘one of us’.”
“What do you-”
“Gay, Dean. You didn’t want them to think you were gay.”
Dean shook his head. “Dude, I’m not like that. Whatever you want to do, with whoever, it’s not like I care...”
“Just so long as you make it absolutely clear that you’re straight. That you belong in a ‘normal guy bar’.”
“No, that’s not what that was about.”
“It’s fine Dean, really.” Castiel looked at him pityingly. “We don’t need to socialise outside of work. It was nice to meet your brother, I hope he wasn’t offended by my leaving.”
“Cas...”
“I’ll see you.” Castiel said, turning around and walking away.
“At least let me give you a ride home.”
Castiel didn’t turn around, by that point he was far enough away that he could pretend he hadn’t heard, without causing more upset.
Dean stood on the sidewalk for a moment, frozen in indecision. He felt like he should go after Castiel. Ok, so the guy hadn’t said he had a problem, but Dean could sense disappointment and pissyness rolling off of Cas in waves. The rest of him was telling him to forget about it, let Castiel stew, and go back to the bar for a round of shots with the incredibly friendly waitresses.
So that’s exactly what he did.
When he rolled home at about two in the morning (by cab, because he was way too drunk to drive) he wasn’t alone, and he didn’t have a clue which of the waitresses he had pressed up against him as he opened his front door.
They stumbled into the living room, pitched onto the couch, and he had his shirt, her blouse, her skirt and his boots off before she gasped, “I’m so glad you weren’t with those fags.”
Dean sat up, looked blearily down at her and said, with as much articulation as he could, “What?”
“You know, that they weren’t your boyfriends or whatever.” She wriggled under him, still smiling.
“One of those ‘fags’ was my brother.”
Her forehead creased. “Ew.”
“And the other two...well, one of them’s a jerk. But the other one’s my friend. And he’s cool, ok, and not...look, I think you should go.” He rolled off of her, staggered a little, but retained his balance, just.
“If you like him so much, why don’t you go screw him?” muttered the waitress, scooping up her clothes and shooting him a filthy look on her way to the door.
Dean slumped down on the sofa and glared at the wall. Trust him to pick the one chick who had more issues with Gabriel, Sam and Cas than he did.
You’re a dick, you know that?
Dean took it as evidence of his advanced drunken state that he looked upwards and shouted, ‘Shut up brain!”
He was also fairly certain that alcohol was to blame for the fact that he called Cas’s home and left a long message on his machine before he passed out on the way to bed and slept for six hours with his head on a pile of dirty laundry.