Lazarus Coming (fic) something like an epilogue :)
Three months later
Since Dean is jealous and Castiel is happy to make weird little mosaics for people, even if they don’t pay so well, Castiel quits his job. It wasn’t such a hardship, as Dean was afraid. Castiel was considering giving up adult films but he’d wanted to work with Dean first before he left the business.
Dean considers doing something else as well, since sex is no longer fun. Unless if it’s with Castiel, of course. Only he doesn’t know what to do yet, so he bides his time. But he can’t stop thinking that it’s not fair that Castiel has a whole shelf dedicated to his films, and he has none of Castiel’s films. Yeah, he prefers the real thing, and he doesn’t want to see Castiel with others, but what of the films they made together? Wouldn’t they be a nice addition to their collection?
Only problem, when he tries to find them, he can’t find them anywhere. And when he looks for other films Castiel’s made, he finds nothing. As if these things had never existed. As if Jimmy was never there. Everything, short or long feature, is all gone.
Chuck, when he confronts him on the phone, arranges an appointment for him and says he’ll explain then. Only, when Dean goes to Chuck’s office, there’s no Chuck, just a man in his forties in a very expensive suit. When he turns to face him, the similarity with Castiel is unmistakable. “Michael, I presume?” Dean grins and wonders if he should deck him first or leave it for later.
The man nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Winchester.”
Dean stills. Only Castiel knows his real name. Not even Chuck knows that.
Michael smirks. “Did you think I wouldn’t check up on the man who’s sharing my little brother’s life?”
“Well, maybe I thought you’d be more interested in sharing your life with your little brother’s instead of hiding.”
“Castiel wants nothing to do with us.”
Dean glares. “Would you blame him?” From what Cas has told him, and it isn’t much, after their father died, they went to live with their uncle Zachariah. And that bastard ‘touched’ him, as Castiel put it. Kept ‘touching’ him for years, until Castiel ran away. “You behind the disappearance of the films he made?”
“Would you let people see your brother spread his legs for every man like a whore, if you could prevent it?” Michael says with a bitterness that almost makes Dean feel sorry for him.
“I’d stop him from doing that, you bastard,” he says instead. “Not hide the evidence. What’s next in the agenda? Lock Castiel away like a dirty little secret?”
“I’d never do that.”
“I bet your brother would. Raphael.” That’s the only other thing Castiel has told him about his family. That, of all his brothers Raphael is the only one who keeps in touch, and promises to take care of him if Castiel comes back. Castiel hates Raphael too much to ever answer him.
“That’s not true.”
“No wonder Castiel doesn’t want to have anything with you guys. What the fuck do you care what he does anyway?”
Michael’s face falls. His grief is genuine. “Why can’t I care?”
“Because if you cared, you’d have done something years ago. And now? You wouldn’t hide behind your wealth and power to make it as if Castiel never did anything that could tarnish your family name. You’re still protecting yourselves. That’s why you don’t care.”
“I didn’t know,” Michael whispers as he collapses on the sofa. “I had no idea. You have to believe me. For the longest time, I didn’t even know where Castiel was.”
“And now you think you can fix things?”
“If I thought that, don’t you think I would have tried to talk to my brother?”
“But… this makes no sense,” Dean says quietly. “If you had no idea, then why act all guilty? Unless…” And that’s just too much, because older brothers have to take care of their little ones. They don’t let a bastard molest them and they don’t let them go, and…
“I didn’t know,” Michael says avoiding Dean’s gaze, and rubbing his eyes tiredly. “But Luke did, and used it to his advantage. Raphael thought Castiel was spoiled and making things up. Even now, he thinks Castiel is a little liar. And Gabriel, he didn’t know how to tell me because he was scared. By the time he did, it was too late. Castiel…” Michael sighs, and looks well over his age, exhausted and worn.
Dean really feels pity for him now. “Hey,” he tells him softly, and lowers his head until he catches Michael’s gaze. Michael lifts up his eyes slowly, shyly, exactly like his Castiel does when he’s in one of his weird moods. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Michael’s eyes widen as comically as Castiel’s. Like watching fucking Japanese cartoons, the both of them.
“Telling me all that and being scared of meeting your little brother to tell him yourself that you care. What kind of a brother are you?” He snorts. “Get up. You’re not leaving town before you meet Cas.”
Truly, he’s Castiel’s brother in the way he lets Dean manhandle him and push him out of the door. He can’t wait to see them together. As a big brother, he knows he’s doing the right thing, and, as a lover, he can’t wait to see what reward he will get.
He may not have figured out what he wants to do next with his life, but he has plenty of things to keep him busy.
&*&*
Six months later
When the door opens and Dean sees the last person he ever expected to see there, he can’t help but grin. So what if Sammy looks even more bitchy than usual, and like he’s ready to throw down the two six-packs he’s carrying, or worse, throw them at Dean? He can’t blame him; the damned elevator isn’t working again. “Sam,” he says instead, letting his joy show. “You made it.”
Sam makes an even uglier bitch-face as he puts down the beers and mutters something.
“Dude. Sit down. Relax. Have a beer.”
Sam growls.
“Okay, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.” Dean raises his hands but it only seems to make Sam angrier.
“Dean. I was drugged, tied up, flown here and then forced to carry two six-packs to the fucking rooftop. So, yeah, I did get up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“Woah. What? What the fuck? You don’t think I would do that, do you?”
Sam studies him, eyes narrowed to slits behind that floppy hair of his. “If not you, then…” He suddenly turns around and glares at Castiel. When did he sneak up on both of them? “Your freaky boyfriend.”
Castiel stares at Dean, muttering, “I’m not freaky.”
“Hey.” Dean glares at Sam. “Castiel’s not my boyfriend,” he says. Castiel looks at him like a wounded animal, and even Sam seems uncomfortable. “At our age, he’s not my boyfriend,” he says proudly. “He’s my partner.”
Castiel gives him the sweetest non-smile as he moves behind him and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. “I like that,” he murmurs over the shell of Dean’s ear.
Sam makes a gagging noise. “The way you act? You’re definitely boyfriends.”
Castiel moves away before Dean can stop him. Damn Sam and his big mouth. “What happened?”
“Someone kidnapped Sam and had him come here,” Dean said.
Castiel’s eyes widen in unspeakable horror.
“Maybe I’m making too much trouble over this,” Sam says, still looking awkward. “It’s not like they…”
“Yes, it is, Sam.” Dean looks around, but he sees nothing threatening. Just the grills, the things for the barbeque and the open door leading downstairs. Sky all around them, and the city yawning below.
“Samuel Winchester.”
Dean turns around and there’s a man standing at the doorway, slight and short, and totally non-threatening looking.
“Or, should I say, Sam Wesson?” The man smirks, lounging indolently.
Sam looks ready to pounce on the jerk, and, for a moment he doesn’t know if he should restrain Sam, or follow him.
“Gabriel,” Castiel whispers behind him.
“Hey, bro. I love what you did with the place. No, wait. This is your special friend’s place, isn’t it?”
Woah, Dean had no idea that Castiel could pull bitch-faces as bitchy as Sam’s. It must be a little brother thing.
Exactly like Dean would do, Gabriel reacts with annoyance. “What? I can’t tease my brother now? Just because you up and went…”
And exactly like Sammy would do in this situation, Castiel stares, speechless with shock.
“What’s wrong with you people?” Dean shouts, as he pulls Castiel to him. “You’re all assholes.”
Castiel glares at him.
“Sorry, Cas, but they are.”
Castiel elbows him and then storms away. Dean’s not exactly surprised when Gabriel follows him, but that means it’s just him and Sam and… “No one’s keeping you here, you know.”
“I might as well stay now that I’m here.”
Dean pulls a chair for Sam and waits until Sam is seated before he opens a beer. “So, how are you?”
“Busy.” When Dean glares, Sam sighs. “What do you expect me to say, Dean? I am busy.”
“Too busy to call?”
“Dean.”
Sam’s whining, and it’s Dean turn to sigh.
“Sorry, Dean, but you know it’s for the best.”
“Yeah, I know you don’t want my career choices to fuck your career, but we’re still family.” Sam’s grimace is equal parts disapproval and equal parts resignation, but what can he do? “Sam, seriously, no one is keeping you here against your will. It was nice seeing you.”
Sam nods as he stands up. He makes it as far as the door, when he stops. Then he turns around and walks up to Dean. “Dean? Seriously, man, your boyfriend is freaky. And so is his brother.”
“What now?”
“They’re there, staring at each other.”
“Ah.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Sam grabs his hand and pulls him towards the door.
Castiel sits on top of the staircase and Gabriel sits right next to him. They’re not doing anything, they’re just staring at each other exactly as Sam said. It is a bit freaky. And then, they both turn to look at them, like they’re doing some group sport.
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the Winchester boys,” Gabriel says mockingly as he stands up. “You,” he points a finger at Dean, “have no right to say anything about my family. Yes, we may be having our problems, but at least we love each other. If it weren’t for me, your little brother would still be in Phoenix right now, kissing the DA’s ass.”
“You did this?” Castiel whispers while Dean has to physically restrain Sam from attacking that asshole. “You kidnapped Dean’s brother?”
“Hell, yeah. What kind of a family gathering would this be if Dean’s side of the family wasn’t here?” Gabriel preens. “You guys should be thanking me.”
Castiel makes another bitch-face at Gabriel.
“What? What?” Gabriel shrugs and raises his hands up, the personification of wounded innocence.
“You’re really a jerk,” Sam glares, since that’s the only thing he can do.
“Nah, I believe in good ol’ family values. That’s all.”
Dean doesn’t usually get headaches, but he’s starting to have one. “If you did that, you’d have stood up to your uncle when it mattered, you prick,” Dean tells him while trying to control his anger, and Gabriel shuts up immediately, paling in shock. Yes, it’s a fucking low blow, as Castiel tells him with his eyes, but the jerk deserved it.
“I need a drink,” Sam mutters.
Dean nods. “You don’t get any,” he tells Castiel, who perks up like an overly eager puppy at the mere mention of alcohol.
“I didn’t ask for anything.”
“You’re still not getting any.” He goes back out, where the sun shines so brightly it blinds him for a moment. What the fuck was he thinking? A family reunion? He must have been drunk when he made the suggestion.
“I’m sorry, Sam. My brother can be a little overbearing at times.” Castiel speaks very softly as he talks to Sam, trying to soothe him, or simply feeling hesitant. Dean can’t tell, but whatever it is, he knows that Sam’s a good kid. He’ll get over his anger at Gabriel at some point.
“Yeah, no hard feelings, right?”
Sam doesn’t answer, and Dean smirks as he imagines his brother’s expression. He must pull the bitch-face to end all bitch-faces.
“Dean?” Castiel still speaks softly, but this time, it’s definitely because he’s hesitant. He can see it.
“Yes?”
“You didn’t invite Raphael, did you?”
“No, Cas, don’t worry.”
Castiel heaves a deep, deep sigh. From the corner of his eye, Dean catches Gabriel’s worried gaze. But the next moment, Gabriel smirks and tells something probably insulting, judging from Sam’s expression.
“Cas? Wanna help me with the grill? It’s time we started cooking.”
&*&*
By the time they set everything up, everyone is already there and Dean wonders what possessed him to do this. Sam and Gabriel are arguing about everything, Chuck is drinking himself to sleep in a corner, Jo pretends she’s not glaring at Castiel when she pretends that she’s not looking at Dean with longing, Michael studies Castiel like Castiel is something fragile and broken, and Castiel keeps his eyes down as if he’s scared or ashamed or maybe wishing he were drunk and hopes Dean won’t notice. The only one behaving normally is Ellen, looking at Dean like he’s an idiot.
“I think this was a bad idea,” Castiel whispers, suddenly next to him.
“Yeah, maybe, but it was worth a try.” He doesn’t say that he’s glad Sammy’s there, even if he had to be drugged and dragged to get there. He’s missed the little brat. Well, not so little anymore. “Here, try the pepper.”
Castiel looks at it with distaste.
“I haven’t started cooking the meat yet. The grill is clean.”
Castiel glances at the other grill, the one reserved for vegeterians. Dean has put peppers there too.
“Come on,” he mutters. “Who wants some starters?” He shouts. “I’ve got peppers, cheese, mushrooms.”
“Ooh, can I have a mushroom?” Jo moves so close to him, her perfume makes him dizzy. And a little hard. Cassie used to use that too when she was feeling particularly adventurous. Did Jo know that, or was it just coincidence? She hits him on the head with her plate. “Now would be good.”
“Joanna Beth,” Ellen says, sounding both serious and amused.
Jo makes such cute faces when she’s upset. “But I’m hungry.”
By the time he looks away from her to smile at Cas and offer him anything he wants, Cas is gone, leaving him no choice but to serve Jo first. And then there’s Ellen, Chuck, Sam and Gabriel are still bickering and he’s stuck. By the time he’s finished plating up, Gabriel already complains about how he came for the meat, Jo claims she’s still hungry, and they leave him no option but to continue grilling.
Still, even though he knows Castiel is with Michael, he doesn’t feel at ease.
“Hey,” Sam tells him suddenly. “You’re not the only man in the house.”
“What?”
“Sam’s right,” Gabriel tells him, and Dean feels surrounded and trapped as they circle him. “Let me show you how it’s done, Sammy-boy,” he says as he takes a spatula and pushes Dean aside.
“Oh, yeah?” Sam answers. “Watch and learn, you old geezer.”
Dean knows well when he’s not wanted, and knows even better when he’s being set up. He grins at his brother. “You’re in charge now,” he says, pulling off his apron and passing it over his ginormous brother’s head. That Gabriel moves swiftly to tie it behind Sam’s back is a surprise, but Dean doesn’t think much about it. He fills a plate and goes to find Castiel.
The rooftop is not that big, and Castiel is not there. He’s not at the staircase either, and that leaves Dean’s apartment. Damn; he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to go down. He doesn’t want to be within four walls. It’s such a lovely day, even when filled with awkwardness.
It feels strange going into his own apartment when he knows Castiel and his brother went there to hide. He feels like a creepy stalker, or something, and worse, he acts like one, opening the door very quietly, and trying not to make any noise. Sam would say it’s his eavesdropping tendencies, but it’s really because he doesn’t want to disturb. He wants Castiel to have a family again.
“This is remarkably life-like,” Michael says from the bedroom. “And this too. How many are there?”
Castiel doesn’t answer, and Dean smiles, thinking of what must have drawn Michael’s attention. Castiel’s birds. He must have painted a dozen of them, some in flight over Dean’s bed, some peeking behind the closet, some resting next to the nightstand. They’re not exotic or anything, doves and sparrows and blackbirds and robins, but they’re full of vitality, full of freedom. They’re lively little things.
“You know you’re free, right?” Michael asks what Dean has never dared, but always wanted, since the day he saw his first bird, since the day Castiel first painted it over his bed. “No one knows. Anything. I’ve made sure of that. You’re free, of everything that happened. Free to come back, if you want.”
“My home is here. With Dean.”
“Yes. Dean. He’s an interesting fellow.”
“He’s…”
Dean’s curiosity is an insatiable thing. He peeks inside his own bedroom, like a thief, like a criminal. Michael is sitting primly on the edge of the bed, and Castiel stands before him still, looking downwards.
“He makes me feel new,” Castiel whispers.
“You mean ‘young’,” Michael smiles indulgently.
“New,” Castiel insists. “He looks at me without pity, or shame.”
“Castiel,” Michael sighs.
“It’s not your fault,” Castiel says very softly as he sits next to Michael. “I do it too. But Dean doesn’t, and that’s all that matters to me. You know what I mean?” What Castiel says next makes little sense to Dean. If it’s a foreign language, it’s not one Dean’s familiar with, but it sounds both harsh and melodious.
Michael shivers and looks at Castiel with open wonder. Then he replies in the same strange language, smiling and on the verge of tears at the same time.
Sammy was right; his boyfriend is freaky, and so are his brothers. But it’s his boyfriend, and judging by the way Castiel smiles, smiles properly, brilliantly, happily, his boyfriend just got his family back. Damn, if he weren’t supposed to be hiding, he’d hug them both.
Castiel, still smiling, is the first to stand up. “I’m hungry all of a sudden,” he says. “Are you? Dean’s a great cook. And we’d better hurry, because he has an appetite to match.”
Michael narrows his eyes. “Castiel. You’re not overfeeding your boyfriend, are you? The way you did with your pets?”
“Me?”
Even if Dean hadn’t known, just by looking at Michael at that moment, he would be certain he’s a big brother. One who’s suffered through too many of his little brother’s manias, but indulged them too.
“But Dean’s so happy when he’s eating. You should see his face. It’s radiant. His expression is orgasmic.”
“Ah. I don’t want to hear about you having sex.”
“But I am. Having sex. With Dean. Lots of it,” Castiel adds mischievously as Michael gets more and more embarrassed.
Dean grins. Yes. His Castiel has a family. Now he won’t be the only one suffering.
&*&*
The night finds Chuck sleeping on the sofa, Jo and Ellen back to their place, and they’re still on the rooftop, with Castiel next to him, holding his hand under their brothers’ eyes as if that’s the most natural thing in the world. It takes Dean a few moments to realise that this is normal, that he wouldn’t have given it a second thought if Cassie had been in his arms, so he won’t think it further now either.
“Where I live,” Sam starts, “you can see the stars.”
Gabriel nods. “This sky is fake.”
“You can see the stars from our garden,” Michael says softly. “You should come visit, Dean. It’s beautiful, green and peaceful.”
“Thanks, I’ll pass.”
“Why?” Gabriel suddenly snorts. “It’s not like we still live with Zachariah.”
Castiel’s fingers will probably leave bruises on Dean’s, so tightly he’s holding him.
“I moved back to Father’s place,” Michael says softly. “You must visit.”
“No, thank you,” Castiel tells him, shivering.
“But it’s such a shame you can’t see the stars from here.” Michael smiles a little. “Although, and this happened when you were so little, you don’t remember, there was this time we’d all gone together with Father on one of his business trips here. We were staying at Father’s favorite hotel and Luke and I were complaining about the same thing: how you couldn’t see the stars from LA. Raphael called us stupid hillbillies, and you,” he nudges Gabriel, “you were too busy hiding Castiel’s toys to care.”
“I don’t remember that,” Gabriel mutters.
“But that’s what you did. That’s when we started calling you Trickster, you know. Because you’d make Castiel cry and no matter how much we looked, we couldn’t find where you’d hid the toys. It was as if you’d made them disappear. And then, you’d present them proudly, from out of nowhere.”
Sam snickers. “Good to know you were always insufferable.”
Gabriel glares at him.
“Anyway,” Michael continues, smiling, “that day you were more insufferable than usual and Castiel wouldn’t stop crying no matter what we did. So, we were all by the pool, being cranky and miserable and waiting for Father to come back, because he was the only one who could ever make Castiel stop.”
“And then what?” Castiel asks timidly after Michael stopped for a while.
“Then Father arrived. I still remember it like yesterday, Luke and I complaining about the night sky at the same time, Rafael complaining about Gabriel, Gabriel holding up Castiel’s favorite little car as if to show he was innocent, and Castiel laughing the moment Father showed up. And Father said, ‘Now I understand what your Mother meant.’”
“What?” Gabriel smirks. “Michael, was there a point to this story?”
“Mother would call us ‘Stars’. Her stars.”
Castiel mutters something in that strange language and Gabriel answers back with a snort.
“What? What?” Sam asks softly, confused.
“I just called Castiel a self-conceited bastard. In not so many words.”
“No, yes. I mean, what was that?”
Michael beams. “That’s our language. Luke and I made it up.”
“And we learned it from them,” Gabriel smiles.
“I didn’t,” Castiel whispers.
“Of course you didn’t,” Michael says proudly. “You learned it all by yourself. Did you know that our Castiel is the genius of the family when it comes to arts and languages?”
“I’m nothing,” Castiel says softly and sullenly.
Gabriel snorts. Then he stretches. “I’m tired.” He stands up and nods towards Dean. “This was an excellent idea. We should do this again sometime. Michael, you coming?”
“Yes.” Michael has to hug Castiel before he leaves. “You will visit, right?”
Sam stands up as well. “I should be going.”
“Where?” Gabriel laughs. Then he pushes Sam forward. “Don’t worry, Dean, I’ll make sure your little brother makes it back to Phoenix.”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, come on.”
Dean can hear them bickering for at least two minutes. He pulls Castiel to him. “Do you still think this was a bad idea?”
“Do you want to do this again?”
“Maybe? Why not?”
Castiel nods. It’s not an enthusiastic nod, more like an ‘I’ll do it because you want it’ nod, and it makes Dean worry. He presses Castiel against the wall, and licks a line down his neck. Then he blows on it, smiling when Castiel shivers. “You know something, Cas?”
“What?” Cas stretches a little beneath him, a cat demanding to be stroked.
Dean doesn’t disappoint. His mouth latches on that soft spot in the hollow of Castiel’s neck, and he laves it with his tongue. He feels like he could drink Castiel’s heartbeat from there, so fierce, so strong, so passionate. “You were my first,” he whispers and Castiel jumps a little. “I swear,” he says, pulling back just a little. “I’ve never let anyone take me before you.”
“Really?”
“Really. You’re special,” he tells Castiel because he still can’t tell him what he feels, he still can’t tell Castiel that he’s not nothing.
“Hm.”
Even though Castiel sounds incredulous, his body is thrumming with pleasure. His hands are restless on Dean, and his hips are moving to a rhythm that Dean knows well. “We should go back home,” he murmurs as he kisses Castiel’s neck.
“Must we?”
Dean stands up, pulling Castiel with him. “Yes.” He doesn’t want t give a free show to anyone. Or a show. In general. Not anymore. “Hey, Cas?” he says as he moves towards the stairs.
“If I gave up porn, would you be able to keep up with me?”
“What?” Castiel frowns. “Are you saying that you’re only doing films because I’m not man enough to satisfy you?”
Dean shakes his head. “It was just a joke. Never mind.”
“I really don’t understand.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He pats Castiel as he walks down. “What matters is, I don’t want to have sex anymore. Not unless it’s with you.”
Castiel stops and then hurries down the steps. “You. Bed. Now.”
Dean laughs. His Cas may not have much of a sense of humor, but when he gets something, he really gets it. And never lets it go.
&*&*&
Because wanting to quit and actually quitting are two completely different things, as his agent had reminded him, when there’s a phone call two days later, Dean is exhausted after nine hours of filming, and doesn’t have the energy to pick up the phone, let alone go get it. Thank god Cas is there, and he doesn’t mind playing fetch for Dean.
Castiel gives him the phone wordlessly, and Dean’s grateful smile becomes one of pure bliss when he hears Sammy on the other end of the line. “Hey, Sam.”
“Your brother,” Castiel clarifies unnecessarily.
Castiel is Mr Obvious, but it’s one of the things Dean finds amusing about him. He grins. “Yeah, Sam? What is it?”
“Are you alone?”
He watches Castiel go back to checking dinner, and the domesticity of it makes him ache. “Kind of.”
There’s a small pause, and he can imagine his brother all embarrassed and awkward. “Dean. I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead, Sammy.”
Sam takes a deep breath and there’s another pause.
If this means that Sam’s about to tell him that he disapproves of his relationship with Cas, Dean won’t know what he’ll do. He wishes he were strong enough to tell Sam to fuck off, but Sam is Sam, damn it. And Cas is sitting carefully on the other side of the sofa, ready to slink next to Dean and offer him comfort, or jump up, if Dean wants some privacy. “Spit it, Sam.”
“Dean? Are you happy?”
He glances at Castiel. “Yes,” he smiles, and wishes Castiel weren’t there so he could tell Sam that he likes being needed, and Castiel needs him so much. Instead, he gestures to Cas, and he shifts, puppy-like, obedient, until he’s settled next to him. “Yes,” he says again as he embraces Cas.
“Oh.”
“You disappointed?”
“No. God, no.” Sam laughs. “I was just worried. Gabriel had told me that Castiel had been,” Sam doesn’t finish that sentence.
“Don’t worry, Sam. We’re fine.” The first month had been tough, between Cas detoxing and Dean feeling unable to help, but things were good now. He kissed the top of Castiel’s head and whimpered when Cas brushed his hand ‘accidentally’ over Dean’s groin as he shifted closer.
Sam groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re about to have sex now.” He sounded utterly scandalised and shocked.
“Dunno. Are we about to have sex, Cas?”
Cas shrugged. ‘Do you want to?’ His eyes said he didn’t mind if they did.
Sam hung up on him.
Dean laughed. “Fine, let’s have sex.” He wasn’t certain if he could get it up, but as long as he could get Cas off, he’d be glad.
&*&*&
Six months ago
Dean stretches luxuriantly but half-way through he remembers where he is, and with whom, and stops. Castiel’s bed is narrow; if he keeps going, he’ll fall off the bed.
“Good morning,” Castiel whispers to him in a low, sleepy voice that promises that they won’t be leaving the bed any time soon. He shifts, and Dean’s dick slides next to Castiel’s.
Half-hard, hot, it’s tempting. “You want me to fuck you?”
Castiel’s eyes drift half-close, his lips curve into a smile. His breaths mould his body on Dean’s. “You want to?”
He grins and rolls his hips, making Castiel moan. “I’m still mad at you.”
“Why?”
Dean presses downwards. “Why? My ass still hurts, that’s why.”
“Oh, my poor Dean,” Castiel says, without any hint of irony. “Move.”
“Where?”
Castiel frowns, and Dean smiles. Moving means shifting carefully, an unpractised dance routine that leaves Castiel moaning and Dean shivering by the time they’ve changed positions. Dean lays sprawled on his stomach, and Castiel kneels behind him, staring at him. It should have been more awkward, only it’s not. Then Castiel moves.
His hands are warm on Dean’s flanks, his mouth is warmer on Dean’s flesh, his tongue light and wet and curling around the handprints on Dean’s ass. It takes Dean a few moments to realise Castiel is talking to him. “I’m sorry,” Castiel murmurs. “So sorry. Sorry.”
Dean shudders the more Castiel whispers kisses on his skin. And when his tongue dips inside Dean, it electrifies him and makes him jump.
“Shhh. Hush, Dean, hush.”
“Hush?” Castiel has his tongue up his ass and does something with it that ignites every damned nerve in his body. Tiny, restless flicks and broad, wet swipes, and Dean still can’t believe that Castiel has his tongue up his ass and doesn’t give a fucking damn if Dean is clean or not. Castiel is crazy. Completely crazy. And if he keeps doing that, Dean will go crazy too.
“Cas.” Dean’s body tingles as Castiel does something that is both frightful and wonderful. Being opened like that is slow, delicate. Like being touched by a dozen butterflies, caressed by a hundred wings. Castiel is careful with him, and gentle, oh, so gentle. Dean would weep, if he could. “Oh, Cas.”
Castiel sighs and hums in response.
“Please. Castiel.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking, only that he needs it.
Castiel’s fingers are just as gentle, just as slow as they slip inside him and spread him open. Dean feels more wetness, cold for a moment, and then warming rapidly. Had Castiel done that to himself, eased fingers inside him, twisting and scissoring them, so that Dean could later fuck him? The idea is hotter than he expected, Castiel doing to him what he did himself a comforting thought.
“I’m ready,” he says even though he probably isn’t. He needs. Castiel. Now. “Please.”
Castiel is still careful, but his dick is bigger than his fingers. It burns and hurts and frightens him, but that slow, inexorable push fills him up in a way he didn’t imagine. Dean’s flesh surrenders to this invader, and clings to him. He wants Castiel to sink inside him and stay there, he wants him to stop, he wants, he wants, he wants. “Please. Fuck me.”
“Dean,” Castiel whispers and the dull ache inside him changes into sharp sweetness as Castiel strikes his prostate.
For a moment they stay like that, locked like two pieces of a puzzle. Dean tries to catch his breath, and wants the pleasure back. Castiel…. Castiel looks enraptured. Dean wants him. Oh, so much. “Fuck.”
Something in Castiel snaps at Dean’s plea, and when he moves, it’s with the fervour of a zealot. It’s worshipful and wild, and Dean is glad. His heart is glad. His body is at peace. Castiel moves, and he responds. Castiel pulls and he pushes. Castiel comes back to him. He is glad.
&*&*
Eighteen months and an hour ago
The first time Castiel sees Dean Smith, is thanks to Chuck. “Look at that,” Chuck tells him proudly as he presents him with a DVD.
“It’s straight porn,” Castiel grimaces as he glances at the cover. He would have made the same face if Chuck had tried to show him gay porn. He really doesn’t like watching people fuck. Brings up too many bad memories.
“I know, right? Just, bear with me.” He takes the film back from Castiel and puts it in the DVD player. “When will you buy proper chairs? Or maybe a sofa. The room would be so much better with a sofa here.” Chuck chooses the largest pillow there is to sit on. “Have you ever considered it? And what’s that freaky thing up on the wall? Is it Hell? Oh, God, it is. What the fuck? Castiel? Have you been using again?”
“What do you think?” He says it grinning just so he can mess with Chuck’s head. He hasn’t done any drugs in months. Speed doesn’t count and he only takes it when he’s drunk too much.
Chuck shakes his head. “You should stick to alcohol.”
“Maybe I will.” And maybe one day he’ll make a mistake and forget how many pills he’s taken, or he’ll drink himself to death, and then he’ll stop worrying. “I’ll be just like you, then.”
“Hm. You’d wish,” Chuck says as he starts drinking. Chuck’s a good friend; he always brings his own liquor. “Now, watch this.”
He wants to ignore the stupid film and grab a book, but a moment later he sees what Chuck means. The woman is average, but the man, oh, the man is something else. “He has cock-sucking lips,” is the first thing that comes to mind.
“Doesn’t he? I met him at a party the other day and I thought, here’s someone who shouldn’t be limiting himself to straight sex. But before I go ahead and ask him, I wanted your opinion.”
Castiel frowns.
“Well, you know, as a gay person. Would you find him attractive? I’ve been noticing that there’s a growing interest in guys that are more… ‘normal’, let’s say.”
“I wouldn’t call him ‘normal’,” he disagrees. Because that man has to be one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen. It’s not just that he has perfect, ripe lips, he also has eyes that change color and, goodness, he even has freckles. He likes freckles. And he’s altogether beautiful. Even his bow legs are beautiful; they make him look human. He’d be too perfect otherwise, unapproachable, unattainable, enviable.
“I mean, guys who aren’t as buff as your average gay porn star. What do you think? Would you watch a film with him? Well, not you you, but you as a gay person.”
“I might,” he admits.
“Great.” Chuck drinks as he stands up. It’s something Castiel envies; if he drinks and moves, he ends up spilling his drink. He’s clumsy that way. “Speaking of films, would you be interested in doing something next week? Perhaps something more active?”
“Active?” If he wanted to bother with fucking, he’d do something more active, but getting fucked doesn’t require that much work. Some days he can even get away with not getting it up because he’s drunk.
He stares at Chuck until Chuck stars fidgeting and sweating. “Forget I said anything,” he says as he retreats towards the door. “Let me know if you feel like doing anything, okay?” he mumbles as he lets himself out.
“I will,” he texts Chuck a moment after he hears the door close. If he feels like it. But for the moment, he’s going to watch that amazingly handsome man. It’s strange, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel sick watching two people have sex. Instead, it’s making him uncomfortable. It’s making him hard. How very odd.
Just to test that it’s not a fluke, Castiel buys more of the man’s films. It’s not. He learns that his name is Dean Smith. He’s younger than him, born in January 24, and according to an interview, enjoys ‘sunsets, and walks by the beach.’ He’s depressingly straight, and Chuck keeps him up to date with the man’s romantic affairs, without suspecting that Castiel is interested in more than gossip about a colleague.
When Dean agrees to work with Chuck, Castiel becomes an even greater fan of both Chuck’s and Dean’s work. Sometimes he’s scared Chuck will notice that he cares about a co-worker. Sometimes, he hopes that Chuck will notice that, and do something about it. When he realises that Chuck remains oblivious, it takes him several months before he gathers the courage to ask Chuck if he could arrange for them to do a film together.
It’s very unprofessional of him, but he thinks he likes Dean. He’s been watching Dean’s films and, the more he watches, the more he’s amazed and attracted to him. Not because of his beauty, although that too is amazing. What Castiel likes is that Dean is always gentle. It doesn’t matter if he’s with a man or with a woman, he’s kind and patient. He laughs a lot during scenes, like sex is something fun and enjoyable and not just mechanics. He cares about his partner’s pleasure, even if the script demands rough play. Dean is there, one hundred percent, devoted to his work and attentive. God, he likes Dean.
So, when Chuck tells him that he’s arranged things, he even makes an effort to stop drinking that much for a while. He doesn’t want Dean to find him annoying, a drunken ex-junkie that doesn’t care about anything. But as the day of the filming approaches, the more scared he becomes. Why on earth should Dean like him? He is a drunken ex-junkie, after all, who likes nothing and cares for no one.
Dean will hate him, won’t he?
The day of the filming, he gets drunk before he goes to the set. He can’t meet Dean sober, he can’t. Unlike speed, alcohol doesn’t make him feel stronger or braver. But it makes him feel detached enough to deal with anything. Fuzzy and out-of-focus, and he can deal with Dean being professionally gentle and kind when he wants Dean to be his.