Santorum update
“Is it over?”
“Shut up,” Dean runs a hand over his face and swats at his brother, half in annoyance, half out of obligation, because he’s too tired to be pissed. And ok, so he and Cas didn’t so much sleep as stay up beating a headboard-shaped dent into Gabriel’s wall, but that doesn’t give Sam an excuse to get pissy.
Dean’s also a little distracted by the fact that he can still feel Castiel inside of him. It’s weird, and sore and awesome, and he can’t help but feel little shocks of pleasure every time he really focuses on the feeling. Castiel is currently in the shower, and Dean’s trying to get himself ‘jury ready’. In practice, this means borrowing a suit from Sam, and a clean shirt, and getting his hair flat and smart.
“You have a massive hickey on your neck,” Sam sighs, “that’s really gonna look good on the stand.”
“Probably good they can’t see the one on my ass then,” Dean smirks.
Sam gives him a filthy look. “The sounds Dean. Sounds I will never forget.”
“Well, next time don’t listen.”
“There are people in Paraguay who haven’t slept, because of you.”
“Can’t help it,” Dean shrugged, tying his tie and trying to get used to wearing one again after about ten years of steady unemployment. “Once you try doggy style...you have to try it every which-way.”
Sam shuddered and went to find Gabriel, who was on the phone with his contractors, trying to work out if he could soundproof the spare room before the end of the day.
Castiel emerged from the bathroom in a pair of pants and a shirt that he’d left at Gabriel’s a few months previously, when an overnight visit had to be called off on account of a minor gumball machine malfunction (three inches of the little suckers had covered the floor for almost a week).
“Ready for court?” Dean said.
“No,” Castiel sat down and sighed, “every time I think of myself up there, getting taken apart by the prosecutor...I don’t want to go away just because of who I am. I know what we did was illegal, but it’s not wrong. It wasn’t cruel or destructive or disrespectful...it wasn’t a crime.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean told him firmly, “Sam is going to get us out of this, and I know that between us, we can charm any jury into letting us go.”
Castiel did not seem convinced.
“You think I’m going to let them lock you up, now?” Dean raised his eyebrows, “I’m addicted, they can’t take you away, it’s against my rights as a red blooded American.”
Sam clapped slowly from the doorway. “Carry on like that, and they’ll elect you president.”
“Ignore him.” Dean said, “but seriously, when we get home, can we go again?”
Castiel’s serious expression didn’t change. “Yes we can.”
(-*-)
The prosecutor was kicking ass.
Dean was actually sweating, he’d always thought that it was some kind of urban myth that people actually sweated on the stand. But clearly not, he was going to need a lot of Gatorade when this was all over.
“And how did you become acquainted with Mr Novak?”
“I saw his ad in the paper, he was a life-drawing model.”
“And was there a picture in the paper?”
“No.”
“So you just thought you’d hazard contacting him, for no other reason than pure curiosity?” the slick lawyer turned to glance at the jury, before skewering Dean with his eyes again. Asshole.
Dean shrugged. “I was just looking for someone, a dude who liked art and spent a lot of time naked? I figured he be pretty open to experimentation.”
A few of the jurors tittered. Some of them clearly liked him.
“And what kind of experimentation did you have in mind?”
Dean looked him straight in the eye, and shrugged. “Anything, like you said, I was curious.”
“Was it your intention to make pornographic movies with Mr Novak?”
“Objection!” Sam shouted.
“Overruled.”
That was another thing, the judge looked about 900 years old, and he had yet to take even one of Sam’s objections into consideration.
“No, I did not.”
The prosecutor regarded him coolly. “Do you watch a lot of gay porn, Mr Winchester?”
“I’ve seen a little.”
“Recently?”
“Compared to all the other porn? Yeah, I guess that was the most recent stuff I was watching.”
“But you consider yourself straight?”
Dean shrugged.
“Answer the question,” the judge ordered.
“I don’t know...I guess I’m a bit of both, depending.”
“Depending on...”
“How hot the guy is.”
Dean was getting pissed off, and that was making him belligerent, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it, he didn’t like having his every thought and motive poked at. He didn’t want to think about his sexuality any more than he already had. He knew that he cared about Cas, and that sex with him was amazing, what did it matter what he set as his Facebook status? ‘Bi with a hint of bottom, also, had a killer Frappe-latte this morning?’ who gave a shit?
“Well, here, on your most recent census, you list yourself as ‘straight’,” the lawyer, (named Dick, of all cruel ironies) brandished a photocopy at him. “This dates from only six months ago, that’s quite a turnaround.”
Dean looked at the paper. “I guess I met the right guy.”
“Or, you saw that there was a way to make some fast money, and you prostituted yourself, with Mr Novak as a willing accomplice, in order to make a quick buck.”
“Objection, your honour this is completely out of line!”
“Overruled.”
Sam sank into his seat feeling sick.
“No further questions.” Dick said smoothly, returning to his desk.
Sam instantly stood up and came across the room to stand in front of Dean. He knew he was stupid to think it, but just having Sam there made it seem as if things were going better than they really were.
“Dean, six months ago, would you have thought having sex with a man was an ‘easy’ way to make money?”
“No,” Dean said, wondering what Sam was getting at.
“So you wouldn’t even have considered it? Even if it could make things easier for you, being able to fix your car, or pay off a loan or two?”
“No, I wouldn’t have considered it.”
“And why is that?”
“Back then...I was a little, a lot, homophobic.” Dean glanced quickly at Sam, “even though I’d just found out that my brother’s gay...I still felt like it was something that I didn’t want around me. It freaked me out a little.”
“But you didn’t think you were gay?”
“No...but, I guess we’re all a little off centre, no one’s 100% straight, isn’t that what they say? and, I started thinking maybe I wasn’t who I thought I was. I ended up meeting up with Cas because I was trying to work out who I am.”
“And that was difficult for you?”
“Very.”
“So difficult, that, one night, you and Castiel had a fight on the street about your attitude?” Sam held up a piece of paper, “this is the signed deposition of several people who saw you and Castiel arguing, and heard a little of what you were saying, could you read the highlighted portion?”
“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.”
“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.”
Dean finished reading and sat back, the words buzzing around his head. Had he really spoken like that, to Cas? Had he really flirted with a waitress right in front of him?
God, he really was an asshole.
“What was this fight about?” Sam asked.
“Cas was mad because I was flirting with...well, every woman in that bar, on our first dinner out with uh...you, and his brother.”
“So it was a personal argument? Not professional?”
“Yes.”
“Objection!” shouted Dick.
“Overruled,” sighed the judge.
Well, at least he was consistent.
“I have another deposition, this one, is from that waitress,” Sam placed another sheet in front of him. “could you read this please?”
“I went back to this guy’s house, and we were making out and...he was really into me,” Dean read, “I told him I was glad he wasn’t one of those fags, like the one’s who were sitting at his table...and he got bent out of shape about it, told me to leave, and that one of those ‘fags’ was his brother, and the other one was ‘cool’ and his friend.”
“You took her home, but you were too upset to do anything with her, because of how she felt about your brother, but also because of what she said about Mr Novak.”
“She was out of line. I like Cas, he’s the last person anyone should be talking trash about.”
Sam seemed satisfied.
“Just one more question, did you and Mr Novak go on any other outings?”
Dean thinks.
“We went out for coffee, and then for dinner and a movie.”
“Classic, date activities,” Sam says, turning to the jury, “not exactly something you’d do with your boss.”
And maybe it’s that, or the hand-job Dean gives Cas in the men’s room over the recess, but, he feels a lot less doomed by the time Cas takes the stand.
“Is it over?”
“Shut up,” Dean runs a hand over his face and swats at his brother, half in annoyance, half out of obligation, because he’s too tired to be pissed. And ok, so he and Cas didn’t so much sleep as stay up beating a headboard-shaped dent into Gabriel’s wall, but that doesn’t give Sam an excuse to get pissy.
Dean’s also a little distracted by the fact that he can still feel Castiel inside of him. It’s weird, and sore and awesome, and he can’t help but feel little shocks of pleasure every time he really focuses on the feeling. Castiel is currently in the shower, and Dean’s trying to get himself ‘jury ready’. In practice, this means borrowing a suit from Sam, and a clean shirt, and getting his hair flat and smart.
“You have a massive hickey on your neck,” Sam sighs, “that’s really gonna look good on the stand.”
“Probably good they can’t see the one on my ass then,” Dean smirks.
Sam gives him a filthy look. “The sounds Dean. Sounds I will never forget.”
“Well, next time don’t listen.”
“There are people in Paraguay who haven’t slept, because of you.”
“Can’t help it,” Dean shrugged, tying his tie and trying to get used to wearing one again after about ten years of steady unemployment. “Once you try doggy style...you have to try it every which-way.”
Sam shuddered and went to find Gabriel, who was on the phone with his contractors, trying to work out if he could soundproof the spare room before the end of the day.
Castiel emerged from the bathroom in a pair of pants and a shirt that he’d left at Gabriel’s a few months previously, when an overnight visit had to be called off on account of a minor gumball machine malfunction (three inches of the little suckers had covered the floor for almost a week).
“Ready for court?” Dean said.
“No,” Castiel sat down and sighed, “every time I think of myself up there, getting taken apart by the prosecutor...I don’t want to go away just because of who I am. I know what we did was illegal, but it’s not wrong. It wasn’t cruel or destructive or disrespectful...it wasn’t a crime.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean told him firmly, “Sam is going to get us out of this, and I know that between us, we can charm any jury into letting us go.”
Castiel did not seem convinced.
“You think I’m going to let them lock you up, now?” Dean raised his eyebrows, “I’m addicted, they can’t take you away, it’s against my rights as a red blooded American.”
Sam clapped slowly from the doorway. “Carry on like that, and they’ll elect you president.”
“Ignore him.” Dean said, “but seriously, when we get home, can we go again?”
Castiel’s serious expression didn’t change. “Yes we can.”
(-*-)
The prosecutor was kicking ass.
Dean was actually sweating, he’d always thought that it was some kind of urban myth that people actually sweated on the stand. But clearly not, he was going to need a lot of Gatorade when this was all over.
“And how did you become acquainted with Mr Novak?”
“I saw his ad in the paper, he was a life-drawing model.”
“And was there a picture in the paper?”
“No.”
“So you just thought you’d hazard contacting him, for no other reason than pure curiosity?” the slick lawyer turned to glance at the jury, before skewering Dean with his eyes again. Asshole.
Dean shrugged. “I was just looking for someone, a dude who liked art and spent a lot of time naked? I figured he be pretty open to experimentation.”
A few of the jurors tittered. Some of them clearly liked him.
“And what kind of experimentation did you have in mind?”
Dean looked him straight in the eye, and shrugged. “Anything, like you said, I was curious.”
“Was it your intention to make pornographic movies with Mr Novak?”
“Objection!” Sam shouted.
“Overruled.”
That was another thing, the judge looked about 900 years old, and he had yet to take even one of Sam’s objections into consideration.
“No, I did not.”
The prosecutor regarded him coolly. “Do you watch a lot of gay porn, Mr Winchester?”
“I’ve seen a little.”
“Recently?”
“Compared to all the other porn? Yeah, I guess that was the most recent stuff I was watching.”
“But you consider yourself straight?”
Dean shrugged.
“Answer the question,” the judge ordered.
“I don’t know...I guess I’m a bit of both, depending.”
“Depending on...”
“How hot the guy is.”
Dean was getting pissed off, and that was making him belligerent, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it, he didn’t like having his every thought and motive poked at. He didn’t want to think about his sexuality any more than he already had. He knew that he cared about Cas, and that sex with him was amazing, what did it matter what he set as his Facebook status? ‘Bi with a hint of bottom, also, had a killer Frappe-latte this morning?’ who gave a shit?
“Well, here, on your most recent census, you list yourself as ‘straight’,” the lawyer, (named Dick, of all cruel ironies) brandished a photocopy at him. “This dates from only six months ago, that’s quite a turnaround.”
Dean looked at the paper. “I guess I met the right guy.”
“Or, you saw that there was a way to make some fast money, and you prostituted yourself, with Mr Novak as a willing accomplice, in order to make a quick buck.”
“Objection, your honour this is completely out of line!”
“Overruled.”
Sam sank into his seat feeling sick.
“No further questions.” Dick said smoothly, returning to his desk.
Sam instantly stood up and came across the room to stand in front of Dean. He knew he was stupid to think it, but just having Sam there made it seem as if things were going better than they really were.
“Dean, six months ago, would you have thought having sex with a man was an ‘easy’ way to make money?”
“No,” Dean said, wondering what Sam was getting at.
“So you wouldn’t even have considered it? Even if it could make things easier for you, being able to fix your car, or pay off a loan or two?”
“No, I wouldn’t have considered it.”
“And why is that?”
“Back then...I was a little, a lot, homophobic.” Dean glanced quickly at Sam, “even though I’d just found out that my brother’s gay...I still felt like it was something that I didn’t want around me. It freaked me out a little.”
“But you didn’t think you were gay?”
“No...but, I guess we’re all a little off centre, no one’s 100% straight, isn’t that what they say? and, I started thinking maybe I wasn’t who I thought I was. I ended up meeting up with Cas because I was trying to work out who I am.”
“And that was difficult for you?”
“Very.”
“So difficult, that, one night, you and Castiel had a fight on the street about your attitude?” Sam held up a piece of paper, “this is the signed deposition of several people who saw you and Castiel arguing, and heard a little of what you were saying, could you read the highlighted portion?”
“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.”
“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.”
Dean finished reading and sat back, the words buzzing around his head. Had he really spoken like that, to Cas? Had he really flirted with a waitress right in front of him?
God, he really was an asshole.
“What was this fight about?” Sam asked.
“Cas was mad because I was flirting with...well, every woman in that bar, on our first dinner out with uh...you, and his brother.”
“So it was a personal argument? Not professional?”
“Yes.”
“Objection!” shouted Dick.
“Overruled,” sighed the judge.
Well, at least he was consistent.
“I have another deposition, this one, is from that waitress,” Sam placed another sheet in front of him. “could you read this please?”
“I went back to this guy’s house, and we were making out and...he was really into me,” Dean read, “I told him I was glad he wasn’t one of those fags, like the one’s who were sitting at his table...and he got bent out of shape about it, told me to leave, and that one of those ‘fags’ was his brother, and the other one was ‘cool’ and his friend.”
“You took her home, but you were too upset to do anything with her, because of how she felt about your brother, but also because of what she said about Mr Novak.”
“She was out of line. I like Cas, he’s the last person anyone should be talking trash about.”
Sam seemed satisfied.
“Just one more question, did you and Mr Novak go on any other outings?”
Dean thinks.
“We went out for coffee, and then for dinner and a movie.”
“Classic, date activities,” Sam says, turning to the jury, “not exactly something you’d do with your boss.”
And maybe it’s that, or the hand-job Dean gives Cas in the men’s room over the recess, but, he feels a lot less doomed by the time Cas takes the stand.