Santorum will pry my porn from my cold dead hands REPOST 4
Finding a partner for Castiel was hard.
For starters, it was wholly illegal, which wasn’t something that would ever stop Dean doing anything (he’d been bootlegging and smuggling since he was old enough to get a fake ID) but it made the otherwise opportunistic incredibly wary.
Secondly, of those that Dean managed to find, with careful forays into craigslist and sifting through the personal ads in the stranger circulars, most of them were unsuitable.
They were unsuitable for a great many reasons. Some were too old, some too ugly, some were ok to look at, but on meeting them Dean had discovered BO, halitosis or weird nose hair that he hadn’t wanted Castiel to get stuck with.
Then there were the creeps.
Dean met and interviewed a large selection of weirdos, from the far too keen (and therefore possibly spies) to the former professionals (who seemed to want to push him out of his own new niche) to the guy who’d sat down opposite him in Starbucks, and without preamble said ‘You’d look really great in handcuffs’.
Dean was stumped.
Castiel, it transpired, had a list of ex-lovers, but he’d told Dean that they were most emphatically ‘EX’ and he would not like to bother them. Dean didn’t pry, relationship debris was piled up high on the Winchester highway, and while some of it belonged to Sam, the bigger part was his mess.
Reluctantly, Dean turned to Gabriel for help, and sent him a short, coded message that read as follows,
“Still working on that recipe for two. Got anything that’ll go with pigeon?”
To which Gabriel replied, (annoyingly without the code) - “If you’re looking for someone to fuck my brother, why not just say so? He’ll be round at two.”
This is how Dean meets Baldur.
His first impression is this - Baldur is boring.
He’s average height with an average face and average features. Dark hair, square jaw, dark eyes, square shoulders. He’s square all over, like he’s made of building blocks, and he moves like it too. Like an automaton. Dean interviews him and finds nothing objectionable, save for the fact that he kind of doesn’t like the guy (who likes golf for fucks sake?).
Dean introduces him to Cas the next weekend, and the three of them have coffee at Dean’s place. The only thing Castiel asks is,“how often do you clean your ears?” to which Baldur replies, “every Sunday.”
Hard to tell if he’s joking or not, but Castiel seems satisfied.
“So,” says Castiel as they’re coming to the end of their drinks, and conversation, such as it was, has run dry. “shall we film something?”
Dean is taken aback. Ok, so he’d filmed Cas pretty much straight away, but, that was different. They hadn’t known each other very long, but there had been a trust there that Baldur just didn’t inspire.
Still, if Cas wanted to, who was Dean to object?
“Sure,” said Baldur, and they all went down to the garage. Baldur pronounces the place ‘decent’ and the cushions ‘nice’.
Dean hates him more after that. Though he isn’t sure why. He’s also very aware that his only role here is to provide soft furnishings for Baldur and Cas to fuck on, and then film the event itself. Which bothers him probably more than it should. This is only his plan after all - they’re the ones who’re actually doing the dirty work, so why should he care?
They discuss what’s going to happen in mutters, and then Castiel turns to Dean to fill him in on the particulars. “He’s going to top. Strictly missionary to start. Alright?”
Dean just nods and fiddles with the lens cap on the camera.
Castiel goes off to prep and Dean makes no attempt to talk to Baldur, they’re here to work, not make small talk. What the hell was Gabriel thinking sending him here anyway? A glass of water had more sex appeal.
When Castiel comes back, in the green robe he’d appropriated last time, Dean feels a flash of protectiveness, but lets it go. Castiel is an adult, and it seems he’s perfectly ok with sleeping with Baldur. Castiel takes the robe off and lies down with his head closest to Dean, effectively looking up at the camera. Baldur strips, takes a condom from the bowl of them (thoughtfully supplied by Dean, not that anyone gives a crap) slips it on and lies over Cas.
Dean turns the camera on, gives them the go ahead, and then tries to go to his happy place - far, far from the sight of two guys having sex at his feet. He thinks about re-painting his living room, that he should really call Sam back and arrange to have a drink or something, that he might actually have to take his brother’s offer of a set up sometime soon seriously, as he hasn’t been on a date in forever (hook-ups included).
He comes back to himself when an irritated hand pulls at the leg of his jeans.
Dean looks down and finds Castiel glaring up at him, his features drawn into a frown. Baldur is still fucking away, oblivious, sweat shining on his back, but Castiel winces, and then mouths, This is starting to chafe.
Dean barely suppresses a snort of laughter.
What do you want me to do about it? he mouths back.
Make him stop. Castiel grimaces, and seems completely unmoved by Baldur’s efforts.
Dean raises his eyebrows.
Castiel glares more emphatically. Dean, I cannot, fake an orgasm.
Good point.
Dean sits helplessly for a few more seconds, long enough for Baldur to grunt in pleasure, and for Castiel to wince again at his inept probing, before he clears his throat and says,“Uh…cut?”
Baldur looks up, stops whatever he’s doing, and slides off of Cas (Dean did not need to see that - ever).
“Something wrong?” Baldur asks, completely ignorant of the fact that he’s about as gifted as a wet cloth.
“No,” Dean says quickly, “but…how about we talk upstairs, huh?”
(-*-)
He gives Baldur the standard speech, one he’s got off-pat now from all the failed interviews. It’s not you, it’s the project- not compatible with our current demographic - I’ll call if things change.
What he’s really thinking is that Baldur is a crappy lay -and this makes him happier than making a stack of money off of him.
For reasons that he doesn’t want to analyse.
Anyway, once Baldur has gone on his way (looking resigned but not mutinous) Dean goes back downstairs to find that Castiel is once more bundled in the robe, sitting in the seat behind the camera, and watching the awful spectacle in full.
“That really was, the worst sex I have ever had.” Castiel says without looking up. “I’ve had doctors examinations that brought me more warmth and pleasure.”
Dean can’t help laughing.
Castiel looks up at him, worried, “You aren’t going to give up, are you? Just because we haven’t found anyone?”
“Of course not.” Dean tells him, turning off the space heater and clicking the lens cap back on the camera, “It’d be lame to fall at the first hurdle, and besides - I wouldn’t want to let you down,” he quips.
Castiel stands up, and they go back upstairs where he can get changed, and Dean can make more coffee and dig out a box of‘freshly made’ cookies that he’d bought a week ago.
“I’ll have to call your brother, see if he knows someone who doesn’t have a massive stick up their ass.” Dean says, while Castiel nibbles his cookie.
“A massive stick would surely be an asset.” Castiel says, and Dean nearly chokes on his coffee at the unexpected joke.
(-*-)
As it turns out, Gabriel does have an idea.
It’s just a very bad one.
“No. No. A thousand times NO.” Dean says firmly into the phone.
“Oh come on,” Gabriel sighs, “getting a blowjob from a guy doesn’t make you gay. It makes you lucky. You should see this as an honour and a privilege.”
“I don’t.”
“Well then, see it as taking one for the team.”
“But it’s not my team!”
“Team Money is everyone’s team.” Gabriel reminds him, “and you’ll be taking a stand for the freedom of Americans everywhere- their freedom to whack off is at stake - are you going to let them down just because you’re afraid my brothers case of ‘the gay’ will somehow travel through his saliva and up your-“
“Enough!” Dean shouts, “ok, ok, I’ll think about it, but you have to find someone else. Soon.”
“I’m interviewing as we speak.”
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“No, but if you don’t want to find out…I’d suggest…hanging up…now.”
Dean slams the phone back into its cradle.
He picks it up again immediately to call Castiel.
“Your brother is a terrible human being,” he says, instead of‘hello’.
“Yes, he is,” Castiel says, “I assume he told you that you should partner me?”
“You mean you knew?” Dean’s voice jumps up several octaves.
“No. But it seems a reasonable conclusion to draw. Given that it’s a logical suggestion, and you sound incredibly insulted.”
Dean realises that he might be offending Castiel, and he rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t mean…look, it’s nothing to do with you, it’s just…all guys, ok? All guys, and their lips, and my dick - I have an embargo on guys and my junk.”
“That seems fair,” says Castiel blankly, and that’s about the time that Dean realises what a jerk he’s being. No, I won’t accept your free blow job, because I’m a man, with a manly reputation to defend. Ass.
“S’ok Cas…we’ll work it out. And hey, I trust you - you know what you’re doing.”
“I have had a lot of practice,” Castiel admits, and Dean feels the back of his neck burn. He does not want to think of Cas practicing.
“I’ll…get back to you,” he says awkwardly.
“Then I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Castiel hangs up, and Dean feels distinctly snubbed.
He calls Sam.
“Is it gay of me to get a blow job from a dude, even if I don’t even see his dick?”
There’s a long pause…
“Uh…hello Dean?”
“Yeah, Hi Sam.”
“I’ll just go ahead and take you off speaker phone and get out of my meeting with the senior partners.”
Dean slams the phone down, and, as an afterthought, dumps it into a drawer and shuts it in.
He’s going to have to hibernate until Sam forgets about this.
The phone starts to ring, and Dean leaves the room.
Then his cell buzzes, and he realises that he won’t be able to escape Sam. (also, he has to eat like every hour, so hibernation is out of the question).
“Dean? I was joking.” Sam says when he finally picks up, “I wasn’t even at work, I was meeting a potential client, I’d just finished him…finished lunch with…anyway, what do you want?”
Dean raises an eyebrow, Sam’s flustered, interesting.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Well, yeah it does, you called me and sounded…insane,” Sam says, “but no, having a guy do sex stuff to you doesn’t make you gay.”
“Really?” Dean needs to be fully convinced of this.
“Not unless you like it - the fact that he’s a guy I mean, not the…stuff…”
This is actually quite comforting. It’s a distinction that Dean thinks he can work with.
“Cool…I’m gonna hang up now, ok?”
“Sure.”
“And this never happened?”
“I don’t even know who you are, you must have the wrong number.”
“You’re a good brother.”
“No comprende anglaise.”
Dean hangs up and celebrates his re-secured heterosexuality with a beer.