
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3208745.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester, past_Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester_-
      Relationship, past_Castiel/Other
  Character:
      Charlie_Bradbury, Dean_Winchester, Castiel, Sam_Winchester, Henry
      Winchester, Original_Male_Character(s), Original_Female_Character(s),
      Gabriel_(Supernatural), Tyson_Brady, Jo_Harvelle, John_Winchester, Mary
      Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Dark_Past, Alternate_Universe_-_Prostitution, BDSM, Past_Rape/Non-
      con, Brief_Mentions_of_Underage, Brief_Mentions_of_Wincest, Kidnapping,
      Hostage_Situations, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Drug_Use, Drug
      Addiction, Depression, Top_Castiel, Bottom_Dean, Power_Bottom_Castiel,
      Top_Dean, Bottom_Sam, Dom/sub, Dom_Castiel, Sub_Dean, Top/Bottom_roles
      will_be_tagged_at_the_beginning_of_each_chapter, Other_Additional_Tags_to
      Be_Added, Mentions_of_forced_incest/wincest, Psychological_Trauma,
      Psychological_Torture, Rimming, Spanking, Bondage, Panic_Attacks, Cock
      Warming, Semi-Public_Sex
  Series:
      Part 1 of Submersion
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-21 Completed: 2015-07-05 Chapters: 35/35 Words: 78316
****** Submersion ******
by ArchOfImagine, hufflecas
Summary
     Dean Winchester is the king of self destruction, living a messed up
     life sewn together by a single thread. To fuel his drug addiction and
     pay the rent, he has started working as a 'pay-by-the-hour'
     submissive escort. It's the perfect continued punishment for a sin
     that he was forced to commit.
     He's submersed in a lake of depression, pain, and despair... destined
     to drown beneath the weight.
Notes
     Few things:
     I'm going to be doing extensive research on the BDSM lifestyle for
     the purpose of this story, but take full responsibility for any
     inaccuracies. If any topics are simply hinted at without going into
     detail, it is all in an effort not to offend.
     This is a dark story about character development that will have a
     happy ending. This story developed from the idea of: what if Dean and
     Sam were forced to have sex? What would the psychological damage be?
     What kind of people would they be afterwards?
     This is the story of how Dean learns to deal with trauma... rather
     unsuccessfully at first. I update on a fairly regular pace, dependent
     on muse and feedback. All top/bottom roles will be stated at the
     beginning of the chapters with sex. Also, if I have missed a tag
     please politely let me know and I will add it.
     Special thanks to hufflebutt for betaing, as per usual. Please enjoy.
     (Story takes place in Portland, Oregon, usage of locations is
     fictional - I have no idea where to buy drugs there!)
      
     Hints of bottom!Dean.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter by ArchOfImagine

”You don’t drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there.” - Edwin
                                  Louis Cole
                                      ---
Dean liked the atmosphere on East Broadway. He could slide into any one of the
five bars and find a willing dealer. Pocketing the coke, he spun on his heel
and headed back for the exit of the joint. The throngs of bodies dancing to
music from half-blown speakers and sweating alcohol from their pores was not
the kind of environment he wanted to get high in.
Walking the busy street, he caught the city bus right as it pulled up to the
curb and dropped a couple dollars in for fare before finding a seat in the
back. In his usual apparel of ripped up jeans and worn out hoodie, no one ever
seemed to bother him. That day was no different, and he tweaked nervously at
his wire frame glasses as he watched the city pass by outside.
He had just enough time to get back to his studio apartment and snort a line
before getting dressed for his ‘job interview’. Hopefully in the haze of an
upper giving him a high, he could land the job.
Rent was due on Tuesday.
Dean had just spent his last two dollars on a bus ticket.
                                      ---
“Do you know what we do here, Mr. Winchester?”
Dean’s left hand twitched nervously and out of habit he wrapped his forefinger
and thumb around his right wrist. The women sitting on the opposite side of the
oak desk had auburn hair and a pretty smile. She looked to be in her mid-
thirties and didn’t fit in with what his brain had supplied for ‘runs a
prostitution ring’.
“Supply prostitutes for high-paying customers that like things kinky?” When her
perfectly manicured eyebrow quirked up, he added quickly, “Miss McKenna.”
“We supply a specific type of escort to meet our clients’ needs. Our escorts
are submissive in every aspect of their role and enjoy playing the part.” Her
brown eyes danced up and down his body, sizing him up in seconds. “You don’t
fit the aesthetic of what I usually hire for my submissives. To be quite
honest, Mr. Winchester, you don’t seem like you’ve followed a direct order once
in your life.”
“To be fair,” Dean shrugged, “you don’t fit the… aesthetic for running a
company like this.”
She didn’t respond right away, and suddenly Dean worried that he had blown the
whole thing… until a ruby red lip quirked up slightly and showed the smallest
hint of a smirk.
“Not all of my clients are women,” Miss McKenna continued. “Will this be a
problem?”
“I have no preference one way or the other. Male, female, doesn’t really matter
when they pay the bills.”
She nodded. “Good. On Saturday one of my regular clients will be in town on
business. He owes me a favor, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind testing your will in
a trial run. Talk to my receptionist on the way out and she will provide you
with a dress code form, our safety and liability handbook, and a location for
your first meeting. As I’m sure you’re aware — promptness is one of the aspects
of our business that we pride ourselves on. As is appearance and hygiene. If I
hear from my client that you failed in anyway on these points, your employment
will not be continued.”
                                      ---
Dean left the lobby of the Marriott by the airport feeling more than a little
unease in his stomach. His ass hurt and he simultaneously felt like crying and
throwing up on the sidewalk, but he had survived Miss McKenna’s first client.
Walking slowly, he made his way across the hotel’s carport area and felt a
little better when he spotted a familiar scratched up Jetta sitting in the
parking lot. He opened the passenger side door and ducked his head down to see
the driver — not quite ready to place his sore ass on the torn up seat.
“You got a smoke?” He asked over the sound of Metallica playing on the car’s
radio. A small hand held out a package of Camel’s and a Bic lighter with Yoda
on the side of it. “Thanks.”
Dean stood back up, pulling a cigarette from the package before tossing it back
into the car. As he lit up, his eyes tracked along the six story hotel building
and he tried to pinpoint which room his ass had been whipped in. After a couple
of quick puffs, he finally figured it out and used the cigarette to point top
left-hand corner. “That one.”
The radio was turned down by a few notches and a voice called out from in the
car, “You talking to yourself again, dipshit?”
He finished the smoke and tossed it to the ground, quickly stomping out the
flame with his shoe. Carefully, he climbed into the small car. Just as he had
expected — his ass hurt like hell as soon as he sat. He fought back a grimace
and turned to his best friend. “You’re lucky I love you, Charlene.”
“Nobody is lucky you love them, doofus.” She started the car and held out her
hand — waiting until he had given back her precious Yoda lighter before
shifting into reverse. “So… screwing for money now?”
“One hundred and thirty dollars an hour, my dear.”
Charlie nodded in approval and he watched her red hair bounce one side of her
head — the other side had been shaven just a few days prior.
The Jetta headed towards his apartment in the Hollywood District. Halfway,
stopped at a light on Fremont, Charlie looked over at him. “So Lisa decided to
throw a bitch-fit again. My shit’s in the trunk — is it cool if I crash with
you for a couple weeks?”
The up and down and sideways adventures that were ‘Charlie’s love life’ was a
story that Dean knew well. They had been friends for almost three years, and
Dean had long since adopted the spunky punk rock lesbian as his little sister.
Despite the size of his apartment, he knew that it wasn’t the first time and
wouldn’t be the last time that they shared a bed. “Just don’t hog the comforter
this time, okay?”
“Sure thing, snugglepuss.” She grinned. “I stole Lisa’s pot stash. We can get
high and you can tell me what that guy did to your ass for a hundred and thirty
dollars.”
“Pretty sure I blacked out after the spanking.”
“Ohhh kinky shit. We might need popcorn.”
                                      ---
Dean missed seeing the world outside. It really shouldn’t have come as a
surprise that ‘hell’ didn’t have windows, but that didn’t keep him from
dreaming about blue skies and green grass.
“Food,” the voice called.
Dean looked up to the solid concrete door that sealed of their prison and
watched the six inch by twelve inch slot on the bottom slide up. A tray of food
was shoved inside the room, followed by two bottles of water.
He waited for the slot to close back, before moving across the room to sit down
next to the tray. Sammy followed a couple moments later. His pace was slower
thanks to the bruising running along his rib cage.
Examining the tray, Dean quickly set out to separate the sandwich into two
equal servings, parted the stale chips into two identical piles, and set the
apple aside to be savored last as a special snack.
Dean held out the half of a sandwich that lookedslightlylarger to Sam. “Eat up,
Sammy.”
Sam shoved his messy brown hair behind his ears and took a tentative bite of
the ham-on-plain-bread sandwich. “Dean,” he whispered.
The topic that was about to be brought up was one that Dean had already heard a
dozen times. He quickly shook his head and took a bite of one of his chips.
“No, Sam.”
“He told us how to end this.”
Dean shook his head. There was no way he was going to take their kidnapper for
his word. “Sam, someone will come for us.”
“It’s been two months, Dean.”
“I’m not doing it, Sam.”
                                      ---
On Monday morning Dean stepped into the non-descript office space that held
Miss McKenna’s prostitution… ahem, escort, company and nodded as the
receptionist waved for him to go in. His new boss sat behind the solid desk and
finished a phone call before looking up at Dean.
“Mr. Winchester… have a seat.”
After everything that had happened Saturday night, there was no way he was
going to be intimidated by the woman before him. Not unless she pulled out a
whip collection.
He sat down in the chair across from her and found the nerve to ask, “Was the
client happy?”
“He was. He said you lacked the technique and skill of a well-polished sub, but
you took direction well and did everything he asked. I’m curious — how was your
experience?”
Dean remembered the way his ass had burned the next morning once the drugs wore
off. There was no way he was divulging that information. “It was a job.”
“Very good.” She nodded approvingly before opening a draw and bringing a file
out to lay on top of her desk. “On occasion, Mr. Winchester, I partner my
clients with a sub on a permanent regular basis. It just so happens that I have
a new client that would like the services of a submissive escort that lacks
prior training — like yourself. The way this arrangement will work is that you
agree on a set day each week that you meet with the same client. On top of
that, I will also have various jobs that arise for you to do on your free days.
Sound doable?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Miss McKenna smiled and nodded her head. “Good. Our client has offered his own
instructions for the sub and requested a specific wardrobe be worn at each
meeting. You are not to bring drugs or alcohol of any kind onto his property.
You will wear a three piece tailored suit, undershirt, and a pair of silk
panties — the color of which does not matter.”
Dean immediately frowned. The suit he could manage but… “Panties? Is this some
degradation bs?”
She pursed her lips and stared him down. “Do you think it’s degrading to be a
woman, Mr. Winchester?”
“I, uh…” Dean quickly shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Do you have a problem wearing silk panties to meet your client?”
“No, ma’am,” he repeated as he ducked his head. “Of course not.”
“I should hope not. Stop at the receptionist’s desk on the way out. She has
your paperwork on the new client and an advancement check to help cover the
costs of your new attire. Anything else?” He shook his head once more and stood
to leave. Miss McKenna’s voice stopped him before he could leave the office.
“If you have any issues with this client, Mr. Winchester, please don’t hesitate
to let me know.”
Outside of the office the receptionist handed him a thick manila envelope and a
smaller envelope that held his check. As he stepped back out onto the busy
street, his curiosity got the better of him and he opened the top of the client
folder.
Clipped to the top piece of paper was a smiling photograph of the man that
would be dominating his life — quite literally. He stared at the piercing blue
gaze and wondered why a guy like that couldn’t just date normally without
having to pay.
Maybe it was because he had a panty fetish…
Dean walked towards the nearby bus stop with the client’s name on repeat in his
mind.
Castiel Novak… Castiel Novak… Casti…
He had no idea how to pronounce ‘Castiel’ and prayed that he didn’t make a fool
of himself immediately.
Pulling his phone free from his pocket, he opened up a new text message to
Charlie.
Take a shower.gotta buy new panties.
The response was almost immediate. Do I wanna know?
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     As is becoming fairly obvious - the flashbacks are going to play an
     interesting part in this story.

”Two drowning people can’t save each other. All they can do is drag each other
                            down.” - Carsten Jensen
                                      ---
Charlie let out a sharp whistle as she leaned forward and stared at the tall
condo building before them. “I’ve never met anyone that could afford one of
these places.”
Before them sat twenty-five stories of steel and glass that made up one of five
high-rise condominium buildings on the riverfront. Dean nodded to agree with
Charlie — none of his usual ‘crowd’ could afford a studio on the east side, let
alone a waterfront condo. “I’m done at one a.m., be here to pick me up?”
“One? God, Chewie, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you.”
Dean rubbed anxiously at his right wrist and raised an eyebrow at his best
friend. “Don’t act like you won’t be up. You just said a few minutes ago that
you were going to hang at that club.”
“I am.” Charlie grinned and the street light caught the glint of silver from
her lip piercing. “Gonna find me some wet pussy.”
“Enjoy it for me.” Dean checked the clock and sighed. It was ten minutes before
ten and if he wasn’t punctual he would lose the client on the first day. “See
you in three hours. Please be here — I don’t want to call a cab and the buses
won’t be running.”
“I’ll be here.” She shoved at his arm. “Go on. Embrace that high and get your
ass nice and fucked by a rich guy for money.”
“You make my life sound so glamorous.” Dean climbed out of the Jetta and
smoothed his hand over his new three-piece suit as he turned to face the
entrance to the condo building.
Before he could shut the car door behind him, Charlie called out one last time,
“Your ass looks amazing in those pants. So jealous right now.”
The night watchman sitting behind the front desk took Dean’s driver’s license
and cleared him on a list of ‘acceptable guests’ before pointing him in the
direction of the elevator. The suit suddenly made sense. If he had walked into
the place wearing his normal jeans and hoodie, they would have called the
police immediately without asking any questions. He stepped onto the elevator
car, ran his thumb nervously over the veins on his right wrist, and tried to
act like he belonged.
Like he wasn’t a coked-out prostitute on his way to get his ass fucked.
The elevator deposited him on the fourteenth floor and followed the direction
of the sign on the wall that said ‘1433’ would be to his left. By the time he
knocked on the polished veneer door, he had one minute to spare before he was
due to arrive.
The door pulled open a few seconds later to reveal Castiel Novak — blue eyes as
intense as his photograph, and definitely more handsome in person. He was also
wearing a suit, minus the jacket, and with his shirt untucked. The man looked
Dean up and down for a moment, before offering his hand and opening the door
wider. “Dean Winchester?”
Dean shook the guy's hand and stepped into the trendy condo. He probably
couldn’t even afford the table lamp… “Yeah. Mr. Novak, correct?” He turned to
watch his new client shutting and locking the door. “Your first name was in the
file but I would probably butcher it…”
“Castiel,” he offered. “No worries. When you are here I prefer that you use
only ‘sir’ or ‘master’ when addressing me."
Glancing around nervously, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Yeah.
Right. Of course.” Castiel’s eyebrow raised and he waited a few beats — it took
longer than it should for Dean to realize what the man was waiting for. “Yes,
sir.”
“These bamboo floors scuff easily so I would ask that you remove your shoes and
leave them at the door on our nights together.” He pointed to a shoe rack and
waited again.
Dean fumbled, trying to gracefully remove his brand new dress shoes while also
ignoring the slide of satin over his dick.
Once Dean was finished, Castiel motioned for him to follow and moved into a
large open plan living room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the
Willamette. “I believe in safe and consensual play between all parties, Mr.
Winchester, despite the fact that I’m paying for your services.” He stopped in
the middle of a plush rug and turned to face Dean. “I will ask you before every
scene if you approve and consent — you always have the right to say ‘no’
without punishment. If you say do say ‘no’, I will offer a new suggestion until
we reach an agreement. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered without hesitation.
“I also require that you have a safeword and use it whenever a scene pushes you
beyond your limits. Again, this is without punishment or judgement and not a
risk to your job. If you’re unable to speak for the purposes of the scene, you
will have a bell within reach to ring as a substitute. In the event that you
safeword out, all play will stop for the evening, understood?” Dean nodded and
continued to stand awkwardly on the edge of the rug as Castiel moved to sit
down on the sofa. “What is your safeword, Mr. Winchester?”
Dean replied easily. “Topeka.”
“Very well. Since it’s our first night together, I would like to take things
easy while we’re growing acquainted. I also want to test how well you follow
instructions. So for tonight, you’re going to kneel in front of me and bring
yourself to orgasm.”
                                      ---
Dean was beginning to hate the light. Light meant that their captor was there,
opening the door and ready to separate them.
He always tried to put up a fight. Even with the malnourishment and weakness he
still tried to fight. Because he was the only one there to protect Sam — and he
would take a million beatings just to prevent his brother from receiving one.
When he collapsed back onto the floor of their ‘prison’ after another beating,
he heard the door slide shut moments before Sam’s arms wrapped around him.
“Dean? Are you okay?”
The dark voice of their captor sounded through the closed door. “Two more days,
and I will decide for you. Either you fuck him, or I will.”
                                      ---
“So… you don’t want to fuck me?” Dean’s uncertainty came through in his voice.
“Not tonight,” Castiel replied. “And you’re being awfully mouthy,” he added. “I
don’t like mouthy subs.” Castiel sat down on the sofa, his icy blue stare never
leaving Dean’s face.
“Uh, sorry.” Dean cast his eyes to the floor. That’s what submissives were
supposed to do, right?
“Sir.”
Shit. “Uh, yes. Sir. Sorry, sir.”
Castiel didn’t react to Dean’s fluster. “Here’s what’s going to happen tonight,
Dean. I want to see what I’ve purchased. I want to see your body and I want to
see you get off, but you’re going to follow my instructions exactly. You won’t
do anything that I don’t tell you to do. Do you understand?”
That’s all? Dean thought. That’s an easy paycheck.
“I said, ‘Do you understand?’”
“Y-yes. Yes, sir.”
“Do you consent?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And what’s your safeword?”
Again? Haven’t we already been over this? “Topeka.”
“Good.” Castiel shifted in his seat and let his eyes travel over Dean’s body.
“I like that suit on you. Turn around.”
Dean did as he was told, returning to face Castiel again.
“And did you follow every item of the dress code that I sent to you?”
“Yes, sir.” Dean licked his lips in nervous anticipation of how Castiel would
react to the panties.
“Take off your jacket, and lay it over the back of that chair.”
The suit was nicer than anything Dean had ever worn, and cost more than what he
would have willingly spent on it had the choice been entirely his. At least
Castiel didn’t want it crumpled on the floor. He took the slate grey jacket
off, folded it once, and lay it on the chair as told. He looked to Castiel
again.
“Unbutton the vest, and take it off.”
Dean began to do so, his eyes on his hands, and then on the floor, his feet.
“Look at me,” Castiel said. “If you don’t need to see what your hands are
doing, I want you to look at me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Dean finished with the buttons on his vest, and shrugged off the
garment.
“Put it with the jacket. You can put all your clothes on that chair.”
Dean did so.
“Take off your tie, then your socks, then unbutton and take off your shirt.”
Dean tried to keep his hands from shaking as he followed the instructions. At
least he had something to focus on. He was almost certain that had he been told
to sit still, hands at his side, that his jittering and fidgeting would give
him away. Dean kept his eyes on Castiel like he’d been told to. The man never
stopped staring at him, and Dean knew that had he come into this completely
sober he wouldn’t have been able to maintain the eye contact. The carpet was
soft and plush under his feet. He wiggled his toes in it, relishing a movement
that was unbidden, yet unnoticed.
“Unbuckle your belt and slide it out of your pants before you take them off.”
Castiel nodded as Dean slowly followed the command, then continued, “Now the
pants. Slowly. Once they reach your ankles — turn to face the window.”
Under Castiel’s scrutinizing gaze, Dean couldn’t tell if the older man was
enjoying the show or not. It was like stripping for a granite wall. He slowly
unbuttoned his pants and held onto the waistband as he shimmied them down his
body and over his hips. Once they reached his knees, he did as instructed and
turned around. As he bent forward to pull the pants off, he was highly aware of
the fact that Castiel was staring at his ass and the emerald green silk panties
that barely covered it.
He felt naked as he began folding the pants and neatly set them on the chair.
When he turned back to look at Castiel, the man pointed to a spot on the rug a
few feet in front of him. “Kneel in that spot and put your hands behind your
back. I need to get a glass of water and use the restroom. When I return in ten
minutes I expect you to be in the same spot, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you feel the need to safeword at any time, call out loudly and I will
return.”
”Yes, sir.”
                                      ---
Picking at his torn sweatpants, Sam sat on the mattress they had been sharing
for two months and took a deep breath. “Dean, he isn’t going to stop and he
isn’t going to give us another option.”
Sitting on the floor a couple feet away, Dean savored the last bites of their
apple and shook his head. “I’m not fucking my own brother, Sam. I don’t even
think my dick would cooperate long enough to try.”
He could hear a soft sniffle coming from the direction of his younger brother.
Sam would never cry so openly if there wasn’t darkness around them masking the
teardrops. Sam hiccuped. “So you’re going to sit back and let some nasty
bastard do it? I’ve never even—”
Dean frowned, throwing the apple core across the room. “Never even what?”
“Kissed a girl.”
“Sam, he’s not going to let us go just because we do this. Why would he keep us
for months and then just randomly let us go? He’s a monster and monsters don’t
act rationally, or keep promises.”
“All I’m saying is…” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I would trust you
to protect me. I know that you would never hurt me, Dean. And we’d be
together.”
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

        ”He who is drowning is not troubled by rain.” - Persian Proverb
                                      ---
It had been nearly forty-five minutes since the bump of coke Dean had done
before he left his apartment and the effects were wearing off. He wanted
desperately to take more, just another little hit, but even if he were
permitted to move from his spot kneeling on the carpet, he hadn’t brought any
more of the drug with him. His contract with Castiel strictly prohibited his
bringing any illegal substances to their appointments — but had said nothing
about enjoying their use beforehand.
Dean snapped back to attention when Castiel walked back into the room. Dean had
done as he was asked and sat kneeling, hands clasped behind his back, on the
carpet in the middle of the room, and wearing nothing but the green silk
panties he’d been instructed to wear.
Castiel settled back into his spot on the sofa and set the glass of water he’d
brought back onto the side table. Dean could not tell if it was approval or
arousal that lit the spark in his eyes. “You can follow directions,” he said.
“Good.”
Since he was unaware if the ‘look me in the eyes’ rule still stood, Dean held
his head steady and kept his gaze on the floor by Castiel’s feet. His fingers
were twitching badly, one hand rubbing imperceptibly over the other wrist.
“Now,” Castiel slowly swirled his index finger around the rim of his water
glass. “I want you to push the front of the panties down far enough to free
your cock and balls.” When Dean did as instructed, Castiel nodded approvingly.
“Dean, are you right-handed or left-handed?”
“Right-handed. Sir.”
“Okay. Touch your dick with your right hand. Leave your other hand on your knee
for now. I want you to get yourself hard, and I want you to tell me exactly
what you think of. Be honest.”
Dean closed his eyes briefly and thought back to his first drug dealer. He may
have been a hairy Cajun but damn if he hadn’t had the best weed in Sacramento.
They’d never fucked — Dean wasn’t sure what one messy handjob while high out of
his mind counted for — but would have jumped on that so fast if he’d been given
the chance. “A guy I used to know,” Dean began, “big, tall, kind of a bear.
Like to think about him picking me up and fucking me against a wall.”
“Did you?” Castiel asked. “Ever fuck him, I mean.”
“No, sir. Wanted to, though.” Right on cue Dean’s dick began to twitch into
life.
“What else? Anything you want him to do to you before he fucks you?”
Dean shrugged. “He can blow me.” He wasn’t lying — who would turn down a
blowjob — but how personal was he expected to get?
“Tell me, Dean. What do you want him to do.”
Dean closed his hand around his dick. It was still only about half-hard. “I’d…
I want him to throw me on the bed and eat my ass out.”
Castiel took a sip of water and placed the glass down again. “Do you like that,
Dean? Getting your tight asshole fucked by a tongue?”
Being dirty-talked at by a handsome near-stranger was apparently another of
Dean’s kinks — even if he couldn’t gauge Castiel’s arousal. “Y-yes, sir.” He
was hard now but unsure of where to go next. He didn’t have to wonder for too
long.
“Jerk yourself off, Dean. Think about that man fucking you into the mattress.
Don’t come yet. You can use your other hand to squeeze your balls, but only
once, then put your hand back on your knee.”
Dean did so. It felt good, and he half-wished he could keep playing with his
balls. He could feel some precome leaking out of his cockhead.
“Jerk yourself faster, Dean,” Castiel said, “and look at me while you do it.
Think about him fucking you into that wall.”
Dean raised his head again to meet Castiel’s gaze. He knew Castiel’s eyes
hadn’t left him once. He could feel it. He let his hand fly faster over his
cock and started to feel the familiar warmth build up low in his gut.
The fantasy continued to play out in his mind, but the longer he stared into
piercing blue eyes, the faster the person in his imagination began to change.
Suddenly it was Castiel slamming him up against the wall — pounding into him
relentlessly against the wall. He never imagined that it would be so fucking
intense to jerk off while staring at another person.
His stomach muscles began to twitch and his balls started to ache as they
searched for the relief that only release would allow them. He wanted — no,
needed — to come, but he knew that he couldn’t do so until Castiel approved.
Blue eyes flicked down to look at his cock and watched for a long moment before
finally stating the words Dean needed to hear. “You may come, but do not get
anything on my floor. Catch every single drop, Dean.”
Since Castiel hadn’t given him permission to move his left hand, he shoved his
right hand to the head of his cock and held it in a cup shape, catching as much
as he could. He could only hope he’d get everything.
After he’d finished Castiel stood with no comment. He walked into the kitchen
with his empty glass and returned with a hand towel which he held out to Dean.
“Clean yourself off and get dressed. There’s a laundry basket in the guest
bathroom by the front door, you can leave the towel in there.”
Dean took the cloth, but frowned. As he wiped his hand clean he wondered how
Castiel had managed to not be incredibly turned on — was he not attracted to
Dean? Had Dean done something wrong? He brushed the thoughts out of his head —
his comedown was starting to hit him hard and he felt too much like shit to
give it any more thought. A glance at the clock on the wall told him he still
had about an hour and a half left.
When he was satisfactorily jizz-free, Dean dressed to his waistcoat and walked
the dirty towel into the bathroom near the apartment’s entrance. Dropping the
cloth into the wicker basket he walked back into the entryway to find Castiel
waiting for him. He held Dean’s jacket out to him.
“We’re done for the night,” Castiel said.
“Oh.” Dean took his jacket but didn’t put it on yet. “But you’ve got me for
another hour and half…”
“I booked you for three hours, but you can go now.”
“Al-alright.” Dean slipped on the jacket and stepped towards the door that
Castiel now held open. “Um… have a good night.”
“You as well,” Castiel said as Dean turned to go. “And Mr. Winchester?”
Dean spun on his spot, already out the door. “Yeah?”
“Never come to my home high again.”
The door closed in Dean’s face.
Shit.
                                      ---
When he stepped back outside, a slight drizzle was falling from the sky.
“Fucking Portland,” he mumbled. He would now be out half of his night’s pay
just because the damn cocaine had worn off early. He fidgeted uncomfortably in
his way-too-expensive suit and walked towards the main road in hopes of finding
a bus that was still running.
There was no way Charlie would get his message if he called and asked her to
come pick him up early. And by the time she got there he would be a babbling
mess on the ground in front of his newest client’s condo building — if he was
even still a client any more. Whereas a quick check of the map on his phone
suggested that he could get to the club where Charlie was in just under forty
minutes thanks to public transportation.
He caught a bus to the next Max station and let the train take him the rest of
the way downtown. When he finally made it to the club, he was jonesing enough
to be twitching. He slipped inside, eyes automatically scanning the half-lit
room and searching for Charlie. When he spotted short red hair sticking up in a
faux-hawk on one side, he knew he’d found her.
Dean made his way through the crowd and wrapped his right arm around Charlie’s
bare waist, interrupting her current dance with a pretty brunette in a mini-
skirt. Charlie looked up at him, obviously confused by his arrival.
Above the sound of metal music and screaming, he leaned down to speak directly
in her ear. “I’m fucked up and need a hit. No cash though. Who can I talk to?”
It was Charlie’s scene — her people, her crowd. She nodded once at Dean before
looking around the room. When she focused back on him, she pointed towards the
bar. “Tall blonde guy on the third stool. Offer to blow him.”
“Thanks, doll. Don’t leave without me.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek
before leaving Charlie to her latest conquest and going for the bar.
The blonde was handsome, but not Dean’s usual type. Even still — he didn’t have
many options when it came to getting a quick hit. And he’d much rather continue
the high instead of going home to ride out the drop.
He slid into the space next to the blonde and glanced at the bar for only a
moment before turning to the other man. “My friend says you can help me out,”
he spoke over the music.
“I don’t help many people,” the guy replied. “Who’s your friend?”
“Charlie. Charlie Bradbury.”
At the sound of her name, the guy turned around to look out over the crowds,
seeking out Charlie’s location. As he watched her dance, the man asked Dean,
“What is it that you need?”
“Coke. Just a hit.” Dean fidgeted, wishing he had stashed an extra pair of
clothes in Charlie’s car. If something got on the goddamn suit he was wearing,
he’d have to waste another check buying a new one.
“I can do that. You got cash?”
If he did, life would have been ten times easier. But no, he didn’t have cash…
he had a suit. “I have services. Been told I’m pretty good with my mouth.”
Ten minutes later Dean sat on the edge of a booth in the darkest corner of the
club and rubbed his hand along the blonde’s growing erection. When the guy had
suggested Dean dropping to his knees, he’d had an instant vision of who-knew-
how-many bodily fluids getting on his suit pants and staining. His solution was
to sit while the other man stood before him.
As he untucked a worn leather belt and started undoing the guy’s jeans, he
glanced up. “What’s your name?”
The guy looked unsure about answering at first, but finally offered, “Eddie.”
Eddie wasn’t wearing underwear, so Dean easily shoved the jeans down far enough
to free Eddie’s dick. It was on the smaller side of average and uncut —
something that Dean equally hated and loved depending on whether or not the guy
bathed thoroughly.
“Come on, bitch,” Eddie demanded, “you gonna suck me off or not? Coke ain’t
cheap.”
He was right, of course, and considering all Dean had at home was the rest of
Lisa’s pot and half a pack of cigarettes — he knew that he had to make it good.
Easily and without much effort at all, Dean swallowed the guy’s dick down and
began expertly working him over. It was more than a little disappointing that
he could fit the guy’s entire cock in his mouth without an issue — sometimes he
liked the burn of a cock brushing the back of his throat and making him want to
gag…
Eddie gripped Dean’s hair a little too tight and began rutting his hips —
fucking in and out of Dean’s mouth. Dean swirled his tongue and applied as much
suction as he could manage, hoping that he was doing a good enough job. When
Eddie leaned forward, Dean looked up into his blue-gray eyes and wondered
briefly about the size of Castiel’s cock.
Maybe it would be large enough to make his eyes water while Castiel fucked his
mouth.
“Swallow and I’ll send an extra hit home with you,” Eddie stated over the
thumping beat of the music.
A couple minutes later, Dean did just that as the blonde stranger unloaded onto
his tongue. He swallowed the bitter flavor without hesitation and then smirked
as he opened his mouth to show Eddie that he had swallowed.
“What a good little bitch you are.”
It was meaningless praise from a worthless drug dealer, but it still kept the
smile on Dean’s face.
That and the bag of cocaine that Eddie pulled out of his back pocket.
Chapter End Notes
     Hufflecas says: this chapter contains the first blowjob scene that
     ArchOfImagine hasn't made me write in months. Everyone go tell her
     how good it is.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hufflebutt wants to know if our regular readers can figure out which
     parts her and I wrote. Also, thanks for the blowjob compliments.
     Also, in this verse Dean and Sam are separated by a 3 year age gap
     instead of four. :)

 ”Words don’t have the power to hurt you, unless that person meant more to you
              than you’re willing to confess.” - Shannon L. Adler
                          --- Five Years Earlier ---
“But, Mom!” Sam rolled his eyes in protest as he dragged out the one-syllable
word as long as possible. “I’m fourteen. You and Dad are only gonna be gone for
two days — Dean doesn’t need to hang around to look after me.”
Mary gave Sam an affectionate squeeze as she passed through the kitchen,
carrying her overnight bag. “And how do you know I don’t need you to keep an
eye on him?” She winked at him, a gleam of mischief in her eye.
“I heard that!” an indignant voice called out from the living room. Dean sat
parked on the sofa in front of the television, an array of textbooks and papers
spread around him. “This chem midterm is gonna kick my ass if I don’t get some
peace and quiet this weekend. So you’d —” Dean pointed a finger at Sam as he
came into the room, “— better stay out of my hair, you capiche?”
“Yes Dean, I capiche I get it, you’re a senior.” Sam was getting a lot of
practice at rolling his eyes. He made to retreat up the stairs to his room, but
had to step out of the way to make room for John carrying his own bulky duffle
bag down the stairs.
“Make sure you mind your brother, Sammy —” John began.
“It’s ‘Sam,’” Sam interjected.
“— and maybe don’t spend the entire weekend cooped up in your room, huh? Get
some fresh air.”
“Sure, Dad,” Sam said, and ducked around his father.
“So he rolls his eyes at me, but with you it’s ‘Sure, Dad’?” Mary playfully
teased her husband. “Well, I guess we’re good to go!” Sam was still at the
bottom of the stairs and Mary put her bag on the floor as she pulled her
youngest son in for a hug and kissed the top of his head. “We’ll be back Sunday
night, you take care of your brother, okay?”
“I can still hear you!”
Mary crossed the room and gave Dean a kiss over the back of the couch and
lowered her voice so that only he could hear. “Don’t study too hard, okay? And
maybe spend some time with your brother. He looks up to you, you know.”
Dean laid his book down on his lap. “Sure thing, Mom. Have a good trip.”
John now had his bag on one shoulder and Mary’s on the other. “Alright boys,
don’t burn the house down, and don’t murder each other. Your mother and I will
see you Sunday.” John leaned into the door handle with his hip and used his
foot to push the door open.
“Bye Dad,” came the chorus from the stairs and the living room.
“John! I can take my own bag — give me that!” And Mary disappeared out the
front door wrestling her bag from off her husband’s shoulder.
“Bye Mom!”
The door closed behind Mary and the house was quiet.
Sam waited until he heard the car rolling down the driveway before moving into
the living room and sitting down in the recliner across from his brother.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Um…” Dean glanced at the clock. “We can order a pizza if you want. You can get
whatever you want as long there’s no olives this time. Fuckin’ weird black
salty things.”
Sam bolted out of the chair and made for the kitchen where the family’s
favorite pizza menu was stuck to the fridge. “Okay, but I’m getting mushrooms
and you can’t stop me!”
The large supreme-but-no-olives pizza arrived forty-five minutes later. They
were already halfway through it when Sam heard the sound of a car in the
driveway. There was a knock at the door a minute later and Dean left the
kitchen to answer the door. Gulping down more of his cola Sam recognised the
new voice at the door to belong to one of Dad’s co-workers at the garage.
“Hey Sam, how’s it going, buddy?” the man greeted as he followed Dean into the
kitchen.
“Hi Alan,” Sam replied. “Pretty good, how are you?”
“Uh good. I’m real good.” The older man seemed nervous, and jumpy.
“Alan’s just gotta grab something Dad left for him, right?” Dean looked at
Alan, who nodded. “Well if it’s in the garage then you can go have a look.” He
pointed towards the door on the far side of the kitchen that opened up to their
garage, and returned to his kitchen stool next to Sam. They both grabbed
another slice of pizza.
“That sure smells good,” Alan said, walking back into a kitchen a few minutes
later. He was empty-handed.
“You hungry?” Dean offered, pushing the open box across the counter towards the
other man. “Help yourself. We don’t need Sam getting fat — ow!”
Sam had landed an expertly aimed thwap to the back of Dean’s head and both boys
were laughing, their mouths full of pizza crust and melted cheese.
“That’s awfully generous of you, Dean, thank you.” Alan took a paper plate from
the open package next to the pizza box, helped himself to a slice, and sat down
at the counter with them, before standing again. “Hey let me get you boys some
more soda,” he said, picking up their partially empty cups and crossing the
kitchen. “There’s more in the fridge?”
“Uh, yeah,” Dean answered. “Thanks.”
Sam watched as Alan placed the two cups on the counter next to the fridge
before opening it and pulling out a large bottle of cola. He paid him no more
mind. “So are you almost done studying?”
“For the weekend? Not for a long shot. But I guess I can be done for the
night.”
“Good,” Sam said, stuffing the last of his pizza in his mouth. “Because you’re
boring when you’re reading.”
Alan sat down again and put two full cups of soda in front of each boy. Sam
downed half his in one gulp.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Dean asked.
“Not yet,” Alan replied. “John said it might be under a stack of boxes. I’ll
find it eventually, and get out of your hair.”
“What are you looking for?” said Sam.
“Oh, just some old fishing lures your dad said I could borrow.”
“Yeah, those might be pretty buried,” Dean said, “Dad hasn’t been fishing in
years. You want any help?”
“No, you boys finish your dinner. Thanks for the slice.” Alan finished his food
and rose again and returned to the garage. “I’ll be gone soon, I promise!”
Nearly an hour later Alan was still in their garage. Sam and Dean were sprawled
on the living room sofa watching a bad SyFy movie.
“Jesus,” Dean said under his breath, “What, is the guy reorganiz-reorg-rorg —
moving around our whole garage? Go check on ‘im.”
“You go check on him. Dude, I’m fucking exhausted.” Sam’s eyelids felt heavier
than they ever had. All he wanted to do was let go and fall asleep — and his
brain decided that was a fabulous idea. The last thing he remembered was being
lifted from the couch, catching a bleary look at Alan, and hearing a soft
'thud' as Dean fell forward off the couch and onto the floor.
                              --- Present Day ---
Thirty-six hours after his eventful night with Castiel and then at Charlie’s
favorite club, Dean woke up in his apartment feeling somewhat normal. With the
extra coke from Eddie, he had successfully come down without suffering much
harm. He’d be looking for more in a day or so, but he had at least twenty hours
before the need got overwhelming.
The bedroom area of his studio apartment was curtained off to give an air of
separation between that space and the living room/kitchen/dining room. Dean
scratched at his messy bed hair as he stepped past the curtain wearing only a
pair of black boxer-briefs. “Smells like coffee,” he mumbled.
Standing against the kitchen counter, Charlie held a mug of coffee close to her
face and seemed to be breathing in more than she was drinking. She did that a
lot.
Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and stood back to take a long drink of it.
While the liquid settled into his empty stomach, he let his eyes drift over his
best friend. She had dyed her hair bright purple the day before, and it stood
out in all different directions on her head — probably unintentionally. Since
she slept in nothing but panties and couldn’t function to think without coffee,
she was still mostly naked as she stood there in the kitchen.
His eyes skimmed right over naked breasts to focus on Charlie’s panties. They
were yellow with small bumble bees all over them. “Are those new? Haven’t seen
them before.”
Charlie spread her arms out and looked down at her own body, letting out a soft
‘hmm’ when she noticed the panties. “Lisa’s.”
“Stole her drugs and her underwear?”
She shrugged, taking another drink of coffee and toying with her belly button
ring. “Not my fault she was needy and demanding. And I swear she wasn’t a real
lesbian. Her giving to receiving ratio was worse than a guy’s.”
“Speaking of giving,” Dean moved to the small fridge to search for food. “That
Eddie guy? Smallest dick in town.”
“Not surprising. He gets good stuff though. Bet he tasted like shit — did he
make you swallow?” When Dean nodded, Charlie scrunched up her nose.
“Disgusting. I’ll take pussy over that shit any day.”
“Same.” Dean held out the eggs to her and continued searching, hoping to find
bacon or sausage. “So you ever going to answer Lisa’s calls?”
“No need. Sent her a picture of that girl at the club the other night eating me
out. Told her she lost her chance.”
When he stood back up, triumphantly holding a half-gone package of sausage
links, he gave Charlie a look and shook his head. “You’re a stone cold bitch
sometimes. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” As he brushed past her to
get to the stove, he tweaked the nipple ring on her left breast like he always
did when he didn’t approve of her antics. “Heartless little womanizer.”
“Says the male prostitute.” Charlie laughed slapping his ass and walking out of
the kitchen. “Make me some, Chewie, I’m hungry and poor.”
“You should just marry me now and stop fooling around with this lesbian
nonsense!” he called after her, teasingly.
“You wish.”
Once Charlie was shut inside the bathroom and the shower began to run, Dean set
to work making breakfast. He was just beginning to dish up the food when his
cellphone rang. Reaching around to the counter where the phone was plugged in,
he answered despite the fact that he didn’t know the number. “‘Ello?”
“Hello, Mr. Winchester.” Miss McKenna.
“Uh, yeah, hi, ma’am.” His stomach started to sink as he realized she was
probably calling to reprimand him after the other night with Castiel. He didn’t
know how to handle losing his job…
“I am calling to inform you that Mr. Novak has sent in his payment and we have
your check waiting. He said that everything was acceptable on your night
together and you’ve scheduled to meet again next Friday, is this correct?”
Acceptable... He didn’t rat me out? Dean felt a wave of relief hit him. “Yes,
of course. I’m due to meet him Friday night at ten for another three hour
session.”
He could practically hear Miss McKenna nodding and smiling her approval. “Good.
I’ve got two other clients I would like you to take care of this week. Ruby
will have the information at the front desk when you pick up your check. Call
me if you have any problems, Mr. Winchester.”
“Yes, ma—” He heard the unmistakable sound of the dial tone in his ear. Feeling
a rush of excitement, he set the phone back on the counter and called out for
Charlie to hear, “Charlie, my love, we’re eating steak tonight!”
“Woohoo!”
***** Chapter 5 *****

”I think the highest and lowest points are the important ones. Anything else is
                       just… in between.” - Jim Morrison
                                      ---
After the scare of almost losing his very new, very lucrative source of income,
Dean realized he needed to get his shit together. As much as a prostitute
deciding to take their job seriously counts for getting one’s shit together,
Dean thought, unsure of whether to laugh or cry.
Instead, Dean walked over to the pile of assorted papers threatening to take
over the kitchen table and shuffled through it until he found what he wanted.
‘Escort Code of Conduct’ read the front of the glossy cover. “I wonder how much
of this I’ve fucked up already,” he said aloud, bringing the booklet over to
the couch and sitting down.
Thumbing through the pages, most of it seemed pretty par for the course. Be
nice to your client, put on a show, give them what they want. Establish
safewords for the kinky shit, don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, be
safe.
It was when he turned the page again that he saw something that gave him pause.
‘Escorts are responsible for getting themselves tested monthly for all common
STI’s, and must submit monthly test results from a licensed healthcare
provider.’
Well, shit.
He’d been clean when he’d started the job, even if his papers hadn’t been as
current as they could have been. And he’d played safe with every client he’d
seen so far…
There was just the matter of Eddie.
Fuck.
If Dean was ever going to catch anything, it would probably be from that nasty
fucker.
…’must submit monthly test results from a licensed healthcare provider.’
Dean slammed the book down on the couch beside him, rose, put on his boots and
jacket, and headed out the door to the free clinic.
                                      ---
“Relieved” didn’t even begin to describe how Dean felt when he phoned in for
his test results two days later. All negative. It kind of shocked him, honestly
— the kind of shit he’d gotten into the last few years definitely fell into the
category of a “high risk lifestyle.” He’d started to assume that he would just
live fast and hard until it killed him. Most diseases were a vague and far-off
threat. But losing his job — that was something tangible.
When he left his apartment and hopped the bus to go to his next client, he was
glad that he knew the results of the test. His conscience might have had him
calling Miss McKenna to cancel the appointment without knowing for sure.
He stepped off of the bus feeling more excited than nervous, which had to be a
good sign that he was getting used to the job. Of course, Dean’s third client
was more than a little bit unexpected. When he showed up at the address
provided dressed in a lower quality suit — since the new client wasn’t as picky
as Castiel Novak — he expected another eccentric rich guy.
The woman that opened the door was well into her sixties, with white-gray hair
pulled up into a modest bun and a simple housecoat wrapped around her body. She
smiled affectionately at him, reminding him a little too much of his
grandmother, and held out her hand. “You must be Dean.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Instead of shaking her head, at the last second he
made the decision to bring it to his lips and gently kiss the top of it.
As expected, she grinned. “You may call me Helen or ‘ma’am’, whichever you
prefer.” She stepped out of the doorway and motioned him inside.
Once inside the house, he glanced around for a moment before smiling at Helen.
“Would you like me to remove my shoes, ma’am?”
“Actually, if you want to follow me,” she moved a few steps down the main
hallway until she stopped at the entrance to a plain bedroom. “You can leave
your things in here on the bed so they don’t wrinkle. Go ahead and strip out of
everything except your boxers, okay?” Dean nodded and stepped inside the
bedroom. “I’ll just wait right out here,” Helen said softly as she pulled the
door shut.
As Dean started to undress, he realized that he probably should have paid
better attention to the client profile he had received on Miss Helen. If he had
to get hard and perform for a woman old enough to be his grandmother — it
probably would have helped to have some Viagra or Cialis in his system. He had
no idea how he was going to force an erection and play with wrinkly skin…
Shaking off that thought, he stripped quickly and laid out his clothes, before
straightening his boxer-briefs on his ass and turning back to the door. He
pulled it open and smiled at the woman waiting patiently for him.
Her eyes danced along his naked skin for a long moment, before she nodded and
smiled approvingly. “Very nice.” She tucked her hand around his elbow and
guided him towards a large living room area. “You see, Dean, my sweet Johnny
died about two years ago, and since he and I never had children… I have times
where I get very lonely. It’s nice to have a companion sharing the same space,
wouldn’t you agree?”
Dean nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Helen moved to sit down on a white suede sofa and motioned to the pillow by her
feet. Dean knew well enough to know that the pillow was for him — and quickly
knelt down on the cushion, letting his ass rest on his feet.
“My friends,” Helen continued, “they keep suggesting I buy a dog. Filthy, time
consuming things — how am I supposed to travel when I have a needy pet always
demanding my attention?” She reached out, beginning to run her fingers gently
through his hair. “But the idea was a good one, and I found that I could pay
for a few hours with a better behaved pet — one that is specifically trained to
keep me company on lonely nights. So if it’s alright with you, Dean, I’m going
to watch some television and you can rest your head right here on my knee. If
you need to use the restroom, or feel uncomfortable at any time, go ahead and
speak up — but otherwise, I’d like to just relax together in the quiet.”
The concept was completely foreign to Dean — this woman was literally paying
for him to sit there and do nothing, but since he wouldn’t need to force an
erection to do as she asked, there was no way he was going to complain. He
settled his head gently on her knee and sighed softly as she continued rubbing
his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.
                                      ---
“You seriously have to be like the luckiest prostitute in history.” Charlie
shook her head as she pushed the shopping cart through the Safeway that had
been on their way home from Dean’s latest appointment. “Two clients in a row
where all you do is sit around on your ass? I mean seriously — who pays over a
hundred dollars to have someone play board games with them.”
“Lonely old rich women apparently.” Dean slowed his pace, eyes scanning the
various displays in front of the bakery. “Charlie, I want pie. Can I have pie?”
“I’m not your mother, Chewie.”
Dean pouted. “No, but you’re the closest thing I have to a wife. So can I have
pie or not? You know I’m not old enough to make such important decisions.”
“You may have a slice of pie, but not the whole thing.” She pointed to the
other side of the case where the individual slices were sold. “Can’t have that
ass getting any squishier — it’s our money-maker.”
Dean let Charlie continue teasing him as they made their way through the store
stocking up on grocery essentials. When Charlie mentioned the need for bath
products that didn’t smell like Dean, he followed her patiently to the health
and beauty section. Halfway down the aisle, he noticed a man standing in front
of the display of condoms and lubricant and frowned.
“Castiel?” The name left his mouth without hesitation, and it was only after he
spoke that it dawned on Dean that addressing clients outside of the dom/sub
environment might not be appropriate. He was just shocked to see the other man.
Castiel looked up, glancing briefly between Dean and Charlie, before slipping a
large box of condoms into the handbasket he held. “Hello, Dean. How is your
evening going?”
Distracted by the fact that Castiel was wearing jeans, it took Dean a moment to
realize he’d been asked a question. He looked back up to Castiel’s face and
forced a smile. “Good. Just… shopping.”
Blue eyes focused back on Charlie. “Is this your girlfriend, Dean?” Castiel
seemed a bit worried about asking such a question. It was clearly towing an
invisible line between client and paid escort.
Dean looked back at Charlie — who was obviously trying really hard to pretend
she was worried about the shampoo bottle in her hand and wasn’t eavesdropping.
“No, no. That’s Charlie. She’s my roommate-slash-best friend. Also a raging
lesbian.”
He didn’t fail to catch the ease of tension from Castiel’s shoulders. “Good.
That’s… good.” Castiel looked more than a little out of his element with the
current conversation. He waited another awkward moment before forcing a smile.
“I should go. I have a um… meeting.”
“Right.” Dean watched the man rush away without even saying a goodbye and shook
his head. He felt the the cart pushing into his leg and turned to see Charlie
standing there with wide eyes.
“He’s hot.”
“He’s a client,” Dean replied.
“A really fucking hot client. God, those eyes were almost enough to make me
straight. I wish I could find a chick with eyes like that.”
Dean noticed the empty spaces on the condom shelf and wondered what size
Castiel had bought. “He thought you were my girlfriend. I don’t think he was
prepared to handle having an… escort with a girlfriend at home.”
“Yeah,” Charlie steered the cart towards the next aisle. “That would probably
fuck with anyone’s head. Finding out that you’re paying all that money when
someone else is getting it for free?” Charlie frowned suddenly, turning around
to stare at Dean. Her next question was probably not the most appropriate for
the middle of the produce section, but Charlie never was one to really know the
word ‘filter’. “Have you ever had a real boyfriend or girlfriend? I mean I know
you’ve had a couple fuck buddies since we met, but…”
A sick feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t even want to
dwell on why one particular face popped up in his mind. “You think I have time
for that shit, Charlie?” Dean shook his head. “Emotional bullcrap and dudes
stealing my shit when I don’t give them enough time? No, thank you.”
                                      ---
After his run-in with Castiel at the grocery store, Dean had a good idea what
to expect during their next appointment. He’d been wondering what Castiel was
hiding under those well-pressed, expensive slacks of his and it looked like
he’d finally get his answer.
But, more importantly, Dean felt that this would be an opportunity to redeem
himself in Castiel’s eyes. Showing up high had been stupid, but he’d been
scared. It still wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but the prospect of being
pushed around possibly a little too hard was still so much better than the
thought of having no job at all.
So when Charlie dropped him off at the fancy apartment complex at five minutes
to ten on Friday night, he was ready to get fucked.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Just a couple of things: first off, this is (aside from like two
     sentences) alllllll Miss Hufflebutt's doing. She wrote every bit and
     did excellently so please give her tons of love and praise.
     Secondly - she obviously loves you more than I do because this
     chapter is a thousand words longer than normal. Don't get used to it.
     ;P
     Third: sub!Dean warnings in this. (Obviously, but still.)

          ”Thou art to me a delicious torment.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
                                      ---
Dean paused in the hallway outside Castiel’s door. This would be the first time
meeting the man in a professional setting while completely sober. Dean didn’t
know what it was, but there was something about his other clients thus far that
seemed… easier. Like there was less to lose, but also far more at stake. Which
was a ridiculous thought — all of Dean’s clients paid the agency the same rate
for variations of the same service.
But with Castiel, Dean had already fucked up once. He’d shown up to their first
appointment high on cocaine (Only a little, Dean reasoned) after he’d been
specifically instructed to not have any narcotics on him.
So why had Castiel given him a second chance? Dean had sure gotten shit on by
other people far worse in the past for far less.
The door to Castiel’s apartment opened before Dean even had a chance to knock.
“Good evening, Dean,” Castiel said, his hand still on the door. Dean didn’t
understand how the guy could still stand to be in work clothes so late — even
if his dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top and looking more than a little
rumpled. His hair was even sticking up on one side, but Castiel was quick to
smooth it down.
“Uh, hey Cas.” Dean kicked himself mentally as soon as he’d said it. Shit,
that’s way too casual, he’s gonna be pissed off.
But Castiel didn’t even blink at the impromptu nickname. “Please, come in.”
Dean walked through the door, his hands in his pockets. “So, uh, I need to
apologize for last time.” He looked at the floor. “That — that was stupid of
me, and, uh… I won’t do it again.”
“You’re right, it was stupid.” Castiel looked him straight in the eyes. “But I
accept your apology.”
“I really appreciate that, and you not telling my boss—”
“As long as it never happens again, it’s in the past. Now,” Castiel let his
eyes drag over Dean’s body from head to toe, “aren’t you on the clock?”
“Yes, sir.” Dean stood up straight, ready for inspection. He wore the same grey
suit he had last time, but had at least managed to spring for a new tie. It was
candy apple red — Charlie had insisted it contrasted wickedly against his eyes.
He also noticed it had somehow come crooked, but before he could correct it,
Castiel was already on the job. His hands felt warm, even through several
layers of fabric. It felt nice, if unexpected, to have the older man so close
in Dean’s personal space. It was calming, and Dean felt grounded.
“The agency forwarded me your test results from your doctor,” Castiel said, his
tone businesslike. “I sent in mine as well — did you get them?”
“I did, yeah.”
“Good. So are you comfortable with giving or receiving oral sex without a
condom, or other barriers?”
Images of Castiel with his lips stretched around Dean’s cock flashed unbidden
through his mind. That’s not what you’re here for, not unless that’s what’s
gonna get him off. “I am,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.
“Good.” Dean noticed what looked to be desire flash through those impossible
blue eyes. “Now,” Castiel continued, his hands on Dean’s lapels, “as good as
this looks on you, I would like you to go into the guest bedroom, and strip.
Are you wearing your panties again?”
“Yes sir,” Dean said, taking pride in the effect he apparently had on the other
man as he noticed Castiel’s breathing quicken. It was almost imperceptible, but
it was there.
“Strip to those, and wait on the bed, on your knees for me. I would like to
touch you tonight. Is that acceptable?”
Dean swallowed a lump in his throat that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Yes,
sir.”
“And what’s your safeword?”
“Topeka.”
“Good.” Castiel’s eyes were searching Dean’s, threatening to betray the stony
facade his face was carrying on. “Second door on your left. I’ll be in
shortly.”
Dean removed his shoes, remembering Castiel’s rule from last time, and padded
down the hall. When he entered the second door on the left, he couldn’t help
but look around and admire the modest decor. He had a feeling that Castiel
bought his condo completely furnished — because he did not seem like the
interior decorating type.
As he began undressing, his eyes landed on the one thing in the room that stood
out — a small leather paddle that was laying on the wooden dresser. Measuring
just over a foot in length, the paddle seemed equal parts intimidating and non-
threatening. Nothing else in the room appeared to be out of place — it had to
have been left there on purpose.
Dean brushed the paddle from his mind and untucked his shirt, unbuttoning it
all the way and sliding it down his shoulders. He folded his clothes as
carefully as he had last time, and placed them on a chair in the corner of the
room.
Once he was wearing only the red and black panties —newly purchased for the
occasion — he climbed slowly onto the middle of the bed. Castiel’s only
instruction had been ‘on your knees,’ so Dean faced the headboard resting on
his knees and palms. The disconcerting part about that particular position, was
his lack of view — if Castiel was quiet, Dean would have no idea when he
entered the room.
Dean didn’t have to wait for very long.
He heard Castiel’s footsteps within a few minutes, although he was quiet and
the building was too new to have very squeaky floors. He entered the room
without saying a word and left the door open.
Castiel approached the bed, and Dean shivered when Castiel ran one hand down
Dean’s spine. He hooked one finger under the elastic over Dean’s hip, pulling
it away from Dean’s skin and letting it snap back softly. “You look so pretty
in your panties, Dean. Do you like wearing panties for me?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean replied, anticipation making the palms of his hands itch. He
didn’t dare move his head to look around — Castiel hadn’t yet laid down all the
rules and Dean didn’t want to fuck up again. Dean heard Castiel walk towards
the dresser where he’d seen the paddle, pick up the object, and walk back. He
felt the rough slide of leather over his ass cheeks as Castiel ran the paddle
over his skin.
Oh, boy.
“I’ll be frank, Dean. I’m going to spank your ass raw, but I’m also going to
make it worth your while.” There was a tone of command in his voice that wasn’t
there when he’d greeted Dean at the door. “If you can be quiet — and I mean not
one sound — I will eat your ass out until you come so hard you can’t remember
your own name.”
Holy shit.
“Do you consent?” This time his voice was casual; he didn’t sound unsure of
himself, but he wasn’t giving an order either.
“Y-yes, sir.”
“What’s your safeword?”
“Topeka.”
“Good. Use it if you need to. But otherwise — no noise.”
Dean nodded, assuming the game was beginning. He was right.
Castiel smoothed one hand over his ass. While not exactly modest, the new
panties did cover his ass a little. Castiel pushed the fabric on both sides up,
wedging the garment into Dean’s crack to expose as much of his skin as possible
while still wearing them. The paddle tapped gently against his skin once,
before it recoiled and hit Dean square on the ass hard enough to send him
forward just a little.
Thwack.
Another hit, harder.
Thwack.
Dean clenched his hands in the blanket below him, and tried to keep his breath
even. After a few more hits his skin started to sting but Castiel showed no
signs of relenting. Dean couldn’t decide what was the bigger motivation: the
promise of what would probably be a hell of a rimjob, or the thought of
successfully doing what Castiel asked of him.
Dean let the heat spreading over his skin distract him as he bit into his
bottom lip to keep from crying out. Despite the pain and the strict
concentration and focus he had on not making a noise, Dean’s cock was still
hard as a rock — pressing up against his panties and trying to break free
beyond the elastic.
“You’re being so good for me, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low and rough over the
higher-pitched smacks of leather on bare skin. “You’re not going to make any
noise unless I ask, are you?”
Dean shook his head, uncertain of whether or not the question was rhetorical,
but not wanting to break his silence.
“Maybe this is too easy for you,” Castiel mused, pausing in his strikes.
Dean tried his best not to flinch when Cas’ hand touched his raw and stinging
skin, trailing a path between his legs to squeeze his erection through the
smooth material of his panties. The pressure felt delicious but it was far too
fleeting. Dean had no idea entirely what was in store for him that night, but
somehow he trusted this man who seemed more than able and willing to take Dean
apart piece by piece.
It was all he could do to hope that he’d be put back together again.
“Maybe I need to make this harder for you.” Dean braced himself for a stronger
impact but Castiel waited long enough that Dean was still caught off guard.
Smack.
“It’s too bad you can’t see how red your pretty ass is, Dean.”
Smack.
His skin was practically screaming now, all his nerve endings laid raw — but
he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that every slap didn’t also send a shiver of
pleasure through his groin. Dean desperately wished he had something to bite
down on, but he was pretty sure that if he dared take the pillow or blanket
underneath him between his teeth, he’d tear through them. So he was good.
As he entered an almost calm state of mind, he gradually became aware of the
strikes to his ass slowing. They stopped entirely with one last hit that felt
harder than all the others, and Dean wondered just how many muscles Castiel was
hiding under his wrinkled dress shirt.
“You were so good, Dean, so good.” There was an unmistakable note of pride in
Castiel’s voice and Dean found himself wondering both where it was coming from,
and why it made Dean feel so damn good.
Dean heard Castiel place the paddle back on the dresser and felt him kneel on
the bed behind him. The strong hands that smoothed over his raw and angry skin
were not entirely unwelcome, but his flesh was definitely very sensitive. “You
look amazing all marked up like this for me, Dean.” Castiel leaned closer and
placed a kiss at the base of Dean’s spine. It was surprisingly tender. “I think
you’ve more than earned your reward, Dean. Would you like me to eat your ass
out?”
Dean couldn’t nod enthusiastically enough.
“You have to do one thing for me though,” Castiel said, an edge of mischief in
his voice. “I want you to be loud for me now.” He punctuated his statement by
digging his fingernails just slightly into the abused, red flesh of Dean’s ass.
“I want to hear you whimper, and moan, and scream for me while I split you open
on my tongue. Do it now, Dean. Make noise for me.”
Castiel clenched his fingers deeper into Dean’s skin, and Dean let out a
broken, breathy moan. “Yes, yes sir, please.”
Castiel wrenched the panties out of where they were practically lodged in
Dean’s crack and pulled them down to about halfway down his thighs. Spreading
Dean’s knees further apart, he leaned in to pepper kisses to the stinging skin
before licking a stripe from the base of Dean’s balls to his hole. Placing a
hand on either cheek he brought his face in close, dragging the flat of his
tongue over Dean’s skin.
This time Dean let every keening moan he needed to make tumble out of his
throat. If Castiel wanted loud, he could do loud. Dean was pleased, for more
than one reason, to hear nearly every noise he made echoed in a low hum from
the man who had his face buried in Dean’s ass.
Castiel fell into a rhythm that alternated between probing his tongue inside
Dean’s hole and obscenely slurping around that and everything else. Dean didn’t
know where Castiel had stashed the lube, or when he had even opened some, but
when the older man slid a finger into him, alongside his tongue, it was a
smooth and welcome burn. Dean had no idea where this guy had learned to eat
ass, but he felt compelled to find out and send them a damn muffin basket.
Dean must have been noisy enough, and sufficiently giving himself away, because
soon after Castiel slipped a second finger inside him, he raised his head long
enough to say, “I want you to be a good boy and come for me, Dean. Mark up
those pretty panties of yours for me. Come for me now.” Castiel’s fingertips
found Dean’s prostate with a practiced ease and it was all over. Dean came with
a garbled cry, and even as he was coming his brains out with Castiel still
tongue-deep in his ass he found himself wondering how he was going to get the
come stains out of his underwear. Because he was certain there was a fucking
ton of it.
As he breathed through the end of his orgasm Dean became aware of Castiel
speaking. He had withdrawn his tongue and fingers, and Dean heard the distinct
sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone. “I want to come on your ass,
Dean. May I?”
“Yes. Please, sir.” Dean barely managed to get his reply out, still breathing
heavily. He was still facing forward, obediently on his hands and knees.
“Fuck, Dean, the things you do to me,” Castiel said, and it was so low that
Dean wasn’t sure it had been meant to have been said out loud.
Despite not having been touched at all during their session, it was barely more
than a minute before Castiel was striping Dean’s still stinging red ass with
his own come. Job well done, Dean thought smugly to himself.
When Castiel’s breathing returned to a steady pace, Dean felt his weight move
off the bed. He left the room, and Dean heard a tap run for a few moments
somewhere, and then Castiel was back. “Here,” he said, “let me clean you off.”
He ran a cool wet cloth over the mess Dean didn’t doubt he’d left there. “You
can sit up now.” He folded the half-dirty towel and handed it to Dean. “This
side’s clean,” he said, nodding to where Dean would need to clean up himself.
“I’m sorry if those are ruined, but I’m very grateful you wore them for me.” He
was relaxed again, the authority mostly gone from his voice, and almost seemed
a little shy.
Dean stood to reach inside his panties and wipe the come away and winced as the
elastic rubbed against the sore part of his skin.
“Are you alright?” The concern in Castiel’s voice was palpable.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Dean said. “It’ll smart for a while but it… it was good.”
He looked down to hide the blush spreading over his face. He glanced at the
watch he was still wearing and frowned. “It’s not even midnight yet, though. I
can get ready to go again in a bit?”
“No, that’s quite alright. That must have taken a fair bit out of you. You’ve
been an excellent submissive, and now it’s my turn to fulfil my role.”
Dean was confused. Castiel had already played the part of the dom, hadn’t he?
Cas crossed the room and brought over a wicker laundry basket, identical to the
one in his guest bathroom, and held it in front of Dean for the come-covered
towel. “We’ve got just over an hour and I would be a terrible dominant to send
you out now after what I just put you though.” Dean dropped the cloth in the
hamper and Castiel returned the receptacle to its place against the wall. “Take
those off, and I can either throw them in the wash or just give you a pair of
shorts to wear home.”
“Uh, sure. Either would be fine, I guess.” Dean bent over to slip the soiled
garment off, and couldn’t hide the grimace from sliding over his face as he
moved far too much for his punished ass to tolerate.
“I think you may have overstated how ‘fine’ you are,” Castiel said with a wink.
“So I’m going to give you my last order of the night: you’re going to lay face
down on the bed, and I’ll be back with some water, cheese and crackers, and
aloe lotion for your skin.” He turned to leave, but paused at the door. “If
that’s alright with you?”
Dean was already lowering himself gingerly onto the bed, not even caring that
he was completely naked and could barely move. “That,” he said, “sounds
wonderful.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Before this chapter, I would add triggers plus top/bottom roles here
     at the beginning - to prevent spoilers for some readers all future
     trigger warnings and top/bottom role notes will be at in the END
     NOTES. Please click below before reading if you're worried.
See the end of the chapter for more notes

”Men go to far greater lengths to avoid what they fear than to obtain what they
                             desire.” - Dan Brown
                                      ---
”What’s your safeword?” He asked, reaching up to secure the metal handcuffs
around the top bar of the bed’s headboard.
“Canyon.”
Click.
“Good.” Castiel’s blue eyes danced along his lover’s bare skin. There were
beads of sweat running down the tanned, muscled back. One hand closed around
the collar Paul wore on his neck and gave it a tug, pulling the taller man’s
head back. The moan the gesture elicited from the man currently on his knees
and handcuffed to the bed went straight to Castiel’s already-hard dick. “And
whose are you?” Castiel growled as he reached down to remove the butt plug Paul
had been wearing for some time. “Whose little slut are you?”
“Yours,” Paul gasped, his voice thick and heavy with need.
“You’re a greedy little whore, is what you are.” Castiel smeared a generous
layer of lube to Paul’s stretched and puffy asshole, and on himself, and slid
right in. He swallowed a groan as the other man clenched around him. Part of
the game was to not let on how much this affected him. He slid out almost
entirely before slamming back in. Paul cried out, the metal cuffs clanking as
he pulled against them.
How rough Paul liked it had only concerned Castiel at first — and before he
realised just how much he loved making it rough. There was something absolutely
intoxicating about dominating someone bigger and stronger than you. And he
trusted Paul to safeword out if he needed to — although he never had.
Castiel fucked Paul relentlessly, the bed squeaking and squealing every time he
slammed forward into him. He kept one hand on the leather collar, tugging on it
enough that Paul would feel it, but not enough to do any damage. Cas doubted
that Paul would come this time as he had three times that day already — there
was nothing Castiel loved more than milking it out of him, leaving the other
man soft and pliant and fucked out — but he knew he wasn’t going to last too
long. Not with how worked up their earlier play had gotten him.
Castiel pulled out of Paul when he felt himself about to tip over the edge and
came hot white stripes all over the prone man’s back.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Castiel moaned, only just catching his breath. “That was so good,
baby. Thank you so much.” He slid off the bed and stood slowly, grabbing the
towel he’d kept nearby. He wiped the come off Paul’s back tenderly but quickly,
not wanting to leave his boyfriend handcuffed to the bed any longer than
necessary. He unbuckled Paul’s collar, signaling the end of playtime, before
planting a kiss to the side of Paul’s head and grabbing the key from the top of
the nightstand. “How are you doing?”
Paul swallowed once before answering. “Fine. Looking forward to getting out of
these, though.” He huffed a laugh, perhaps to lighten the tone, but it was
quite humorless.
“Of course. You were amazing, though.” Castiel sat near the head of the bed,
took Paul’s wrists in his hands, and frowned. The metal cuffs looked distinctly
tighter than they had been only a few minutes before, the skin underneath them
red and raw.
Castiel had to swallow back a rising tide of panic. “Your wrists.”
“What about them?” Paul’s voice was thin, tired.
“They’re rubbed raw. You didn’t tell me they were too tight!” Paul flinched at
the edge Castiel’s concern brought to his tone and he regretted it immediately.
“I thought they were supposed to be tight. I thought that was the point.”
“No, my love. Hurting you is neverthe point.” He leaned in close and planted a
kiss to Paul’s temple. The sweat from their earlier exertions had started to
turn cold and his skin was clammy. “Let’s get you out of these.”
Paul said nothing, but closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
Castiel fiddled with the key, thrusting it into the first cuff. Rushing to free
Paul he perhaps exerted a little too much force on the key because, instead of
the sharp, satisfyingclickof the lock springing free, he heard a much more
worrying dullsnap.
“Oh.”
“What? What’s’Oh’?”
Castiel said nothing right away, but examined the predicament in his hand. The
key had indeed snapped off in its hole, broken flush to the surface. He hadn’t
even known handcuff keys could do that. “Don’t panic,” Castiel began, knowing
full well that those were not the two best words to start any sentence with but
unable to think of any alternatives, “but the key broke.”
“That’s not funny, Castiel. The game’s over.”
“I’m not joking, Paul. It snapped clean off in the lock. Here... ” he tilted
the bracelet as far over as it would go and gave the other side a sharp smack.
The broken part of the key popped right out. He held it up for Paul to inspect.
“At least it’s not jammed in there.” He laid both pieces of key on the table
next to the bed.
Paul looked up at Castiel, his eyes widening. “Get me out of these, Cas.Now.”
It hadn’t even been a minute and Castiel felt terrible. They’d been sceneing
for the better part of the day, and were both physically and emotionally
exhausted. He needed to be taking care of Paul, feeding him, running a
bath,patching up his wrists.“You’re fine, Paul. It’s fine. Where’s the second
key?”
The color drained out of Paul’s face like water down a bath drain. “Shit,” he
said. “Shit, shit shit.”
Castiel sat closer to him, smoothing a hand over his sweat-damp hair. “Paul?”
Castiel kept his words slow and deliberate, hoping he could portray far more
calm than he felt. “Where. Is. The. Key.” As the submissive they had both
decided ages ago that Paul should be the one to be in charge of things like
that. Of keys for restraints and handcuffs and the like. They’d used such toys
before — they’d just never actually had a need for a Plan B before.
“Fuck, I — I don’t know, Cas.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’ve always had the second key.”
“When I said I didn’t fucking know I meant I didn’t fucking know, okay?” He
rattled against the bars uselessly, and Castiel noticed he was breathing hard.
“Just calm down, Paul. Take a deep breathe.” He tried placing a hand on the
back of Paul’s shoulder but the man flinched hard and Castiel drew back.
“F-fuck, Cas! We’re not in a scene right now, you don’t get to fucking tell me
what to do right now!”
“I’m not trying to. Here, why don’t you get comfortable. Can you sit?” He tried
offering a guiding hand but Paul jerked out of the way as much as he could.
“I can sit on my goddamned own, just get me out of these fucking things.” Paul
crawled forward along the bed, bracing himself against the headboard, and sat
crosslegged at the head of the bed, leaning awkwardly to one side.
“I’m working on that, Paul. But you need to tell me where you’ve put the second
key.”
“I-I don’t know,” he admitted, and he sounded defeated. “I put it in a drawer
at my place weeks ago—”
Weeks ago.Castiel had always been under the very clear impression that Paul
always had the second key with him when they played. “Do you remember which
drawer?”
Paul was shaky, his breathing still rapid. “I’m not sure.” His eyes were
squeezed shut, and his head shook back and forth a little. “My bedroom. I think
it’s in my room. Under my socks.”
“Paul, look at me.” Paul complied but Castiel could tell he was on the verge of
tears. “Paul,” he began, “I can get the key, but I’ll need to leave you here
while I go to your apartment—”
“No! Cas, you can’t leave me—”
“I’ll have to if you want me to go and get the key.”
“Some — something’s wrong. You have to get me out of these right away.”
Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you meansomething’s wrong?”
“My hands. I can’t feel them. They’re numb. Oh god, I can’t feel my hands,
Cas!”
Castiel squeezed the fingers on one of Paul's hands, and then the other. "Can
you feel that?"
"Yeah."
"Paul, you're having a panic attack. Do you understand?"
Paul nodded frantically, taking a deep breath. "I feel like my heart's going to
explode." His voice was suddenly very small.
"Listen to me, Paul. You're going to be alright. Your heart's not going to
explode." He pulled the small throw blanket from the end of the bed and draped
it around Paul's shoulders, pulling it closed around his chest the best he
could. He slid down to the floor beside the bed and laid his forehead on one of
Paul's knees, the man still shaking above him. "I'm sorry, Paul. I'm so
sorry..."
                                      ---
Castiel was exhausted. Apparently pushing himself those extra two miles wasn’t
a good idea. He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow as the
elevator dinged and he stepped off on the correct floor of his condo building.
As he drew closer to his door, he noticed a lone figure standing against it and
frowned.
He never got visitors. Other than Dean — but there was no reason for Dean to be
at his condo at 10 a.m. on a Sunday.
Then the figure moved and Castiel finally noticed the dark gray fedora in his
guest’s hand. “Henry.” Stepping up to his best friend, he reached out to pull
the other man into a hug — before stopping short when he realized he was still
in his running gear and covered in sweat. “Sorry.”
Henry seemed more than a little amused. “I would say ‘no sweat’ but there seems
to be more than a little.”
“Come on in, Grandpa.” The nickname was a term of endearment that also seemed
incredibly fitting for Henry Wesson, who was old fashioned to a ‘t.’ Castiel
had never seen the man wearing anything less than a suit and tie. His trademark
40’s era style was equal parts impressive and jaw-dropping. One day Castiel
vowed to see inside the closet that held so many well-tailored pieces of
clothing.
Henry’s polished black shoes made a soft click-clack on the wood floors as he
stepped inside the condo. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up in a while and I
know how you love Sundays off, so I took a gamble on finding you here. Like an
anti-social bumblebee.”
“You’re one to talk.” Castiel bypassed the kitchen and living room and moved
towards the hallway. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home.”
Fifteen minutes later when Castiel stepped back out of his bedroom dressed in
dark wash jeans and a gray polo shirt, Henry sat at the kitchen island sipping
from a tall glass of iced tea and reading over the newspaper. Castiel moved to
get his own glass of tea, happily grabbing a slice of lemon to drop in the
glass as well. “How is life, Henry?”
“Amazing. My new students seem excited and ready to fully immerse themselves in
Historical Human Cultures.” As he spoke, his eyes stayed on the paper, scanning
over what looked like the ‘local events’ section from Castiel’s vantage point.
“Really?”
“Of course not. They’re a bunch of miserable runts just like the last group.
Why do I even bother teaching, Castiel? Freshman college students have no
appreciation for history or culture. I could be writing and traveling the world
but instead I show up everyday and get mocked for having a sense of style.”
He had heard much of the same complaints from Henry before. The man was
miserable, but stayed attached to his job and home in Portland because of a
self-imposed responsibility to take care of his friend Josie and her two-year-
old son, Ryan. A lesser man would have moved on long ago instead of standing by
and taking care of a family that wasn’t truly his, but Henry was the epitome of
a great man.
“You know I’ve offered my spare bedroom if you ever need time away, Henry.”
Castiel leaned his back against the counter and sipped at his drink while
watching his friend. “No one would blame you for needing a break.”
“I would blame myself. It isn’t like Josie gets a break.” Henry folded the
newspaper shut and slid it away before looking up to meet Castiel’s gaze. “How
are things with you? You seem refreshed and in good spirits. Meet someone new?”
Dean’s image flashed in his mind — followed by the very vivid image of Dean on
his hands and knees on the spare bed, completely naked except for those damn
panties. Castiel had never expected to like seeing a man in panties as much as
he did. At first adding that little tidbit into his sub’s requirements had
seemed like the extra cherry on top — just a little bonus that he would get to
experience every time the sub undressed.
Dean magically turned that extra cherry into a whole fucking sundae.
“I’m going to take the awkward silence and hint of a hard-on as a yes,” Henry
mused.
Fuck. Castiel shoved his hand down against the front of his jeans before
quickly adjusting his position. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Henry nodded, looking up at the ceiling and pondering for a moment. “So not a
20-something twink with a penchant for being spanked?”
Okay maybe it was what Henry was expecting. His best friend knew what he liked,
and knew it well. But Dean was different — hell, the entire situation was
different. “We aren’t dating.”
“I see. Friends with weird benefits?”
Castiel shook his head, wondering if he should really admit to the
circumstances behind his relationship with Dean. “I, um… I may be paying for
his services.”
A frown appeared on Henry’s face as he stared long and hard at Castiel. “Excuse
me? Did you just… I must not have heard you correctly. Did you just say that
you’re paying some bloke to be submissive?”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Oh Castiel.”
Henry was his only friend that knew the full story behind his break-up with
Paul. The in’s and out’s of how things went so terribly wrong and scarred
Castiel to his very core. He pushed the pad of his thumb through the
condensation on his glass and avoided Henry’s knowing eyes.
He knew that paying for sex wasn’t a good alternative to facing his problems.
He had spent weeks contemplating that very fact while trying to decide whether
or not to even contact the agency. It all boiled down to the hard truth that
any one night stand he had after Paul had been empty and unsatisfying — he
still needed the dom/sub dynamic to really enjoy sexual activities. The rest of
his life was so out of control that being in control in the bedroom was
incredibly fulfilling.
Unfortunately, he had no desire to get emotionally attached to another sub. He
never wanted to put himself in another position like he had with Paul — open to
the hurt and pain when things went wrong.
Paying for Dean’s services had been the only option.
“Forgive me for not knowing much about the BDSM lifestyle,” Henry began, “but
isn’t it a bit unhealthy for you to be paying whoever this guy is to be
submissive? Ultimately, you’ve created a situation where he could be afraid to
opt-out of a suggestion based on the fact that you’ll forgo his payment.”
It dawned on Castiel immediately that Henry was completely correct. If Dean
didn’t want to participate in a scene, he might be afraid to safeword. Castiel
had made it clear that if Dean did use his safeword, all play would be done for
the rest of that session. In that case, Dean’s time and payment would be cut
short. “Shit. I’ll need to make it clear that if he uses his safeword, he’ll
still get paid for the entire evening.”
“Meaning he holds the role of power, not you, Castiel.”
Grabbing at a nearby paper towel that he had used for his breakfast, Castiel
rolled it into a ball and threw it at Henry’s head. “Stop accentuating the
flaws in my plans, Henry.”
Henry chuckled, picking up the wad of paper towel and tossing it towards the
end of the counter where the trashcan sat. “I’m simply hoping you think this
through completely, Castiel. Maybe write yourself up a timeline… how long
you’ll indulge in this pay-for-sex nonsense before you take a chance at a real
relationship again.”
After the pain and heartache of ending his relationship with Paul… Castiel
wasn’t sure he’d ever be willing to try another “real” relationship.
Chapter End Notes
     Top!Castiel/Bottom!Other. Tags for activities in chapter: bondage,
     toy mishaps, character having a panic attack (not Castiel or Dean),
     failure to safeword.
     Also just gonna leave this here.....
     [http://i1377.photobucket.com/albums/ah45/ltcdeanwinchester/
     tumblr_n5zc24cAFf1qari1to2_250_zpsgwjpmjlj.gif]
     (Cas/Paul)
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     (No lamps were harmed in the making of this chapter.)
     See 'end notes' for top/bottom roles in this chapter.
     Also - how are you guys getting us to write such long chapters?
     Conspiracy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes

    ”Behind every beautiful thing, there’s some kind of pain.” - Bob Dylan
                                      ---
Three weeks into his ‘fancy’ new job, Dean felt like he was getting used to the
routine. And he finally had enough money in his pocket that they could pay rent
and eat more than ramen noodles.
They still didn’t have that much, and it wasn’t like they would be upgrading to
a fancier apartment anytime soon, but they had enough cash for a new bag of
weed and a bottle of purple nail polish.
“Stop twitching! This is hard enough to do without your foot moving
constantly,” Dean grumbled, trying to keep Charlie’s right foot steady while
holding the tiny nail polish brush in his hand.
Charlie let out a huff. “Stop tickling then!”
“I am literally just holding your foot.” He brushed another swipe of purple
onto one of her toenails and rolled his eyes when she twitched again. “Why did
I even agree to do this? Your damned wiggling ruins my artistic skill.”
“Shut up the show is back on.”
Dean half focused on the tattoo parlor reality show while finishing with
Charlie’s right foot and moving onto her left. He wasn’t a fan of reality
television, but Charlie liked watching the hot tattooed chicks bossing people
around, so he dealt with it to appease her.
When he finished painting her toenails, he shoved her foot off his lap and
capped the polish once more. “There you go, squirt.”
“Sweet. Can I paint yours now?” Charlie smirked, knowing exactly why that was a
bad idea.
“I’m sure my clients would just love that.”
“Sassy Cassie would, you and I both know it. No one has a fetish for silky
panties without enjoying pretty nail polish as well.”
                                      ---
Dean was starting to look forward to his weekly appointments with Castiel. His
nerves danced under his skin like an electric current jumping between the ends
of a live wire. There was something about the man that excited Dean; something
he couldn’t put his finger on. They hadn’t fucked yet, but that couldn’t be it
— Dean didn’t even have sex with every single client. He shrugged off the
thought, telling himself it was just because Cas was attractive, and knocked on
the door.
Castiel answered the door almost immediately. Had he been waiting?
“Good evening, Dean. Please, come in.” He smiled at Dean, but it seemed almost
apprehensive, his eyes darting over Dean’s shoulder.
“Evening, boss.” Dean let the smirk slip through his lips unguarded as he bowed
his head and ducked through the entryway past the other man. He hadn’t even
looked at any coke in almost a week, but his skin felt like it was buzzing all
the same. He toed his shoes off and stood there, just inside the door, looking
at Castiel expectantly. Waiting for him to call the shots.
Castiel cleared his throat. “Before we, um, get started tonight,” he began,
“why don’t you come and have a drink with me?”
A drink? Dean was mildly surprised. Doesn’t that go against the whole ‘no
drugs’ rule? He didn’t dare voice his confusion but, rounding the corner into
the living room, he saw a tray with two glasses, a bottle of sparkling mineral
water, and a small dish of lime wedges.
“Please, have a seat.” Castiel gestured to the couch — the very one Castiel had
watched Dean from during their first meeting — and sat down next to Dean.
“Lime?” Castiel asked as he poured half the bottle into one glass.
“Uh, sure.”
Castiel passed Dean his drink and fixed his own. “So…”
Here we go, Dean thought. How freaky is this request gonna be?
“It’s occurred to me that there’s something inherently… problematic about my
paying you for the specific services that you provide.”
Dean took a sip of his soda water. It was kind of gross — he never understood
the concept of adding bubbles to plain old boring water. “Hey man, I’m the last
one to judge what you’re into. I know it’s my job, but I’ve been having fun
with you.” He flashed Castiel his winning smile, the one that got him free
pills at bars.
Castiel sat forward in his seat. “It’s not that. It’s — Dean, I need you to
understand that if you need to safeword out of anything we do —”
“‘All play ends for the evening,’” Dean recited back at him.
“Yes,” Castiel swirled his drink in his hand before looking up again and
holding Dean’s gaze, “but you’ll still get paid for the remainder of your
time.”
That took him aback. “How is that fair to you, though? I mean, I know this
ain’t cheap—”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“But if I can’t do the job that I’m being paid to do, you shouldn’t have to be
the one to pick up the slack.” Part of Dean was screaming at him to shut up —
he’d just been given a way to practically earn free money, if used wisely. Why
was he protesting?
“You can’t think of it like that. Dean, I sincerely enjoy the dominant role.
But to engage in that with you without being certain that you feel safe enough
to put a stop to things should you need to is not only irresponsible, but
immoral as well.”
Damn. “You know, you’re the first client of mine to have this conversation with
me,” Dean said.
“Really.”
“Yeah.” Something flat in Castiel’s tone told Dean that it may have been a
stupid move on his part to mention other clients. You idiot. He may want you to
feel ‘empowered,’ or whatever the hell it is, but he’s still paying for a
fantasy. Make him feel special. Dean put his drink down on the glass table,
before tugging on the end of one sleeve nervously. “I think I know what you’re
saying. That despite our… ‘professional relationship,’ you want to be sure that
I’m into whatever it is we’re doing?”
“Yes. And specifically if and when things get intense.”
Dean swallowed hard. He’d seen intense. But he wasn’t so sure he’d seen it yet
with Castiel. “I can do that,” he said. He added, “Thank you,” and the smile he
gave Castiel was genuine.
Castiel’s face showed a hint of sincere emotion before suddenly shifting back
to normal. “Good. Now that we’ve taken care of that, I have a few ideas for
this evening.” He put his own glass back on the coffee table before turning to
Dean. “What is your experience and knowledge of being a cock warmer?”
He frowned. It was a term he had heard before — but not something he’d ever
done. “Very minimal.”
“That’s alright. You will learn.” Castiel stood and pointed to the far side of
the living room area where a computer desk sat. On the floor next to the
leather executive chair, was the pillow that Dean had knelt on his first night
there. “I’m going to put our drinks away. I’d like you to take your jacket off,
but otherwise remain clothed, and go kneel on the pillow.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean waited until Castiel left the living room, and did as he had
been told. He folded his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair he didn’t
think they were going to use, and took his spot on his knees next to the desk.
When Castiel made it back into the room, he went straight to the leather chair
and sat down, smiling softly at Dean. “I have a little bit of paperwork to
finish, while I work on them, I would like you to hold my cock in your mouth
without the intention of getting it hard or giving me a blowjob. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Castiel reached down to undo his pants and pulled his flaccid cock free. He
didn’t stroke himself, just held his cock in one hand as he stared down at
Dean. “If at any time you feel the need to safeword, you are allowed to pull
free and do so. Otherwise, you are to keep my cock in your mouth for the
duration — failure to do so will result in a punishment. Is that clear?” When
Dean nodded his head, Castiel continued, “What is your safeword?”
It was beginning to make sense, now. Why Castiel asked him the same damn
question over and over. He was being thoughtful. “Topeka.”
“Very good. You may begin — but no hands. A cock warmer’s role is to find
pleasure in simply having their master’s cock against their tongue. I hope you
won’t disappoint me, pet.” He dropped his hold on his own cock and waited
patiently for Dean to do as instructed.
Dean shuffled forward, keeping his hands on his knees, and brought his face to
Castiel’s lap. As Castiel had said, he wasn’t hard, or showing any signs of
becoming so. Dean used his lips to pick up the soft member, taking care to not
lick or suck against its length like he normally would. Once he had it
comfortably laying against his tongue he took a deep breath in through his
nostrils — both to make sure that he could, and to ground himself. He breathed
in Castiel and the dark hairs that curled around the base of his cock tickled
Dean’s nose. Most people would have showered without much thought for playtime
— but it was like Castiel had thoroughly planned on having Dean’s nose buried
in his pubic hair. He smelled distinctly of high-end soap (like a forest after
a rainshower) but there was also an underlying musk of man that made Dean’s
mouth water.
With his current position, there was no way for Dean to see what Castiel was
doing. He had to rely on sound to track the other movements — following the
distinct shuffling of papers in his mind for a few moments before zoning out
and focusing solely on the cock resting in his mouth.
Suddenly soft fingers brushed gently through his short hair. “Good, pet. Very
good.”
Dean wanted to moan at how good that felt, but he hadn’t been told he could
make noise so he kept quiet. Compared to most of the physical contact he
typically had, the touch felt startlingly intimate. He let his eyes flutter
shut, losing himself in the sensations around him.
Time passed easily, and Castiel’s fingers danced through his hair more often
than not until finally they were tugging, signaling for Dean to pull back.
“Alright, pet, that’s enough. It’s been thirty minutes and you’ve been amazing.
Would you like a reward?”
Thirty minutes. Dean almost couldn’t believe it, but he saw no reason why
Castiel would lie about such a thing. He cleared his throat and swallowed,
allowing the saliva to coat his mouth again. He looked up at Castiel from his
place at his feet. “Please, sir.”
Castiel’s fingers traced down Dean’s face, moving to hold his chin as his thumb
brushed along Dean’s swollen bottom lip. “You need to stretch your legs. Go
ahead and make your way back to the room we were in before. Stretch out any
kinks, but don’t take your clothes off. I’m going to get you a bottle of
water.”
Dean stood slowly, steadying himself on the desk. Cas was right — it took him a
few paces to get the feeling back in his legs totally, and stretching them once
he got to the guest bedroom did help. He reached his hands up to the ceiling
before reaching down to his toes and standing straight again. He felt good.
“Here.” Castiel stepped into the room and flicked the light switch for the
overhead light to come on. He held out a water bottle for Dean to take and
didn’t give another instruction until Dean had swallowed a large portion of the
liquid. He took the bottle back and set it on the dresser, before resting his
backside against the same piece of furniture and staring at Dean. “Every time
you show up at my door, Dean, I wonder what kind of panties you have on. Why
don’t you go ahead and strip out of those clothes and show me?”
Dean wished that Castiel hadn’t turned the overhead light on — or that it had
to be so damn bright — but there was no going back now. He slowly unbuttoned
his vest, and laid it on the chair in the corner of the room. He loosened his
tie before undoing it completely and sliding it off. Castiel’s eyes were fixed
on every movement, every gesture. He lost his belt before unbuttoning his
shirt, and losing that too.
Once the shirt was gone, the marks were there in plain sight — discolored
bruises around his wrists and when he turned to place the shirt over the chair,
he knew Castiel could see the lines on his back from the whip. He stepped back
to the spot beside the bed and began working to undo his pants, when a hand
reached out to grasp his own.
Pulling Dean’s hand closer, Castiel held onto Dean’s fingers and turning his
arm face up and face down a couple of times as he examined the bruising. “Who
did this?” he questioned, his voice deep and dark.
“I—” Dean was conflicted. He felt compelled to tell Castiel what he asked — to
do what he asked — but mentioning his other clients would break that fantasy
again. And even to Dean, it felt tacky.
Castiel circled Dean’s body, tracing a finger over the lines on his back. “Did
another dom do this to you? Tell me.” His anger was starting to seep through
his words.
“Y-yes.” Dean hung his head, staring at the floor. He hadn’t done anything
wrong — what he did with his other clients on their time had nothing to do with
Castiel. With him and Castiel. But he felt guilty anyway. He found himself
wishing for something decidedly stronger than soda water.
A growl left Castiel’s throat as he stepped forward, pressing the line of his
body against Dean’s back. “How fucking dare they.” He brushed a soft kiss along
the back of Dean’s shoulder blade. “Dean — I’m about to lose control and fuck
you senseless,” his voice sounded strained — angry, possessive, and controlled
all at the same time. It was like Castiel was fighting a monster inside him,
trying to remain calm for safety’s sake. “Tell me right now what is your
safeword?”
“T-topeka.” It felt like every cell in Dean’s body was electrified.
“Again.”
“Topeka.”
As soon as the word left his mouth smooth and with no stutter Castiel pushed
him forward against the dresser. The force sent the water bottle tumbling to
the ground, but it was capped, and they both ignored it. He pushed Dean’s hands
flat on top of the wood and growled next to his ear, “Keep your hands right
there.” Dean’s head bobbed, acknowledging the command, but Castiel had already
moved on — his hands finding the front closure of Dean’s pants and making quick
work to undo them. The dress pants hit the floor and as soon as the white lace
panties covering Dean’s ass were exposed, Castiel moaned and shifted forward —
rubbing his hard cock, still covered in too many layers, against the crease of
Dean’s ass. “Oh fuck, I think these are my favorite pair yet.”
The sheer need in Castiel’s voice went straight to Dean’s dick, rubbing hard
against the dresser in front of him. Castiel slammed a condom and lube on top
of the high dresser in front of Dean — he must have had them in his pocket —
before Dean heard Castiel’s zipper lower as well.
Castiel grabbed onto Dean’s, hips, pulling him back so that he was bent forward
more. A second later, he reached around for the lube and Dean heard the tell-
tale sound of the bottle opening behind him. Castiel’s hand pushed beneath the
elastic band of the panties and immediately after Dean felt slick fingers
brushing over his hole.
“Tell me, pet,” Castiel growled, “tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.”
“F-fuck,” Dean stammered as one finger breached inside him. “I need you so bad
— nngh.” Two fingers. Even as turned on as he was, being prepped this fast was
a bit of a shock. But considering the state Castiel was currently in he
supposed he was lucky he was getting that much at all.
The fingers scissored a bit, before a third brushed around his rim. “Do you
need to use your safeword?” Castiel asked, kissing and nipping at the skin on
Dean’s left shoulder.
There was no way Dean wanted to stop now — but he felt oddly comforted that he
could. “No. No, I’m good.”
The third finger pressed inside and Castiel growled again, “Then tell me how
badly you need me to fuck you. Tell me how badly you wish it was me, when
you’re with someone else.”
“I need your cock, Cas, please. Every other guy who fucks me — all I can think
about is you. And how much I want your cock buried deep in my ass.” Castiel’s
fingers pushed inside him until one hit his prostate and it was all he could do
to cling to the dresser, to stay upright. “Oh, f-fuck!”
At those words, Castiel pulled away. He reached around for the condom and Dean
listened to the sounds of the foil wrapper being opened and discarded. When
Castiel’s latex-covered cock pushed up against his ass, he realized that he
hadn’t heard the other man drop his pants. He’d been too busy focusing on the
fingers deep inside him.
Rough hands grabbed onto the lace of his panties and he gasped at the sound of
the sheer garment being ripped down the middle. He had no time to worry about
things like the high cost of nice underwear, though. Not when Castiel was
shoving his cock hard into Dean’s ass, hitting home in one fluid motion.
“Fuck,” Castiel groaned, not giving Dean a chance to recover as he found a hard
but steady rhythm. “Your ass feels amazing, pet.”
“Yes, Cas, yes!” Dean’s hands scrambled to find purchase against the slick
wooden surface of the dresser he was still clinging too. The entire unit thump-
thumped against the wall. Castiel pulled out of Dean and slammed into him hard,
sending Dean’s hand shooting out, sending an innocent lamp hurtling to its
doom. “Shit!” Dean exclaimed.
Castiel’s lips landed on Dean’s back, kissing a pattern along the marks there.
“Are you going to come in your pretty panties for me, pet?”
“Fuck! Yes, you fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck me harder—” And as little attention
as Castiel was probably paying to actual words at that moment, he did just
that, and Dean came all over his pretty little panties.
The feel of Dean’s ass squeezing tight around Castiel’s cock was apparently too
much for him to handle. He gripped Dean’s hips hard and slammed forward one
last time before crying out as he came, his whole body shaking in the
aftermath. “Fuck.”
Dean was convinced that he would not be able to stand unassisted were it not
for the debauched piece of furniture currently supporting him. As his breathing
slowed he became aware of Castiel pulling out of him, removing his condom, and
disposing of it.
When Castiel moved back to Dean, he laid a calm hand on the center of his back
and another on his chest. “Come on, let me help you over to the bed to stretch
out, then I’ll grab a towel to clean you up.”
Dean let the other man guide him to the bed, perching gingerly on the edge. His
ass was going to be sore in the morning — but fuck was it worth it. When
Castiel passed him a hand towel he made quick work of the sticky mess between
his ass cheeks and on his cock. He peeled the torn and stained panties off,
holding them out at length like one might a dead animal. “Well, I’d say these
are fucked,” he said, laughing at his own joke.
A frown appeared on Castiel’s face as he reached out to grab the panties.
“That’s disappointing. I liked those ones. Before you leave I want you to write
down your size. I’ll get you some new pairs to replace the ones I’ve damaged.”
His eyebrow quirked as he dropped the panties in the trash can and turned back
to Dean. “What are your thoughts on tights and stockings?”
Chapter End Notes
     Top!Cas/Bottom!Dean. Dom!Cas/Sub!Dean. Possessiveness. Marks/Bruises.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter's notes are a bit intense so please pay attention:
      
     Top!Dean, Bottom!Castiel, mentions of Bottom!Sam, panic attacks,
     safewording, drug use, mentions of forced underage incest/rape
      
     FYI: All wincest scenes are in italics, and you're more than welcome
     to skip over those parts if that floats your boat. Please mind the
     warnings and don't read anything you know you won't like!
See the end of the chapter for more notes

  ”The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip
                    through our fingers.” - Rachel Vincent
                                      ---
The following Monday Dean received a voicemail message from Miss McKenna. ’From
this point forward, Mr. Novak will be your only client.’ He replayed it three
times (once on speaker so Charlie could hear) before the words started to sink
in. When he went to the office on Tuesday to get his check, he had a new
schedule of times to meet with Castiel. On top of their usual Friday nights,
they would also be meeting Sunday night for three hours and Wednesday night for
two hours.
He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over the counter, getting a little closer
to the receptionist and whispering, “Is this normal?”
She looked him up and down with uncaring eyes before shaking her head. “No,
sir. Have a good day.”
                                      ---
Since their Wednesday appointments were only two hours long, their first
Wednesday together was fairly simple. Castiel had Dean show him again what a
good cockwarmer he could be — for close to an hour this time — and then let
Dean blow him. They didn’t talk about Dean’s new, exclusive contract. All in
all it had been a fairly uneventful evening, but even two days before their
next schedule meeting Dean could practically smell the anticipation on Castiel.
In addition to buying out Dean’s time from the agency, Castiel had also sent
along a “wardrobe stipend” with instructions for Dean to get himself one or two
new suits, and a handful of new shirts and ties. Dean had never realised a
person could even spend so much money on clothes at once, but he couldn’t deny
how damned good he looked.
So he’d saved his favourite of his new outfits for that Friday, anticipating
Castiel seeing him in his black suit, with a black dress shirt, and black tie.
He was not disappointed.
When Castiel opened his door a few minutes before ten o’clock Dean thought he’d
have to scrape poor Castiel’s jaw off the floor. “You like?” Dean asked,
holding his arms out from his body and gesturing to his clothes.
Castiel licked his lips before speaking, his eyes taking in all of Dean. “I —
yes. I like.”
                                      ---
Dean felt a pool of anguish and undigested sandwich settling in the pit of his
stomach as he sat next to Sam on the worn out mattress. Sam’s hand was
clutching his so hard it was almost painful — and there was no disguising the
tremble that ran through the younger boy’s body.
They had given their captor an answer. Now all Dean could do was pray that the
guy would at least provide them with lubricant. He didn’t know much — but he
knew that Sam wouldn’t survive that. Turning his head, he kissed Sammy’s matted
hair. “I won’t hurt you, Sammy. I promise. I’m going to protect you no matter
what.”
“I’m so scared, Dean.”
“I know, Sam. I know.”
Footsteps sounded outside the large door and Dean had to bite his tongue to
keep from throwing up.
                                      ---
Dean had felt a sense of pride at how affected Castiel was by only his clothes
and wondered what his dominant had planned for them that evening. He followed
Castiel to the couch and sat down beside him while Castiel poured him a mineral
water.
“Tell me, Dean,” Castiel began, his blue eyes burning bright in open living
space of the condo, most of the light coming from the city lights outside tall
windows. “Are you familiar with the term, ‘topping from the bottom?’”
Dean nodded, “Yeah.”
“What I have in mind is sort of like that, but not quite. I fully intend to
remain in the dominant role, and you will follow each of my directions, as you
have been doing in our time together. Except I want you to penetrate me
tonight.”
Castiel’s eyes were full of expectation. And Dean wanted to fill those
expectations. He didn’t even know this man very well — they certainly weren’t
in a relationship — but he wanted to do everything that Castiel asked of him.
“Do you consent?”
                                      ---
Alan had them strip and leave their clothes in the small space of their prison,
before leading them down the hallway to a second room that Dean had been in
before. He continued to clutch his brother’s small hand andwishedhe had the
strength to fight. If his meals for the past two months hadn’t consisted of
shared sandwiches and small pieces of fruit, he might have the muscle power to
fight their captor.
But, for now, he was stuck following the path to his and Sam’s doom.
The door opened and Alan shoved them inside the bright room. In the center was
a padded table that looked like a doctor’s exam table.
Dean swallowed hard.
                                      ---
The only thing Dean could do was to rub his wrist and answer, “Yes.”
“Good. Finish your drink and follow me.”
Castiel put his drink down and rose. Dean did the same, never caring much for
the carbonated water Castiel always wanted to serve him. Castiel held out his
hand, and Dean took it, his heart beating faster than he wanted it to. The
older man led him down the hallway but, instead of turning left into the
familiar guest bedroom, they followed the hall to its end. Castiel pushed the
door open and they stepped into an elegant but understated master bedroom. The
space was open and clean, decorated with maplewood furniture, the bed bearing
smooth slate-blue blankets and sheets. The curtains were open on the floor-to-
ceiling windows, with a full view of the Willamette river.
“Nice room,” Dean said, the awe in his voice genuine.
“Thank you,” Castiel said. “I know we normally use the other room, but I’m
comfortable here.”
Dean shrugged. “It’s alright by me.”
Castiel turned to face him, his eyes hungry. He stripped his shirt off and
continued staring at Dean. “I’ve already prepared myself. I… tend to get a bit
impatient when I’m on the bottom.”
                                      ---
”Five minutes,” Alan growled. “If he’s not ready in five minutes, you’re
starting anyways.”
It was more than Dean could have ever hoped for. Unfortunately it still meant
he had to prep his ownbrotherfor sex. His hands shook as he grabbed the tiny
container of lube. It was greasy, and almost empty. If he hadn’t been almost
one hundred percent sure that Alan had slipped something into their last meal
Dean would have been absolutely horrified at the reaction both their bodies
were displaying.
Sam’s hazel eyes looked panicked, staring straight at Dean. “Dean?”
                                      ---
Dean watched Castiel begin to undo his pants, and felt panic rising up in his
throat. “I need a, um… I need a minute in the bathroom. Too much soda water.”
He smiled awkwardly. “Is that alright?”
With a nod, Castiel motioned towards the master bath. “Come back naked.”
Dean entered the room and quickly shut himself inside. The door behind him,
Dean took a deep breath. He crossed to the sink and looked at himself in the
mirror before turning the tap on cold and splashing some water on his face. He
stood up straight. He could do this, he could. If only I had something on me.
What he wouldn’t give for a stiff drink, or… it hit him. Turning the tap back
on for noise, he reached out to the corner of the mirror and pulled the cabinet
open.
As expected, there was a decent assortment of plastic orange and white pill
bottles on the narrow shelves, next to the more innocuous dental floss and
band-aids. He scanned the labels until he found something he could work with.
Bingo.
Dean picked up a bottle that had the word ‘Hydrocodone’ written on it. He
popped the lid, shook out two pills, and swallowed them dry. He returned the
container to its place, and shut the cupboard. He stripped, folding his clothes
and laying them on the counter. If he’d had the choice to put things off until
the pills kicked in then he would have. But he was on the clock.
Castiel’s eyes snapped to Dean as he re-entered the bedroom. He was laying on
his back, slowly pushing a slim toy in and out of his hole. Dean thought it
looked like a vibrator, but it wasn’t turned on.
That’s not big enough, Dean thought as Castiel pulled the toy out of himself
and set it aside. I’m going to hurt him, I can’t —
                                      ---
“I can’t do this!”
“Sammy, we have to.”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up, Dean.”
“It’s okay, squirt. I’m here. It’ll be okay. Deep breaths.”
                                      ---
“I’m ready for you, pet. Come here.”
Dean followed his direction and came to stand at the side of the bed. Castiel
got to his knees on the edge of the bed, and placed his hands on Dean’s hips.
He looked up at Dean. “What’s your safeword?” His voice was rough and already a
little wrecked.
“Topeka.” It came out easy now, after so much practice. It was easier to make
it sound smooth than he would have expected.
“Good,” Castiel purred. “You’re going to be a good pet for me, aren’t you?”
Dean swallowed, hoping it wasn’t noticeable since Castiel’s eyes were cast
downward. “Yes, sir.” His hands were starting to itch.
“You need to get hard for me, pet.” Castiel began nosing low on Dean’s abdomen.
“Put your cock in my mouth and get hard for me.”
A blowjob. I can do that. I can get a blowjob.
Castiel opened his mouth against Dean’s soft cock and Dean laid himself on
Castiel’s tongue. The debauched man started licking and sucking at Dean and,
obediently, his dick began to stiffen. Castiel bobbed his head up and down
Dean’s length, hollowing his cheeks, and running his tongue around the head
alternately.
Dean wasn’t sure if he’d been permitted to move, so he didn’t. But he enjoyed
the attention, tried to focus on it, let it ground him. It almost worked, until
Castiel pulled off and settled back on the bed, pulling Dean towards him by the
wrist.
Castiel nodded at the condom and lubricant that had been set out on the bedside
table. “Put the condom on, and some lube. Don’t touch yourself any more than
you need to.”
They were motions at least that Dean was familiar with, and he let himself go
through them. Rip the package. Slip the condom out. Roll it on. Click the lube
cap open. Smear enough on. Dean was so focused with what his hands were doing
that he almost didn’t hear what Castiel was saying at all.
“— love prostate orgasms. So you’re going to give me one before you can come.
Is that understood?”
“Yes sir.” Dean allowed himself to be directed between Castiel’s arched knees.
“Position yourself, but don’t push in yet.”
Dean did as he was told, and guided his cock to Castiel’s hole. As he laid his
cockhead against Castiel’s entrance, the older man reached up and grabbed a
fistful of his hair, tilting his head upward, exposing his neck. Yes, Dean
thought. Push me around. Please.
“Alright, Dean. I want you inside me now. You’re going to push inside and slide
in all the way one movement.” Castiel kept his grip on Dean’s hair.
Dean kept one hand on his dick, and pushed through the tight and slick ring of
muscle. Dean didn’t know what kind of prepping Cas had done to himself — he
still felt incredibly tight. As he bottomed out like he’d been told to do,
Castiel’s brows furrowed in an expression Dean could only read as pained.
Suddenly his heart began to beat faster, turning over in his chest. His hands
felt cold.
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, letting his head fall back on the pillow.
Dean felt Castiel clench around him. “Okay, pet. Move for me. Out and then in
again.”
Dean took a breath, trying to lose himself in his role, hide in being passive.
It’s okay, Dean tried to reassure himself. This is nothing like that time.
Nothing. He pulled most of the way out, vaguely aware that the pressure around
his dick felt good. Should feel good.
“Shit, Dean.”
The words bounced around the inside of Dean’s skull. Sam’s words.
                                      ---
“Shit, Dean.” Sam’s face contorted in a way he’d never expected — or wanted —
to see. He wasn’t even sure it was entirely pain.
                                      ---
Dean’s hands started to shake harder, his breath catching in his throat. The
room spun violently around him, and when he put his hand out to steady himself
it landed on Castiel’s chest.
Castiel noticed something was wrong immediately. “Dean? What’s—”
“I, I can’t—” Dean felt nauseous and exhausted and wired all at the same time.
He felt like he was going to die. “Topeka.”
Chapter End Notes
     In case anyone was wondering: hydrocodone is just generic Vicodin.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Couple things: super thanks to hufflebutt who is single handedly
     carrying the weight of this story while I'm busy helping a flower
     shop on Valentine's Day holiday week. I'm busy and she still managed
     to make this chapter happen.
     Second: super duper thanks to our readers. Your comments and support
     keep the updates rolling in regularly! If we don't reply to your
     comment, know that we do read every one and appreciate all of them.
     Third: wanna meet your authors? Hufflebutt will be at VegasCon and
     Bella will be at SeattleCon. Send an ask on tumblr to toss around
     meet-up ideas. :) We'd love it.
      
     Chapter warnings for safewording aftermath, panic attack, and a fiery
     punk chick on a rampage.

”Life is ten percent what you experience and ninety percent how you respond to
                         it.” - Dorothy M. Neddermeyer
                                      ---
“Topeka.”
It took less than a beat for the meaning of the word to register in Castiel’s
mind, and even less time for him to spring into action. “Dean?” He raised his
hand to cup Dean’s face, to try and bring the younger man back to him. “Dean,
look at me. Pull out.”
Dean managed that, at least, and pulled the condom off his rapidly softening
cock. But when he met Castiel’s eyes he looked nothing short of haunted.
There was a soft throw blanket folded on a nearby chair and Castiel stepped off
the bed, grabbed it, and draped it around Dean’s shoulders. “Dean, are you
okay?”
The plush weight of the throw seemed to bring Dean back to the present. “Fuck,
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Dean buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
Castiel initially assumed that the apology was directed at him, but after a few
repetitions he wasn’t so sure anymore. He sat in front of Dean, ducking down to
try and establish eye contact without touching the younger man. “Dean—”
Dean sat up suddenly, the blanket slipping from his shoulders, and clutched at
his chest. “I can't — I can’t breathe.”
“Dean, listen to me.” Castiel made his voice as authoritative as he did when
playing his dominant role in bed. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re going
to be alright.”
Dean’s breathing didn’t slow, and his body was no less shaky, but he nodded. “I
can—” He swallowed, obviously trying to compose himself. “I — I can go again.”
He accepted the bottle of water Castiel had grabbed from the bedside table and
took a drink. “I’ll be fine in a few—”
“No.”
Dean looked up at him from his water.
“You’re done.”
“But—”
“You’re done. Tell me what you need from me.”
Dean had pulled the blanket back up over his shoulders, and he looked so small
hunched underneath it. “Just… stay?”
“Of course.”
And that was apparently all it took to open the floodgates, because that was
when the beautiful, sexy, young man whose company Castiel had so been enjoying
began sobbing into his hands. And Castiel’s heart broke.
Again.
It was obvious how much he had garnered control over his own emotions and fears
when he took control of the situation without panicking at the memories of
Paul. He could deal with his own baggage later — just then he needed to make
sure Dean was alright. Or as alright as he could be.
Castiel pulled Dean into his arms and the younger man crumpled onto him with no
resistance. There were a thousand different things he wanted to do for him —
who seemed little more than a boy presently — including bring him water, food,
clothes. But Dean was clinging to Castiel, and he knew, from experience, that
the only real way to deal with a panic attack was to ride it out. He lifted one
hand to lay it reassuringly on Dean’s head, and hesitated. Sure, Dean was all
over him now, but their aftercare had thus far comprised of very little
physical intimacy.
So much for boundaries now, Castiel thought. He smoothed his hand through
Dean’s hair, and took to rubbing circles into Dean’s back with his other hand.
Eventually the shaking stilled, the sobs calmed, and when Castiel finally
glanced down at the younger man Dean’s eyes had slipped closed and his
breathing had evened out.
“Dean?” He kept his voice low, just in case. And, sure enough, when he bent
down to look at Dean’s face, he was asleep.
Castiel let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He looked over at
the clock radio next to the bed. 11:16. He looked back at Dean, the anguish all
but gone from his sleeping face. Castiel frowned. Castiel knew the comedown
after an adrenaline rush could be nothing short of unforgiving, but Dean had
still passed out awfully quickly. It seemed unlikely that he would rouse by 1:
00 am. Castiel half-considered letting himself fall asleep under Dean but the
harsh reality of the situation came crashing down around him.
Dean wasn’t his boyfriend.
He wasn’t even really a friend.
Deciding it was best to remove himself from the situation, Castiel arranged
Dean more comfortably on the bed and tucked the blankets around his naked body,
before glancing down at his own nudity and moving to don a pair of sweatpants.
Once he had the pants on, he quietly left his bedroom, leaving the door ajar,
in case Dean woke.
He had no idea what to do with himself now that his plans for the night were
shot. Dean may have been out like a light, but Castiel could tell he was still
hours from sleep — his frayed nerves would make sure of that. When he found
himself in the kitchen, he fixed a snack of crackers and hummus before grabbing
a Deschutes Brewery beer and heading into the living room. Some crappy late-
night television would hopefully settle his mind down.
If anything, he was thankful that Dean had found the strength to safeword out
without causing them both more pain than it was worth.
Because despite the fact that he had remained calm during Dean’s safewording
and subsequent panic attack, Castiel was now battling memories of two faces
struggling with the pain of a good scene gone bad. He had never wanted to be in
that situation again and yet, here he was.
Castiel must have finally dozed off somewhere between House Hunters and House
Hunters: International because it was nearly 1:30 when he was startled by an
angry pounding on his door. He bolted from his seat, upending the uneaten
crackers onto the floor.
“Dean! Dean! You have thirty seconds to respond before I assume you’re dead and
call the police!” a female voice shouted through the door.
Castiel crossed the space quickly. He wasn’t sure if the noise would wake Dean,
but he was sure it would wake at least a few of his neighbors. When he swung
the door open Charlie was in mid-knock, one tattooed hand hovering in mid-air.
She’d dyed the ends of her hair blue since Castiel had seen her last and she
was wearing a dark jacket with so many hand-sewn patches that he could hardly
tell where the garment even started.
“Where is he?” Charlie stepped forward, making to move into the doorway.
Despite her diminutive stature, the young woman had an impressive amount of
physical presence. But Castiel was not one to be intimidated.
“He’s sleeping.” Castiel kept his body blocking the doorway.
“Yeah? Well, playtime’s over. He’s off the clock. Time for fun-boy to come
home.”
“I’m aware of that, I just — I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Charlie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Castiel. “Listen here,
either you let me talk to Dean right now, or I call the cops and blow the lid
off this whole illegal prostitution bullshit.”
Castiel looked around the hallway behind his would-be intruder. No angry
neighbours. Yet. “I think it’s best you come inside.”
“So you can kill me too?” She pulled her phone from her pocket, thumb hovering
over the call button - 911 already typed on the screen. “I’m warning you, dude,
one false move and I’m hitting the button. Show me where Dean is!”
The resignation clear on his face, Castiel stepped aside. As Charlie walked in
after him — Castiel doing his best to not think about the damage her massive
boots would probably do to his floor — he turned to lead her to the master
bedroom. He pushed the door wide enough to allow the light from the hallway to
illuminate the sleeping Dean. “I assure you, he’s fine.”
Charlie stared at Dean for a long time — eyes trained on the spot where his
chest rose and fell steadily. Finally she turned back to Castiel and tucked her
phone in her pocket. “Tell me what happened.”
Castiel was not one to readily share any details of his personal life with
someone he barely knew, but he could read the concern in Charlie’s eyes and it
was both genuine and abundant. “Something must have triggered him during our…
time together. He gave me no indication of feeling uncomfortable while I
discussed my intentions, but mid-play he safeworded out and had a panic attack.
I sat with him until he fell asleep, and that was over two hours ago. I thought
it best to leave him — I didn’t know you were supposed to pick him up.”
“This isn’t healthy for him,” Charlie mumbled. “I don’t care if the money is
good — he’s already in a fragile place in life and now this?” She shook her
head, a hint of anger and frustration in her eyes. “I’m staying with him. He’s
going to need support that you can’t offer when he wakes up.”
What she was saying was absolutely true, but that didn’t make it sting any
less. It reminded Castiel even more that what he and Dean had was strictly of a
professional nature, and an illegal one at that. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“How did you even get in here? How did you know which apartment was mine?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Please, even if your building security guard
wasn’t asleep I could have bypassed the system. And what kind of responsible
adult would send Dean up here alone to a weirdo’s condo without knowing which
number he was going to be in? It’s called the buddy system, Castiel.”
Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, still not quite believing that he was
having an argument with his gay prostitute’s tiny punk bodyguard. “Fine. Make
yourself comfortable. The guest room is already made up—”
“I’ll sleep in with Dean,” Charlie quickly answered.
Now Castiel was going to have two relative strangers sleeping in his room. He
sighed. “If you insist. But I, uh, I must warn you. He’s still… naked.”
“Well if he wasn’t, I’d strip him. That boy does not like sleeping in clothes.”
She pushed the bedroom door back open, before stopping and looking back at
Castiel. “By the way, do you have any snacks up in this joint? I’ve been
sitting in the car for an hour with the munchies.”
“How do you feel about hummus?”
Charlie grinned. “I would go straight for hummus.”
Castiel couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You know, it goes surprisingly well
with beer.”
“If you say you also have rerun episodes of Andy Griffith, I might marry you.”
“I’m afraid it’s a ‘no’ to Andy Griffith, but The Twilight Zone is on Netflix.
Would that suffice?”
She glanced once more into the bedroom at where Dean laid, before looking back
at Castiel. “Deal. Got a t-shirt or something I can change into?” Her eyes
looked down at her own body and the tight shirt, mini skirt, and chunky black
boots that she wore.
“I do. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
                                      ---
Charlie — wearing one of Castiel’s t-shirts that fell to her knees — and
Castiel sat up for another hour, eating crackers and hummus and drinking a
couple of beers while they watched black and white tv shows. They barely
communicated unless it was absolutely necessary — neither one wanting to broach
the topic that they had in common: Dean.
When Charlie noticed Castiel yawning, she thanked him for the forced
hospitality and made her way back to his bedroom. When she shut the bedroom
door, she made sure the lock was set in place. Even if she liked Castiel a
little more than she had at the beginning of the night… she didn’t necessarily
trust him.
Dean was still passed out, snoring softly on the right side of the bed, so
Charlie quickly stripped the t-shirt off and climbed into bed next to her best
friend. She snuggled up close to his side and kissed the corner of his lips,
hoping that he would be okay when he woke.
“Love you, Dean,” she whispered softly before falling asleep.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     We've had a bunch of people ask about a posting schedule. I'm not a
     fan of these because I feel like they limit my output. So please -
     hit the 'subscribe' button so that you get emails when an update
     happens!
     Warnings: Bottom!Dean, extreme drug use as a coping mechanism (please
     don't do drugs, kids!)
     Thanks for the love.

               ”Be the flame, not the moth.” - Giacomo Casanova
                                      ---
When Dean woke Saturday morning, he was in familiar arms — but an unfamiliar
bed. Charlie was curled around his side and in the daylight it took Dean a few
minutes of looking around the room to remember it was Castiel’s condo. Dean’s
head felt heavy like he’d had too much sleep. He tried to speak and his mouth
was so dry no sound came out. To his immense relief there was a jug of water
and two glasses on the bedside table. By the time he downed an entire glass,
Charlie was starting to stir next to him.
“Hey sleepy head,” she whispered, stifling a yawn as she stretched her arms
above her head. “You okay?”
Dean filled the glass again and passed it to his friend. He rubbed at his eyes,
which felt like they’d been glued shut most of the night. “I… think so? Why are
you here?”
“Because I sat in my car downstairs for thirty minutes before I realized that
something was wrong.” She reached over and punched his arm. “Don’t ever worry
me like that again. I thought you’d been murdered.”
“Shit, Charlie, I — I must have passed out. I don’t, I don’t remember much from
last night.”
Her hand landed on his shoulder and she brushed her fingers gently along his
skin. “Dean, tell me the truth: are you or are you not okay?”
Charlie passed him back the glass without having drunk much of it and he
replaced it on its tray. “I’m lying naked in the bed of a man who’s been paying
me to have rough, kinky sex and the last thing I remember is crying so hard I
couldn’t breathe — does that sound like ‘okay’ to you?”
“Dean, Castiel told me you safeworded last night. Do you remember that?”
“I—” Dean frowned a moment, and it all came flooding back. He was certain there
was nothing in his stomach to throw up, but his body was telling him it would
sure like to try. “Oh, holy shit.” He doubled over, his head landing near to
where his feet were crossed under the blanket. “Charlie, I fucked up,” came the
muffled lament.
Concern immediately crossed her face as she moved closer and laid her hand on
his back. She rubbed soft circles on his skin. “Tell me what happened, Dean. I
can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” After a moment, she froze.
“Shit. This has only happened once before. This is about…” she lowered her
voice and whispered the name, “Sam, isn’t it?”
Dean said nothing for a few moments; when he did finally speak, his voice was
very small. “Nothing I do makes it go away Charlie. What I did… what am I gonna
do?”
She leaned forward and kissed the side of his head. “No one expects it to go
away. You just… we’ve talked about this. You have to learn to accept that it
wasn’t your fault, Dean.”
Dean turned his face and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before wrapping his arms
around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “I have to learn to accept that
Cas might not want a naked hooker and his naked best friend hanging around his
place long enough to have coffee. C’mon,” he swung his legs over the side of
the bed, ignoring how much his head was pounding. “Time to face the music.”
“Whatever you say, Snickerdoodle.” She shook her head and sorted her hair with
her fingers for a moment, before climbing out of bed and picking up her clothes
from a nearby chair. As she got dressed, Charlie looked towards Dean doing the
same. “Did he like the suit?”
“And how. Let’s just hope that was enough for him to not fire my ass for all of
this.”
“If he likes your ass enough, he won’t fire it.” To punctuate her sentence, she
reached over to slap his ass. “It is very nice. Especially in those panties he
bought you.”
“Oh, shut up,” Dean said, throwing his balled-up tie at her head.
Dean laughed as he watched Charlie take the tie and tie it around her head like
a ten-year-old would. Even in his darkest hour she was there to make him smile.
They finished getting dressed and finally stepped out of Castiel’s bedroom.
Charlie gripped Dean’s hand tight in her own as they entered the kitchen to see
Castiel sitting and eating an omelette at the breakfast bar.
“Uh, morning.” Dean nervously flicked his thumb and forefinger on the hand
Charlie wasn’t holding. “Sorry about… last night.”
Castiel set his fork down on his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin before
looking towards Charlie and Dean. “It’s perfectly alright, Dean. You did the
right thing by using your safeword to stop play. I feel like you deserve some
time to heal from last night—”
“I agree,” Charlie interjected.
Castiel smiled briefly at Charlie, before meeting Dean’s gaze. “I’m going to
still pay for the time that you should be here, but I want you to take our next
two sessions off. Hopefully by next Friday, you will be feeling more like
yourself.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea.” Dean felt Charlie give his hand a
squeeze. “I guess, I guess I’ll see you next Friday. Thanks for letting us
crash.”
“Of course.” Castiel nodded and stood, showing them both to the front door.
Dean stepped out of the condo first, and as Charlie passed, Castiel brushed his
hand over her arm. When he caught her gaze, he motioned towards Dean with his
head. “Take care of him, Charlie.”
Charlie’s smile lit up her face. “Always.”
                                      ---
The first night of Charlie’s Take Care of Dean program had involved a lot of
Star Wars and very little weed. He had woken up Sunday afternoon feeling almost
refreshed. But with nowhere to be, and his paycheck still rolling in, Dean was
twenty shades of restless.
So as he braced himself against the sink in the Starbucks’ men’s bathroom while
Derrick the barista (or was it Devin? Daniel?) fucked into him, he found
himself feeling grateful that he was at least out of the apartment. Dean bit
back a grunt as the guy thrust in just a little too hard to feel good. He
hadn’t prepped himself very well at all — the second bump of coke he’d done
after lunch had left him feeling rushed and impatient. Besides, who didn’t
deserve a little pain now and then?
Darryl came with a final hard pump and very little noise at all. Dean supposed
this wasn’t the first time he’d fucked someone at work on his break. Dean
hadn’t gotten much harder than a semi but that was gone now, and he didn’t
really care.
The guy peeled off the used condom, tossing it in the trash. “Thanks for that,”
he said. “I can make you a macchiato if you want. On the house."
“Uh, no thanks.” Dean pulled his pants back up and attempted to straighten the
awkward mess his clothes had become. “Caffeine makes me jumpy.”
“Whatever, man. Take it easy.”
Dean tried to catch his breath after he found himself alone in the bathroom but
he couldn’t seem to. When he reentered the café, Charlie was waiting for him at
a table in the corner.
She took a sip out of an obscenely large cup and looked out at him from behind
a large pair of tacky sunglasses. “You get yours, buttercup? We good to go?”
Dean shrugged. “I got enough. Let’s get out of here.”
Charlie held up the newspaper that had been laying on the table in front of her
and waved it in Dean’s face. “I’ve circled five downtown apartments to check
out. All within our budget.”
“Sweet. Good job, kiddo. Lead the way.”
Charlie lead Dean out of the downtown Starbucks location and towards the nearby
MAX train stop. He followed, easily grabbing onto her hand when she
outstretched it towards him. Charlie, despite all of her womanizing ways, did
not like to get hit on while she was out and about. She always put Dean into
the role of pseudo boyfriend when they went anywhere that wasn’t a bar or club.
He didn’t mind — it made him more than a little aggravated when annoying
douchebags hit on his best friend.
As they hopped onto the train, Charlie held onto one of the poles and Dean
wrapped his arms around Charlie’s waist to keep her steady while they moved.
“Check out that hot brunette in the front,” he whispered into her ear. He
motioned to the woman sitting ahead of them. “Think she likes pussy or dick?”
“Hmm… I’m gonna go with pussy.”
Dean considers this. “Sure that’s not just wishful thinking?”
Charlie’s head leaned back against his shoulder. “It usually is.”
Dean ruffled a hand through Charlie’s hair. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you a
partner-in-dykery soon.”
                                      ---
They spent an afternoon apartment hunting and found a few good options but
didn’t make a decision that day. For the rest of the week they sent to various
parts of the city looking for the best apartment for them. Every time they
walked into a two bedroom, Charlie would ‘hmm’ and Dean knew she was
contemplating the fact that she would probably still sleep in Dean’s bed. They
didn’t really need two bedrooms.
The comings and goings and touring and traveling left Dean so busy for the next
couple of days, that he didn’t have time to dwell on the upcoming appointment
with Castiel.
But then, suddenly, it was Friday and panic set in. Despite Charlie’s
reassurance that he could simply call Castiel and say he needed another couple
days to recoup, nerves had Dean’s stomach in knots and he knew that he couldn’t
ask for Castiel to pay him for another missed night. So he had to man up.
Which was a nice thought… in theory.
By nine p.m. Friday night, Dean found himself in an unfamiliar club downtown
Portland, taking another hit of coke and fighting to quiet the inner voice that
said if he didn’t leave soon he wouldn’t make it to Castiel’s on time. Just as
he had convinced himself to get up and leave, take a train and a bus to the
high-rise condos on the riverfront — a tall, dark haired man stepped up to his
table.
The guy had shaggy hair and leaned down close to Dean, talking over the sound
of the music. “I’ve been watching you since you walked in and I have to know:
are you into guys? Because I’d love to get inside that ass.”
Dean’s eyes roved over the man’s body and his coked-out mind noted the
similarities to his past. The hazel eyes of the stranger were reminding him of
a lanky teenager he hadn’t seen in years. “You got anything to make it worth my
while?”
The stranger smirked, one hand resting on the back of Dean’s chair as the other
crept from Dean’s knee up to his crotch. His breath tickled Dean’s ear as he
answered, “A nine inch dick and a bag of E at my apartment.”
“I got somewhere to be in… a while. Where’re you at?”
“Over off Barbur. Got a car — I’m happy to drop you off where you need to be
afterwards.”
Jackpot. That was only ten minutes from Castiel’s — the tough thing would be to
act sober once he got there, but a quick fuck might just be the thing he
needed. “Let’s get outta here.”
                                      ---
Dean was unaware of the clock striking ten. His ass was being pounded by the
best cock he had ever had in Portland.
At eleven, he was laying on an unfamiliar bed feeling the effects of mixing two
types of recreational drugs.
By twelve, he was getting a blowjob and pulling shaggy brown hair, whispering
the name ‘Sam’ under his breath.
And somewhere around one — he passed out, unable to even remember who Castiel
was.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Apologies for any delay - hufflebutt died temporarily. She's a wee
     sausage that got a bit overdone. ;)
      
     Warnings: Mentions of past suicide attempts, character drug overdose

 ”Arguments are to be avoided, they are always vulgar and often convincing.” -
                                  Oscar Wilde
                                      ---
       Hypothetically speaking, how long should I wait before panicking that my
                                                           ‘friend’ isn’t here?
HenryWesson: It’s after midnight, Castiel. A small child will be waking me up
soon, why are you texting me relationship problems?
                                                       It’s not a relationship.
HenryWesson: Semantics. Have you called your ‘friend’ to ask where he is?
                         Don’t have his number. He’s two and a half hours late.
HenryWesson: Was there a misunderstanding that would lead him to believe he
didn’t need to be there?
                          Maybe. Our last time together was a bit… problematic.
HenryWesson: Castiel, I warned you this ‘relationship’ would not work out for
long.
                                      ---
Sometimes using one’s best friend as a voice of reason wasn’t a good idea.
Castiel threw his phone back onto the sofa cushion next to him. He had barely
moved from that spot since ten when Dean was supposed to be there but didn’t
show up.
Okay… not entirely true. He had spent almost an hour pacing back and forth
wondering if he had fucked up a good thing by pushing Dean farther than he
should have. It was the product of their relationship — they simply didn’t know
enough about each other’s pasts to know what would trigger a safeword
situation.
                         --- Twelve Hours Earlier ---
”What do you mean,ifyou go?” Charlie stood staring at Dean, hands on her hips.
Without her customary boots on she was even shorter than usual, but no less
intimidating.
Dean snaked around her to take a piece of cold pizza out of the box left on the
counter. “I just said I might not make it to Cas’ tonight,” he said between
bites. “It’s no big deal.”
“Does Castiel know you might not make it tonight?”
Dean’s answer was a shrug.
“What are you so afraid of, Dean?”
Dean finished his pizza and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. “I’m
not—”
“Dean.” Charlie stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. “I love you and
you’re gonna cut the bullshit.”
“What if… what if he asks me to top again? It’s such a stupid thing to freak
out over, but I can’t… I can’t not seehim.”
“Dean if something upsets you enough to trigger a fucking panic attack then
it’s not stupid to put that activity on your blacklist.”
Dean shook Charlie’s arm off and stepped back from her. “Look, as long as he
doesn’t want to start pissing on me I don’t need to have a ‘blacklist.’ I can
do my damn job.” He turned to leave the kitchen.
“Maybe you can’t.”
He stopped mid-step and turned to look at her. “Maybe I can’t what?”
“Do this job.If you can’t discuss your personal boundaries with the person
you’re getting paid to fuck then maybe this isn’t the most ideal career path
for you, Dean!”
“That’s just it, Charlie. I’mgetting paidto fuck him. I don’t get to have
‘boundaries.’”
“Yes you do, Dean! When are you going to fucking realise that? You’re still
dealing with a trauma, with what that sicko made you do to Sam—”
In a flash Dean had invaded Charlie’s space, had her practically backed up
against the counter. “No. You don’t get to bring that up! Just because I got
loaded one night and word-vomited my whole sad-sack history to you—” He
clenched and unclenched his fists. “And where exactly would you go if I stopped
bringing in money, huh? Sure is nice that you don’t have to work, isn’t it?”
Charlie said nothing, just stared up at Dean, her eyes rimmed with red.
Dean backed off, hands raised in defeat. “Whatever. I’m going out.” In two
strides he was at the door, and halfway through it even as he pulled his jacket
off the peg beside it. The sound of the door slamming reverberated down the
empty hallway.
                                      ---
When the clock turned over to one a.m., Castiel knew that Dean had obviously
not shown up on purpose. He still felt like shit for having caused all of the
pain Dean was going through — and in all honesty, wished that he had the
opportunity to explain how sorry he was.
He set aside his book that he had been trying to read for an hour and got up to
go to bed. His shoulders sagged more than a little with disappointment. If the
situation with Dean was over and ruined, he wasn’t sure that he could call up
Bree McKenna and ask for another sub. What was the point if he was obviously
just going to ruin that as well?
It meant stepping back into the world of mundane relationships and boring sex.
Either that or become a monk.
Castiel had just finished turning off all the lights in the apartment and was
on his way down the hall to his bedroom, when a familiar banging on the door
caught his attention. He turned to go back in that direction, rolling his eyes
when the sound of an angry female voice could be heard. Charlie.
“I know he’s in there, Castiel! I don’t care if he’s avoiding me. Let me in!”
He opened the door and stared at Charlie. Unlike the last time she’d showed up
unannounced, she looked more than a little disheveled. Her hair laid flat
against her head — seeming almost normal aside from the faded blue color — and
her outfit consisted of a worn-out concert t-shirt and jeans. No boots in
sight. She looked small, panicked, and like she had shed more than a few tears
recently.
Castiel hated to be the bearer of bad news. “He isn’t here, Charlie.”
Not surprisingly, she shoved her way inside his condo and began looking around
anyways. “What do you mean he isn’t here? Don’t bullshit me, Castiel. If he’s
in here throwing a fit then he needs to get the fuck over himself.” Her voice
raised with the second half of her sentence, obviously in an effort to make
sure Dean could hear her.
“Dean never showed up for our appointment. I sat around waiting for three hours
and was just about to go to bed.”
Her face fell in an instant and she stared at him like he had just killed her
puppy. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hands shook as she pulled her
phone from her pocket. Charlie messed with the phone for a few beats, before
holding it up to her ear. As she listened to the endless ringing, Castiel
watched her biting nervously at her bottom lip.
In the quiet of the condo, he could barely make out Dean’s voice on the pre-
recorded voicemail message.
Charlie’s voice stuttered a bit as she spoke, “Please don’t do this, Dean. Not
again. You’ve come so far — please don’t do this to me!”
She started to cry as she pulled the phone away and hit end, staring somberly
at the screen. Castiel didn’t know her well — and he felt like a fish out of
water in the midst of the scene — but instinct had him stepping forward to wrap
his arms around Charlie in a hug. “Charlie, what is going on? What do you mean
by ‘not again’? What has Dean done?”
“I think last week has sent him spiraling back into the depression he was
dealing with three years ago.” She hiccuped and wiped her eyes, steeling
herself as she stepped back from Castiel. “Dean wasn’t in a good spot when we
met. In fact that’s how we met. We were both in the psyche ward at a local
hospital after our own separate attempts at…” she frowned, lowering her voice
to a whisper, “suicide.”
Castiel didn’t know how to reply to that, aside from a soft, “Oh.”
“Shit.” Charlie shook her head and took a few steps away, obviously trying to
reel in her emotions. “This is probably way more than you want to know about
Dean. I’ll shut up now.”
She was right. It was more than he should want to know. He could hear Henry’s
voice in the back of his mind as he realized that it didn’t make a difference.
He cared about Dean’s well-being enough to be worried. On top of that — if Dean
took his own life after Castiel’s stupid attempts at a scene… how would he ever
be able to forgive himself?
He moved through the foyer to the spot where his coat was thrown over a chair
and pulled it on before quickly grabbing his wallet and keys. “Let’s go find
him. I’ll drive. Where should we look first?”
                                      ---
They had just finished checking the third club downtown, when Charlie’s phone
began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket in a rush and answered with a
quick, “Dean?”
Castiel sat beside her in his car and waited through the phone call, listening
to one side of the conversation and trying desperately not to assume the worst.
Judging by the matter-of-fact tone that Charlie had begun to use, and the way
the sadness seeped back into her voice — he had a feeling it wasn’t good news.
When she ended the call and placed the phone in her lap, Castiel hesitated to
ask, “Where to?”
“OHSU,” she whispered. “They just brought him in with some frantic dude saying
he had started to seizure after sex. They think he’s OD’d.”
Fuck. Castiel felt like lead had settled into the pit of his stomach. He turned
onto the interstate and drove towards the hospital without saying another word.
He wanted to ask if the nurses had mentioned Dean’s current condition - but he
knew the pitfalls of an overdose.
They made it up the hill to the large hospital within minutes, and Castiel
didn’t hesitate to pull his car into the staff parking lot. Charlie seemed too
worried to notice, so he kept quiet. After he shut the car off, he reached over
to the rearview mirror and unwrapped the chain connected to his hospital badge.
Badge in hand, he hopped out of the car and moved around to help Charlie. She
was shaking like a leaf, and clung to his hand immediately when he offered it.
He lead her through the halls until they arrived at the nurses’ station right
outside Emergency. He had purposefully avoided going in through the ER doors
and dealing with the mess of people that would be waiting for help.
The nurse at the station looked up, surprised to see Castiel standing there —
badge around his neck, wearing street clothes and clinging to the hand of a
punk-rock queen.
The nurse — Maggie, if he remembered correctly — looked from Castiel to
Charlie. “Dr. Novak, I’m surprised to see you here this late. I didn’t know you
were on rotation tonight.”
“I’m not.” He kept his tone steady and made sure Maggie could hear the power in
his voice. “I need to know which room a Dean—” He stopped, realizing suddenly
that he had no idea what Dean’s last name was.
“Winchester,” Charlie offered.
“Right. Which room is Dean Winchester in?”
She hesitated, obviously more than a little confused and worried about
providing information when she shouldn’t. But the fact remained that Castiel
was Chief of Surgery — the lead surgeon in the entire hospital — and he had
authority over her. Still, Maggie looked to Charlie and said quickly, “He isn’t
allowed visitors.”
Before Charlie could speak up, Castiel replied, “This is his sister. You called
her. Which room, Miss Barnes?”
She looked down, quickly consulting the chart in front of her. “It looks like
he’s been moved to 108.”
“Which MD is in charge of his chart?”
“Milton.”
“Put my name down as the secondary.” He held his free hand out, waiting for a
copy of Dean’s chart to be passed over. When he had it in hand, he glanced back
to Maggie. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “No. I believe they have him stabilized. I’ve contacted the
family members he had listed in his wallet, and the gentleman that brought him
in is waiting in the lobby.”
“Very good.” Castiel turned to leave, ready to move down the hall towards
Dean’s room.
Charlie didn’t budge though. She held on tight to Castiel’s hand, as she stared
at the nurse. “You said family members as in plural. Who else did you call?”
Maggie frowned, looking back to Castiel for instructions. Charlie repeated,
“Who else did you call?”
“There were two names, ma’am. Charlie Bradbury…” Charlie nodded and the nurse
continued. “And Sam Winchester.”
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey there amazing reader, you! Would you like to know Sam's story?
     Then go over here and read Subjection! Part one is up, part two will
     be up at the same time as Submersion Chapter 14. :D
     You lucky dogs - two updates in one day!

“I told her I'd wait forever for her, but that was before I found somebody else
                   who'd give me a ride home.” - Jaord Kintz
                                      ---
Castiel draped his jacket over a sleeping Charlie, who was petite enough to
curl up in a hospital room chair at least semi-comfortably. She’d pulled the
seat right next to Dean’s bed, and had finally fallen asleep some time before
dawn with one hand wrapped around his.
It turned out that Castiel’s earlier fib had been unnecessary — Dean actually
had listed Charlie as his sister under his emergency contacts. Apparently the
hospital hadn’t been able to get ahold of the brother.
When he heard the doctor approach the room he ushered her outside before
Charlie could be disturbed. He closed the door most of the way.
“Dr. Milton,” Castiel said. “How is he?”
If the red-haired woman thought it odd that her colleague and acquaintance of
seven years was addressing her by her professional title, she made no show of
it. She referred to the clipboard she was holding as she spoke. “Patient was
brought in unresponsive. We found moderate to high amounts of cocaine and MDMA
in his system. His vitals were all over the place for a while but it doesn’t
appear that there will be any lasting damage. He’s stable now — just sleeping.
But he was lucky.”
“That’s good news, thank you.”
“I was surprised to see you on his file,” Anna said, her tone switching to more
conversational. “A twenty-something club kid overdosing on party drugs is not a
case you would expect to need a surgeon on.”
“Dean is… a friend.”
It was clear by her single raised eyebrow that she didn’t believe him in the
slightest. “Sure he is.”
Castiel ignored her sarcastic tone. “Someone told me that the person who
brought him in was in the waiting room — is he still there?”
Anna shrugged. “As far as I know. No one’s talked to him since he first came
in. I figured I’d fill you in first.”
“Thank you. I’m going to go find him now—”
Castiel was stopped by her hand on his arm. “Castiel…”
“Anna.”
“Whatever you get up to in your personal life is none of anyone’s business.”
“That it is not. What’s your point?”
“Just that it’s a small world in here. People talk.”
“As people tend to do.” Castiel shook off her arm. “Thank you, Dr. Milton. I’ll
find you if I have any further concerns regarding the patient.” He stalked off
down the hallway and through a set of double doors without waiting for any sort
of reply and composed himself as he rode the elevator down to the ground floor.
Dean’s ‘friend’ wasn’t hard to spot. The waiting room was nearly empty and
Castiel was fairly confident Dean hadn’t been partying with any sixty year-old
women. If anything, Castiel was surprised the guy was still there.
He was staring at his hands and picking grime out from under his fingernails.
One knee was bouncing up and down. He looked up through stringy brown hair as
Castiel approached him.
“You brought Dean Winchester in?”
The guy leapt to his feet. “Yeah, I did, is he—”
“He’s going to be fine,” Castiel supplied.
The young man was visibly relieved. “Thank God. So… I can go?”
“We weren’t keeping you here.”
“Oh.”
Castiel ignored the man’s stupidity. “Are you aware that he overdosed on a
combination of drugs that could have killed him?”
The guy shrugged. “I mean, he offered me some coke, I didn’t know he’d already
taken some. It’s not my fault he can’t handle his blow.”
Castiel almost couldn’t believe his ears. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Hey man, he’s just some guy I picked up at the bar. I don’t know his deal. I
just wanted to make sure he was alright, okay? I’ve done my good deed for the
day.”
Castiel had his hand fisted in the collar of the guy’s shirt before he even
realised it, drawing him in close. “That young man in there could have died
tonight, and it would have been on your head.”
The guy’s eyes were wide and his skin had gone pale. “H-hey, man—”
“If I ever see you around Dean Winchester again you will regret it. Severely.
You have twenty seconds to leave before I call the police.” He released the
bunch of fabric in his hand and the guy staggered backwards.
“Y-you’re pretty intense for a doctor,” the man stammered, backing away.
“And you’re very mouthy for a piece of shit. Get out.”
The guy finally didn’t have to be told twice. He practically ran out the main
doors, muttering insults under his breath.
“Dr. Novak, is everything—”
“It’s fine, Maggie,” Castiel called towards the nurses’ station.
“Do you want me to tell security about that man?”
“It’s alright,” he said. “He won’t be back.”
                                      ---
The sun was beginning to rise, so even though neither Castiel nor Charlie had
slept hardly at all during the night, he felt it was more or less an
appropriate time for coffee. When he stepped off the elevator and back onto
Dean’s floor he saw a frantic-looking Charlie emerge from Dean’s room and look
around. He frowned, rushing to her side. “Charlie, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Dean— he hasn’t woken up.”
Castiel kept his face still, his movements swift but controlled as he swept
into Dean’s room, passing both hot paper cups to the young woman. There were no
alarms on any of the machines, and a cursory check told him Dean’s vitals
remained unchanged and healthy. “He’s fine, Charlie.”
“Really?”
“Really. He had a rough night — he’s still sleeping it off. He might sleep most
of the day.”
“Shit, yeah.” She placed their coffee on the bedside table and ran a tattooed
hand through her faded hair. At first glance Castiel thought she was wearing a
small hoard of jewelry, but it was all ink. “That makes sense.” She crawled
back into her chair beside the bed, but this time leaned forward so her chin
was on the edge of the mattress.
Castiel pulled the other chair near to hers and passed her one of the coffees,
nudging her arm with the back of his hand. “Here.”
She took the cup without hesitation but, instead of drinking the liquid, she
stared into the swirling coffee and cream. “Is he going to be okay, Cas?”
“In all honesty,” he began, “we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.” Charlie
looked panicked the second the words left his lips so he continued on. “But his
vitals are strong now. It’s very reassuring.”
“It’s my fault, you know.” Her words were soft, and after a moment she finally
brought the cup to her lips and took a drink of coffee. When she had settled
the cup back down, she looked towards Dean’s face. “We got in an argument
yesterday. I said shit I shouldn’t have. Pushed him farther than I needed to.”
“Charlie,” Castiel made to lay a hand on hers but withdrew before she noticed.
“I don’t know either of you very well, but it’s glaringly obvious that he
thinks the world of you. He has you listed as his next of kin — that’s not the
sort of bond you lose after one argument.”
“Cas,” she turned her head to stare at him. “Family can cut you deeper than
friends. They know where to strike to make you hurt the most. I’ve known Dean
for three years now — he’s my best friend, the only family I have, and I knew
exactly what to say to bring him pain. I should have stopped… I just, he drives
me insane sometimes!”
He chuckled. “Just like family?”
Charlie sighed, turning back to Dean. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Castiel took a deep drink of the coffee. It had come out of a machine — and
tasted like it — but it was hot. The warmth down his throat was comforting. It
could act as a substitute for sleep for the time being. “So... Dean has a
brother?”
“Yeah.” She looked over at him, obviously wondering where he was going with his
new line of questioning. “Why?”
“I just wondered why he wasn’t listed as Dean’s next of kin, and why his
parents weren’t called? I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“Dean doesn’t talk to his parents,” she answered after a moment. “From what I
understand… they kicked him out and disowned him, and he hasn’t felt the need
to reach out to them since. And Sam…” She sighed, putting her cup on the nearby
table and leaning forward to grasp Dean’s hand. “Dean hasn’t spoken to him in
years. They have a very… complicated… relationship.”
“How do you think Dean would react if his brother were to show up at the
hospital?”
“Shit.” Charlie glanced over to Castiel nervously. “He isn’t here, is he?”
Worry creased Castiel’s brow. “No one has told me as such — would that be a
problem?”
“It certainly wouldn’t be good.” She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth
for a moment, before shaking her head. “Hopefully he doesn’t show up. I’m not
sure Dean is ready for that reunion. Especially not after last week’s episode
at your house.”
That was not a connection Castiel had expected Charlie to make. “What does that
have to do with Dean’s brother?”
She frowned. “I told you. His relationship with Sam is complicated. Their past
is complicated. Those memories—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t
say more. It’s not my story to tell. Just believe me: it wouldn’t be a good
thing for Sam to show up.”
Castiel wondered why Dean would even have bothered including Sam on his
emergency list, until the reason hit him. If he didn’t have any contact with
his parents, and even if he didn’t talk to his brother, he’d still want him to
know if he died. “Do you want me to inform the nurses’ station to let you know
first if his brother does show up?”
“I—” She pondered that idea for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that might be
best. Then at least I’ll have a chance to prepare Dean before Sam just bursts
back into his life.” Charlie stared at Castiel. “You know, Cas, I wasn’t sure
about you at first. I’m starting to get the feeling that you really care about
Dean, though.”
“I know my involvement with Dean isn’t… conventional, to say the least.”
Charlie snorted at that, and Castiel smiled. “But I do care about him.”
“Well I feel it is my ‘sisterly,’” she raised her hands to make air quotes,
“duty to ask you about your intentions with Dean. So spill, Mr. Chief-of-
Surgery.”
“I—” Castiel sighed, and placed his coffee cup on the table. It had cooled too
much to be palatable. “I’m afraid I don’t know anymore.”
“That’s not an answer, Cas. Do you intend to keep paying Dean for sex or not?”
“If he’ll—” have me, Castiel had to stop himself from finishing the sentence.
“If he’s still interested in our arrangement. I enjoy his company. But the drug
use worries me — especially now.”
“Yeah,” Charlie nodded, “About that. I was thinking that… since you’re a doctor
you might be able to help him out with his problem. He likes you, and before
last week I know that he liked your time together. He might actually listen to
you.”
Castiel frowned, and looked at his hands. “I don’t know that blurring the
boundaries of our relationship like that would be healthy. And addiction isn’t
my area of expertise. I could refer him to someone, though.”
She frowned, turning back to stare at Dean without saying another word. It was
apparent his answer didn’t please her.
“But I can talk to him. If you think it would make a difference.”
It was too little, too late. Charlie shook her head, clutching Dean’s hand
between her own and pulling it close as she leaned against the mattress of his
hospital bed. “It’s fine, Castiel. We’ll be fine.”
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sam's story is complete over at Subjection_Chapter_2. Read that in
     conjunction with this chapter. :)

  “Love is never supposed to hurt. Love is supposed to heal, to be your haven
         from misery, to make living fucking worthwhile.” - Mia Asher
                                      ---
Charlie kept a constant vigil beside Dean’s bed for twenty-four hours. Finally,
her hands were shaking from the overload of caffeine and the lack of sleep, so
Castiel called for a cot to be brought in and all but forced her to take a nap.
He promised her — three times — that he would remain by Dean’s side the entire
time while she slept and would wake her immediately if Dean regained
consciousness.
Of course, when Dean started to show signs of waking three hours later, Castiel
went back on his promise. Charlie needed to sleep a little while longer — it
was three in the morning, and he had already told himself he wouldn’t wake her
until the sun was back up.
He quietly moved his chair closer to Dean’s bed, and hesitated for only a
moment before taking Dean’s hand into his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Green eyes blinked rapidly and tried to focus — tried to understand the room,
his surroundings, and obviously Castiel’s presence. “Easy, Dean,” Castiel
whispered. “You’re in the hospital.”
Dean opened his mouth to speak but could do nothing more than cough weakly.
Slipping into his doctor mode, Castiel stood and grabbed a nearby cup of water
— helping Dean to sit up and drink some of the liquid.
Once he had swallowed half the glass, he reached up to push Castiel’s hand
away. “Hospital?” he whispered.
“Yes. You overdosed on cocaine and MDMA. Taxed your heart pretty badly. What
were you thinking, Dean?”
Dean dropped his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. “About
nightmares.” He waited a couple beats before asking, “Why are you here? How did
you find out?”
“Charlie showed up at my condo. She was worried when you didn’t come downstairs
to her car.” Castiel stepped out of the way and motioned across the room to the
cot where Charlie was sleeping. “She hasn’t left your side. Thinks you’re angry
with her.”
“We had a fight.”
“Is that why you didn’t show up for our appointment?” Castiel placed the water
cup back on the table and sat down in the nearby chair. He tried to remind
himself that he wasn’t hurt, if Dean didn’t want to show up for their
appointments then it was Dean’s decision and not a reflection on Castiel or
their time together. Dean obviously had a lot that he was dealing with. If he
wasn’t prepared for a relationship like the one they had developed, then
Castiel had to be ready to walk away. “I’m not upset, Dean. I just wish you had
called to let me know our time together had to end.”
“It’s not that, Cas,” Dean managed. “I just — fuck, I was so overwhelmed after
last week.”
Castiel nodded, figuring as much. “I understand. Which is why, if you decide to
continue our relationship, I would like to meet with you to discuss dos and
don’ts. I’ll come up with a list and you can decide what you’re okay with.” He
sighed. “I just… you’re a great person, Dean. And I would hate to see that
destroyed because of narcotics.”
Before Dean could reply, there was a soft knock on the hospital room door and
one of the nurses poked her head in. “Dr. Novak?” she asked quietly. “Surgery
just called down for you, apparently they’re having an issue and require your
assistance.”
He nodded at the woman. “Thank you. Let Dr. Milton know her patient is awake,
please. I’ll be right there.” When the nurse shut the door back, Castiel stood
and moved over to Charlie. “I’m going to wake Charlie. She said I wasn’t
allowed to leave you alone.”
Dean frowned. “Doctor Novak? You’re a doctor?”
He knelt down to gently shake Charlie’s shoulder. “Surgeon, actually.”
Charlie’s eyes flew open in an instant and she stared at Castiel in panic. “Is
something wrong? Is Dean okay?” Castiel motioned to the bed and Charlie turned
to see Dean lifting his hand and waving. “Dean!”
Castiel watched her scramble to get up and over to the bed, not hesitating to
hold out a steadying hand when she almost tripped on the blanket she’d been
using. She practically threw her small frame onto the bed in order to get her
arms around Dean and pull him close — causing a wide array of alarms and
buzzers to start going off. “Charlie. Charlie! You can’t do that — you’re
messing up the monitors.” He laughed and shook his head, because no amount of
prodding was going to convince her to let Dean go. “Alright then. The nurses
are going to come running in a panic — I’ll let you two handle that and be back
as soon as I can.”
                                      ---
Back before the kidnapping — before things in his family got really fucked up —
Dean could remember moments when he’d get in trouble and his mother would read
him the riot act.
That is what he compared Charlie to, when she finally let go and started
talking a mile a minute about how they were going to both go through steps to
give up drugs and she was not going to lose him no matter how serious he
thought his problems were. She kept lecturing long past the nurses coming in to
check on his vitals and the doctor stopping by to check on him as well.
According to Dr. Milton, him regaining consciousness was the best step possible
towards his recovery. He would have another twenty-four to thirty-six hours in
the hospital while they monitored to make sure there wasn’t irreparable damage
to his heart, and then they would release him — with a pile of pamphlets on
recovery addiction, thanks to Charlie’s insistence.
He waited until the lecture was over, before scooting to the left side of the
hospital bed. He made as much room as possible, and patted his hand against the
extra space. “Come here, babydoll, you look exhausted and I need a nap.”
She carefully climbed onto the bed, making sure to arrange his arm around her
shoulders and duck beneath the wires of his IV. Once she was settled against
him, Charlie laid her head directly against his chest — right above his heart —
and he felt a few wet teardrops soaking through his thin hospital gown. “I
can’t lose you, Dean. You’re the only family I have. I love you so much —
please don’t ever leave me. Don’t do that again”
Dean kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer. “Never, Charlie. I will
never leave you.”
                                      ---
When he woke up again, Charlie was still sleeping against him, making soft
snoring sounds. His eyes tracked across the room and he noticed a whiteboard
bearing the names of his doctor and the nurse on duty.
It also held a note.
‘Dean —
Went home to shower and take a quick nap. Be back by lunch.
— Castiel.’
He wasn’t sure how he felt about Castiel being so involved in his current
issues. It didn’t seem right for real world and Castiel world to blend together
the way that they were.
His eyes drifted shut once more. He could worry about it later.
                                      ---
When he woke next, Charlie was sitting in the chair next to his bed. He watched
her for a moment, trying to figure out what she was doing, before it finally
dawned on him. He couldn’t see the paper or the pencil, but the way her right
arm was moving rapidly could only mean one thing.
“You’re drawing.”
She looked up to him with a smile. “Yeah. I’ve decided to take on some jobs so
that you don’t have to work as much. A couple of local bands want me to design
posters for their gigs — it’ll provide enough extra cash to cover the cost of
rent at our new place.”
Dean moved in a hurry, causing the alarms on his monitors to go off once more,
as he slid off the bed and pulled her into a hug. “That’s the best news I’ve
heard in a long time. I’m so proud of you.”
Charlie’s relationship with art was more than a little complicated. She loved
to draw, but depression would lead her to rip up the work and seriously
question her ability. It was usually what sent her looking for a quick high.
Dean had watched the struggle for years, and hadn’t seen her pick up a
sketchpad in close to ten months.
He was proud of her.
A blonde nurse stepped into the room and shook her head at Dean. “Why don’t I
just unplug you from everything so we stop having this problem?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at the woman. “‘Cause I’d really like to piss
on my own.”
                                      ---
After Dean and Charlie ate lunch, Castiel showed up. He asked how Dean was
feeling, before looking to Charlie and asking to speak with her in the hall.
Dean found that peculiar and waited only a moment before pushing up out of his
chair and moving to the crack in the door so he could listen in on their
conversation.
He didn’t feel bad about eavesdropping. After all, they had to be talking about
him, right? They had nothing else in common.
“...we can’t, Cas!” Charlie stated, her voice sounding more than a little
upset. “His answer will be ‘no’ — so why bother asking? It’ll just set him
back.”
Dean could hear Castiel let out a soft sigh. “Charlie, he deserves to know.
This is his life, and we can’t make decisions for him. Plus — maybe this will
help, rather than hurt him. I don’t know the whole story, but maybe it’ll
provide closure.”
“Closure?” He could imagine Charlie shaking her head. “Seeing his brother will
not provide Dean with any kind of closure.”
His brother?
Sam? Sam was there? Dean felt his heart begin to race in his chest. He rubbed
his suddenly sweaty hands down along the jeans that he had put on earlier.
“He’s already here, Charlie. And from what he’s told the nurses, he took a
seventeen hour bus ride to get here. You want me to walk out there and tell the
poor kid his brother doesn’t want to see him, when I don’t even know that for
sure?”
Seventeen hours? Dean frowned. If it had only taken Sam seventeen hours to get
there, then he had traveled from somewhere closer than Kansas. And if he took a
bus, instead of a plane, it was a good bet that he was alone — no parents
around.
It had been four years since he saw his brother, and Dean knew he wasn’t
prepared for it. But he also couldn’t handle the thought of Sam being sent away
without answers. He moved away from the door and walked over to where his
tennis shoes were resting on the floor. He slipped them on, but didn’t bother
tying them. Instead, he headed back for the door and pulled it open.
Castiel and Charlie turned, obviously stunned to see Dean standing there. Dean
looked from them, to either side of the hallway. “Where is he?” he asked.
“Where is my brother? I want to see Sam.”
“Dean,” Charlie started, “I’m not so sure this is a good idea…”
“Where. Is. My. Brother?”
She waited another blink, before turning and pointing down the right hallway.
“Go to the end and take a left. Through a set of double doors is a waiting
room. That’s where Sam is.”
Dean turned and started walking that direction. When he heard footsteps
following him, he stopped and turned around. “It’s okay, Charlie. I can handle
this alone.” He looked up, catching Castiel’s gaze and nodding towards Charlie.
Castiel caught the look and wrapped his arms around her small shoulders,
leading her back to Dean’s room.
He spun back around and ignored the pounding in his chest and his ears as he
walked the length of the hall.
Five times he wanted to turn back.
Five times he almost did.
When he finally pushed through the double doors, he scanned the small waiting
room area and his eyes landed on a skinny dude sitting in the corner, bent
forward and resting his head in his hands.
His face was covered by long shaggy hair but Dean knew.
“Sammy.”
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     I legit cried while writing Sam. I love him so much, that if anyone
     doesn't like how he is in this, I might come and poke at your
     monitor.
      
     ETA: READERS please click here and take part in a quick poll!
     (Seriously, it's one question.)

 ”Being his real brother I could feel I live in his shadows, but I never have
           and I do not now. I live in his glow.” - Michael Morpurgo
                                      ---
“Sammy.”
Dean watched as his brother slowly raised his head. Sam pushed a shaking hand
through his hair to brush it away from his face, and met Dean’s gaze with his
hazel eyes. It didn’t take much for Dean to make out the unshed tears. He could
only imagine what Sam had been told by hospital staff about Dean’s condition
before he was left there to wait alone.
A war waged inside Dean. Part of him wanted to erase the space between them and
pull his baby brother into his arms. The other part wanted to turn and flee.
In the end, the answer was made for him. Sam stood — tall, and skinny as a weed
— and moved across the floor in three steps.
Dean flinched, not quite sure what to expect. A punch? A hug? A slap to the
face?
Sam’s large hands grabbed Dean’s face and for a long moment they just stared at
each other. Until suddenly looking wasn’t enough for Sam and he pulled Dean in,
their lips meeting in a hard, rough kiss.
The gesture caught him more than a little off guard. That was exactly what he
would tell himself later when he realized just how long it had taken him to
reach up and push his brother’s shoulders back and break the kiss. “Jesus,
Sam.” He caught the flash of hurt that passed over Sam’s face and shook his
head. “When was the last time you brushed your teeth? Gross.”
“You look good, Dean.” Sam kept one hand on Dean’s shoulder.
Dean huffed a humourless laugh. “I haven’t looked in a mirror in a while, but
I’m pretty sure I look like shit.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Considering I’ve spent the last hour thinking you
were dead, I’d say you look amazing.” His free hand, the one not touching Dean,
moved up to rub beneath his hair at the back of his neck. “They wouldn’t tell
me anything. Some nurse just brought me here and told me to wait. Said someone
would come talk to me soon.”
“Well, I’m here now, and they’re letting me go home this evening. So there’s
not really anything to tell.”
“Oh.” Sam frowned, dropping his hand away from Dean and taking a step back. He
found an interesting spot on the floor and his eyes were glued to it. “I
suppose I shouldn’t have come then.”
“Sam…” When his brother didn’t respond right away Dean reached out and tipped
Sam’s chin up until their eyes met. “Don’t be like that. I just meant there’s
no need for you to talk to any doctor. They’re all pretty sure I’m gonna live.”
He smiled, and something in Sam’s expression softened.
Sam blinked, his eyes starting to water again. “I can’t… I can’t believe you’re
here.”
Of all the emotions swirling around in Dean’s head, competing for attention, he
knew that seeing his brother cry was something he wouldn’t be able to deal
with. Not again, and not now. He pulled Sam in towards him in a crushing hug,
tucking his chin behind Sam’s shoulder. “I am Sammy, I am.”
“I spent so much time—” Sam shook his head. “So much time searching for you,
Dean.” His arms wrapped around Dean and held on tight.
And I was running away. “And you found me.”
The set of double doors that Dean had walked through a few minutes before
suddenly pushed open and Castiel peered out. “Dean?” When both brothers looked
up, Castiel motioned back down the hallway behind them. “Dr. Milton needs one
more round of vitals and scans of your heart, so she can work on the discharge
papers.” His eyes went to Sam. “Your brother can come back, if you’d like.”
Sam’s face fell once more, and he closed back up like he had earlier. “I’ll
just wait here,” he answered, when Dean hesitated to give an answer on whether
or not Sam should go with him to his room. “Should probably find a phone book
and try to get a hotel room or something…”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” Seeing the hurt expression on his
brother’s face, Dean elaborated. “I mean, you could stay with me, but it’s
already the two of us in a shitty, tiny studio, and I know your sasquatch ass
wouldn’t fit on the couch.”
“Right.” Sam turned, moving back over to where his duffel bag sat in one of the
chairs. He rifled around inside of it for a moment, before pulling out his bus
ticket, the Dickens book, and a pen. When he walked back over to Dean, he had
the ticket laying face down on the book, exposing the side that was blank, and
held out that as well as the pen. “Will you… at least write your phone number
down? I mean,” Sam took a deep breath. “You don’t even have to see me again.
It’s fine. I just… would like to have the number.”
It had nearly killed Dean — both metaphorically and not — to put all the
distance between him and Sam that he had over the last four years. But it was
what he had had to do. And now it was gone. Sam was there, and he couldn’t push
him away. Couldn’t run anymore. “Yeah, of course.” Dean took the proffered pen
and bus ticket, and scrawled his number on it. “You go get settled somewhere
nearby and then call me. You got the cash for a room?”
Sam bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll make it work.” He pulled the
book and paper back to him, staring at it instead of looking back up at his
brother. “Thanks.”
While Sam moved back to stuff the items in his bag, Dean realized that he had
just been lied to. Despite the years that had passed, Dean still knew his
brother. He didn’t know what to do, though, to keep Sam from doing something
stupid like sleeping under a bridge because he didn’t have enough money for a
motel.
Looking to his left, Dean spotted Castiel, still waiting patiently for Dean to
return back to his room. “Cas.” He moved over, making sure Sam couldn’t hear
him. “Cas, will you do me a favor?”
Castiel’s face remained impassive and Dean couldn’t read him at all. “What do
you need?”
He looked back at Sam and lowered his voice. “I don’t think he has enough money
for a room. Can you just… drive him to a semi-decent motel and pay for a couple
days for him? You know I’ve got the cash — I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course. It’s no problem. I’ll take care of that now. And listen to Dr.
Milton, and Charlie. I know they’re both terrifying, but they do have your best
interests at heart.”
Dean nodded. “They really are. And I promise. Just… take care of Sam.” When
Castiel nodded as well, Dean moved back to his brother. “Hey Sam, my buddy Cas
is going to drive you to a motel, okay? He’ll make sure you don’t end up in a
bad part of town.”
“He doesn’t have to—”
“Well too bad, because he’s going to. He’s a good guy. You might even convince
him to get you a burger on the way.”
                                      ---
Sam sat in the passenger side of a Mercedes and frowned. His duffel sat on his
lap — Castiel had offered to put it in the trunk but Sam couldn’t help but
think about how dirty he would make the expensive car interior. He tapped his
fingers nervously along the fabric of his bag as Castiel steered down the hill
towards the highway. “You don’t… you don’t have to take me anywhere. You can
drop me at a bus stop and I can find my own way.”
“It’s really no trouble at all.” Castiel kept his eyes on the road. “And I
promised Dean that I would.”
“About that,” Sam frowned. “I thought you were his doctor. What kind of doctor
drives their patient’s brother around?” A thought dawned on him. “Are you and
Dean dating?”
“No,” the older man said quickly. “I just know him from the hospital.”
“Right.” Sam nodded. He knew exactly what that meant. “You’re his therapist,
aren’t you?”
The man frowned slightly, but corrected it. “I can’t discuss that.”
He rolled his eyes.”Ugh, therapy bullshit.”
“Have you had a negative experience with therapy in the past, Sam?”
They pulled out onto the freeway and were suddenly in traffic, stuck on a ramp
that lead to a bridge. Sam stared out the window at the river below. “Three
years’ worth.”
Castiel opened his mouth to say something before closing it again. “Ah,” he
finally said. “Well,” he continued as the car began to inch forward again, “I
hope you were able to get something positive out of it.”
Sam snorted. Positive. Right. “As long as Dean’s getting a positive
experience,” he mumbled.
“I do what I can.”
After waiting a moment, Sam looked back to Castiel. “Well… since you’re a
therapist, do you mind giving me an opinion on something?”
“I can try.”
He sighed. “I’m sure Dean has explained our history. I don’t need to know his
specific feelings. I just need to know — should I leave before I make things
worse for him?”
Traffic began to pick up again, and they finally cleared the bridge. “I really
can’t speak to any of the issues between you and your brother. You should talk
to him about that.”
Sam shook his head. Fucking typical. “Right. Heaven forbid you — a shrink —
actually gives anyone good advice.” Castiel turned off the freeway and Sam took
a deep breath. He could see quite a few motels in the near vicinity. He pointed
to a nearby gas station. “Just drop me off over there. I can find my way from
here.”
Castiel kept driving. “It’s hard to tell which motels are good or not, but I’ll
take you to one that my brother enjoyed the last time he was in town.” He
pulled into a medium-sized clean-looking motel and parked in front. After he
shut the engine off, he unbuckled his seatbelt, and made to get out of the car.
Sam frowned, hurrying to climb out of the car as well. “What are you doing?” He
threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder and stared at Castiel going
towards the lobby. He had to admit — he probably only had enough money for one
night at the place, but that didn’t mean he was going to let this stranger pay
for him. “Get back in the car. I don’t need your charity, Doctor.”
“It’s not my money, it’s Dean’s. And I told him I would get you checked in
somewhere so that’s what I’m going to do.” He held the door open for Sam, and
showed no sign of moving until the younger man walked through it.
He opened his mouth to continue arguing, but stopped suddenly. If Dean was
offering to pay for his motel room, then he must, on some level, want Sam to be
there. He stepped into the hotel lobby and motioned for Castiel to go ahead.
“They probably wouldn’t rent it to someone under twenty-one anyways.”
“It might be more complicated. Go have a seat.” He nodded towards the
overstuffed green armchairs in the lobby. “Do you prefer ground floor or
higher?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he answered. He carried his bag over to the chairs and sat
down with a soft huff. A few minutes later when Castiel moved over to him and
held out a room key, Sam reached out and quickly took it. “Thanks. And thanks
for the ride.”
“It’s nothing. You’re paid up for a week, by the way. How much money do you
have for food?”
Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the money he had stashed in there
after the last time he had bought a snack — eight hours before. He looked down
at the cash, and what he had hoped would be forty or fifty dollars… was twenty-
three. He stuffed it back in his pocket, hoping that Castiel hadn’t seen.
“Enough. I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will.” But Castiel pulled his wallet out anyway, pulling out a
single bill and pressing it into Sam’s hand. “For food and the bus.”
He looked down, opening his hand and staring at the folded bill. One hundred
dollars. Shit. “I would be fine without this. I’ve survived off of less.”
“And now you don’t have to.” Castiel glanced at a very expensive-looking watch.
“Sam, it’s been nice meeting you, but I really should be getting back to the
hospital.”
“Yeah.” Sam tucked the money away and carried his bag and his keycard out of
the lobby. He looked down to check the number written on the card holder,
before giving Castiel a half wave. “Thanks for the ride.”
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     So - which one of you sparkling cool readers is from the great land
     of Australia? (The geographical part of last chapters poll showed
     answers from that region.) We have very important questions for you.
     (Namely: WILL YOU BE ON OUR GISHWHES TEAM?)
     Oh right. Back to the story. Bet y'all didn't see THIS HAPPENING.
     Warnings: Top!Cas/Bottom!Dean.

 ”The only real conflict you will ever have in your life won’t be with others,
                    but with yourself.” - Shannon L. Alder
                                      ---
The prospect of meeting Castiel intentionally outside of their regular playtime
seemed strange to Dean — but Castiel had insisted. Something about
‘establishing boundaries’ in a ‘neutral setting.’ Dean didn’t really care what
the conversation was about, he just wanted to get back into his routine.
Castiel was already waiting at a table in the back when Dean walked into the
Rock Bottom Brewery on Monday afternoon. Dean made his way across the dining
room. It was a nice place — almost too nice for someone like Dean to be. It was
obvious Castiel had chosen a table far enough from the other patrons to give
them a little privacy. Whatever they were going to be talking about probably
wasn’t fit for polite company.
Castiel looked up from the menu when Dean approached the table and he smiled.
“Hello, Dean. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Uh, yeah. Hey.” Dean stood in his spot awkwardly for a moment before taking a
seat in the chair Castiel was gesturing to. “How’s it going?”
“I’m good. How are you feeling?”
“Oh, you know.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Pretty good, considering.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He pushed the other menu across the table. “I hear they
do an excellent baked macaroni and cheese.”
Dean picked up the menu and had only a moment to glance at it before the
waitress was walking over to ask if Dean would like something to drink. He
spotted Castiel’s glass of iced tea and looked up at the woman with a smile.
“Seven-up, please.” When she walked away, Dean looked back down to the menu.
“Are you going to fire me?” he asked, fearful of looking up.
The surprise in Castiel’s voice was obvious. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Well you said no more drugs. And on top of overdosing, I also skipped out on
you without reason.” Dean shrugged. “I’m fairly certain that’s what this is.
Niceties at the hospital notwithstanding.”
“You’re right, I did say that. But, in light of… recent events… I understand
that you’ve been dealing with some issues lately. I’m no expert, but the
optimist in me wants to think this was enough of a wake up call for you. If
this is something you still want, I’m still willing to employ you.”
“I do,” Dean nodded, answering maybe a little too quickly. “Charlie signed me
up with a counselor. She said if I don’t go, she’ll throw me into rehab.” He
shuddered at the thought and cut off his words as the waitress walked back over
to take their order. Once she had left, Dean finally caught Castiel’s gaze. “To
be honest, Cas, our sessions were the kind of structure I’ve needed in my life.
Up until that… last time, I was happy. I think I even kinda miss it.”
Castiel looked at Dean like that was the last thing he had expected to hear,
but a second later his face was nearly expressionless again. “I’m very happy to
hear that, Dean. I know that this is essentially a professional arrangement,
but,” a mischievous glint lit up his eyes as he swirled the ice around in his
glass, “it really is so much better if everyone involved can enjoy themselves.”
The conversation steered into normal territory while they ate — discussions
about how Charlie and Sam were doing, and Dean asking questions in regards to
Castiel’s job. Once their plates had been cleared and their drinks refilled,
Castiel pulled a folded paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to
Dean, before placing a pen on top of it.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Castiel tapped his finger on the edge of the paper. “In an effort to avoid a
similar incident to the last time we were together, I took the time to write
down some of my ideas for scenes. I’d like for you to look over it and cross
out ones you aren’t a fan of.”
“Now?”
The older man nodded and stood. “While you do that, I’m going to go pay our
bill. I’ll be right back.”
Dean waited until Castiel walked away, before unfolding the paper and looking
down at the list. Castiel’s hand writing was a bit of a mess — probably best
attributed to his life as a doctor — but he could still make out the words.
He started to slowly scan the list. When he got to the third thing written, he
stopped. Orgasm denial/edging. He shivered slightly at the thought of that.
Castiel bringing him to the edge over and over but never letting him come until
Castiel was ready.
His cock started to harden in his pants as he continued reading. Cross
dressing. If the way his body loved silk panties was any indication — Dean
would like that one too.
Bondage and rope play. He shuddered. Butt plugs and extended penetration.
“Shit,” Dean mumbled under his breath. He sat the paper down and grabbed for
his glass, taking a long drink to try and cool the flush that was running over
his body.
“Are you alright, Dean?” a deep voice questioned. Dean jumped slightly,
spilling drops of his drink down the front of his shirt as Castiel sat back
down across from him. “What do you think of my list?”
“I, uh…” He set his glass back down and stared at the list. “There’s definitely
some things we can work with.” Only a couple of items were jumping out at him
as things he would be uncomfortable doing. Role play seemed like something he
would spend too much time laughing at, and the idea of having wax poured over
his body seemed ridiculous. And messy.
Sensory deprivation with blindfolds and other items. Dean groaned as his eyes
caught sight of even more kinks and scene ideas. His cock was hard as a rock,
and when he looked up he noticed the flash of desire in Castiel’s eyes.
Apparently his issues were obvious.
“I’m having a bit of a problem,” he managed, shifting in his seat.
“I can see that,” Castiel said, his voice even — although just barely. He
leaned down to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Is it something you require assistance
with?”
Shit. That voice in his ear made it even worse. “Please,” he whimpered.
Castiel straightened. “Meet me in the men’s bathroom in two minutes,” he said,
and walked away.
The control was back — just the slightest hint of domination that had Dean
tucking the paper into his pocket and following Castiel, after he’d disappeared
around the corner, without thinking twice about the fact that they were in a
very popular restaurant in the middle of the lunch hour. The door to the
bathroom was closed, but not locked. Dean walked inside, and Castiel was
waiting for him, leaning against the sink. Dean closed the door behind him, and
they were alone in the small, single-toilet room.
When the click of the lock reverberated through the space, Castiel reached out
and pulled Dean to him by his shirt.
Dean went happily, not quite sure what to expect. And then, as soon as his body
was pressed against Castiel’s, the other man dug his fingers through Dean’s
short hair and tilted his head back.
In the next second, Castiel was kissing him and Dean felt sparks of electricity
ignite within him. Despite all that they had done in Castiel’s space — they had
never kissed. Dean fell into it, chasing the flavor of smokey cheese, sugary
tea, and Castiel. He opened his mouth to the other man, letting Castiel’s
tongue lick into him, letting his hands push and pull him around.
His back hit the empty wall space beside the door, and he groaned into
Castiel’s mouth as he tried to get a hand between them. His brain was going
wild and he had to know if Castiel was just as turned on as he was. When his
hand found the hard outline of Castiel’s cock beneath his dress slacks, Dean
almost lost control. He broke the kiss to mumble a needy, “Please fuck me.”
The growl that sounded in Castiel’s throat was the best answer that Dean could
remember getting in recent memory. “Turn around,” he said. “Hands on the wall.”
It had to be a bad sign that Dean was turned on by obeying Castiel outside of
their roles as dom and sub. He knew better than to say no, though, and quickly
spun around to face the wall, planting his hands firmly and jutting his ass
back towards the other man. “Please,” he begged once more.
Castiel slowed his pace, then, and it was so torturous Dean thought he was
going to go out of his mind. Castiel pressed himself against Dean’s back, his
face at the base of Dean’s neck, inhaling deeply. He wrapped his arms around
Dean, spreading his palms flat against his chest, and smoothing down his
stomach, reaching under his shirt to skate his nails against the hot flesh. His
hands didn’t linger there long, instead moving to unzip Dean’s blue jeans and
wrap strong fingers around his aching cock.
Dean knew that moving probably wasn’t allowed, but he couldn’t stop himself
from shifting forward against Castiel’s touch and back against his cock. It was
a wicked combination. He could remember the list shoved in his pocket — all of
the things written on it that turned Castiel on. That Castiel wanted to do to
Dean. Dean had a few additions that he wished he could make to the list. Like
getting the opportunity to feel Castiel sucking him off, breaking away from his
dominance long enough to let Dean control the pace of his cock sliding between
those pretty pink lips.
He shuddered. He wanted that a lot more than he realized.
“Fuck, Cas, I need—”
“What, Dean?” he said into the skin of Dean’s neck, nipping at the flesh there.
“Tell me what you need.”
Dean moaned. He wasn’t sure if he had the nerve to ask. But at the same time -
he wasn’t being paid to be there. He was there on his own terms, which meant he
could ask for what he wanted. “Will you suck me off?”
There was a long silence, and he half expected Castiel to leave. Instead, the
man gave a soft ‘hmm’ and spoke between kisses to Dean’s hairline. “I’ll make
you a deal. I’m going to fuck you. If you can make it through being fucked
without letting go — you can come in my mouth.”
“Fuck, Cas. You’re on.” The hand around his cock squeezed once before letting
go and reaching up to yank his pants down to his thighs.
“Spread your legs.”
Dean did as he was told, letting more of his weight rest against the wall. He
heard rustling behind him and felt a cold, slick finger slide between his
cheeks as Castiel’s other hand dug into the flesh of his ass.
He couldn’t help but snort at the sensation. “Leave it to the doctor to carry
lube around,” he mumbled.
“It pays to be prepared,” he circled his finger around Dean’s hole, pressing
against the entrance before easing his fingertip in, “—wouldn’t you agree?”
“Mmm, yes.” Dean hung his head between his arms, catching sight of his cock
bobbing slightly and leaking precome. With his weight against his hands, he
wasn’t tempted to reach down and touch himself. “Cas?”
Castiel slid his first finger inside Dean all the way, easing it in and out
once before replying. “Yes, Dean?”
“Would you, uh..” He felt a blush creeping up his face and was thankful Castiel
couldn’t see it. “Will you maybe… spankmewhileyoufuckme?” the words came out in
a rush, jumbled into one.
“Is that what you want, Dean?” Castiel continued to fuck Dean’s ass with a
single finger. “That wouldn’t make you come, would it?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes it’s what I want. I promise… I promise I won’t come.” He
rocked back onto Castiel’s finger. “Please?”
“Alright. Don’t come… and don’t scream. I do want to be able to continue
patronizing this establishment. Can you take another finger?”
Dean snorted. “I could take three.”
He felt a huff of breath on his neck before Castiel said, “Ask and ye shall
receive.”
Dean gasped at the quick burn he felt, and realised that there suddenly were
two more fingers inside him. Castiel held them still for a moment, letting
Dean’s body adjust around them. When he began moving them again, slowly
scissoring them apart, he latched his mouth onto Dean’s neck, kissing and
sucking gently. “You can—” Dean’s words got cut off by a gasp as one fingertip
ghosted over his prostate. “Fuck. You can bite me, I don’t mind.”
Castiel lifted his face again. “You want me to leave marks on you?”
Dean groaned, hoping that communicated what he wanted enough. He didn’t go so
far as to admit that he wanted people to know that he was Castiel’s, but the
thought was there.
Castiel’s finger brushed over Dean’s prostate once more, as he nipped at the
flesh of his neck. “You’re so needy. Want people to know that you belong to me,
don’t you? Have enough marks on your skin that everyone in the restaurant knows
you’d do anything for my cock?”
Shit. “Please.”
“Maybe I should get you a collar, Dean.” The fingers disappeared and a moment
later, Dean could feel the hot press of Castiel’s latex-covered cock inside
him. “Would you like that? Wearing a collar that says you’re mine?”
Dean paused. That was something he had never really thought about — admittedly,
it wasn’t even something he knew much about. But he liked the sound of it.
“Please,” he begged, his voice heavy and breathy, “please fuck me, Cas.”
In one move, Castiel’s hips surged forward, bottoming out inside Dean. He
didn’t give any opportunity for adjustment, though, before he was gripping
Dean’s hips and fucking him relentlessly against the wall. After a moment, one
hand swept away, before landing back down on Dean’s bare asscheek.
He bit his lip to keep from screaming out, hard enough to taste the familiar
metallic flavor of blood. He probably hadn’t even needed to ask — Castiel knew
exactly what Dean needed to be pleased. Dean braced himself against the wall,
pushing back against Castiel when the other man thrust deep inside him. Almost
as soon as Castiel established a steady pace, his cock began to hit Dean’s
prostate on almost every push. It felt so fucking good — but Dean knew if they
continued on like that for much longer that he wouldn’t be able to hang on.
He was just about to voice his worries, when another slap landed on his ass —
followed quickly by two more. It was too much. Too much. “I can’t hold on,
sir,” he gasped.
“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel said, and his tone was gentle. “You’ve been so good
— let go. Come for me.”
On the next thrust, Dean felt the brush over his prostate and went with it,
letting the sensation take over as his cock began to come. He forced himself to
look back down, groaning as he watched his cock twitch and leak without even
being touched. “Fuck.”
“Holy shit, Dean,” Castiel growled as he continued to pound mercilessly into
Dean, sending his feet shuffling over the tiled floor beneath them. His
movements became stuttered and erratic and he bit down into the meat of Dean’s
shoulder as he came, grunting into Dean’s skin.
Both men stayed like that, tangled up in each other, for a few moments until
Castiel pulled himself out. He disposed of the condom and tucked himself back
into his pants. Returning to Dean, he spun the still-breathless man around to
face him.
Dean, however, had a hard time meeting the older man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, I
couldn’t hang on. I couldn’t do what you wanted.”
Castiel tipped Dean’s chin up towards him, looking into his eyes. “Don’t be
sorry.” He pulled Dean close, and kissed him hard. “I’m glad you enjoyed
yourself. But I’m afraid you’ve made a mess.” He gestured to the still-warm
come coating some of Dean’s dick.
Dean snorted. “Not to mention on the wall.”
“I don’t care about the wall,” Castiel said, and sank to his knees in front of
Dean. Taking Dean’s softening cock in one hand he leaned forward to lick him
clean.
“Oh shit, Cas,” Dean moaned. He watched in fascination and astonishment as
Castiel cleaned his cock. “Fuck… that’s so hot. You’re so hot.”
Castiel leaned back to look up at him and winked. “I have good inspiration.”
His job done, Castiel returned to his feet and walked over to the sink, washing
and drying his hands. As he made his way to the door he turned to Dean once
more. “If it’s not already glaringly obvious that I just ravaged you in here
then it would be even more so if we were to exit at the same time.” He put his
hand on the doorknob. “Do you need a ride home?”
Dean pulled up his pants, and couldn’t help but notice that his dick was still
wet with Castiel’s saliva. “No, I’m meeting Charlie over at Powell’s.”
“Very well, then. Thank you for meeting me. I’ll see you Wednesday?”
A shiver ran down Dean’s spine. “Definitely.”
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Mentions of past rape. Sex toys.

 ”The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole
world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald
                                      ---
The motel where Sam was staying wasn’t far from a large shopping mall and a
grocery store. By Monday afternoon he was more than a little bored and began
walking around to explore the area. On the other side of the mall was a train
stop, and he splurged on Tuesday and rode the train for a while. He wound up at
the airport, sitting in just before security and sipping from a cup of coffee
as he watched the happy reunions between travelers and their loved ones.
No one had ever in his life been that excited to see him. Even after the
kidnapping, when they were finally discovered in that lone cabin in the woods,
his parents had looked at him like they didn’t know how to handle him anymore.
It wasn’t his fault that he had craved his brother’s touch for days, weeks, and
months after that moment.
His eyes flicked back down to the seat next to him at the mere thought of Dean.
On the worn out fabric sat his cellphone. He hadn’t been farther than two feet
from the small device since Sunday afternoon when Dean had promised he would
call.
The only time the phone rang was when Brady tried once more to get him to pick
up. The messages had gone from ‘Please baby, where are you, I’m worried,’ to
‘Get your ass back here now or I’ll kill you.’
“Are you waiting for someone?”
Sam looked up at the sound of a nearby voice and noticed an older woman sitting
across from him and staring. He glanced around, just to make sure that she was
indeed talking to him, before shaking his head. “No. Just wanted to get out
around people.”
The woman nodded, her hands clinging tightly to a worn teddy bear. “I used to
do that when I was young. Back before the kids came. My youngest is flying in
today.” She motioned to the bear. “This was his.”
“It looks very well loved.”
“He’s coming back from Afghanistan. A soldier, just like his dad.”
Sam didn’t know what to say to that. He was sure a normal person would tell the
woman to thank her son for his service — Sam was too distracted by the thought
of war, death, and suffering. He let the conversation drop off as he picked up
his cellphone and checked the time.
It was almost dinner time. He had no idea what he was going to eat. In his
efforts to save money he had been living off of ramen noodles and McDonalds. He
didn’t want either one at that moment, but any other option at the airport was
out of his budget. He said goodbye to the woman, awkwardly offering her his
condolences. He got back on the train, and by the time he was walking back into
his room he was considering just forgoing dinner completely.
                                      ---
He hurt. It was all that his brain could seem to comprehend. Every muscle was
sore from pulling taut against restraints that had held him down for too long.
Sam laid on the dirty floor and tried not to move. Through the darkness he
could almost make out the water stains on the ceiling. He wanted to close his
eyes and imagine he was laying in an open field staring up at the stairs.
Unfortunately every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the blinding
white pain of the night before.
“Sammy?” Dean whispered from the mattress.
“I don’t wanna talk.”
“Will you at least come up here? With me?”
“No.”
Silence settled down over the room again, until all Sam could hear was the
beating of his own heart in his ears. How could his heart beat so loudly when
Sam felt so dead inside?
Dean shuffled on the mattress and suddenly his voice was closer than before,
“Do you hate me?”
He wanted to say ‘yes’ and scream at Dean. How could you do this to me? How
could you rape me, Dean? I thought you loved me! I’m your brother. You promised
to protect me. ”No,” he breathed. He rolled and shuffled until he was laying on
the mattress next to Dean.
He hesitated for only a moment, before laying his head on Dean’s chest and
pulling his brother’s arms around his waist. Sam could never hate his brother.
Dean was all he had.
                                      ---
“What’s your safeword?”
Dean took a deep breath as he continued to kneel on the soft pillow. “Topeka.”
“Good. Turn around, hands on the floor as well.”
He did as he was told without hesitation. Castiel had explained his plans for
the night when Dean arrived fifteen minutes before, and then asked Dean to
strip and kneel to wait while Castiel retrieved his supplies from the bedroom.
Dean had caught sight of what had been brought back into the room, and he was
ready. So ready that his cock was already half-hard and a shiver kept making
it’s way down his spine.
Warm slick fingers brushed against his asshole, and his head dropped forward as
he bit his lip. He wanted to moan — but the rules had been explicit. No
moaning. No coming.
“Do you own a butt plug, Dean?” Castiel asked, slipping one finger inside Dean
as he slowly started to work him open.
His voice shook as he answered, “No. No, sir.”
“Have you ever used one before?” The finger barely grazed over his prostate,
and Dean found it hard to answer the question. He shook his head, hoping it
would be enough. “Words, my pet. Use your words or you’ll be punished.”
“N-no, sir.”
Castiel continued to meticulously work him open until suddenly the fingers
disappeared. Dean wanted to look, but remained still and waiting. The blunt tip
of the butt plug beginning to press inside of him was a sensation he couldn’t
explain if he had to. It was weird but in a good way. Castiel kept wiggling the
plug and pushing it further and further until finally the largest part breached
his entrance and the toy was securely settled inside his body.
Shit. It was like a hard cock just sitting there waiting and not moving.
“Alright, pet,” Castiel said. “I have a load of laundry waiting on the laundry
room floor. I want you to sort the lights from the darks and start the first
load on a spin cycle. The plug is to remain firmly in place the entire time —
you will not touch it or your cock, understood?”
Dean nodded his head, but after a moment followed it with a soft, “Yes, sir.”
“After the laundry is done, I want you to make your way back to the pillow by
my desk and wait patiently. When I’m finished with my paperwork, you can suck
my cock. After I’ve come, we will remove the plug.”
“Yes, sir.” Castiel slapped his bare ass and told him to get on with it, and
Dean quickly pulled himself to his feet and headed for the laundry room. Just
as he had expected - every step made the butt plug brush and nudge against his
prostate.
He had no idea how he was going to follow the rules and finish the chores with
so much excitement brewing under his skin.
                                      ---
Sam wasn’t old enough to be there. He wasn’t even sure how he’d found the nerve
to try. Thankfully the bouncer at the door took one look at him and just waved
him on through.
He’d never been in a nightclub before. He moved the the drunken bodies swaying
to too-loud music and tried to figure out what he was doing. Just because the
bouncer had assumed he was twenty-one, that didn’t mean the bartender would.
And it wasn’t like he had the extra cash to spend on alcohol anyways.
He found an empty barstool towards the end of the bar and sat down facing the
crowd. Like with the airport earlier that day, he was really just looking to be
around people instead of stuck in an empty motel room. The club had been the
only place nearby that was still open at midnight.
Sam sat on the barstool for ten minutes before another body pressed up in the
space next to his. He heard a sweet voice ordering two beers from the
bartender, and turned to see blonde hair framing a pale-skinned face. He really
shouldn’t have stared, but even in the dark club atmosphere he could make out
freckles on the girl’s cheeks and he couldn’t help thinking she looked like the
female version of Dean.
Two beers were placed on the bartop and the girl turned to give Sam a wink and
a smile, before sliding one of the drinks towards him. “You look like you need
that.”
“Thanks but I’m—” he cut himself off from saying ‘not old enough’ and watched
her eyebrows quirk up. He forced a smile and picked up the beer, motioning in
her direction with the top of the bottle. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t mention it.” They both drank down half of their bottles, and if Sam
expected her to walk away he was wrong. She stayed by his side, and even seemed
to be moving closer. When he placed an empty bottle down on the counter, she
leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Wanna dance?”
Sam didn’t even need one hand to count out the experiences he had had with
women. There were none. There was only Dean and Brady. As he let the blonde
pull him out onto the dance floor, he couldn’t help but feel like he was
jumping into the deep end without knowing how to swim.
She danced like there was no tomorrow, her ass pressed back against the front
of his jeans as she grabbed his arms and moved them around to her stomach. He
was more than a little nervous, but he gave in to the beat of the music and the
alcohol warming his veins. It didn’t take long before he was actually starting
to have fun. The girl was only interested in him, it seemed, and she stayed
pressed up against him for dance after dance — driving his cock insane.
When last call was finally announced nearly two hours later, She grasped his
hand and pulled him towards the exit. “My place is about twenty minutes from
here by cab.” She pulled his face down closer to hers and kissed him, as her
hand brushed over the front of his jeans. “Wanna come over and fuck?”
“Twenty minutes?” He shifted against her hand as he looked up and across the
street. “I’ve got a motel room right there.”
She squealed a little in delight and started to drag him across the street
towards the motel. He stumbled a little up the stairs, but managed to right
himself and lead her to his room.
He didn’t know what he was doing. He was literally a virgin when it came to
fucking rather than being fucked. As he watched her walk into the room and
begin stripping, he wondered if she would be willing to ride his cock instead
so he didn’t mess up something.
She threw a bright pink thong towards his face and finally asked, “Hey, what’s
your name?”
Sam locked the door and stripped out of his shirt. “Sam. What’s yours?”
The blonde fell onto the bed with a soft bounce and giggled. “Joanna. But, you
can call me Jo.”
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm going to stop with the pre-game warnings unless it's for the top/
     bottom roles. You guys know the drill and if you don't, read the
     tags!

 ”No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must
                       walk the path.” - Gautama Buddha
                                      ---
Sam knew the second he woke that his bed wasn’t empty. Jo, for her small frame,
seemed to fill the space she was in a few times over. And, despite the
activities he was fairly sure they’d gotten up to the night before, he wasn’t
entirely sure how much of that space he was welcome in.
Jo’s back was to him, but she still appeared to be asleep. Sam rolled away from
her, and reached down to the floor to retrieve his phone from his pants. The
battery had died during the night, and he needed to pee, so he rolled out of
bed as gently as he could manage. After visiting the bathroom he brought his
phone over to where his charger was and plugged it in and, after letting the
battery charge for a few moments, hit the button to turn it back on.
He sat down in the chair at the desk there and looked back at his bed, where
his very naked and very female guest was beginning to stir. Sam felt more
nervous than he had when he’d brought her back to his room. He’d never done
this before — what was the etiquette called for in this situation? Was he
supposed to buy her breakfast? Make small talk over coffee?
He was brought out of his daze when his phone buzzed and beeped back to life
behind him. And buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed. All of the notifications that
couldn’t be delivered while his phone had been off were coming through. He
turned the screen on to see seven new messages and four missed calls — Sam
didn’t have to check to know who they were from.
As he considered deleting them without looking at them, again, his phone began
vibrating rhythmically once more. It was ringing.
Jo was obviously starting to wake, leaving him with two choices: face the woman
he’d slept with the night before, or answer the phone and deal with Brady. Sam
took the cowardly option, slipping on his jeans and grabbing the keycard as he
stepped outside and hit answer on his phone screen. Now that the call was
connected, though, he didn’t know what to say.
“Sam? Are you there?” Brady’s voice came over the line.
Sam’s first words got caught in his throat and he had to clear them out as a
dry cough. “Uh, yeah, I’m here.”
“Oh thank God! I’ve been so worried. What happened? Where are you?” There was
panic seeping through his words.
It sounded like Brady really cared and Sam felt a pang of guilt shoot through
his chest. Sure he could be difficult, but at least he cared enough to keep
calling. Dean hadn’t even called once since Sam had been in Portland. “I had a
family thing. My brother was in the hospital. I panicked.”
“Oh shit, Sam.” Brady took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me, love? I
would have gone with you! Are you alright? Is your brother alright? Tell me
where you are so I can come help.”
Sam didn’t know what to say to Brady, and he didn’t know how long he could
stall. “Yeah, he’s fine now. It’s just been really busy here.”
“Listen, Sam…” there was a brief pause before Brady continued, “I love you and
I’m so sorry I got angry that last night. You know how I get when I’m
frustrated with finals and worried about things.”
“Yeah, I do know.” He kept his tone short, annoyed.
Brady sighed. “I called your boss, Sam. I explained what happened — that it was
my fault you had to cancel that night. I asked him to give you your job back.
He said you’re welcome back as soon as you’re back in town.”
Sam had just about come to terms with cutting ties in San Francisco — but
that’s when he’d thought he’d lost his job, too. He shook his head. It wasn’t a
terribly great job, he could get one of those anywhere. “Yeah, about that. I’m
not sure how long I’ll be needed here.”
“Sam, please. Please let me come help you. I just want one more chance to make
it up to you. I’ll do anything you ask — just don’t give up on me. I never gave
up on you.”
There was a wad of gum on the pavement next to Sam’s foot. He nudged it with
his toe, and it didn’t give. “I’m not — I’m not giving up on you, Brady. I just
need a little time. Please.”
“Where are you staying? Do you have enough money for food, Sam?”
“I’m fine, everything’s taken care of.” Sam tried not to think about how little
money he had left. He’d tried to make the one hundred dollars from Castiel
last, and he’d done pretty well, but he didn’t have anything to fall back on
once it was gone.
“Sure, yeah, of course. I’m just worried about you. I miss you. It’s so lonely
here without you. My parents are coming to town and invited us to dinner and I
didn’t know what to say.” His voice broke, showing the emotions. “I didn’t want
to admit that you might be gone forever. I don’t know if I can survive that,
Sam.”
Sam was quiet for a few moments, and the dead air on the phone line felt heavy.
It was obvious to Sam then how much Brady loved him. “I’m not gone forever.”
Brady sniffled over the phone line. “Just answer one question for me, Sam.
That’s all I ask. Do you… do you still love me?”
“I do.” He looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the piercing morning
sunlight. “I’m… I’m in Portland.”
                                      ---
Sam stepped back into the motel room after ending the phone call and was
surprised to see Jo sitting on the edge of the bed, completely dressed, pulling
on her shoes. After the conversation with Brady, he wasn’t sure how to react
around the woman he’d just had a one-night-stand with.
She glanced up at him as she moved onto putting her other shoe on. “So, I heard
a bit of that. Boyfriend? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Um, yeah. He is. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean
to—”
She held up a hand to cut him off. “Look it’s cool. We all experiment every
once in a while.” She stood, grabbing her purse and moving over to him. After a
moment of staring, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Sweetheart, I
appreciate the lay, but I think you and I both know that I’m not of the gender
you prefer.”
“Shit… was it that obvious?” Sam let his embarrassment turn into a laugh.
“Pretty much, yeah. But listen, I’m gonna go… it sounds like you and your
boyfriend have plenty to discuss. You take care of yourself, Sam.” She patted
him on the arm once before slipping around him and through the door.
                                      ---
Thursday turned into Friday without Sam even noticing the time passing. He was
too worried about what Brady would do with the information of where he was. By
Friday afternoon, he was down to his last twenty dollars as he walked back from
the nearby grocery store with that evening’s dinner.
Twenty bucks and two more nights paid at the motel. After that — Sam had no
idea what he was going to do. If Brady showed up he would automatically jump in
to cover expenses… as long as Sam went back to being his pet. If Brady didn’t
show up, Sam would have to find a homeless shelter to stay in.
Or he could hitchhike back to California.
Once he was back in his room with a lukewarm container of ramen noodles, he
pulled out his phone and swirled it around on the table a few times.
He had been in the same city as Dean for a whole week and had only spoken to
his brother once. If that wasn’t rejection then he didn’t know what was. It was
time to give in and give up. Flipping the phone back to the right direction, he
picked it up and found Dean’s number before hitting the call button.
Dean picked up after the fifth ring. “Hello?”
He was shocked that his brother actually answered. So shocked that it took him
a moment to pull himself together and answer him. “Hi Dean.”
“Sammy. Uh, how’s it going?”
Terrible. “Fine. I, um… how are you feeling?”
“Well, you know. Not amazing, but I’m back on my feet. Been enjoying Portland?”
The words made him angry. He hadn’t came all that way just to enjoy Portland.
He wasn’t there to see the fucking sights! “No. I’m leaving Sunday morning. I’m
going… home.”
“Oh. Shit, Sam, I’m sorry.” Dean breathed a heavy sigh. “This week has been
such a shit show — do you wanna get together before you go back?”
He could hear it in his brother’s voice. That slight inflection that took him
back to days when Dean would lie to him about why their parents were arguing
downstairs. Dean was lying about how busy he had been. He was probably also
mentioning the idea of a meeting to appease Sam. It wasn’t something he wanted.
Why would it be? Dean hadn’t hesitated to throw him out of the hospital, why
would now be different? He hadn’t hesitated to walk away when Sam needed him
most in the aftermath of their abduction.
It was suddenly clear, like a revelation that a boy only understood once he
became a man. Dean would never again be the strong supportive brother that Sam
longed for.
“I think,” he managed, “that you and I both know you don’t want that. So it’s
fine, Dean. I’ll be fine. Whatever I was expecting out of coming up here — it’s
obviously not going to happen.”
“Damn it, Sam. It’s been four years, and you came all the way here.” Dean
sounded defeated. “At least let me buy you lunch or something.”
“I’m free tonight.”
“Tonight? Shit, Sam, I can’t.”
Of course. “Why not?”
“I gotta work.”
“You can’t get out of it?”
“I really can’t.”
“Big surprise there.”
“Look, Sam, I would if I could—”
“No, Dean. I don’t think you would.” His brother tried to interrupt but Sam
kept talking over him. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, okay? I’ve
made it this long without you, I can keep going just fine.”
Sam didn’t wait to hear Dean’s reaction before he lifted the phone away from
his ear and ended the call.
                                      ---
Despite the fact that Dean was in the middle of a fairly intense scene he
couldn’t make himself focus. His arms were bound with leather bracelet
handcuffs that hung from a hook in the ceiling, and Castiel was walking around
him slowly, hitting key spots with a small whip. The sting would cause his body
to jump in reflex, but he hadn’t let out a single sound of agony. His cock was
also completely unresponsive.
Finally, after two more slaps against his ass, Castiel stepped in front of him
with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dean, what’s your safeword?”
“Wichita,” he answered without hesitation, his head hanging forward between his
arms.
“Are you feeling dizzy? Do you need to stop?”
“No, m’fine,” Dean mumbled.
“We’re stopping.” Castiel laid down his whip and reached up to release Dean
from the cuffs.
“What?” He looked up, frowning at the other man. “No. I’m fine. It’s fine. I
would have used my safeword if it wasn’t.”
“Something’s on your mind. You’ve enjoyed this whip before. Am I doing
something you don’t like?”
“No, of course not. I’ll enjoy it once you get going.” He noticed Castiel’s
arched eyebrow before following the man’s gaze and looking down at his own
body. It was covered with red marks from the whip, but Dean couldn’t even
remember the thing hitting him. “Oh.”
“I rest my case.” He unfastened the clip keeping the cuffs on the hook and
gently lowered Dean’s arms down in front of him. He loosened the cuffs and slid
them off Dean’s wrists. “There’s a robe in the closet,” Castiel nodded to one
corner of the guest bedroom they’d been playing in. “Why don’t you put that on
and then join me in the living room?”
“But I’m still—”
“On the clock, I know,” Castiel finished for him. “You can pour me a drink and
rub my feet, but we’re going to leave any more ‘vigorous’ activities for now.”
Dean nodded and Castiel left the room. He rubbed at his wrists absentmindedly
as he moved over to the closet and pulled out the robe mentioned before. It was
soft and comforting against his skin. He shut the bedroom light off and went
back to the main room. Castiel was seated at his favorite spot on the sofa,
with a pillow and a bottle of lotion by his feet. Instead of moving to kneel
down right away, Dean walked to the small bar cabinet set up on one side of the
room and mixed Castiel a bourbon on the rocks like he usually requested.
He presented the drink, before kneeling down on the pillow and beginning to
warm some of the lotion in his hands.
Castiel waited until Dean put his hands to Castiel’s skin before he spoke.
“How’s your brother doing?”
Dean froze, staring at Castiel’s foot. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’? He’s been in town all week.”
Fuck. Dean hung his head and felt the guilt creeping over him again. “I put off
calling him. I just — I didn’t know what to say! For some reason ‘Hey sorry I
abandoned you after I was forced to rape you’ just doesn’t fucking seem like
enough, you know? So I ignored the idea that he was in town. Then today he
calls me and tells me he’s leaving on Sunday. When I offered to get together he
called my bluff and hung up on me. Now I don’t know what to fucking do.”
It took Dean a moment to realize that Castiel had suddenly gotten very still.
Dean stood in a rush and shook his head. “Fuck, fuck. I didn’t mean to say
that, fuck.”
“Dean… what do you mean? What happened between you and your brother?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” He looked around the room, feeling completely lost. Any
other time and he’d just make a run for it — but he couldn’t risk his job. Not
again. “I think I have to use the restroom—”
“Dean—” Castiel stood and reached out, his hand closing around Dean’s wrist
before the younger man could make his thinly-veiled escape. “Talk to me.
There’s no judgement here.”
He couldn’t meet Castiel’s gaze. He knew that there was no way out. He either
came clean or gave up the best job he could find. “I… Sam and I were kidnapped,
when we were teenagers. Held hostage for over two months in some sick bastard’s
hunting cabin. He was a real piece of work, the shit he put us through. The
creepy shit he’d say, and the way he looked at Sam. But he never really touched
either of us, side from knocking us around some. Until one day.” He bit at his
lip for a moment before continuing, “One day the guy gave us an ultimatum.
Either I raped Sam or he would.”
“So ... you made the only choice you could.”
Dean shook his head. “No. No! I could have fought back. Waited. We were rescued
two days after that. If I had just fought the bastard for two fucking days, Sam
would be fine!”
Castiel released his hold on Dean’s wrist only to lay a hand on each of his
shoulders. “You’re right, you could have risked your life and Sam’s life by
trying to fight back. What if the kidnapper had killed you? What if you fought
back and he’d won? No one would have been there to protect Sam when the
kidnapper went after him. No one would have stopped the man from raping Sam —
or quite possibly worse. Would that have been better?” Castiel moved a hand to
Dean’s face, guiding it so that he would look up. “You had no idea that it was
only going to be two days. All you knew was that you had to protect your
brother the best way you could. And you did that.”
Dean felt full to bursting and dead empty all at the same time. “Tell me this,
Cas. If I did ’the right thing’ then why do I feel so fucking horrible about it
every single second of every single day?” His voice was threatening to break
but he kept going. “When is this going to stop hanging over my head?”
“Dean,” Castiel stated, his hands moving to hold the back of Dean’s neck and
keep him from looking away again. “The only way this is going to go away, is if
you face it head on. You have to stop avoiding Sam and talk to him. Apologize.
Scream it out. Whatever it takes. You just have to stop hiding.”
Dean’s eyes were burning, and he could feel the tears ready to spill out. “I’ve
been hiding for so long, Cas. I don’t know how to stop.”
“Shh. It’s okay.” Castiel pulled him close and held onto him as Dean’s
shoulders began to shake. “Sam doesn’t hate you. Sam was only worried you hated
him. He asked me that first day if he should leave to avoid causing you pain.
It’s obvious that you both love each other, you’re just struggling to get past
the trauma.”
Dean let Castiel wrap him in his arms and he hooked his own arms behind
Castiel’s back. They stood there like that for a few long minutes, holding each
other, before Dean started laughing. “Shit,” he said, stepping back and wiping
his face dry. “I really didn’t mean to word vomit like that on you.”
“It’s fine. I could tell something was bothering you.” Castiel glanced at the
clock on the wall, before looking back to Dean. “We have forty-five more
minutes. If you’d like, we can lay down on the spare bed and relax? I took a
term of massage therapy in medical school…”
“Is that your way of saying I give terrible foot massages?”
“Not at all,” Castiel replied, a smirk playing across his lips. “But there’s
still a thing or two I can show you.”
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Top!Brady/Bottom!Sam mentioned
      
     Also, so, just as an fyi, hufflebutt and I have a lot of ideas left
     for this story. So if it seems like we're reaching a conclusion,
     trust me when I say we're not.
     (And this was my favorite quote yet! So spot on.)

 ”There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” -
                                  Mark Twain
                                      ---
From the moment they arrived in the spare bedroom, Dean became quiet — except
for protesting the idea that Castiel would be giving the massage. His argument
of ‘I’m supposed to be the one making you feel good’ was ignored.
“Dean, part of the appeal for playing the role of ‘dom’ is being able to take
care of my submissive’s needs. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this
is what you need right now, and it would make me very happy to give it to you.”
Dean acquiesced, stretching face down on the bed. He had to fight back a moan
as soon as Castiel’s hands touched his skin.
After a few minutes, Castiel broke the silence. “I’m curious, is Sam the reason
behind your panic at the idea of topping?”
Dean was so relaxed that the once-taboo topic seemed less threatening. “I guess
so? I don’t know, I just — ungh!” His words were cut off by a grunt as
Castiel’s fingers ground into a particularly tense knot of muscle. “I don’t
want to be in charge of anybody. Not like that.”
“I understand,” Castiel said, softly. He worked on the same spot for a moment
longer before moving down to Dean’s lower back. “I’m proud of you for learning
your limits.”
Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, it’s about time, isn’t it?” Castiel’s hands were
hot and heavy and Dean could feel himself beginning to melt under them.
Castiel leaned closer and brushed his lips along Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t
give yourself enough credit, Dean.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Dean said into the pillow. “But I do know your
hands are amazing.”
“Yeah?” One hand continued lower, as the other moved away. A moment later a
plastic lid was being opened and warming oil was poured over Dean’s back. “Feel
free to give location suggestions.” Both hands back on Dean’s skin, Castiel
worked one lower and along the crack of Dean’s ass.
Dean couldn’t help but roll his ass back and up into Castiel’s touch. Castiel
kept his caress infuriatingly slow, skimming his fingers between Dean’s cheeks
but not dipping any lower. “Fuck, Cas.”
“Is this alright?”
“It’s almost fucking perfect.”
“Almost?”
Dean turned his head over his shoulder in time to see the frown crease
Castiel’s brow. “I’m just a little uncomfortable.” He turned over onto his back
then, freeing his cock from where it had been digging into the mattress.
“Oh fuck, Dean,” Castiel groaned. He moved to grasp Dean’s cock with his oiled
hand, but froze at the sound of an alarm going off across the room. Castiel
pulled back and looked over to where a small clock sat on the dresser. “It’s a
quarter to one, Dean. We don’t have time…” When Dean let out a frustrated sigh,
Castiel continued, “Unless you want to stay?”
“Fuck, I really do, but… is it okay? With the ‘rules’ and shit?”
“I think if we both agree, then we are adult enough to accept the
consequences.” Castiel leaned forward, kissing a strip of skin along Dean’s
chest. “I’ll pay you, for your time. I would just… I would enjoy having you
stay, Dean. Please.”
“Would it be unprofessional of me if I said I really wanted to stay, too?”
“Of course not.” Castiel smiled. “I just have one request—”
“What’s that?”
“You call your bulldog and let her know you won’t need a ride until morning.”
Dean sat up just enough to press a kiss into the crook of Castiel’s neck, one
hand sliding down to cup his hardening cock. “Pass me my phone.”
                                      ---
Sam opened the door without thinking and stared at his boyfriend on the other
side of the doorway. He wasn’t particularly surprised; he knew as soon as he
said the word ‘Portland’ that Brady would somehow find him and show up. Of
course, he also may have texted with the motel he was staying at. “Hi Brady.”
“Sam.” Brady’s face was all emotion and remorse, and it was everything Sam
thought he wanted.
Sam fell into his boyfriend’s arms with no resistance, wrapping his arms around
the other man’s shoulders. It was all he could to stop from sobbing. He was so
embarrassed for what he’d done — running towards someone who didn’t want him
and away from someone who clearly did. “Brady, I’m so sorry.”
Brady pulled him into the room and shut the door behind him. “It’s okay, Sam, I
forgive you. I’m just so glad you’re alright. I was so worried.”
Sam let out a heavy breath. “Yeah… yeah, I’m alright.” He took Brady’s bag
without being asked and set it on one of the chairs. “Did you just fly in?”
“I did. Arrived about an hour ago, took a bit of time to get a rental car.”
Brady stepped forward, brushing his hand beneath Sam’s shirt. “I love you, Sam.
You look so sad. What can I do to make you feel better?”
“You being here is enough.” He let Brady lean in for a kiss. “Coming here was a
mistake — I can’t wait to go home.”
“Jesus Sam,” Brady’s voice took on just the slightest edge. “I just got off a
plane and you expect me to get on another one? I don’t get to rest at all, do
I?”
“No, of course you do! Look, I’m paid here for another night, why don’t we
just… why don’t we just take it easy tonight?”
Brady waited another moment before nodding. “Sounds like a good idea.” He
pulled his t-shirt off and kicked his shoes across the room, before laying down
on the bed. “You know, Sam, I would love to lay back and watch that tight ass
sliding along my cock. You up for a ride?”
Sam stripped off his own shirt and jeans and walked over to join Brady on the
bed. It felt so good to be wanted. “You have no idea how amazing that sounds to
me right now.”
                                      ---
To say that Saturday had been a clusterfuck for Dean would have been an
understatement. He and Charlie were almost moved into their new apartment, but
it nearly hadn’t happened half a dozen times. Between not being told ahead of
time that they’d been quoted the wrong amount on the deposit and still needed
to pay more before they’d get their keys, and the two out of order ATM’s they
encountered on their mad dash to get the money on time — Dean figured it was a
miracle they got into the place at all. They still had a pile of stuff in the
old place to deal with before they handed over those keys, but that was a
headache for another day.
Dean had barely had two minutes to rub together the entire day. He had called
Sam once in the afternoon, but his brother hadn’t answered, and then the moving
chaos had resumed in full force.
On Sunday morning, Dean made an effort to wake up early so that he could catch
the bus to where Sam’s motel was and see his brother before he checked out and
left for good. He walked the three blocks to the motel, thankful that Castiel
had given him the room information the day before. He walked up the steps and
down the walkway until he came to the right door and knocked. He just prayed
that Sam hadn’t left early.
When the door opened, Dean was surprised to see an unfamiliar face. The man was
around Dean’s age, blonde, and fairly good-looking. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I must
have the wrong room. I was looking for Sam?”
The other man crossed his arms over his chest. “Sam’s in the shower. I’m afraid
we’re in a bit of a rush to get to the airport for our flight.”
“‘We?’ I’m sorry, who the hell are you?”
“I’m Sam’s boyfriend, Brady. I take it you’re the ailing brother that hasn’t
had the nerve to communicate with him even though he dropped everything to rush
up here. You don’t look very sick.” Brady shook his head. “Like I said, Sam
doesn’t have time to talk to you.”
There was definitely something about this guy that rubbed Dean the wrong way.
“Yeah, well I don’t think that’s up to you. Why don’t you tell Sam I’m here and
he can make his own decision?” Dean made to step forward into the doorway.
“Dean?” Sam suddenly appeared in the room behind Brady, his hair wet and his
clothes clinging a bit to his not-quite-dry skin.
“Sam—” Dean had an apology and half a dozen explanations on his lips but they
died the instant he saw Sam.
And the ugly black eye that was coloring Sam’s face.
Brady moved to close the door. “Yes, yes, nice chat. We have a flight to pack
for. Thanks for stopping by.”
Dean shoved his way into the room, disregarding Brady entirely. “Sam, what the
hell happened? Are you okay?”
Sam’s eyes flicked to Brady for a flash, before looking back at Dean. “I’m
fine. I slipped last night when the pavement was wet from the rain.”
“Oh, that’s pure bullshit and we both know it.” He rounded on Brady. “Did you
do this? Did you hurt Sam?”
“I would never hurt Sam,” Brady growled back. “Unlike you, I love Sam. I have
for eleven months now. We live together. I flew up here immediately when I
found out he was hurting, thanks to you.”
“That doesn’t explain his shiner, or why he’s obviously fucking terrified of
you.” Dean stepped closer to Brady, invading the other man’s space. “Well guess
what, buddy. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Sam,” Brady demanded, “Tell your brother that I didn’t hit you and to back the
fuck off.”
Sam’s voice came quiet but clear. “I can’t.”
“Why the fuck not, Sam? Come on, tell your brother to leave me alone.”
“Because you did hit me.”
Dean heard the crack of Brady’s nose breaking under his fist before his brain
even registered that he’d thrown the punch. As Brady held his nose and cried
out in pain, Dean turned to his little brother. “Get your things, Sam. You can
stay with Charlie and I. I’m not letting you go anywhere with this bastard.”
“Uh, yeah.” Sam sounded shocked but Dean didn’t trust Brady enough to take his
eyes off him for more than a second. “Yeah, of course.” He disappeared into the
bathroom and emerged a moment later, piling a handful of items into his bag.
Brady tried to push past Dean but Dean stopped him with a hard shove against
his chest. “No fuckin’ way. You’re not going anywhere, and if you ever go near
my brother again I’ll fucking kill you.”
Brady laughed, blood dripping into his mouth. “I’d like to see you try. I can
charge you for assault, you know.”
“And we could do the same to you. You just about ready, Sam?” Dean called over
his shoulder.
The zipper sounded on his bag and Sam stepped up to where Dean was. “I’m ready.
I was already mostly packed.”
“Good,” Dean said, still in Brady’s face. “Lead the way.”
They walked to the MAX station in silence, and once they were on the train
sitting towards the back, Sam looked over at Dean. “Thanks.”
“It’s nothing,” Dean said, looking straight ahead. “How are you holding up?”
Sam leaned his head on his duffel bag with a sigh. “I’m fine. He’s just another
person in a long line of ones that have betrayed me.”
Dean had no idea what to say to that. An apology seemed pointless after so
long. Why would Sam suddenly start believing him? “You have mom and dad,
though.”
Sam sat up straight and looked his brother in the eye. “You have no idea, do
you?”
“Idea about what?” Dean frowned, suddenly getting a sick feeling in his
stomach. “Did something happen to mom and dad?”
“No idea,” Sam said, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his bag. “I
haven’t talked to either of them for more than two years.”
“What?” He remembered back to the moments after they were rescued — the way
their parents had swarmed Sam and kept him wrapped in a protective cocoon. They
had shunned Dean, of course, because how could Dean do what he had? But Sam was
their precious baby that needed their comfort. “I’m sorry that… that’s really
shocking.” He noticed the pain in his little brother’s eyes and knew there was
more to the story. “What… what did they do to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not here.”
Dean nodded, understanding. “Okay, yeah. Okay. When… if, you ever want to, I’m
here, alright?” He hesitated a moment before reaching over and squeezing Sam’s
hand. “I won’t leave you again, Sam.”
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Notes
     As an FYI: hufflebutt will be gone next week for VegasCon and since I
     can't survive without her (and will be in a dark boredom fueled daze)
     the next few updates might be a bit sporadic. We'll hopefully get
     another chapter posted before she leaves, but no promises. Also, if
     you guys are writers, you should check out our monthly_writing
     challenge!

  ”No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to
                             grow.” - Alice Walker
                                      ---
Sunday afternoon involved a lot of moving and unpacking the rest of Dean and
Charlie’s things into their new apartment downtown. Sam did his best to make
himself useful although Dean would have preferred he take it easy. He carried
just as many boxes and pieces of furniture as either of them, and barely took
any breaks. It wouldn’t have been obvious to anyone who didn’t know Sam that
anything was amiss. To any regular bystander the three of them would just look
like three normal people moving into a new apartment. Two roommates and a
houseguest helping out. It was true that it had been a long time since Dean had
been around Sam very much.
But he could still tell.
And it wasn’t just the way that Sam avoided looking Dean in the eye — Dean
expected that had a fair bit to do with the shiner he was still sporting over
one eye. No, it was the way Sam shrank his shoulders, how he went out of his
way to stay out of anyone’s path. There was nothing Dean could do until they
got the U-Haul unloaded and returned to the lot. After a busy afternoon Dean
volunteered to bring dinner from the deli on the corner.
Walking into the apartment he found only Charlie in the living room, enjoying
the newly-installed cable, but he could see Sam sitting by himself on the
balcony. Dean shot Charlie a questioning look as he handed her a grilled meat-
lover’s panini but she replied only with a shrug. Dean crossed the space to the
sliding glass door that led outside, his and Sam’s food in his hand.
Sam looked up from his phone when Dean slid the door open.
“Hey,” Dean said, holding up the brown paper bag with Sam’s order. “Dinner’s
ready.”
“Thanks,” Sam mumbled. He tucked his phone away before taking the sandwich that
Dean held out.
“Mind if I join you? Charlie’s watching some weird history documentary about
Victorian mummies or something and it’s creepy.” Dean asked, motioning to the
second chair sitting a few feet away.
With a soft laugh, Sam nodded and motioned to the chair. “Whatever, man, it’s
your house.”
Dean pulled the seat next to Sam and dug into his own food, peeling the paper
away from his sandwich as he spoke. “So you wanna tell me why you’re hiding out
here? I thought you liked documentaries and stuff.”
“I’m pretty sure Charlie doesn’t like me,” he answered, staring down at his own
sandwich that was still wrapped.
“Sam, you’ve known her for what — five hours? Give her a little time. She just…
she doesn’t know how to act around you. That’s all.”
“Shit.” Sam’s face fell. “You told her, didn’t you? No wonder she doesn’t like
me.”
“I didn’t mean to. I got shit-faced once, years ago, and it slipped out. And
besides, it’s not like I really thought you two would ever meet.”
Sam frowned, growing quiet once more as he focused on unwrapping his sandwich
and taking small bites of it.
“It’s not like I go around telling people, Sam. Come on. She’s my best friend.”
“I didn’t expect that you did, Dean. I just… also wasn’t expecting that you had
every plan to never see me again.” His voice broke a bit and he set the
sandwich on the small patio table next to him.
“Dammit Sam, that’s not what I meant. I just… thought it was best I wasn’t
around to fuck things up any more than I already had.” He scoffed. “If that’s
even possible,” he added under his breath.
Sam shook his head. “Coming here was a stupid idea. I should have never made
the decision to come to Portland. I was just so excited when I finally found
out where you were after looking for so long.”
Dean put his food down and stared at his brother. “You were looking for me?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “For about a year. Started as soon as I got out.”
“Got out?” Dean frowned. “Got out from where?”
“Nowhere.” Picking his sandwich back up, Sam tried to brush off the subject.
“It’s not important.”
“Bullshit. What, you get in trouble for stealing skin mags and they throw you
in juvie or something?”
Sam turned to Dean, his face filled with anger and frustration. “No. Mom and
Dad checked me into a mental hospital as soon as you left, Dean. I was there
for three years until finally I turned eighteen and was old enough to check
out.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and thrust it towards his brother.
“Check the messages. They call me every day trying to get me to go back. They
think I’m still crazy!”
Dean didn’t accept the phone that was offered to him. The bite of food he had
just taken tasted like wet pavement. He put the rest of his sandwich down.
“Fuck, Sam. I didn’t — I didn’t know.”
Sam shook his head and stood, looking out at the city lights around them.
“Everyone left, Dean.”
“Everyone? What about Mom and Dad? They cared enough to get you help, didn’t
they?”
“They never visited, Dean. They dropped me off and wiped their hands of me.”
“No. They wouldn’t do that. They cared — they made it pretty fucking clear that
you were the priority between the two of us, I’ll tell you that much.”
Sam took a deep breath and turned to face Dean again. “I needed you, Dean. At
home. I wanted you. I couldn’t sleep without you there — the nightmares were
terrible. Mom and Dad reacted the only way they knew how, I guess. They took
the abomination that was their youngest child and they shipped him off to Texas
to play with the other crazies.”
The skin of Dean’s hands began to prickle and he spoke quietly. “You mean the
nightmares weren’t about me… hurting you?”
Sam slumped back into his chair. “No. In the nightmares, he killed you. Made me
watch. I’d wake up screaming for you.”
Dean stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. He wrapped his arms around
Sam’s shoulders, pulling him into a crushing hug. “Well, he didn’t, okay? I’m
fine.” He ignored the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes but was
grateful his brother couldn’t see him. “I’m fine and I’m here.”
                                      ---
After the extended time together on Friday night (and knowing that Dean needed
to spend time with his brother), Castiel offered to give Dean Sunday night off.
Of course, that left him with free time that he wasn’t expecting to have, so he
took the opportunity to call Henry and suggest grabbing dinner and a beer.
He was already sitting at a table in the restaurant when he saw his best friend
walk inside and take off his hat. Castiel held up a couple fingers to gain
Henry’s attention and stood to give the other man a hug once he was close.
“Henry. Dashing as ever.”
“Hardly,” Henry said with a warm grin. “I’m afraid I’ve come straight from
watching Ryan. If this suit were any lighter I’m sure you’d be able to see
everything he wouldn’t let me feed him today.”
As they both sat back down, a waitress walked over with the bottle of red wine
Castiel had requested. “I know I said dinner and beer, but I also know not
every restaurant carries your favorite vintage. So when I saw it on the wine
list, I went for it.”
“An ‘88 merlot?” Henry asked, inspecting the bottle. “You spoil me, Castiel.”
Henry straightened his tie while he watched the wine be poured. “If you weren’t
seeing someone—”
“I’m not,” Castiel interjected.
“If you weren’t seeing someone,” Henry repeated, “I’d almost think you were
putting the moves on me,” he finished with a wink.
“Even if you weren’t straight as an arrow, I would never risk losing you as a
friend.” Castiel raised his glass in a toast and Henry mirrored the gesture.
“Actually paying for therapy on top of everything else might just bankrupt me.”
Henry huffed a small laugh, swirling the wine in his glass a little before
taking a sip. “But really. What’s the occasion?”
“Occasion?” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Since when do we need an occasion to get
together?”
Henry shrugged. “We don’t. It’s just been a while, I suppose. Is the person
you’re not seeing keeping you busy?”
He coughed on a mouthful of wine, thinking about all of the extra time he had
spent with Dean recently. Time that he really shouldn’t have. “Yes, yes he has.
What about you? Things going okay in Wesson land? How is Josie?”
Henry raised an eyebrow at his friend but didn’t otherwise mention the abrupt
change of subject. “Her work’s keeping her busy, but not quite busy enough to
make daycare affordable. I help out when I can.”
“That’s good.” The waitress walked back over then to take their order, and once
she had walked away, Castiel took a deep breath before coming clean. “I might
be getting attached.”
“Well, at least you’re finally admitting it. So, what are you going to do about
it?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head and took a long swallow of his wine before
carefully setting the glass back down. “I can’t do anything about it.”
“What do you mean? If you’re developing feelings for this man, shouldn’t you
consider telling him?”
“I—” he lowered his voice, “I pay Dean for his services. Why would he want to
give that up for the same thing without pay?”
Henry set his wine glass down and folded his hands together on the table before
continuing. “It takes two to tango, Castiel. Have you not stopped to consider
that if you’re ‘getting attached’ that he may be, too?”
“I hardly believe he’d be attached enough to give up that kind of income,
Henry.” He shook his head. “I have to go back to making this a professional
relationship. I’m just not sure how.”
“I must say,” Henry mused, “it’s not exactly the type of pickle I’ve ever found
myself in. How does one make sex ‘more professional’?”
Castiel groaned. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Henry drummed his fingers on the table. “I went out with a woman once who
wasn’t terribly big on kissing, and I found that rather impersonal.” He leveled
a look at his friend. “Is there much kissing involved between the two of you?”
Castiel frowned and shook his head. “We didn’t for the first few weeks. But
then… we met to agree on some terms and conditions and may have messed up that
whole… construct.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Well, there might be a restaurant downtown that I won’t go back into for a
couple months. If not more,” Castiel replied.
“What, because you were kissing another man in public? Because if that’s their
problem then they don’t deserve your business.”
“Oh,” he laughed, moving his hands away from the table as the waitress set down
their plates of food. Once she had walked away again, he leaned closer and
lowered his voice. “We did more than kiss, Henry.”
“Oh,” he said, picking up his knife and fork before freezing. “Oh,” he said
again, realization dawning over his face. “I see.” He wound a helping of pasta
onto his fork, and took his time eating before speaking again. “But… if you
were meeting to discuss things in a restaurant, was he on paid time?”
Castiel sighed. “No.”
“Well, I hate to say it, but I think that might be your second problem.” Henry
speared a meatball and popped it in his mouth.
He’d known that before he sat down for dinner, but unfortunately having it
thrown in his face by his best friend seemed to make it worse. “I’m in trouble,
Henry, aren’t I?”
Henry put down his fork and reached across the table to give Castiel’s arm an
affectionate squeeze. “Looks that way, kiddo.”
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Notes
     Apologies for the delay, guys! Hufflebutt got home safely from Vegas
     so we get this awesomeness. Unfortunately I leave for SeattleCon in a
     few days. We'll get another update before then though!

 ”Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at
                      the very same time.” - Ransom Riggs
                                      ---
”This is your fault, you know. If you had been better, I wouldn’t need to do
this.”
Sam stared at his captor and pulled tighter on the chains holding him down.
“Please, no!” He watched with tears streaking down his face as the man moved
over Dean’s body. Sam could just barely make out the fear in Dean’s muted green
gaze.
The knife was raised above Dean’s heart. “I’m gonna carve your brother up real
pretty. And then you’ll learn your lesson, Sam.”
“No!” He watched the knife cut through the air. His own scream matched the one
leaving Dean’s lips as the blade penetrated his brother’s heart. “No. God, no!
Dean!” He thrashed harder, fighting the chains and struggling to get to his
brother before he took his last breath. “Dean. Dean!”
Sam felt a jolt through his whole body as the image in front of him faded to
black. He blinked his eyes open to see Dean’s very concerned — and very real —
face. He felt disoriented — the chains were gone, and so was the man. Sam was
on the floor beside the couch, his blanket tangled between his legs. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean answered quietly. His fingers brushed the sweat-drenched
hair out of Sam’s face and he knelt next to where Sam had fallen. “You were
screaming. Nightmare?”
With a full body shudder, Sam nodded his head. He felt mentally and physically
drained after watching his brother die yet again. It was always the same — the
same hollow gaze staring back at him when the blade finally sunk home. He ached
to reach out to Dean, to pull him close, but he wasn’t sure what would be too
much. What would make Dean push him away.
“Come on, big guy,” Dean said. He hooked Sam’s arm over his shoulders and
helped him back onto the large sofa. He stood in front of where Sam sat,
looking from his hands to the floor and back again. “You want to talk?”
Sam had no idea how to explain the sheer terror that washed over him every time
he saw Dean die in his dreams. He shook his head quickly and focused instead on
straightening the blanket. “I’ll be okay. Nothing I haven’t… been through
before.” His fingers fiddled with the strings on the end of the blanket,
itching to touch and have more. Sam was tired of losing Dean — he wanted to
once and for all have him back.
Dean seemed to sense Sam’s unease. “You gonna be able to sleep? I’d make you
some warm milk, but I’m pretty sure what we got is sour.”
Sam knew from experience that the answer was a resounding ‘no’, but he couldn’t
make himself tell Dean that. “Yeah. Might watch some tv for a bit.” He raised
his hand to grab the remote and noticed the shaking. Shit. He tucked it back in
his lap.
Dean snorted. “You’re a dirty liar. You, uh… you want me to stay?”
He waited a moment, before squeezing his hand into a fist. He wanted to say
yes. But not if Dean didn’t want to be there. The thought of rejection was too
intense to give into what he wanted. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Sam,” he said, pausing to run his hand through his hair,
“you need your sleep and so do I.” He turned to leave the living room, and
looked over his shoulder when Sam didn’t move. “You coming?”
Sam wasn’t quite sure he’d heard what he thought he had. “What?”
“When you had nightmares when you were a kid, you could never fall asleep again
on your own. And this couch isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
He remembered those moments and almost felt tears hitting his face. He stood on
shaky feet and followed Dean back towards the main bedroom. Once he was
standing on the threshold, he stopped, watching his brother move over to the
side of the bed with disrupted sheets. Sam didn’t know what to do.
“Sam,” Dean said, snapping his brother out of his reverie. “It’s okay. Just get
in the damn bed.”
He hesitated only a moment longer before closing the door behind him and moving
to the opposite side of the bed from where Dean stood. He pulled the sheets
back and sat down, putting his feet up on the bed but not moving to lay down.
“You know,” he whispered, “a small part of me had come to accept that I would
never see you again.”
Dean settled back into his spot, pulling his pillow into place under his head.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’m right here.”
Sam laid back on the bed and slowly pulled the covers up over his body. He
stared at the ceiling, his eyes finding patterns in the design in the soft
light of the lamp beside Dean. “Did you ever… miss me?”
“Shit, Sam. Of course I did.”
“But you never called. Not even on my birthday.” He bit his bottom lip,
fighting back emotions. “Why?”
Dean shifted towards Sam, one arm tucked under his pillow. “Mom and Dad made it
pretty clear that I was the last thing you needed — it was pretty easy to
believe them.”
He shook his head at the thought of his parents. He rolled over to face Dean,
smiling sadly at the sight of Dean’s green eyes staring back at him. They were
so full of life, that he couldn’t help but remember when they weren’t in his
dreams. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut as the tears finally started to
fall.
Not one beat after the first tear fell did Sam feel Dean pull him close into
him. Sam kept his body tense only for a moment, relaxing as he pressed his face
into Dean’s chest. After the first sob tore itself from Sam’s body there was no
holding the rest of them back.
                                      ---
Sam woke up late Wednesday morning in Dean’s bed, his arm still draped over his
brother’s stomach. Since Dean was still asleep, he couldn’t stop himself from
snuggling closer and enjoying just a few more moments of bliss.
Of course that was interrupted a moment later when Dean’s bedroom door flew
open and Charlie practically stormed into the room. Sam shifted, turning to
look at Dean’s roommate and frowning. She was only wearing a pair of blue and
yellow striped panties, her hair sticking up in various directions, and a frown
on her face. He pulled away from Dean — who was just starting to wake — and
continued to stare at Charlie.
Granted it had only been a couple days since he settled into Dean and Charlie’s
world, but it didn’t seem to make sense in his mind that she would walk around
practically naked without even caring. “Uh, morning Charlie,” Sam croaked, his
voice still thick with sleep.
Charlie crossed her arms, but the gesture did no good to cover her breasts.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
He turned to see Dean burrowing back into his pillow, looking back to Charlie,
he answered simply, “I had a nightmare. Dean woke up and told me to come in
here.”
Charlie leveled a stern gaze at Sam before offering him only a curt, “Fine.”
Then, turning to Dean, “I’m using your shower, Chewie. You can pee in the other
bathroom.”
Dean grunted his assent, seemingly unaware of any awkwardness between his
friend and his brother.
With one last glance at Sam, Charlie moved into the bathroom and shut the door
behind her. Sam frowned as he sat up — he couldn’t figure out why Charlie
seemed to hate him. “I’m gonna go start some coffee,” Sam mumbled, in case his
brother was listening.
                                      ---
Wednesday evening after a late dinner, Dean said goodbye and left for work. The
only answer Sam had gotten as far as what type of work Dean did, was that he
worked at a bar. Once his brother was gone, Sam was left with Charlie and a
whole bundle of awkward. Without his own room to escape to, Sam was stuck on
the sofa watching the television program that Charlie had started.
It only took forty-five minutes for her calm reserve to snap. “You know you
shouldn’t do that shit to Dean. Last night — you should keep better
boundaries.”
Sam frowned at her aggravated tone. He understood that Charlie was protective
of Dean, but that shouldn’t result in complete hatred for Sam. “Dean asked me
to go in there.”
“Dean thinks he’s protecting you. He’ll do what he has to to make his little
brother happy, without any regard for himself. You need to realize that your
history is too fucked up to do that kind of shit. Dean deserves better than
that.”
Sam felt his skin prickle and his face flush. “Our history is none of your
business. He’s my brother — not yours.”
“I’m the only one here that’s looking out for Dean, okay? And I refuse to sit
back and let you hurt him.”
Sam couldn’t look at Charlie. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
“You won’t intend to — but you will. I just want you to keep a healthy distance
and not make your relationship any weirder than it already is, okay?” Charlie
crossed her arms over her chest and sent a glare in his direction. “Otherwise
you’ll have me to answer to.”
Charlie was the one who walked around practically naked in front of her friend
and his brother and he was the weird one? Sam rolled his eyes at the tv but
knew she was watching him like a hawk. “You weren’t there,” was all he said,
quietly.
“You’re right, I wasn’t. But I’ve been here ever since. And I’ve seen the pain
that Dean has struggled through. Who was the one holding his hand while he went
through drug addiction and finding the strength to be with someone romantically
again? I was. So don’t give me your bullshit, Sam. I don’t know what you were
expecting when you went in there with him last night, but if it happens again
I’m going to put the seed in Dean’s brain that you’re using him. And after all
this time, I guarantee he listens to me first.”
Each of her words hit him like a slap. He felt barraged by them, and didn’t
know what to say. He rose from the couch without a word and left the living
room with only the intention of escape. He didn’t mean to end up in Dean’s room
— didn’t even really realise where he was until the door closed behind him. He
hoped that being in there didn’t count as the “manipulation” Charlie had
promised retaliation against. Sam felt sick to his stomach.
He needed… something to take the edge off of his anger and hurt, but he didn’t
know what. Glancing around the room and half unpacked boxes, he wondered if
Dean still kept a ‘stash’ in his room. He went for the dresser first, shoving
around clean underwear and bundles of socks until he finally came up lucky. He
found a prescription bottle for a high dose of Ibuprofen — probably what they’d
sent Dean home with from the hospital — alongside a half empty bottle of Jack.
Taking three pills from the small container, he threw them into his mouth
before uncapping the whiskey and washing the pills down with a long swig.
Grimacing against the slow burn of the whiskey, Sam went to return the pill
bottle to its hiding place when what he saw underneath it gave him pause. A
glossy magazine cover was protruding out from under some rolled up boxer
shorts. There was a half-naked and well-muscled man on the cover, and Sam
picked up the periodical almost as soon as he spotted it. Flipping through the
issue revealed similar-looking men in an assortment of sexual positions with
each other. At first Sam couldn’t believe it: his brother read gay porn.
His cock twitched in his jeans and he pressed his palm down against the growing
erection as he carried the magazine and the bottle of Jack over to Dean’s bed.
He had nothing better to do in order to kill time — so what was the harm in a
little self appreciation?
Giving the magazine closer attention he had to conclude that Dean had pretty
good taste. He laid back on the bed and tried not to think about how the idea
of Dean jerking off to the same magazine was turning him on maybe just as much
as the pictures themselves. He chased the thought away with more whiskey,
sipping steadily as he flipped through the glossy pages. He relished the rush
the liquor brought to his head and unzipped his pants, shoving just enough
material away. Taking himself in hand he made quick work of his hard-on, and
cleaned up using a nearby box of tissues.
Sam’s eyes felt heavy, the whiskey, stress of dealing with Charlie, and orgasm
all doing their part. He drifted off within minutes.
***** Chapter 22 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This has some wincesty cuddles and kisses.
     As of note: we were not expecting such an uproar over the Sam/Charlie
     argument. It pleases us that this story has reached our readers so
     deeply. Please remember that in some ways they're both in the wrong,
     and in other ways they're both in the right. They're not entirely in
     a good frame of mind. (Also: we're both seriously considering doing
     another spin-off with the Charlie history and how she met Dean, which
     would explain her feelings a lot more.)
     Last (but not least): Submersion is about to hit 10k hits! Something
     hufflebutt and I have never accomplished. In celebration of this
     feat, we're thinking about doing a writing livestream for an upcoming
     chapter. What do you guys think?

  ”The mouth is made for communication, and nothing is more articulate than a
                             kiss.” - Jarod Kintz
                                      ---
Charlie was in a mood when she picked Dean up from Castiel’s condo building.
She said simply that she was going out to find a party and probably wouldn’t be
back until morning, before she dropped him off back at their apartment. Dean
moved slowly up the stairs to their floor, his back stinging under his shirt
despite the ointment Castiel had put on the welts. It had been an intense
session that he hadn’t been entirely prepared for, but the orgasm had been good
at least.
He put his key in the lock and opened the door, glancing around at the darkened
interior in confusion. “Sam?” He knew it was late, but his brother was normally
a night owl — stretched out on the couch and watching stupid shit as late as
possible.
But he wasn’t. The couch was empty, and so was the bathroom. Dean pushed open
the door to his room slowly, and his suspicions were confirmed without even
needing to turn on the light. Dean recognised the dark shape in his bed
immediately — nothing could change how Sam sprawled across a bed when he slept.
Dean kicked off his shoes and pants, and gingerly slid off his shirt, wincing
at the fabric against his stinging skin. Hiding the panties he’d worn for
Castiel, Dean quietly pulled open a drawer to retrieve a pair of boxer briefs
and worn pajama pants. He couldn’t bring himself to put another shirt on — even
a soft one — but trusted the darkness to hide any unwanted evidence of what
he’d really been up to that night.
The shape on the bed began to shuffle and move, before suddenly the bedside
lamp was being flicked on. Dean squinted at the sudden brightness, almost
missing the weird shuffle that Sam made as he quickly tucked his limp cock into
his underwear. Dean frowned, taking note of Sam’s stunned expression and the
discarded porn magazine. “You jerked off in my bed, didn’t you?”
“Wh-what? No, dude. I just fell asleep. The couch sucks.” Sam rubbed a hand
over his sleep-heavy eyes.
“Uh huh.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, barely wincing at the way the
motion pulled his back muscles taut. “That explains the come stains on your
pants and discarded porno.”
“Shut up,” Sam said, pulling himself into a sitting position. “I got bored.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Sammy.” He took a deep breath and moved to his side
of the bed, sitting down on the edge. “I just need to get some sleep. You can
stay in here if you want.”
“If you don’t mind—” Sam’s voice cut off and Dean felt a tentative hand brush
his shoulder. “Dean? What the fuck happened to your back? Were you in a fight?”
’I want to try a flogger tonight, Dean, are you alright with that?’ Castiel’s
voice rang in his head. Dean had nodded without hesitation. ’Good, pet. What’s
your safeword?’
Dean flinched at the feeling of Sam’s fingers lightly brushing over his skin.
“I’m fine, Sam. It was nothing.”
’You’re my little slut, aren’t you?’ Smack. ‘Love it when I push you around,
don’t you?’ Smack. ‘Bet you can’t wait for my cock in your ass.’ Smack.
“It’s really fucking not, Dean!” Sam’s voice was starting to shake. “Who did
this to you? What’s going on?”
Dean twisted around to face his brother and the worry in Sam’s eyes just about
broke Dean’s heart. Again. “It’s --” He frowned, wondering if he could really
tell the truth. What would Sam think of him then? “Part of my job.”
“What kind of bartender gets beaten like that? It looks like someone whipped
you!” Sam looked absolutely outraged.
Dean let out a heavy sigh. He had to come clean.“Sam… I’m not a bartender. I’m…
I’m an escort.”
“An escort?” Sam’s brow furrowed. “Like a prostitute? Someone pays you to beat
you?”
“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds,” Dean said. “But yeah. Basically.” He
picked up a mostly full water bottle from beside his bed and uncapped it,
swallowing most of it down in one pull. His hands were starting to shake as he
screwed the cap back on. Shaking his head, he put the bottle back on the table
by his bed. “Some people are more into the spanking and the tying up than
others. Sometimes there’s sex, sometimes there’s not.”
Sam’s touch still skimmed his skin, moving from his back to his right shoulder
blade. “You let these people fuck you?” He sounded more than a little hurt at
that prospect.
Dean rubbed one hand with the other as he spoke, focusing on them instead of
looking Sam in the eye. “Yeah,” he said, “but I mostly just see the one client
these days. Kind of an exclusive contract sort of thing.”
After a moment of silence, Sam climbed off of the bed and moved into the
adjoining bathroom. He was gone for a minute and when he came back, he carried
the bottle of ointment Dean had kept in the medicine cabinet. He tucked in
behind Dean on the bed without asking permission, and a moment later Dean
flinched as he felt the cold touch of the ointment on his skin.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Dean said quietly, a few moments later. “It’s
just, kind of a weird thing to bring up, you know?”
Sam’s lips fluttered over his shoulder. “Is it… do you do it because of… that?”
It took everything Dean had to not pull away. “Jesus Sam, I don’t know. The
money’s good and, I mean, I like fucking anyway.”
“Ahh.” Sam’s hands dropped away at Dean’s words. “Makes sense, I guess.”
Dean shrugged. “I mean, it’s not for everybody. But it’s work, you know?”
                                      ---
Sam stared at the greasy ointment on his fingers, before looking back up to
Dean’s red splotched back. ’I like fucking anyway.’ It seemed like such a
foreign concept to Sam. He had never really looked at sex as enjoyable unless
he was jerking himself off. But even that was usually just quick and dirty. He
tried to imagine Dean willingly putting himself in such a vulnerable situation,
and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
“This… this person that you see… I mean, I know you probably don’t want to talk
about it, but...”
“But what, Sammy? Spit it out.”
“Is it… is it a man?”
Dean didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Yeah. Been with a few female clients
but…” Dean’s shoulders raised and fell in a shrug. “Always did prefer guys.”
Sam felt a surge of relief but wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from.
“Me too,” he said quietly. When he looked back over to his brother, he noticed
a tense shudder running along his back. He heard a stuttered breath and
frowned. “Are you okay? Dean?”
Dean didn’t reply right away. He lay down on his side, back still towards Sam.
He drew his knees up towards his chest and pulled them in tight. “Shit,” he
said under his breath.
“What’s going on?” He felt his stomach starting to tighten in knots as he
leaned over Dean and tried to get a good view of his face. “What’s wrong? Does
your back hurt? Do you need medicine?” Panic was starting to rise in his
throat. He wasn’t prepared for handling bad situations when it came to Dean.
Dean was supposed to be the strong one.
“I’ll… I’ll be fine,” Dean managed. He rolled over, groaning, to face Sam. “I’m
just glad that my couch is such a piece of shit, for once.” He inched closer to
Sam, tucking his face downward, and it hit Sam that he might be trying to hide
tears.
“Dean,” Sam reached out and Dean let himself be pulled easily into a hug. “I
know you said it’s just a job for you, but are you sure it’s not too much?”
Dean half-shrugged. “It’s not. This is just part of it, sometimes. Used to try
and cover up the pain with drugs. Fuck. I’d give anything for a little coke
right now.”
Sam didn’t know how to react to that either, so he just squeezed his brother
tighter. “Well I’m not a drug, but I’m here,” Sam whispered. His lips brushed
over the side of Dean’s face. When he felt wet tears hit his skin, he tilted
Dean’s face and nuzzled against his stubbly chin. “I love you, Dean.”
Dean was shaking when he replied. “I’m sorry, Sammy, I’m so sorry for
everything. I fucked it up, I fucked it all up so much—”
He obviously wasn’t doing a very good job of raising Dean’s spirits. For a
split second he thought about his next option, before he closed the distance
between them and captured Dean’s lips in a kiss. Sometimes the only way to shut
up Dean’s mind was to distract him…
And, to Sam’s surprise, Dean didn’t pull away.
Dean stilled, and his lips were soft against Sam’s. He returned another kiss,
as chaste as the first, before breaking away. Sam frowned, worried he’d scared
Dean off, but Dean had only sat up to pull the blankets around them before
leaning across Sam to switch off the bedside lamp. The room bathed in darkness
once more, Dean settled against Sam’s chest.
“My back still hurts like a mother fucker,” Dean said, and his breath was hot,
even through the fabric of Sam’s shirt, “so be careful.”
“Of course, Dean.” Sam pressed a kiss into the top of Dean’s head as he tucked
him under his chin. He felt Dean’s lips brushing along his neck and shivered.
He wanted so many things — so many moments with Dean that he knew couldn’t
possibly come true. But Sam could dream.
He could imagine Dean taking the initiative to show Sam just how pleasurable
sex could be. When he felt his dick twitching slightly at the feel of Dean’s
soft kisses, he imagined Dean reaching down beneath the blankets, shoving Sam’s
boxers aside and stroking his cock gently.
He closed his eyes and contemplated relieving some of Dean’s stress by blowing
him in the moonlight. The soft tension that Dean would put in Sam’s shaggy
hair. The urging. The flavor. The bliss.
“Sammy?”
He shook away his thoughts and kissed the side of Dean’s lips. “Tired.
Goodnight, Dean.”
“Goodnight, Sammy.”
As he felt Dean’s breathes evening out in sleep, Sam wondered about the man
that paid Dean for sex. He wondered if he was older or younger, and if Dean was
attracted to him — Sam had to chase that particular thought away.
Was he good to Dean? Did he fuck Dean, or did Dean fuck him?
Sam frowned up at the dark ceiling and remembered all the times he woke up
imagining having Dean’s cock back inside him. His hand skimmed slowly down
Dean’s back to the top curve of his brother’s ass.
He wanted to touch — he really did…
But even with their skin touching and Dean’s weight pressed against him, Sam
could sense the miles stretching between them.
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Notes
     See end notes for top/bottom roles if you want to be spoiled.
See the end of the chapter for more notes

”I guess this was what it felt like to love someone and feel like you had lost
  them. Even when you were still holding them in your arms.” - Margaret Stohl
                                      ---
On Friday night Dean went to Castiel’s feeling slightly better than normal.
He’d left Sam in good spirits with the apartment and a pile of DVD’s to himself
for the evening. Charlie had gone out to dinner with friends and likely
wouldn’t be back until morning, and Dean had assured her he could spring for a
taxi home at least once.
As he greeted the doorman and rode the elevator up to Castiel’s floor, his
thoughts drifted back to Sam. The kid seemed to be doing well, but Dean didn’t
want to get his hopes up — or let his guard down. He didn’t know what Sam’s
plans for the future were, and if Dean accidentally left the newspaper on the
kitchen open to the local want ads, well, these things happened.
Ever since he’d started seeing Castiel on a regular basis Dean had started to
put together a decent wardrobe. He no longer wore a three piece suit to every
appointment, but he didn’t dress like a slob either. Castiel liked it when
looked nice, and Dean enjoyed pleasing Castiel. That particular night, he wore
a toned down suit in a shade of navy blue, minus the tie. His crisp button up
cotton shirt was off-white, and the silk panties beneath — again, Castiel’s
influence — matched the blue of his suit. As he got to Castiel’s door, he
knocked twice and tapped his fingers against his hip while waiting for an
answer.
When the door opened, Dean was surprised to see Castiel standing there looking
more than a little haggard. His black hair was standing in various directions,
he had bags under his sullen blue eyes, and his shoulders were sagging. Instead
of being dressed like he normally was, Castiel had a black college t-shirt on
and gray sweatpants.
“Uh… hey, Cas,” Dean began. “Did I get the day wrong?”
Castiel scratched at his face and shook his head. “No. Come on in. I just — I
don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Dean kicked his shoes off at the entrance without even
giving it a second thought, and followed Castiel to the couch.
The tangled blanket and indented throw pillows made it clear that the older man
had been laying there for some time. Castiel sat down heavily, and Dean cleaved
to his side. “I lost a patient today.”
“Shit.”
“You could say that.”
“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean took one of Castiel’s hands in both his own, smoothing a
thumb over the back of Castiel’s hand. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
After a moment, Castiel leaned over and laid his head on Dean’s shoulder. “She
was fourteen, Dean.”
“Fuck.” An empathetic shiver ran over Dean’s skin. “What happened?”
“She was in a car accident a week ago and her doctors didn’t notice some
internal bleeding from her initial injuries. By the time we got her into
surgery it was too late.” He ran a tired hand over his face. “I hate losing
people. But kids worst of all.”
“Of course you do.” Dean pulled Castiel tighter into him. “But you do a lot of
good too. Don’t ever forget that.”
They both fell silent for a while, leaning against each other in the soft light
of Castiel’s living room. Finally, Castiel laid his hand on Dean’s thigh and
sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean. I knew earlier that I should have texted you and
canceled, but I…” he frowned, “I really wanted to see you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t cancel.” Dean squeezed the hand covering his leg. “We can
do whatever you want, you know. Even just this. But…” Dean hesitated.
“But what?”
“I feel weird charging you for it. For just hanging out. Because I would. With
you. Anytime.” Dean could feel his face start to heat up, and he took special
attention to Castiel’s knuckles.
Castiel tilted his head and his lips ghosted over the skin beneath Dean’s ear.
“I feel the same. It’s one of the reasons why I didn’t cancel. I’ve gotten used
to having your company on these nights.” Another gentle kiss and Castiel pulled
back, standing up and holding his hand out to Dean. “I have… some ideas of
things I would like to do. But it’s up to you how we handle this. If this isn’t
a paid evening, I’d ask you to trust me and know that I don’t have any of our…
normal sorts of activities planned. If you want to be on the clock, I’ll
explain my ideas and you can decide if you’re on board.” He paused, his face
open and waiting.
Dean took Castiel’s offered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. He was
intrigued. “Well,” he said with a grin, “based on my past experiences, you have
some of the best fucking ideas I’ve ever heard. Lay it on me.”
With a nod, Castiel lead Dean through the condo and back towards the bedrooms.
He bypassed the ‘playroom’ and went straight for the master suite. “By the
way,” he said softly, “I like the navy suit.” Dean smiled at the compliment and
Castiel stepped up to him, gently sliding the suit jacket off Dean’s shoulders
as he kissed at his jaw. “I was kind of hoping you’d join me for a shower…”
Dean had to clutch at Castiel’s shoulders to keep his knees from giving out
from under him. “That,” Dean said, pressing his body against Castiel’s, “is an
excellent idea.”
The older man began working on the buttons of Dean’s shirt as he claimed Dean’s
lips in a searing kiss. It was hot and needy but unrushed as Castiel’s tongue
dueled with Dean’s. Once the shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open to show Dean’s
bare chest but still tucked into his pants, Castiel moved down, nipping and
sucking at spots along the length of Dean’s neck as his fingers tweaked at
Dean’s nipples.
Dean sucked in a sharp breath as each sensation went straight to his dick. He
felt himself harden in his pants. He began to grind against Castiel without
particularly meaning to — even counting their liaison in the restaurant
bathroom, this was one of the first times Dean felt on equal footing with
Castiel. He felt like there was space for him to take initiative, and the
thought both excited and terrified him.
With a half step backwards, Castiel groaned. “If I don’t slow down we’ll never
make it to the shower.” He pointed at Dean’s clothes. “How about we take our
own clothes off to prevent getting overly excited?”
Dean grinned. “You realize I’m just going to take that as a challenge, right?”
He untucked his shirt before sliding it off and letting it land on the floor at
his feet. Unbuckling and removing his belt he held steady eye contact with
Castiel, enjoying the hungry look that threatened to overtake the other man.
Castiel’s hands stopped halfway through pushing his sweatpants down his legs.
His shirt had already been tossed aside, but apparently the sight of Dean in
dark blue satin underwear was too much for him to handle. He kicked the rest of
his clothes away in a rush and surged forward, kissing Dean again as his hand
palmed Dean through the panties. “Fuck you’re so hot,” he growled against
Dean’s lips.
Dean opened his mouth to Castiel once again, pushing his tongue inside and
reveling in the taste of everything Cas. He let his hands roam wildly over
tanned skin, grabbing and squeezing wherever he willed. Leaning forward, he
shoved Castiel’s pants down the rest of the way. “Shit,” he said when he
realized Castiel hadn’t been wearing any underwear underneath them. It took
Dean a moment to find any words at all. “I think you said something about the
shower?”
Pressing closer one more time, Castiel rubbed his hard cock along the outline
of Dean’s in the panties, his hands reaching around to squeeze Dean’s ass.
“Yes. Fuck. Go, before I devour you.”
“What if I want you to devour me?” Dean said as cheekily as he could manage.
“Go.” Castiel slapped Dean’s ass gently and turned him towards the bathroom
door.
It took only a couple minutes for the water to heat up in the large walk-in
shower. Castiel growled when Dean bent forward to slide the panties down his
body. When they were both inside the glass shower walls, Castiel pushed Dean
beneath the spray of the hot water and began chasing droplets down Dean’s neck.
Dean let his hands wander down Castiel’s body. He’d had enough — although he
enjoyed it — of things being done to him. He needed to touch. Castiel’s cock
was rock-hard when Dean closed his hand around it. He thrust into Dean’s fist
immediately, and Dean thought he might die from the noise Castiel made.
With a slightly wicked grin, Castiel pulled away from Dean. He didn’t say a
word as he dropped down to his knees in front of Dean and quickly wrapped his
lips around Dean’s cock. “Mmm.”
“Oh Jesus Christ, Cas, your mouth.”
Castiel played his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock before taking his
length down his throat in one smooth movement.
Dean shifted his legs apart as Castiel’s fingers danced up in the inside of his
thigh to cup his balls, and squeeze his ass from underneath. Castiel was a hell
of a blowjob giver, and Dean could already feel himself getting close. “Cas,”
he gasped, pulling at the man’s hair to get him to look up. “Stop.”
Castiel pulled off with a slick pop and a concerned look that would have made
Dean feel bad were it not for the single line of spit still connecting
Castiel’s lips to the tip of Dean’s cock. “Dean, what’s—”
“No, this is good. So fucking good. I just want—” and the next words tumbled
out of Dean like they were the most natural thing in the world, “—I want to
fuck you.”
A visible shiver ran down Castiel’s spine as he stood. “Dean,” he gasped,
concern etched on his face, “are you sure?”
“I am,” Dean said, cupping a hand behind Castiel’s head. “I trust you.”
“I would… really like that, Dean.” He kissed Dean’s neck. “Bed?”
Dean nodded, and they barely bothered with toweling off as they shut the water
off and went back into the bedroom. Not a word was said about the fact that no
soap or shampoo had actually been employed. Castiel moved to his bedside table,
pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom, before turning to hold them out to
Dean. The easy smile on Dean’s face felt miles away from the nerves he’d had
the last time they’d tried this.
They fell onto the bed and Dean focused his attention on kissing all along
Castiel’s body as he popped the lid of the lube and slicked his fingers.
Castiel relaxed on his back and spread his legs, giving Dean more room.
Brushing his thumb along the sensitive skin just beyond Castiel’s balls, Dean
sucked a spot on the older man’s hip as one slick finger circled his rim before
slowly pushing inside.
It was maybe just the slightest hint of uncertainty that had him spending more
time than necessary prepping Castiel. But if there was any pain on his lover’s
face, he knew that the demons would be back to haunt him.
The first moment of his condom and slick-covered dick pressing inside the warm
heat was utterly overwhelming. His head landed with a soft thud on Castiel’s
shoulder as he sank all the way inside. “Shit, you're so fucking tight.”
Castiel moaned, dull nails scratching over Dean’s back. “You feel amazing,” he
said reassuringly. “You’re doing amazing.”
They moved together like it was second nature. Dean hooked Castiel’s legs over
his shoulders and wasn’t surprised at all to realize how flexible the other man
was. He started to move harder, faster, as the feelings became everything he
could focus on. Castiel moved a hand between their bodies to wrap around his
own cock and stroked at the same pace that Dean was moving at.
The edge took Dean by surprise. One minute it was toogoodtootight and the next
Castiel was coming beneath him and Dean couldn’t stop himself from letting go
as well. He filled the condom and collapsed forward onto Castiel.
In the face of being with someone he was genuinely starting to care for — Dean
hadn’t thought about Sam or his past once.
And it felt good.
Chapter End Notes
     Top!Dean/Bottom!Castiel
***** Chapter 24 *****
Chapter Notes
     Apologies for the delay - I was, ya know, just spending the weekend
     with the cast of Supernatural. (JENSENBUTT)
     We hit 10k hits, guys! Once little miss hufflebutt gets her laptop
     fixed we'll schedule the livestream event and you guys can mock our
     misspellings in realtime. ;)

     ”The sea is endless when you are in a rowboat.” - Adolfo Bioy Casares
                                      ---
The next morning, Dean left Castiel’s condo glowing. He couldn’t believe that
things were going as well as they were. Sex with Cas the night before had felt,
not for the first time, like something a little more. As soon as he stepped out
of the building and began to cross the parking lot, he was flanked by two burly
men in suit jackets.
“Can I help you?” he asked, voice shaking a little.
“Miss McKenna would like to see you,” the man on his right said, motioning to a
nearby car.
“What?” Dean said, startled. He took a step back. Something didn’t feel right.
“Look, I just got off my shift, I can come by this afternoon—”
A firm grip landed on his arm and pushed him towards the car. “Yeah, this
meeting ain’t optional, sweetheart.”
“Alright, alright,” Dean said, following their lead. He was by no means a small
guy, but he knew he certainly couldn’t take on these two. Not alone. “Just
watch the merchandise, okay?” The dread twisted cold and hard in his gut.
The drive to Bree McKenna’s office took forty-five minutes in Saturday morning
traffic. Forty-five long minutes of stewing in his own worry. When they finally
pulled up outside of the non-descript office building, Dean was lead inside and
deposited in the chair across from Bree’s desk. The woman herself swaggered
into the office a few minutes later, looking well-polished and self-assured.
She excused the two goons and sat down behind her desk, bright eyes looking
Dean up and down.
In the face of that kind of intimidating glare, he couldn’t help but wriggle
nervously in his seat.
Finally she spoke, breaking the silence with her voice’s cool and demanding
tone. “I don’t like being played for a fool, Mr. Winchester.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m a busy woman and I don’t have time for your bullshit. If you’re not going
to own up to your mistakes, then let me refresh your memory.” She placed her
hands on top of her desk, laced her fingers together, and leaned forward.
“You’ve spent two nights in Dr. Novak’s company without charging for the full
night, and have also met up with him at a restaurant downtown for what I can
only assume was a date that you did not charge for. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Dean said quietly, looking down at his hands.
“I do not run a dating service, Mr. Winchester. Are you in a relationship with
this man?”
“No.”
“So how do you explain seeing him for free on company time?”
Dean opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, his mind running furiously.
What was his excuse?
The woman in front of him continued. “Clearly you understand that you’ve
breached your contract and put me in a difficult position.”
Dean had no idea how to answer her. He should have realized that he was playing
a dangerous game with Castiel — but at that point he had only worried about
what felt good, and being with Cas felt amazing. “Listen, Miss McKenna—”
“I’m sorry, Dean, but I don’t have time for your excuses. Any other time and I
would fire the escort and refuse future services to the client. However, your
clients before Dr. Novak always spoke very highly of you. I disappointed a lot
of people when I made your contract with him exclusive. But, at the time, it
was the best business decision. Because of what you’ve done, however, this is
no longer the case.” She paused, looking Dean straight in the eyes before
continuing. “I’m cancelling your contract with Dr. Novak entirely and moving
you back into the normal roster. You will take on every client I send your way
at two-thirds the normal rate until I feel that you’ve redeemed yourself. Is
that clear?”
Two-thirds the normal rate? He looked up, ready to argue, “But—”
“You will also cease all contact with Dr. Novak, starting right now. We will
inform him about the breach in contract and subsequent cancellation of
services. If I find out that you’ve spoken to him or met with him on your own
free time the consequences will be immediate.” She leaned forward across the
desk, venom in her words. “I’m sure you’re aware of how it would look to Dr.
Novak’s employers if they found out he was paying for illegal sex.”
That was it, then. Even if he didn’t care what happened to himself — and that
was nothing new — he couldn’t throw Cas under the bus. Whatever Dean thought
they might have possibly had wasn’t worth Cas’ career, or his reputation.
“Is that it? Can I go?”
“Be ready for an appointment tonight. Russell will pick you up at your
apartment at quarter to eight, wait outside for the duration, and take you home
again.”
Dean rose, the dismissal in her voice easy to read.
As he stepped out of the office, he felt the emotions bubbling up inside of
him. On the one hand he wanted to destroy something in anger… on the other, he
wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.
He also felt a strong desire to call Castiel, even though he knew that he no
longer could.
                                      ---
When Sam didn’t hear from Dean at all again on Friday night, he had to fight
back the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and move on from it. He had to
find some way of making money and moving on.
It was weird, after having searched for so long to find his brother, but
Portland seemed too restricting. Whatever he had expected when Dean stepped
back into his life was obviously not going to play out the way he wanted — so
he was more inclined to listen to the small voice in his head telling him to
run.
“Do you have any experience?”
He tapped his thumb gently on the tabletop and looked up to meet the steady
gaze of the woman in front of him. He had seen a sign for ‘open interviews’ at
a small café downtown and had stepped inside without even realizing what he was
doing. A job would get him away from Dean.
Money could take him anywhere. If only he knew where to go.
“I worked at a coffee shop in San Francisco.” As he spoke about his
qualifications, his gaze was drawn to the back of a man sitting just beyond the
woman’s left shoulder.
He stared, captivated by golden brown hair. Gabriel? His heart squeezed tight
in his chest and he fought back the regret and tears as he stumbled his way
through the rest of the interview.
Once he stepped back outside, he found a nearby light post and stood to watch
the entrance of the cafe. Waiting.
The man that exited with wavy golden brown hair… had gray-blue eyes. Sam turned
away, sick to his stomach, and continued walking.
Gabe was dead.
What was he really expecting?
                                      ---
Dean wasn’t sure how to act when he got home. He knew that any sign of
depression would send Sam spiraling backwards, so he tried to paste on a happy
smile and act like nothing was wrong. Of course when he stepped into the
kitchen and Charlie saw the look on his face, she immediately knew something
was up.
She set down her coffee cup on the counter and planted herself firmly in his
path. “Okay, Chewie. Spill.”
He glanced around behind him, trying to figure out if they were alone in the
apartment. “Is Sam here?”
“He went out. What’s wrong, Dean? Things with Castiel get out of hand?”
Dean brushed his hand over the back of his neck. “I spent the night over there.
It was… good. But then I woke up this morning to some of Miss McKenna’s
bodyguards. The demanded I go with them to her office.” He sighed. “Somehow she
knew about all the extra time with Cas. So… she cancelled the contract, docked
my pay, and I’m not allowed to see Castiel again.”
“What?She can’t do that!”
“Actually she can, she will, and she has.” Dean moved over and snagged
Charlie’s coffee, taking a long sip of the hot liquid. “And I have a feeling
she’s going to overwork me with other clients now because of this.”
“So quit! I know the money’s been good, but Dean, with all this bullshit, it’s
just not worth it. You’ll find something else. And then if you’re not working
for her, you’d be free to just see Cas on your own, right?”
Dean shook his head, remembering Bree’s threats. “She’ll tell the hospital
about what Cas does in his free time, Charlie. And if it comes out that the
head of surgery pays for sex — and gay, kinky sex at that — I’m guessing he’ll
lose a little more than his job.” He liked Cas too much to put him through
that. “I’ll just play her games until this blows over.”
“Dean, are you sure that it will?”
                                      ---
Miss McKenna’s “driver” picked Dean up at exactly a quarter to eight that
evening. Dean didn’t pay particular attention to where he was going. When he
stepped out of the car, they were parked in front of a house on the banks of
Lake Oswego. Dean glanced at the water sparkling in the moonlight, before
walking up the front steps and knocking on the door.
The ‘client’ turned out to be a fifty-something lawyer with a penchant for
young ass. He tied Dean down to the bed and barely prepped him at all before
fucking him the first time. Despite the burn of his ass getting fucked dry, the
whole thing seemed a bit… boring. He had a difficult time staying in the proper
mindset and not letting his brain drift off and think about how nice it was to
be with Castiel instead.
But the man must not have noticed how distracted Dean was, because he couldn’t
keep his hands off him for the remainder of their three hours together.
At the end of the evening, he plastered on a smile and thanked the guy (like
Miss McKenna had requested) for their time together before escaping back out to
the waiting car. The client seemed more than a little impressed with Dean’s
skills and had assured him that he would see him again soon.
The ride back to his apartment was long and annoying. He kept staring down at
his phone, finger hovering over Castiel’s number. He couldn’t help but wonder
what Cas thought about the whole mess. Was he as irritated as Dean? Or had he
moved on and considered it a good thing that someone had broken off the
contract for him? It wasn’t like someone in Castiel’s position of power would
actually want a drugged up prostitute like Dean.
Fuck.
He wished there was still a stash of something at home that would turn his
brain off. He just needed to sleep instead of worrying about how Bree McKenna
was going to continue to fuck up his life.
Charlie had cleared out all his good stuff after the hospital trip, though. And
after paying off their bills a couple days before, he didn’t have the cash to
try and score something on the street.
As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he remembered the bottle of Jack
shoved in one of his drawers. At least it was something that could take the
edge off.
He ignored Charlie on the couch and dropped his coat and keys on the kitchen
counter before walking down the hallway to his bedroom. When he pushed the
bedroom door open, he was surprised to see his brother curled up on one side of
the mattress.
Dean locked the bedroom door and began stripping out of his clothes as he moved
towards the hidden bottle of whiskey.
He knew the perfect way to forget Castiel Novak.
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE
     EXPLICIT *WINCEST* - YOU ARE NOT MISSING OUT ON ANY PLOT POINTS. SKIP
     TO THE NEXT CHAPTER.

  ”Because brothers don’t let each other wander in the dark alone.” - Jolene
                                     Perry
                                      ---
Dean had half a rather large bottle of whiskey. He was two long swigs in before
the bed rustled and Sam sat up, looking across the room to Dean in confusion.
Dean shrugged and held up the bottle. “Long night,” he offered in explanation.
Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “You wanna talk about it?” he said, his
words slow and heavy.
He kicked off his shoes and set the bottle on the dresser so he could strip
down to his boxers. Once he had, he picked the bottle back up and sat down his
side of the bed. “It’s work… stuff.” He unscrewed the lid and took another deep
swig. “I don’t think it’s anything you want to hear.”
Sam reached across for the bottle. “Try me.”
Dean considered Sam’s outstretched hand as thoughts of ’not twenty-one’ and
‘fuck it, there’s a lot worse he could get into’ flitted through his head. “You
remember me telling you about that ‘exclusive client’?”
Sam nodded, his eyes locked on Dean’s.
“Well, long story short, he and I… ‘spent some time together’ without me
charging for it. Off the clock. My boss found out and Lost. Her. Shit.” Dean
watched Sam drink from the bottle, before accepting it back and taking another
drink. “Probably should have gotten fired, but instead she cancelled the
contract with him and I have to work with other clients for nearly half the
damn pay. So now I’m not just a slut — I’m a cheap slut.”
“Shit,” Sam half-whispered. “You… you liked this guy, didn’t you?”
Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anymore. Not gonna see him again.” The alcohol
was starting to settle in his veins, taking some of the anxiety away. Dean
leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Not everyone will try to find me again, the
way you did.”
He felt Sam still against him, at his touch, at his words. He sighed. He was
tired of Sam trying to be so guarded around him. He just wanted his brother to
relax, to let his guard down. He waved the whiskey bottle somewhere in the
general vicinity of Sam’s face — careful to not smack him with it — and let go
when he felt the weight lift from his hands.
Sam stared into the bottle in his hands. “I don’t think you realize…” His words
cut off suddenly and Sam shook his head. “Nevermind.”
Dean sat up, and his head spun a little. “No, what? I don’t realize what?” he
insisted.
“HowIfeelaboutyou,” he said quickly.
“Sammy—” he began, but Sam cut him off.
“I don’t, I don’t want things to get weird. I just… I can’t help how I feel,
okay? I know it’s fucked up. But it also just is.”
In the mottled gold-green of Sam’s eyes, Dean could see that Sam was speaking
the truth. All the fucked up shit they had dealt with in their past had lead to
them to that very moment. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he whispered. “I’m sorry that life
fucked us both over.”
“It’s not your fault, Dean. But thanks.” Sam took another drink from the
bottle, frowning at its dwindling contents. “I think you’re almost out of
whiskey.”
“Probably a good thing,” he answered with a soft laugh. Dean snuggled closer to
his brother. “You smell good, Sammy, did you buy a new bath wash? Doesn’t smell
like my usual shit.”
“Um, well…” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “I sort of finished the stuff you had,
and when I went to buy more they didn’t have the same one you’d had.”
He nuzzled his nose in Sam’s hair, his inhibitions starting to float away. “‘S
nice. I like.”
“Did you want the rest of this?” Sam asked, indicating the bottle.
“Naw, issall you.”
Sam threw back the last quarter-inch of brown liquid and let the empty bottle
slip to the floor beside the bed. He brought his arm around Dean and pulled his
brother in closer. Dean shifted sideways so he was facing into Sam, drawing his
knees up to press against Sam’s thigh.
When sober, Dean would have never gone so far — never shown so much affection.
Not with Sam, not with anyone. Until Castiel. But Dean quickly chased the
thought from his head. Better not to think of blue eyes. Not when there was a
pair of bright hazel ones that looked at Dean like he’d hung the moon.
Sam reached towards Dean’s face and hiis thumb brushed along Dean’s bottom lip
as his eyes darkened. “Dean,” he whispered, “you should tell me to leave.” His
words and actions weren’t nearly as slurred as his brother's — and it looked as
though Sam was fighting a losing battle with his desires.
With too much whiskey on his brain, Dean couldn’t find a reason to help Sam
fight. “Why would I do that?”
"Because I really like being close to you like this and I don't want you to do
something stupid. Something you’ll regret."
“Pfft.” Dean winked and sucked the tip of Sam’s thumb into his mouth. He was
too far gone to care what Sam said. He didn’t want to contemplate right and
wrong — stupid and really-fucking-life-ruining — he just wanted to feel good,
and to help Sam feel good, too. He wanted to feel needed. His hand brushed
along Sam’s thigh, sliding higher with every breath.
Sam let out a heavy breath, biting his lip and slipping his thumb just a little
farther into Dean’s mouth. Dean slid his hand into Sam’s lap, and applied
pressure to the bulge that was growing there. He canted his hips up into Dean’s
touch and withdrew his hand, instead cupping the back of Dean’s head. “Dean…”
Twisting his body slightly, Dean let his own erection press against Sam’s thigh
— making it known that Sam wasn’t the only one feeling things. He leaned
forward, brushing his lips along the side of Sam’s neck. “Stop thinkin’,
Sammy.”
Sam angled his body into Dean’s, pulling his brother’s hips close against his
own. He leaned back against the pillows, opening up the line of his throat to
Dean in the process.
Dean deepened the kisses he was pressing into Sam’s skin, alternating the soft
touches with the occasional scrape of teeth. The pajama pants that Sam was
wearing were loose enough that Dean could close his fingers around Sam’s
erection with relative ease.
“Shit,” Sam growled, shifting his hips up into Dean’s touch. He only enjoyed
the touch for a moment before he was moving, pushing Dean onto his back and
hovering over him as he leaned down for a hot, wet kiss. As the kiss deepened,
Sam’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of Dean’s boxers and wrapped around
his cock. He nibbled at his brother’s swollen bottom lip before asking, “You
want me to suck you off? People seem to think I’m good at it.”
“I’m sure you are,” Dean said, kissing Sam again. “But I need — I wanna make
you feel good.” He sat up in a fluid movement — ignoring the rush it brought to
his head — to guide Sam against the bed once more. He pushed Sam’s t-shirt —
one of his old ones, Dean noted absently — up to his chest and began kissing a
trail down along the exposed skin. “Let me do this for you,” he said in between
licks. “Besides, when was the last time you got a professional-grade blowjob?”
“Never,” Sam whispered quickly. As Dean began kissing along the edge of Sam’s
pants, Sam started to panic and the fear in his eyes became palpable. “Don’t,
please. You really don’t have to do that!”
Dean was confused. “I’m sorry, shit. I thought you wanted—”
“No, I did, Dean. I do... I just haven’t ever… you know.”
Had Dean been sober it might have clicked sooner. But he got there eventually.
“Wait, you mean you’ve never had a blowjob?”
Sam scratched nervously at the back of his arm. “No? Brady said…” He frowned,
looking down as his voice got softer. “Brady said I was disgusting for thinking
I deserved that.”
Dean felt like he’d swallowed a handful of ball bearings and he found himself
wishing he could punch the snot out of Brady all over again. “Sam,” he said,
brushing his thumb along Sam’s cheek, “you forget everything that piece of shit
ever told you, you got me? You deserve everything.”
He nodded, even though it looked like he was struggling to believe the words.
He worried at his bottom lip for another moment before speaking again, “You
still don’t… have to. I’d probably fuck up somehow. Just like that one time I
tried to top. The disappointment on the poor girl’s face—”
“Sam.”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
“O-of course I do.”
“Do you want this?”
Sam swallowed. “More than anything.”
“Then let me make you feel good. Please.”
Sam nodded and let out a deep breath, finally relaxing against the pillows.
Dean returned his attention to the waistband of Sam’s pants. “Lift your hips.”
Sam complied readily, and Dean pullled the pants down to halfway down Sam’s
thighs. He nuzzled his face into the hair at the base of Sam’s cock, mouthing
at the skin there, steadying a hand on either of Sam’s hips. He dipped his head
down and ghosted a breath on the underside of Sam’s cock, pressing kisses into
the crook of his thigh before coming up again.
He let the heavy, hot weight of Sam’s cock lay against his cheek for a moment
before pulling back and touching the flat of his tongue to the underside of his
brother’s length.
“Oh, f-fuck, Dean…”
Dean grinned to himself. He hasn’t seen anything yet. Dean wrapped his lips
around the head of Sam’s cock, tongue running around the tip to gather the
taste of pre-come. With his brother’s flavor on his tongue, he closed his eyes
and moved his mouth down, swallowing every inch with a slow and tantalizing
pace.
If not for the hands holding Sam’s hips in place, it was obvious that he would
have been surging off the bed at the sensations. As it was, he dug his hands
into Dean’s hair and pulled just a little too hard for comfort. The feeling
barely phased Dean — thanks to the whiskey in his system — and he just kept
going, sliding up and down, cheeks hollowed out as he sucked down Sam’s cock
like it was going out of style.
Sam made a soft keening noise with every movement of Dean’s, until after only a
few minutes he was gasping, “Dean, I can’t — I’m gonna—” and shooting hot and
bitter into Dean’s mouth.
As soon as Dean had swallowed every drop and was pulling away, Sam seemed to
come back to himself and start to panic. He pushed Dean away and pulled his
pants up in a rush. “Shit, I’m sorry. I told you… I told you I would fuck it
up.” He pushed a worried hand through his hair and curled into a tight ball on
the bed, flinching when Dean reached out to touch him — obviously expecting a
punishment from a different man.
The gesture just about broke Dean’s heart — and that wasn’t what this was
supposed to be about at all. “Look, I know you might not have a lot of
experience in this area but that? You coming your brains out? That was sort of
the point.”
Sam frowned, “But Brady says—”
“No,” Dean cut him off. “I told you to stop thinking about that dipshit.” He
pulled Sam’s hands away from his face and kissed his knuckles. “Dean says that
when you enjoy something, then you can’t possibly be doing something wrong.”
“And did you… did you enjoy that?”
“Immensely. Did you?”
Sam’s shoulders relaxed. “I really fucking did. Holy… holy shit.”
“Thanks,” Dean said with a lazy smile and a wink. “Told ya that shit was
professional grade.”
His brother spread out again, hand landing on Dean’s thigh. “What about you? I
wanna do something for you.”
Even through his buzz Dean’s ass was still sore from the lack of prep earlier
in the evening. But being so close to Sam had gotten him hard. Dean reached
down and lazily palmed at his erection through his boxers. “I’ve had too much
whiskey and too long of a day to be very useful,” he said. “Think I just need
to get off and pass out.”
“Can I…” Sam frowned, fingers tapping lightly on Dean’s bare skin. “Can I jerk
you off?”
“Um, yeah. You want to?”
With a nod, Sam pushed the boxers down far enough to free Dean’s cock. He
brought his hand back up to his mouth and licked his palm, before reaching back
down and wrapping his hand around his brother’s dick. As he began stroking — he
leaned over to kiss Dean again, chasing the taste of whiskey and his own come.
Dean kissed back, licking along Sam’s tongue and the inside of his mouth. He
arched into Sam’s touch, relishing the overwhelming presence of someone who
knew him intimately and still wanted him.
Sam twisted his wrist and applied the perfect amount of pressure on the base of
Dean’s cock, as he bit gently on Dean’s lip. “Gonna come for me, De?”
Dean felt his orgasm build deep in his gut, curling closer and closer. “Shit
Sam, fu—ck!” He buried his face in the crook of Sam’s neck, vaguely aware of
the stripes of hot come spurting onto Sam’s hand and over his own stomach. He
rested his head against Sam’s collarbone while he came down, his breathing
slowing gradually.
It was Sam who retrieved a tissue from the bedside table and cleaned them both
off. He stood to dispose of the tissues. Dean pulled his boxers back up and
collapsed heavily onto the bed. His eyes feeling heavier than ever, but he
could still sense Sam’s indecision as he hovered at the edge of the bed. “Oh,
come here,” he said.
Sam crawled onto the bed and let Dean pull him close, throwing the covers over
both of them. “That… that wasn’t weird?”
“Prob’ly,” Dean said, tucking Sam’s head against his chest, not unlike how he’d
done when they were young and Sam had had nightmares. “But it felt too fuckin’
good and I’m too fuckin’ tired to care.” He kissed the top of Sam’s head.
“G’night, Sammy.”
“Goodnight,” Sam whispered, and Dean wasn’t quite drunk enough or far enough
into dreamland to miss the way his brother’s tone seemed to be lighter. Like he
was finally starting to relax.
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter has mentions of explicit wincest (just one
     sentence). IF YOU SKIP THIS CHAPTER YOU WILL MISS TWO VERY IMPORTANT
     MOMENTS. MAN UP, YO!

  ”I have learned all kinds of things from my many mistakes. The one thing I
            never learn is to stop making them.” - Joe Abercrombie
                                      ---
“I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.”
Damn it. Castiel dropped his head as he unlocked his front door and held it
open for his guest. “What gave you that impression?”
Henry stepped into the condo and placed his hat on the coat rack. “Oh, probably
just the ten missed calls and the way you’ve avoided answering the door all
week.”
Carrying the bag of groceries into the kitchen, Castiel placed them on the
counter and began putting things away. Henry was, of course, completely
correct. After hearing from Bree McKenna that his contract with Dean had been
cancelled because of ‘inappropriate behavior’, Castiel had hid himself away and
avoided all of his friends and most of his regular responsibilities.
Sure, he’d made it into work each day, but he had a pile of papers to take care
of on his desk, and couldn’t seem to make himself focus on the words whenever
he sat down.
He just kept thinking about the implication of ‘inappropriate behavior’ and
wondering if he had done something to push Dean away. There had been no
indication that anything was wrong, but what if Dean hadn’t wanted to spend the
night? He’d shown before that he wasn’t the best at communicating his
boundaries — what if he had felt pressured to perform and fuck Castiel that
last time they were together? Had he gone back to Bree and complained?
Any calls made to the agency went unanswered, and Castiel hadn’t grown the
balls to call Dean’s phone directly.
Henry, obviously fully aware of how Castiel had drifted from the conversation
back into his own mind, reached across the counter and grabbed one of the beers
sitting there. “I take it you’re having boyfriend problems.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Castiel answered by instinct. A moment later he added,
“He’s not my anything, anymore.”
“You ended the relationship?”
“I got a call that the contract had been ended because of ‘inappropriate
behavior,’ but there was no further explanation.” Castiel picked up his own
bottle of beer and opened a nearby drawer to pull out the bottle opener. “I
don’t even fucking know what I did wrong, Henry.”
“Have you called him to ask?”
“No.” Before Henry could give him a speech about his own stupidity, Castiel
quickly interjected, “If it was his choice to break it off — what right do I
have to call him out on the decision? It was a business relationship. Would you
call a business partner asking why they decided to quit?”
Henry took the opener from Castiel’s hand and opened both their beers. “I would
if the decision was unwarranted and sudden. As this appears to be.”
Castiel stared down at his open bottle, hands shaking slightly from nerves.
“Our last night together — he did something that he had previously safeworded
out of. I can’t help thinking that I somehow pushed him beyond his own limits
without realizing it. It’s all my fault and what if he’s dealing with a serious
emotional fall out because of it?” He ran his hand through his hair, “Fuck!”
“Cas,” Henry said, ducking down in front of his friend and looking him straight
in the eyes to get his attention. “Cas, buddy. Normally I wouldn’t be one to
advocate the application of alcohol in such a situation but, please, have a
drink.”
He did as he was told. Once the beer bottle was half-empty he placed it back on
the counter and stared at Henry. “I think I’m in love with Dean.”
                                      ---
Sam was still a nerd. So when Dean suggested they take a bus up Burnside and
tour the Pittock mansion, Sam jumped at the idea.
“Nerd,” Dean whispered under his breath as he watched his brother read every
information sign that the place offered. He hadn’t ever been there before — old
shit creeped him out on a good day — but it was raining and there weren’t many
other options for sight-seeing. He stared at a creepy 19th century doll laying
on an old metal bed and shuddered.
Should have braved the rain and went to the zoo instead.
It’d been three days since their late night drunken escapades but, beyond the
headache from his hangover, Dean hadn’t felt much remorse the next morning.
Sam was safe. A warm body to lay next to him at night and listen when Dean
needed to talk about all the shit he was dealing with at work. And the kid
hadn’t been lying — he could give a helluva good blowjob.
So they were… something. It was when he started to classify and describe what
they were doing that he started to feel weird. The big bad word liked to drift
in and out of his mind on occasion and he always shut it up by singing a little
random AC/DC.
Incest was bad.
Being with Sam was good.
After their creepy-old-mansion tour, they took the bus back to the city and
dropped off at Powell’s so that the ‘nerd’ could grab a couple of new books on
Dean’s dime. Then it was dinner across the street at Sizzle Pie, and finally a
ride on the streetcar back to the apartment.
Sam took one look at the anger on Charlie’s face before making an excuse about
needing a shower and rushing off to Dean’s bedroom with his pile of books.
Dean wasn’t nearly as lucky.
“Dean, are you fucking your brother?”
Fuck. “Hey Charlie, I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?” He smiled a
tight-lipped smile but refused to meet her eyes as he hung his coat by the
door.
“Oh, hey Dean.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m worried about my best
friend, that’s how I am. I’m worried because these are destructive actions and
I don’t want to see you spiraling backwards. Remember the bridge, Dean?
Remember how torn up you were then? Because of Sam, because of your past.”
“Well that was then, okay? There was stuff I didn’t know then. Stuff that we’ve
worked out. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” Charlie whispered, voice soft and concerned. “I just want you
to be safe, Dean. I love you, and I’m worried about you.”
“I know you do,” he said. “But whatever you might think about anything I do,
you’ve gotta go easy on Sam, okay? You think I haven’t picked up on the fact
that he’s practically terrified of you? I would have mentioned it earlier, but
I’ve barely seen you lately.”
“Yeah.” She hung her head, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you until I was
sure I could keep up with it…” A shy smile crossed her face. “I’ve started
taking some night classes.”
“Really? Charlie, that’s awesome!”
His roommate beamed at him from across the short distance.
“And I wanna hear all about it,” Dean continued, leaning against the kitchen
counter and crossing his arms, “but after you tell me why Sam’s been avoiding
you like a tax audit.”
She sighed, regret in her eyes. “I may have yelled at him to stay away from
you, because I was worried about you.”
“What?” He leaned forward, not believing his ears. “You did what? Well guess
what, I love you too but being my best friend doesn’t give you that right,
Charlie! You have no idea what he’s — what we’ve been through.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I overreacted. It’s just — he shows up one day and then you
started acting different. And I was worried he would step back into your life
and then leave suddenly, and I’d be left to pick up the pieces. Forced back
onto that bridge to pull you back from the edge.” When she looked back up at
him, she had tears streaming down her face. “I can’t lose you too, Dean. You’re
the only family I have.”
Dean walked to her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top
of her head. “You’re not gonna lose me. But just… to say things with Sam are
complicated is probably the biggest fucking understatement ever.” He pulled
back, looking at her red and splotchy face. Shaking the sleeve of his sweater
down over his hand, he wiped the tears and snot away from her eyes and nose. “I
know they’re fucked up, I do. And… all this shit with my job. I promise I’m
keeping it together, okay? You’ve gotta trust me.”
Charlie sniffed. “I do.”
“Because you can get up in my shit all you want — you’ve earned that. But Sam’s
off limits.”
                                      ---
“So, I know you’re going through a big major life crisis over there,” Henry
mused, “but I actually came here for your help.”
They had, at some point, moved into the living room with their second beers.
And stayed there with their thirds. Castiel sat on the sofa staring at a pillow
across the floor and trying not to imagine Dean knelt down on the cushion.
Perfect little cockwarmer. He shook his head and focused back on his friend.
“What’s that?”
“Remember a few weeks back when we were talking about my uncle? The asshole in
Chicago that deserved every ounce of illness that he had suddenly been
afflicted with?” When Castiel nodded in answer, Henry continued. “He died last
week. Such a tragedy—” the tone of Henry’s voice showed that it indeed was not
a tragedy. “Anyway, the only part of the whole mess that worries me is his son.
The boy’s had a lot of issues in the past with depression and anxiety, and now
he’s stuck on his own in Chicago with no friends or family. So I’ve talked to
the university and worked it out to get him enrolled this fall.”
“Henry, that’s fantastic.” Castiel knew very little of Henry’s family — mainly
because members of the Wesson clan were few and far between. “I’m sure he’ll
appreciate your help.”
“And yours.”
“Mine?” Castiel frowned.
“I can’t get him settled into school housing until August and I have absolutely
no where for him to stay until then. At first I thought it would be alright for
him to remain in Chicago, but then word cycled through that my uncle was
embezzling money from his company. His entire estate will go back to the
company to pay off his debts. The boy will be homeless in a week.”
“Shit, that’s terrible. I still don’t quite see—” It suddenly hit him what kind
of favor Henry was asking for. “You want him to stay here?”
“With Josie and Ryan, there isn’t enough extra space at my place. Please, Cas.
He’s a good kid. He just needs a leg up in life.”
Fostering an orphan for the summer was not in Castiel’s plans. In fact, most of
his current plans involved working as much as possible until he forgot the name
Dean. But maybe having another body in the condo would help in that regards
too. Someone to distract him. Instead of being the ‘playroom’ — the spare
bedroom could become Henry’s cousin’s room.
Plus, the truth was, he owed Henry such a favor. Possibly several. And Henry
would easily step up and do the same thing if their roles were reversed.
“Yes,” he finally answered, “of course he can stay here. I’d be happy to have
him.”
“Excellent.” Henry held up his beer bottle in a ‘cheers’ and smiled. “You’re
truly a great friend, Castiel. I’m sure you and Gabriel will get along
splendidly.”
***** Chapter 27 *****
Chapter Notes
     Have you guys heard of 'line'? The messaging app? Well we have a
     group of avid Submersion readers on there that chat with hufflebutt
     and I and we'd love for you to join in on the fun. It's a lot of
     random story ideas, 'maybe-but-probably-not' Submersion spoilers, and
     general goofing off. Email me at archofimagine@gmail.com and I'll
     send you the invite link! This way you can chat and ask us questions,
     no matter what timezone you're in!
     Also: GUESS WHO'S BACK!

”Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” - Søren
                                  Kierkegaard
                                      ---
Castiel quietly drummed his fingers along the tabletop as he watched the
entrance of the restaurant and waited. A small part of him still believed that
he wouldn’t show up. Castiel had stared at the number in his phone for four
days before finally finding the nerve to hit the call button.
He wasn’t sure what to expect from the conversation — maybe not even anything
good — but he had to make an effort. He had to make an effort for one more
second chance.
After nine minutes of waiting, Castiel decided to distract himself with the
wine list. His plan worked so well that he hardly even saw the other man until
he was taking a seat in front of him.
"Paul! You came," he said, smiling through his nerves.
Paul’s face lit up as he leaned across the table and kissed Castiel’s cheek.
“It’s good to see you, Cas. You’re looking as handsome as ever.”
"Thank you," he said, fairly confident he wasn't blushing. "You look good, too.
Really good." And it was true — Paul was wearing a black button-up shirt with
the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a pair of crisp black jeans. His sandy
blonde hair was cropped short and his gray eyes shone bright against the dark
clothes.
The waitress walked over to take their drink order and they both requested a
glass of wine. Once she had stepped away from the table again, Paul reached a
hand out to hold Castiel’s. “I have to admit I was a bit surprised by your
phone call.”
"I have to admit I was a little surprised that you answered." Castiel gave the
hand in his a squeeze. "But grateful."
“So how have things been going? How is work?”
The waitress came back with their wine and Castiel took a sip before answering.
"More or less the same. It's busy, it's stressful, and the hours are long, but
I wouldn't trade it for anything. How about you? Are you still working at the
same place?"
“I’m not, no. I actually just got back into town about three months ago. I went
back to spend some time with my family after… everything.” Paul shrugged and
sipped at his wine. “It was nice until I remembered why I left in the first
place.”
"I'm sorry," Castiel placed his hand on Paul's once again, "If you don't want
to talk about it—"
Paul shook his head. “It’s fine. Just unsupportive family bullshit. My mom is
still holding out hope that I’ll show up at home one day ready to marry a good
girl.”
"So nothing's changed, then?"
“Not really, no. So now I’m back here.” Paul squeezed Castiel’s hand. “Why did
you call, Cas?”
Because I'm desperate to prove to myself that not everything I touch falls
apart. "I felt there were things between us that were left... unresolved. And I
missed you."
Paul’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. He brought Castiel’s hand up and kissed his
knuckles. “I’ve missed you as well.”
Castiel cleared his throat, the gesture catching him off guard. "You seem well,
though. What are you doing for work these days?"
"Ah, it's kind of hard to explain." He smiled, looking down at his glass. "But
I guess you could sort of say it's like public relations?"
"But it's something you enjoy?"
"It really, really is."
                                      ---
’Your next client has requested two subs, so you will have another person
joining you for this appointment.’
Dean sat tied down to a barely cushioned chair and watched the other escort
that Bree had sent for their client. He was probably five or six years older
than Dean, and tall, with a tight, well-muscled frame. He had short, dusky
brown hair, and his handsome but serious face was framed with a strong, clean-
shaven jaw. Dean sure wouldn't have pegged him for the submissive type — until
he'd stepped into the client's home.
In the car ride over, the older man had mumbled one word… nothing more than a
simple introduction and a nod of the head. ”Paul.” His voice was dark and
smooth and accented from somewhere Dean had never been and couldn’t name.
A strong vibration sound erupted in the room and Dean remembered suddenly what
he was trying not to think about. They had been there for forty-five minutes so
far and the entire name of the game had been ‘bring Dean as close to the edge
without letting him come’. It started with Paul’s slick hand stroking his cock
— the perfect pace to drive Dean absolutely wild. Their dom had given very
specific instructions: every time Dean felt his orgasm nearing, he had to
quickly say, ‘Sir, please.’ If he didn’t, and came, he would be punished.
It seemed so simple. Except for the fact that on the brink of orgasm it was
damn near impossible to remember how to speak, let alone tell the person
touching him to stop touching.
After the third pull back from the edge, Paul was handed a long wand vibrator
with a silicone attachment at the tip. It was a sleeve that fit perfectly over
his hard cock, sending the vibrations all over Dean’s highly sensitized body.
After the last ’fucksirplease’, the vibrator had been pulled away for a long
moment while his body tried to settle back into normal.
Now Paul was sliding the silicone back down his shaft and it was toomuch and
notenough all at the same time. His hips jumped off the chair and his hands dug
into the wood of the armrests as he cried out and tried to hold on. He lasted
thirty seconds before he was screaming again, “Sir! Sir, please! Fuck, please!”
The vibrator was pulled away, but it was too late. His cock began to shoot come
all over his bare stomach and thighs, and even with the release he couldn’t
seem to find pleasure.
Paul gripped the base of his dick suddenly, sending a wave of pain shooting up
Dean’s spine and causing the orgasm to cease quickly.
Dean shuddered, drawing in quick uneven breaths. When their master for the
night stepped closer, he couldn’t help but flinch in anticipation of the
punishment that would now be unleashed.
Instead, the man crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, eyes landing back
on Paul. “Again,” he demanded.
Again? Dean’s eyes went from the client over to Paul and then back again.
Paul’s slick hand that was still gripping the base of his dick — started to
slowly stroke. Shit.
“No, please,” Dean begged. He was exhausted. Pushed to the edge and over his
limits. There was no way he could handle anything more.
The dom smirked as Dean’s dick began to stiffen again. As soon as it reached
its full length, the silicone was settled back in place and the vibrator was
turned on.
If he thought it was bad before he came, that was nothing compared to how it
felt after. His cock was sensitive and sore, not ready to produce the results
being asked of it, but that didn’t stop Paul from trying.
It was a strange mixture of pain and pleasure that was running through Dean's
body. The skin of his cock felt raw and overused, but the erection was still
there, responding to the stimulation. He tried to shift his hips back to ease
of the pressure of the toy, but Paul caught on immediately and followed Dean's
movements to compensate.
There was no way he could survive much more. Exhaustion was starting to set in
and after the next cry of ‘please, sir!’ he let his head fall back against the
chair. He was too out of it to notice a signal between Paul and the client. But
the toy was pulled away and replaced by Paul’s hand.
“You may come, pet,” the client said.
It was a relief to finally reach the end of the torture. He forced himself to
lift his head and watch as Paul helped him come once more. Again, despite the
relief of finally orgasming — Dean couldn’t find pleasure in it.
After a quick clean-up and Paul loosening his ties, Dean was left sitting there
as the client dragged Paul to the nearby bed and fucked him senseless. Even
though Dean wanted to close his eyes and take a nap, he was mesmerized by the
sight of Paul being fucked. From his point of view, he could see the older
man’s puffy hole wrapping tight around the client’s cock. It was like live-
action porn and remarkably made his dick twitch. There was no way Dean's body
had another orgasm in it, but he settled back and enjoyed the show anyway.
Their client was a fairly average-looking but not-unattractive man, of medium
height. And boy, was he ever giving it to Paul. With every thrust the man sent
Paul scooting along the bed until his face was practically up against the wall.
The client finally came with a shudder and a low moan. When he pulled back, he
slapped Paul lightly on the ass, and from across the room Dean could hear the
man telling Paul to let Dean finish him off.
A few moments later Paul was standing before him with a swollen, leaking cock.
Dean reached forward and wrapped his hand around it, looking up in time to
catch Paul’s gray eyes as he jerked him off.
It didn’t take long for him to come with a shudder, his come landing in strips
along Dean’s chest and even a few spots on his face.
There was gratitude and fondness in the gaze staring down at him. With a small
twitch of his lips into a small and an over exaggerated wink, Paul turned to
find the towel set aside for clean-up.
                                      ---
The client’s house had been over the water in Vancouver, making the drive back
to Dean’s apartment downtown a lot longer. Paul sat on the other side of the
towncar’s backseat, his fingers tapping lightly on his skin-tight jeans.
After such an intense session, Dean needed more than silence. “How long have
you worked for Miss McKenna?”
“Three months, this go around. I knew her back when I was in college, though.
Actually went to university with her.” He gave Dean another quick wink. “Bet
you didn’t assume she was a business grad.”
“I, uh…” He frowned. “I guess I never really thought about how she started out.
It’s weird to think about how people decide to get into this line of work.”
“That it is. I have to say though, kid, you’re pretty damn good at it.”
Was he being complemented by a more experienced prostitute? Weird. “Uh, thanks,
I think.”
Paul slid an iPhone out of his pocket and focused on the screen. “Had any bad
ones, yet? Those are the worst.”
“One or two. Had a regular client for a few weeks, until…” Dean shook his head
— there was no way he was telling that story. “Yeah. So now I’m back in the
rotation, I guess.”
“Been there, done that,” Paul answered.
“Done what?”
“Fallen for a client.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. I can hear it in your voice.” Paul tucked his phone away again and
turned to face Dean. “Brianna McKenna knows one thing about this business: love
doesn’t equal money. You fall for the client, one thing leads to another and
suddenly you quit and Bree is left one escort short. So don’t take it the wrong
way, kiddo, she’s just looking out for the bottom line.”
Dean barely had the strength to pout. He wasn’t a kid, despite Paul’s chosen
nickname for him, but he still felt like stomping the floor and demanding
better answers. “I still want to see him.”
“Well that’d be the worst fucking idea you’d ever have.” Paul pointed to the
front seat, where Bree’s two burly bodyguards sat. “Think Dumb and Dumber are
here for your security? Because they’re not. They’re here to keep you in line.
Even when you’re on your time, they’re still lurking, I guarantee it.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Miss McKenna has people following me?”
“I’m trying to tell you to use that brain of yours and act smart, kid. I doubt
you’d like the alternative.”
***** Chapter 28 *****
Chapter Notes
     So with every update we get some amazing comments. And I know we both
     readily skim through them and squee in satisfaction.
     And then every once in a while one comment will stand out. On Chapter
     27, that comment belonged to: 3DBABE1999.
     So, congratulations. You inspired a whole plot twist that neither
     hufflecas or I was expecting. It fit into future plans, though, so
     here it is.
     And everyone else knows who to blame for the angst! :D *cackles
     evilly*

    ”Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.” - Andre Malraux
                                      ---

Kidnapped_Brothers_Found_Safe_After_Two_Months
TOPEKA -- The two-month search for two brothers kidnapped from their home in
Lawrence, Kansas is over and a man is in custody facing criminal charges. The
boys, age 14 and 17, were found safe in a hunting cabin on the outskirts of
Topeka Monday morning.
Alan Williams, 47, also from Lawrence, was arrested at his home Monday
afternoon. Reports confirm that Williams held the two boys in the cabin for the
entire eight weeks, until his wife became suspicious and searched the location.
She found the boys locked inside one of the cabin’s small rooms.
A spokesperson for the police department was unable to comment on details of
the case but said “the family is thrilled to be reunited and is asking that the
public respect their privacy during this time.”
Williams will be arraigned Wednesday in Lawrence.
                                      ---
It was coincidence. That’s the story he would continue to stick to. Sheer
coincidence.
Dean wandered through the grocery store aimlessly. It was the same location
where he and Charlie had ran into Castiel before. Finally, after two tours
around the store, he decided that he was alone. Whoever was tailing him hadn’t
followed him into the store.
He scoped out the perfect candidate and walked up to a kind-looking old woman.
“Excuse me, Ma’am, I wonder if I could borrow your phone for a moment? My
partner sent me here with a list of what to get, and I left it on the bus. I
just need to call him real quick and ask him what we need.”
As expected, the woman smiled approvingly and pulled her outdated flip phone
from her handbag. He stayed in the same place, weary that the woman would
suspect him of stealing if he stepped too far away. He dialed Castiel’s number
— the one he had forced himself to memorize before he stepped into the store.
After two rings, the other man picked up. “Hello?”
He sounded worn down and Dean hated how nice it was to hear the other man’s
voice. “It’s me,” he replied. “Dean. I’m at the store. That one over on Barbur?
I left my list on the bus. Could you meet me here so I don’t forget anything?”
To say that Castiel was confused was definitely an understatement. His voice
showed his concern. “Dean? What’s going on? I thought… I thought you didn’t
want to see me anymore.”
“Please, Cas. Some friends of Bree’s are hanging around outside and I just want
to get the groceries and go home. Five minutes.”
The words seemed to drive the point home. “Five minutes. I’ll be there.”
Dean finally felt himself relax as he hung up the phone and handed it back to
the kind woman. “Thank you so much.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Some
friends of my ex keep following me, wanting trouble. And I really don’t like
being alone. But my boyfriend will be here soon.”
“Oh, you poor child!” The old woman looked beyond him, down the length of the
aisle towards the front of the store. “What do they look like? Tell me, and
when I leave, I’ll distract them for you.”
He chuckled at her sincerity and described the two burly bodyguards and the
dark towncar they would be sitting in.
She patted his arm and pushed her cart past him to go to the checkout. “Don’t
you worry dear, I’ll handle it!” she called back to him.
Dean watched her go before moving a couple aisles over to where the condoms and
lubricant were located. It was the spot where he had ran into Castiel before,
and it seemed like the perfect place to wait. Right on cue, five minutes later,
a familiar figure rounded the corner of the aisle and headed in Dean’s
direction.
Unlike his normal attire of a nice suit or high-end jeans and polo shirt,
Castiel was wearing a pair of white hospital scrubs covered by a tan
trenchcoat. His dark hair was a scattered mess and he had more than the
beginnings of a beard on his face.
He looked… fucking hot.
As soon as he was close, Dean grabbed the lapels of the trenchcoat and pulled
Castiel forward for a hard kiss. The sensation of scratchy hair tickling his
face was new, but the intensity of the kiss was just like he remembered.
“Dean,” Castiel said, when he finally pulled away, his hand still lingering on
Dean’s arm. “What’s going on?”
Before Dean answered, he grabbed Castiel’s hand and pulled him towards the back
of the store. He had also scoped out the bathrooms before he called for Castiel
to meet him. He found the men’s room and pulled Castiel inside, quickly locking
the door behind them. “Bree McKenna found out about us… having fun without
charging. She freaked, cancelled your contract, and told me I wasn’t allowed to
speak to you or see you.”
Castiel stared at Dean, the disbelief painted clearly all over his face. “So…
it wasn’t anything that I did?”
“No! Of course not!” Dean wanted to touch and kiss and fuck he was in love.
“And now she’s got her goons following me.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah. Everywhere I go, two guys follow me. That’s why I called you from a
stranger’s phone and asked you to meet me here. I didn’t know what else to do,
Cas.”
Castiel had a hand on either of Dean’s elbows, holding him steady as concerned
eyes searched Dean’s face. “Do you owe her money?”
“No,” Dean quickly shook his head. “If anything, she owes me. She’s cut my pay
in half, but doubled the workload.” He hated himself for it, but he felt tears
forming at the corners of his eyes. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” Castiel said. He reached up to rub away the beginnings of a
tear from Dean’s cheek but otherwise stayed at arm’s length. “Dean, if you’re
not beholden to her, then why don’t you just quit?”
“You think I should?”
“If this were any other line of work you’d be able to file a complaint against
her. But unfortunately we live in a place where the basic rights of sex workers
are horrifically undervalued.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“And Portland’s not exactly a small town — there has to be at least three other
escort agencies that would hire you in a heartbeat and treat you like a human
being. We could take our relationship there and carry on like we were before.”
Dean felt the stab to his heart immediately. Like we were before. Whatever
feelings he had been contemplating were dashed out like a used cigarette.
“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll think about it.” He glanced down at his watch. “I gotta… I
gotta go. If I’m in here any longer, they’re gonna get suspicious and come
looking for me.”
“Oh. Um.” Castiel backed away, allowing Dean to move to the door. “Do you want
me to contact you? I can do it from another phone.”
“No,” Dean said, suddenly. He shook his head and unlocked the door. “I’ll call
you.” Without waiting for another word, he slipped out of the bathroom and
quickly disappeared into the store.
By the time the sun hit his face outside, the tears had started and didn’t want
to cease.
                                      ---
Sam never heard back from the coffee shop he’d applied to. At first it didn’t
matter — things had settled down with Dean and a glimpse of peace had begun to
appear.
Then Dean showed up at home one afternoon and things changed. His happiness
disappeared, replaced by a sudden dark depression that was so crippling it sent
Sam running from the apartment just to be able to breath.
Dean would no longer touch him. He’d even gone so far as to ask Sam to return
to the couch at night. One step forward, two steps back.
He sat down on a wooden bench in the middle of a downtown park and could barely
feel the rain hitting his skin. The night before, Dean and Charlie had gone out
to a local club. When Dean had arrived home around three a.m. he’d reeked of
liquor, his hands shaking so badly he couldn’t get his key in the lock and had
to knock for Sam to open the door. One look at his brother sent a chill down
Sam’s spine. He didn’t know much about drugs or what their effects looked like,
but he suspected that was the culprit.
“Are you high?” he had asked, guiding Dean towards his bedroom.
“As a fucking kite.” The bedroom door slammed in Sam’s face.
Sam was too worried about his brother to go far, so he sat down with his back
to the bedroom door and listened. It didn’t take long for the loud thumps
against the wall to sound. Followed immediately after by Dean screaming broken
proclamations of love for someone he didn’t name.
The blade was buried so deep in Sam’s heart that he could barely breath.
Whatever he had hoped for, whatever he had desired to happen with Dean — would
never come to be because Dean was in love with someone else. There were no
feelings for Sam. The whole experience had probably been fueled by nothing more
than pity.
“You’re going to catch a cold,” a honey-smooth voice said from behind him.
Sam turned his head, frowning when the pretty auburn-haired woman sat down next
him. She held her umbrella to shield them both from the rain. “I don’t care,”
he mumbled.
“That’s not a very good attitude to have. You’ve got to take care of yourself.
How are you going to work if you get sick?”
What the hell was this lady’s deal? “I don’t have a job.”
“Would you like one?”
Sam frowned, shaking his head. “No offense, lady, but I’m smart enough to know
not to accept offers like that from strangers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Your brother has certainly benefitted from
working for my company.”
Sam looked at her carefully. “You’re — you’re Dean’s boss.”
The woman smiled. “Brianna McKenna,” she said, holding out her hand.
He was tentative, but after a moment, reached out to shake her hand. “Sam. But
I’m guessing you already know that.”
“I do,” she conceded. “So I take it you know what I do?”
Sam glanced around the deserted park. “High-end prostitution.”
She giggled. “Well, you just cut straight to the point, don’t you Sam?”
“I appreciate the interest, ma’am, but I’m not exactly good at…” He frowned.
“Sex.”
“But it’s work you’d consider doing, otherwise? Would you be comfortable
serving male clients?”
“Well, that’s not a problem, I guess, but my only job experience is as a
barista in a coffee shop.” Sam quirked an eyebrow. “So I suppose it isn’t much
of a stretch to go into the sex industry after that.”
“You’re funny, too,” she said, smiling. “A sense of humor is more important in
this field than you’d think.” She tugged the hem of her pencil skirt to cover
her knees. “You didn’t know how to operate an espresso machine when you first
became a barista, did you?”
“Nope.”
“So why do you think they hired you?”
“Probably for the same reason you want to hire me.” Sam turned to her and
winked. “My ass is amazing.”
“That definitely doesn’t hurt. But it’s not just about that. I think you’d be a
good fit, Sam. You could make a lot of money working for me.”
Turning serious, Sam scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m really not sure
I’d be any good at it. My brother has had far more sexual partners and
experience than I’ve had. I mean… I can count the number of people I’ve been
with on one hand.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. We can train you to do things you’d like
to learn how to do, just like any job. In fact I have a special opportunity for
you. I’m sure Dean told you how he had a permanent client for a while; a
situation where he only saw that one person on a regular basis. I have a
similar situation available now, and I think you’re the perfect candidate. And
it’s not all sexual, Sam. Sometimes our clients just want someone nearby while
they sit and watch the evening news.”
A frown appeared on Sam’s face. “Dean told me about that situation and how it
ended badly. He’s been in a funk ever since. I don’t… I don’t think I can
handle that happening to me.”
For a moment, the pleasant smile wiped away and Bree settled a stern gaze on
Sam. “The way to combat that is simple. Just remember that this is a job and
for it to work successfully everyone involved needs to remain neutral. The cash
flow continues, your heart stays right there in that pretty chest, and everyone
remains happy.”
Sam considered her words. He’d had plenty of experience disconnecting from sex,
and the money was tempting. “How much would I be making?”
“One hundred and twenty-five dollars an hour.” Bree smiled. “After six
satisfactory months, I’ll raise it to one-fifty.”
“Woah.”
Miss McKenna smiled, slow and easy, her white teeth just visible through her
red lips. “Sam, let me give you my card.”
***** Chapter 29 *****
Chapter Notes
     Apologies for the delay, everyone! But if you haven't read Indecent
     Composure then you'll never fully understand or appreciate why we
     were distracted.

 ”Choices made, whether bad or good, follow you forever and affect everyone in
              their path one way or another.” - J.E.B. Spredemann
                                      ---
Sam went to Bree’s office two days later to sign paperwork. She’d sent him home
with an employee handbook and the promise that “your brother doesn’t need to
know.”
He’d studied the spiral-bound notebook cover to cover. The job didn’t even seem
like that big of a deal to Sam. He’d had plenty of experience having sex he
wasn’t interested in having — and at least now he’d get paid. If Dean didn’t
want Sam around, didn’t want to be close to him, then he’d need to support
himself. And conventional jobs looked to be thin on the ground.
Bree had assured Sam that she’d arrange it so he and Dean were never at the
office at the same time.
“In fact,” she’d said, “come to my other office, over on Hawthorne. Dean’s
never even been there. Can you come by on Thursday? You can drop off your
paperwork, and do some training. Get rid of those first day jitters.”
Sam bussed over to the Laurelhurst district not knowing what to expect.
He checked the address twice when he walked up to it. The non-descript office
that he was expecting was actually a quaint two story house. Sam shrugged and
walked up on the front porch. As he knocked, he wondered for a moment if he was
being duped. Maybe the person that answered would actually be a little old lady
that had no idea who he was.
The door swung open a minute later to reveal a bald man nearly as wide as he
was tall.
Guess I’ve got the right place after all. “Um, I’m here to see Ms. McKenna?”
The man looked Sam over once, and said nothing, but stepped aside to let him
pass. It wasn’t a house converted into an office. No, it was just… a house.
Sofa, loveseat, bookshelves… dining room table. It was so typical.
Sitting at the kitchen table sipping from a coffee cup was Bree McKenna. She
looked svelte and put together… despite the fact that she was only wearing a
silk robe.
Sam cleared his throat. “Am I… early?”
“No, you’re right on time. Coffee?”
He looked around anxiously, wondering whether or not to sit. “To be honest,
ma’am, I’m already pretty jittery. Coffee is probably a bad idea.”
“You’re probably right. Hector!” she called into the hallway, and the large man
from before appeared — quieter than Sam would have thought possible. “A cup of
tea for Sam. Chamomile.” She smiled sweetly.
Steaming hot water was produced from an electric kettle and placed in front of
Sam before he could protest. He took the slightest sip from the boiling tea,
even though it burnt his tongue. “Thanks.”
Bree indicated to the chair across from her. “Please, have a seat.”
He sat down in the offered chair, placing his tea down gently on the cherry
wood table, before setting his packet of paperwork down next to it. “I brought
everything you asked for.”
“Thank you,” she said, not sparing a glance to the papers at all. “I’ll have HR
look it over and let you know if we need anything else.” She took a sip of her
coffee. “So. Feel ready for your first client?”
Sam glanced around the well decorated home. “I suppose. Is this the client’s
home?”
Bree laughed at that, and Sam couldn’t help but feel there was some sort of
joke he wasn’t being let in on. “No, Sam. You think I’d be lounging around in
my dressing gown in a client’s home?”
“I, uh…”
“This is my home.”
“Your… home?”
“Well, one of them. It’s mostly an office. But sometimes it’s easier to stay
here.”
“Oh,” he nodded like he understood. Considering the lower-middle-class
lifestyle that he had lived most of his life, it was hard to grasp the concept
of owning multiple homes. He could barely grasp the concept of owning one home.
Before Bree could say anything else, another man stepped into the dining room
area. Sam looked up to see a tall man with ash blonde hair and gray blue eyes
standing there — wearing nothing more than a pair of blue striped boxers. Bree
glanced up at the man with a smile, before looking back to Sam.
“Sam, I’d like to introduce you to one of the other escorts. This is Paul. I’ve
asked him here to help us with your training.” She adjusted the rim of her
glasses on her nose and looked at Sam like a cat eyeing its prey. “I like to
give my employees the proper idea of what I expect in terms of conduct before I
send them off with a real client. So, for today, I will be playing the role of
your client, or master, and any sexual acts will be performed with Paul.”
Sam looked at the other man with a frown. Again, he felt like he was missing a
punchline. “I hate to ask, but… if you’re the client, why isn’t the sex with
you?”
Bree smirked, as Paul moved to stand protectively behind her right shoulder.
“That would be so much simpler, Sam, wouldn’t it?” She nodded to herself and
chuckled. “I like you, you’re very smart. However, what you don’t know is that
I’m asexual — I have absolutely no desire to have sex with anyone.”
“Oh.” He continued to stare at Paul. “Did my brother go through this training
as well?”
“Now, love, you know I can’t discuss other employees with you. I highly doubt
you’d want me telling Dean all of your secrets.” When Sam quickly shook his
head, Bree motioned to Paul. “Be a good little boy and let Paul show you to the
dressing room so you can change. You have five minutes, and then I expect you
on my bed ready to be fucked.”
                                      ---
Castiel paced his kitchen anxiously. He had half a mind to make some food just
so he would have something to clean up. But he wasn’t hungry.
He seriously doubted he could keep anything down.
It had been two weeks since Bree had cancelled his contract with Dean — and a
week since he’d seen Dean in the grocery store.
Castiel had begun to wonder if he should ever try to make contact with any
human being ever again. But Bree had called up Castiel and offered him — in a
show of good faith, apparently — someone who would take his mind off his
troubles. Someone new.
She’d also offered a one month discount. ’One month, Castiel. If this new sub
doesn’t take your mind off of… other things, then we can reevaluate the
situation once more.’ So, against all better judgement, he agreed.
He could handle a month.
But he wasn’t sure he could handle looking at someone else and not seeing
Dean’s face.
Even the handful of phone calls he had attempted to Dean’s cellphone from his
office at the hospital had gone unanswered. He had to move on.
Unfortunately, the concept of ‘moving on’ seemed to be a hilarious joke in Bree
McKenna’s eyes. He opened his front door at eleven p.m. and felt like he was
being made a fool of. Before him stood the six-foot-something lanky form of
Sam. Winchester.
“Shit,” Castiel stated. His client instructions remained the same, of course,
so Sam stood in a high-end suit — but the too-short sleeves and pant cuffs told
Castiel that it was probably one of Dean’s. “Shit!”
Sam looked like a trapped animal. His eyes were as wide as saucers and his
whole body seemed to be shaking. Whatever he had prepared himself for the idea
of sleeping with someone he knew, was obviously not in the plan.
“Cas?”
“Shit,” he said again. He sighed. “Sam, what the hell are you — there’s been a
mistake. Please, just come inside and we’ll get this sorted out—”
Sam shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Castiel couldn’t help but picture the
other permanent instruction for his escorts. He shook away the thoughts and
stepped out of the doorway to let Sam have room to pass.
The younger man stayed frozen in the hallway. He looked down at a torn piece of
notebook paper in his shaking hand. “Maybe I have the wrong address,” he
whispered.
“Doubtful.”
“I’m going to go bury my head in sand and act like this never happened.”
Castiel reached out a hand to grab Sam’s sleeve before he could turn and walk
away. “Please. Five minutes inside. I promise our clothes will remain intact
and no inappropriate behavior will transpire.”
Sam looked inside the condo for a moment before nodding. “Can I have a minute
in the bathroom first?”
“Of course. Please.”
                                      ---
Sam ducked inside the bathroom and shut the door behind him. So much for my
first night going well.
He crossed over to the sink and bent to splash water on his face as he tried to
put together what was going on. It seemed a strange coincidence that in a city
as large as Portland he’d get sent to see his brother’s therapist—
Sam Winchester, you colossal fucking idiot.
Castiel wasn’t Dean’s therapist. He was him. The client that Dean had fallen in
love with and been banned from seeing.
The wave of nausea hit Sam suddenly and he was vomiting into the expensive-
looking sink before he even knew what hit him.
Thank God for small miracles. He had been so nervous about the first night on
his new ‘job’ that he had only managed to eat a few bites of toast and drink
half a glass of milk. Once his stomach was done tossing around like a tilt-a-
whirl, Sam washed his face once more and stepped away from the sink.
He peeled off the suit jacket — because what was the fucking point, he wasn’t
going to sleep with his brother’s ex — and stripped off the suit pants and
fancy shoes long enough to ditch the silk panties he had been wearing. He got a
sudden vision of his brother wearing a similar outfit (no wonder he owns so
many suits) and threw the damn panties in the trash can.
Sam was disgusted and had to bite his tongue to keep from throwing up again. He
pulled his pants back on and stepped into the shoes, but carried the jacket
instead of putting it back on. Out in the foyer of the condo, he practically
ran into Castiel — who was holding a bottle of water and looking more than a
little ashamed.
“Sam, let me call you a cab—”
Sam looked down at the water. “Did you and Bree plan this? Some twisted shit to
fuck up my brother and I even more?”
“I assure you, Sam, I had no idea. But that… that woman. I wouldn’t put it past
her. I can’t believe I ever patronized her ‘business.’”
“That doesn’t make you less of a pervert.” Sam shook his head and turned to
leave, but stopped with his hand on the door knob. He turned to look back at
Castiel. “He’s doing drugs again. Because of you. Dean is doing drugs because
whatever the fuck happened between you and him is fucking with his head.”
Despite his desire to be strong and keep a tight hold on his emotions, Sam felt
a couple stray tears slip out of the corners of his eyes. “I finally had him
back, but it was all a joke. He never wanted me. He wanted a replacement you.”
He opened the door slowly and stared out into the hallway. “Stay the fuck away
from my brother, Castiel.”
***** Chapter 30 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey guys. If you're wondering why updates have started to slow a bit:
     we've figured out the ending of the story and it kinda snuck up on us
     how close it is (best estimate we'll go to hopefully chapter 45 but
     it could be lower than that). So we're pacing ourselves because we
     love this verse and aren't prepared for the end (emotionally).

”Children betrayed their parents by becoming their own people.” - Leslye Walton
                                      ---
Dean was tired of all of it. He was tired of life being one up and down
followed by another. There had to be a smooth highway somewhere out there. He
stared at the money in his ‘stash’ and contemplated his options. A large part
of him wanted to go crazy and buy a few nice hits of coke.
But that was just another hill waiting for him to slide down. He couldn’t keep
spiraling.
“Whoa.”
He looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway staring at the pile of
money in shock.
“What is all of that?” she asked him.
“Extra I’ve been saving.”
“For what, gold-plating the toilet?”
He shoved a pile to the side. “For rehab.”
There was a blur of purple hair and black clothes and suddenly Charlie had
wrapped herself around him. “Dean!” she squealed. “I’m so happy for you.”
He squeezed her back. “You’re not mad? That I won’t be partying with you
anymore?”
“Well that would be a stupid thing to be mad about.” She settled onto the bed
next to him and shook her head. “To be honest, I haven’t partied in months.
I’ve been going to a counselor and trying to keep myself on the straight and
narrow — on top of my classes.”
“You’ve been seeing a counselor? Like a therapist? How long’s that been going
on?”
“She’s a community therapist that works with abuse victims. A… friend,
recommended her.”
“And she’s good?”
“She’s really good.” Charlie put her hand on Dean’s shoulder and gave it a
squeeze.
Dean looked at the money in front of him. It was more than he’d ever saved up
before, but it was still a finite amount. “Must be expensive.”
“Actually,” Charlie answered, “since it’s a community outreach program — she
works for free.”
“Huh.”
“You want her number?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
                                      ---
After the ‘mishap’ at Castiel’s condo… Sam did everything he could to avoid
going back and facing Dean. He had somehow killed twenty-four hours when he
needed a shower and clean clothes and dragged his ass back towards the
apartment. It was probably the lack of sleep that had him missing the rental
car waiting outside.
But he couldn’t miss the shout of his name being called. “Samuel!”
Sam froze. There was only one person in the world who called him ‘Samuel’ just
like that. He considered bolting, but knew that if they’d tracked him down this
far it would be pointless. He turned towards the voice. “Dad.”
John stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sam. “It’s good to see you,
boy.” He motioned back to the car. “Your mom and I are staying at a hotel a few
blocks from here. She’s getting our things settled right now. Why don’t you
come with me and we’ll get you a nice shower and some food?”
Sam was torn between wanting to accept the comfort his father seemed to be
offering him, and panicking at being caught off guard. Please don’t try to make
me go back. “Um, I got a place, actually. Well, staying with friends. What are
you guys doing here?”
“A friend of yours called us. He was worried about you after your brother beat
him up.”
Brady.
Before Sam could explain, John continued, “We’re not here to take you back,
Sammy.” John’s hand continued to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “We just miss you and
love you. Your mother has been worried sick about you — especially when you
stopped answering her text messages. Just give us a couple of days, son. You
can catch us up on what’s been happening and we’ll help you decide on what your
future plans are.”
Sam put his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet. “Have you talked to
Dean?”
“No,” John shook his head. “You know your brother wants nothing to do with us.
We’re here for you. We flew in just to see you. Now come on,” he guided Sam
slowly towards the rental car. “Lets go get some breakfast. You look like you
haven’t slept or eaten well in days.”
Sam drew back from his father as gently as he could. “Breakfast sounds amazing,
but all my stuff’s in the apartment. Can I shower and change and meet you guys
there?”
John glanced up at the building behind them for a moment, before turning his
attention back to Sam. “Why don’t I wait out here for you to grab some things?
You can shower in our room.”
Sam sighed heavily. He felt weary down to the marrow of his bones. “Fine,” he
said finally. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Your mother is going to be so excited to see you, Sammy boy.” John smiled as
he patted Sam on the shoulder before moving to the car. “I’ll be right here
waiting.”
                                      ---
When they got to John and Mary’s hotel, his mother pulled Sam into a tight hug
as she began to cry. “My sweet baby, I’ve missed you so much.”
Sam was a boiling pool of unknown emotions. On one hand, he wanted to shove his
parents away and yell at them for all the trouble they had caused in his life;
for abandoning him when he needed them most. On the other hand… he wanted to
snuggle closer to his mother and embrace the love she was providing. He had
experienced a horrible twenty-four hours and at that point he just needed love.
And since it had been established that Dean didn’t love him so much as use him,
Sam had to go with what was provided right in front of him.
John ordered food from the restaurant downstairs and left a few minutes later
to pick up the order. While he was gone, Mary pulled Sam over to the room’s
sofa and sat down next to him, asking him questions about the last year and how
he had been taking care of himself.
He didn’t know what to talk about and what to leave out, so he decided on just
providing basic details. His journey from Texas to California. His job at the
coffee shop in San Francisco. Getting word that Dean was in the hospital and
jumping on the first bus up to Portland.
Mary tensed as soon as Sam mentioned Dean and how he had been staying with him.
The worry was rolling off her in droves. “I just… I want you to be happy, Sam,
but I don’t think you can be happy with him around. You’re just settling back
in the past. You're not moving on.”
“Mom,” he took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “Being forced to stay
away from my brother wasn’t the answer. I know you and Dad tried the best you
could, but sending me away and kicking Dean out wasn’t the ideal way of
handling the entire situation.”
His mother pulled back, still looking tense as her facial expressions began to
change into something a little less loving. “Sam, after… what happened, your
father and I were worried that being around Dean too much wasn't good for you —
for either of you. I saw the way you looked at him after you two came back
home, and it wasn't... it wasn't healthy, Sam." The tears were streaming down
her face freely now. "There was no other way.”
“For two months he was all I had and then you just took him away from me! That
wasn’t healthy.” Sam stood up, his utter exhaustion making the anger and
frustration spill over. “And then to leave me in that place like you couldn’t
stand the thought of me?”
Apparently in his yelling fit, he had missed the sound of the door opening and
closing behind him. John stepped into the room and set their food down on the
table. “Don’t talk to your mother with that tone, Samuel.”
"Well do you want me to talk or not, Dad? Because between not sleeping since
yesterday and being ambushed this morning, this is the only tone I've got."
Mary stood, moving over to the table to arrange their food. “Come on, let’s
just eat so that you can lay down and rest. We’ll talk about all of this
tomorrow.”
He held his father’s gaze for a long time, wondering if he agreed with the idea
of letting the subject drop. When he nodded, Sam took a deep breath and moved
over to one of the chairs.
To assume that they would eat in peace, though, was going too far. Mary waited
until they were halfway through their meal before saying, casually, “So, I
talked to your boyfriend on the phone. What’s his name? Brady? He sounds like
such a nice boy.”
"He's not my boyfriend," Sam said flatly, spearing a piece of fruit with a
plastic fork.
"Oh, I just thought—"
"Not anymore."
“That’s a shame,” she whispered. “He seemed so worried about you. He called us
practically begging for us to come up here and see you. He said Dean had been
abusive and angry when they met and he didn’t feel safe leaving you here for
long.”
Sam began to laugh so hard he had to put his fork down. "Do you want to know
why Dean was angry? Why he punched Brady?"
"Sam, that's not—"
Sam carried on, speaking over his mother. "Because when Dean came to see me
that last morning I had a black eye. From Brady. And it wasn't the first time.
Guy's a piece of shit." He went back to his fruit salad.
“Oh.” Her face fell at that. “But he seemed so nice. Are you sure?”
“Am I sure that he was an abusive asshole? I think I know what abuse looks
like, Mom.”
She pouted. “We only ever wanted the best for you, Sammy.”
“Yeah, well.” He kept his gaze on his food but let the anger seep into his
words. “Too bad your best wasn’t good enough.”
"And yours was?" He'd pushed her beyond being soft and gentle, that much was
clear. "You sit here and tell us that you 'know what abuse looks like' but
you're the one that ended up in the situation! Sam, you're so young." Her voice
threatened to break. "I'm just scared for you, okay? I'm scared. And I don't
know what to do, but I'm not going to give up trying."
John placed a steady, work-callused hand over Mary's quivering one. "Sam," he
said with a heavy sigh. "You should know that we're prepared to petition the
state for conservatorship."
A chill ran through Sam’s blood. Of course that’s why they were there. If he
had expected anything more he was an idiot. “I can’t go back there. You can’t
petition to be in charge of me just to send me back to that fucking hospital!
I’m not crazy. I never was. I was kidnapped and raped — that doesn’t
automatically make me insane.”
“Oh honey,” Mary whispered, her tone changing once more. “We don’t want to send
you back there. In fact… we’ve discussed this and decided that all we really
want is for you to be healthy and safe. However, we don’t think either of those
things can happen if you’re around Dean.”
“So we’ll buy you a ticket,” John filled in. “We’ll get you set up in an
apartment wherever you want to be. We’ll help you find a job and support you
until you can support yourself. The only stipulation is that you can’t stay
here.”
So they would continue to control every aspect of his life, and he would
continue to be forced away from his brother. The only difference from before
was that he wouldn’t be stuck in a locked ward.
Sam wasn’t sure what they were offering was any better.
***** Chapter 31 *****
Chapter Notes
     "Where have those damn authors been?" - you, presumably.
     "OMGWEHAVEONEDAYTOFINISHTHISBIGBANG." - us, most definitely.
     Sorry for the delay. We were working on the SPNJ2BigBang, and
     finished (woo!). Now the updates should get back on track... except
     for this week because it's Mother's Day and as a gift to MY mother, I
     have to work at the flower shop. Next week, loves!

”I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.” - F.
                               Scott Fitzgerald
                                      ---
’The client has requested that you be blindfolded and tied up naked to a bench
you’ll find in his house. You are to please anyone that comes within reach —
whether that be with your mouth or ass. I don’t want to hear any reports
tomorrow about how you were a bad sub, Dean.’
Dean read the note that one of Miss McKenna’s goons had handed to him as he was
ushered into the car. Despite everything bad about her — there was no denying
that Bree McKenna had a way with words. There weren’t many people in the world
that could describe a gangbang so casually.
Dean shifted in the back seat of the car, trying to sit in a way so that he’d
feel the butt plug he was wearing as little as possible. He’d learned quickly,
ever since his ‘pay cut’, that this new set of clients weren’t generally so
worried about seeing him properly prepped. Wearing a plug — even a small one —
to his appointments was inconvenient, and uncomfortable, but very worth it.
The car pulled up outside of a large home in Beaverton and Dean shook his head.
The richest clients were the worst ones.
“See ya on the other side, boys,” he growled at the bodyguards as he climbed
through the door. As he walked up the sidewalk to the front door, he was
already sliding into the dark recesses of his mind so that he wouldn’t be fully
aware of what was happening.
If he didn’t, he would count the number of cocks by instinct, and that would
just send him running back to the comfort of a drug-induced high.
                                      ---
He wanted to say no to them. He wanted to tell his parents to shove their
‘deal’ directly where the sun didn’t shine.
But he couldn’t do that alone. And five calls over the course of one night to
Dean’s phone had yielded him nothing but voicemail. Either his brother was too
busy dealing with his own shit, or he had just flat-out decided that Sam was
the problem holding him down and he had to let go.
It was hard to say no without someone else there backing him up. Someone to
tell John and Mary that Sam was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and
it wasn’t a bad thing that he was around Dean.
It was his last ditch effort. Sam forced their hand, saying that if he was
going to go with them, he would need help collecting his things from Dean’s
apartment. Surely if he forced a confrontation, Dean would have his back.
John followed Sam up the stairs to Charlie and Dean’s apartment, and waited
patiently as Sam unlocked the door with shaking hands.
No one was home. He called out for them, even as John urged him to hurry up and
get his things. Charlie was almost always home — why wasn’t she there? They
hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but she’d been coming around recently. Where was
Dean? He worked nights — he should be at home sleeping or watching crap TV.
“Come on, Sammy, let’s get your stuff. Your mom says she’s booked you a flight
to Denver because you always did like the snow.”
Sam stood in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do. He could text
Charlie, but she wouldn’t reply in time, would she?
“Sam,” John repeated, his tone warning.
His head fell in defeat. “Gimme a minute, I’ll… I’ll go get my bag.”
It wasn’t much — he hadn’t been there long enough to settle. Hadn’t been asked
to settle. As he packed his things in Dean’s room, he picked up an old envelope
and scribbled down a quick note.
Mom and dad showed up. Couldn’t stop them from taking me away again. Denver
this time. Goodbye Dean.
He wanted to write save me and please but a large part of him knew it was
useless. He placed the note on Dean’s dresser and carried his bag back out into
the living room. “Okay,” he whispered, “I’m ready.”
                                      ---
His parents were on a flight scheduled for the next day, so they walked him to
the security line with his bag and his boarding pass, and then waved goodbye.
It was the first time he had ever gone through security and actually hoped to
be detained.
He did not want to go to Denver. He wasn’t sure anyone wanted to go to Denver.
After clearing the TSA line, he walked slowly through the terminal towards gate
D5 where his plane was scheduled to take off in two and a half hours. Sam was
so focused on his thoughts, focused on staring at the damn ticket in his hands,
that he ran straight into another person, knocking the other man onto the
ground.
“Way to go, gigantor,” a voice growled in frustration.
It wasn’t Sam’s fault he was so big — if anything, it should make other people
be more aware of him.
Sam froze. Golden eyes were finally staring up at him as the person stood. Sam
felt like he’d seen a ghost.
“Gabriel?”
“Holy shit. Sam?” The shorter man pulled Sam into a welcome, rib-crushing hug.
Sam flashed back to the hospital. To the empty room and hearing the words
‘Gabriel’s gone.’ He had spent years believing that Gabe was dead, and now he
was standing right there in the airport terminal? “What the fuck! I thought you
ki—” he cut the words off quickly and shook his head, “I thought you were
dead!”
“What?” Gabriel scrunched up his face in confusion. “Why the — fuck would you
think that?”
Sam ran a hand through his hair, pretending not to notice that it was shaking.
Gabriel was alive, and he was right there. “It doesn’t matter. It’s — it’s
really good to see you.”
“You too, Samsquatch.”
It was strange — seeing Gabriel again, it was like they’d just seen each other
the day before. Like it hadn’t been two years. All the memories from that time
came flooding back but, oddly enough, only the good ones. “Uh, you got a flight
to catch?”
“Just got off one.”
“No chance you have time for a coffee, is there?”
“Well,” Gabriel checked his watch, “my cousin’s waiting for me. But he can wait
for a little longer.” Gabriel smiled up at him, and his grin lit up his whole
face.
They walked a few yards away to a Starbucks and even after ordering his coffee,
Sam’s hands were still unsteady. Gabriel. Of all the people to run into. He
carried his caramel macchiato over to an empty table and waited for the other
man to join him. Two years hadn’t changed Gabe much — he still looked like the
cheeky teenager from the institution. The only difference seemed to lie in his
eyes and the way he held himself. He looked healthier, more confident. He
looked like he was doing well.
Sam was not going to cry. He fucking wasn’t. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Gabriel reached across the table and gave Sam’s hand a squeeze, winking. “In
the flesh.”
Shit. He was going to cry. Sam hung his head as the weight of his whole world
pressed down on his shoulders. Gabriel was there and he was just supposed to
walk away and get on a plane to Denver?
“Shit.” In one movement Gabriel was out of his seat, had rounded the small
table, and had his arms around Sam’s shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on.” When
Sam sniffled in response, Gabriel added, “You’d really better tell me now or
you might not get another chance for two years.”
Sam laughed at the bad joke and raised his head, wiping his face with the back
of his hand. The words came in a rush as he laid his forehead against Gabe’s
shoulder. “I checked out at eighteen, like we planned. Ran away. Avoided my
parents for over a year. They found me two days ago. Found out that I was
living with my brother. They said if I don’t move away from here they’ll
petition the state for conservatorship.” He added quietly as Gabriel took his
seat again, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Hmm,” Gabriel hummed, like he’d been presented with a particularly tricky
algebra problem. Sam found the nonchalance remarkably comforting. “What time
does your flight leave?”
“I’ve got almost two and a half hours.”
“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We gotta get you out of here, that much is
pretty fucking obvious. I’m living proof that well-meaning parents don’t always
know how to do what’s best for their kids. But my cousin, he’s a good guy.
Fuckin’ smart, too. How would you feel about asking him for help?”
“Why would he want to help me?” Sam shook his head. “No one ever wants to
fucking help me.”
Gabe smiled softly and brushed the hair from Sam’s face. “Well, he offered to
help me get moved out here, and set me up with a place to stay, so he obviously
has a soft spot for slightly-insane nineteen-year-olds.”
“Really?”
“Only one way to find out. And if it doesn’t work, we move on to Plan B.
Whaddaya say?”
Sam looked down at his boarding pass laying on the table and laughed. “I say… I
wonder if I can get a refund on this thing.”
                                      ---
Just as Gabriel had promised, Henry Wesson was one of the nicest people Sam had
ever met. He dressed conservatively, but sharply, and gave off a ‘cool Grandpa’
vibe despite the fact that he couldn’t be much older than thirty-five. Sam sat
quietly through introductions, still eying the airport nervously. A part of him
expected John and Mary to show up and force him back through security. Gabe’s
hand hadn’t left his though, and it was a solid comfort that he appreciated
having.
It was so weird that after a terrible misunderstanding and two years of
thinking Gabriel was dead — he was now there… ready to take on the role of
Sam’s best friend again. No questions asked.
“So, let me get this straight,” Henry started as they sat at one of the airport
restaurants on the other side of security. “Your parents dropped you off in a
mental institution for four years just because they didn’t know how to handle
your kidnapping and assault? And now they want to continue controlling your
life even though you’re a capable adult?”
Sam nodded. “Pretty much. I even had work and a stable income when I was living
in California. Unfortunately, the abusive boyfriend ruined that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sam. No one should be treated like that.” The sympathy
in Henry’s eyes looked as genuine as Sam had ever seen.
“I don’t—” Sam shook his head. “I’m not looking for a handout. I just need
advice, and a little guidance.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I want to get
rid of this thing, so my parents can’t track me anymore. And I want to have a
job and a home of my own so that if they do fight for control, I can prove that
I take care of myself. I think that would be enough to keep them off my back,
legally.”
“Well, that’s one thing,” Gabriel plucked the cell phone out of Sam’s hand,
“that I can take care of.” He rose from their table, crossing the small seating
area to where a custodian’s cart was parked outside a restroom. He dropped the
phone inside the garbage compartment without anyone around him noticing, and
rejoined Sam and Henry at their seats.
Sam smiled his thanks at Gabriel, before dropping his gaze back to the table.
“I was staying with my brother here in Portland. I can’t… I can’t go back
there. He’s going through his own shit and I can’t be around it right now. I
don’t want to force him out of my life again, but I can’t stay with him.”
“Fair enough,” Henry said. He sat back in his seat, considering. “Sam, I don’t
know you, but I trust Gabe’s judgement. The poor boy’s been through more than
enough of his share of pain, and if he says you have too, then I believe him.”
“So you’ll help me?” Sam couldn’t believe it — his luck was finally turning.
“As much as I can.”
***** Chapter 32 *****

       ”You’re just another story I can’t tell anyone.” - pleasefindthis
                                      ---
“So your brother just left? There was no note?”
Mom and dad showed up. Couldn’t stop them from taking me away again. Denver
this time. Goodbye Dean.
“No note.” Dean sighed and stared down at his hands. “But his shit is gone. I
guess this was bound to happen.”
“Why? Why do you think this was bound to happen, Dean?”
“Because Sam deserves more than I can give him.”
                                      ---
It had to be the irony of all ironies. Sam’s back stiffened as soon as Henry
parked his car in the garage of the tall buildings. Even the thought of staying
in the same building as Castiel had his stomach churning… but then Henry
announced,
“I had previously secured a room for Gabe with my friend Castiel. I’m sure he
won’t mind you staying for a few weeks, Sam. At least until we can find some
suitable employment for you.”
Sam began scrubbing at his face, unsure of whether he should laugh, or cry, or
run screaming from the car. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a warm
hand on his back. Gabriel.
“Sam? You okay?”
He watched Henry shut the car off and climb out to go around to the trunk. Once
they were alone in the car, he turned to Gabe. “I was just here a few days ago.
Apparently this Castiel guy gets around, because he had a sordid affair with my
brother. Dean is a, um… prostitute.”
A frown creased Gabriel’s brow. “Why were you here?”
“Dean’s boss offered me a job. I think she was using me to get back at Dean.
She seemed like a real bitch.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” Silence hung between them for a moment.
“So… did you…?”
Sam shook his head. “No. As soon as I realized what was going on, I was out of
there. It’s not really this Castiel’s fault, but the night before I heard my
brother get drunk and cry over the dude. I wasn’t going to get into the middle
of that mess.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “Is it really this small of
a fucking world? That the one person who brings you back into my life is
connected to this weirdo that has kinky sex with my brother?”
“Kind of feels like someone up there’s playing a joke on us, doesn’t it?”
Gabriel’s tone was sympathetic rather than mocking. He reached across the space
between them and squeezed Sam’s hand. “So we gonna find somewhere else to
crash? I can maybe manage a motel for a couple nights, see if Henry has any
other charitable friends—”
It seemed like the best idea. Avoid all measure of awkward confrontation and
just go somewhere else. At the same time, it also seemed like the coward’s way
out. Sam was tired of running from confrontation. He looked to Gabe and smiled.
“If you promise to stay by my side through the shit storm, then I think I can
manage here for now. Who knows, maybe there’s more to the story.”
“Alright, kiddo. Whatever you want, I’m with you.”
They were interrupted by a gentle rapping on the window. “Whenever you’re
ready, boys,” came Henry’s voice. “Castiel is expecting us soon.”
They didn’t tell Henry about Sam’s connection to Castiel, although both knew it
wouldn’t stay a secret for long. Instead, they grabbed their bags and followed
the older man to the elevator and then on up to Cas’ condo. Henry was the one
that knocked on the door, waiting for his friend to answer, before pulling
Castiel in for a quick hug.
They entered the condo as introductions were made. Henry turned and motioned
towards Gabriel and Sam. “Cas, this is my cousin Gabe and his friend—”
“Sam,” Castiel supplied, his skin white like he’d seen a ghost. “What are you
doing here?”
He gave a small wave. “Surprise.”
Henry stopped in mid-step, clearly confused. “Wait, how do you you two know
each other?”
Sam took a deep breath, stuffing both hands in his pockets. “Dean—” It was
impossible to miss the meaningful glance that passed between Henry and Castiel.
Sam’s gamble was correct. Henry knows about Dean. “—is my brother.”
Henry threw his hands into the air before pointing at Castiel. “You owe me a
drink. And a rather good explanation of all this mess.”
                                      ---
After all was said and done, there was no way Castiel would have the nerve to
turn Sam away. He showed Gabriel and Sam to the spare bedroom and said that
they would have to be okay with sharing the room, unless someone wanted to
sleep on the couch. They made no argument against that arrangement and Sam
followed Gabe into the room as Castiel went to get ready for bed.
Sam set his bag down on the dresser, before awkwardly turning to stare at the
queen-sized bed.
Gabriel launched himself backwards onto the mattress, giggling as the frame
squeaked and groaned in protest. “Bouncy,” he said, waggling an eyebrow at his
new roommate.
One of Sam’s eyebrows quirked up. “I wonder if Cas fucked my brother here, or
in his room.”
“Do you want my honest answer, or do you want me to tactfully steer you away to
a different topic of conversation?”
With a woeful look in his eyes, Sam stared at the bed. He remembered back to a
few weeks before and couldn’t help but blurt out, “I slept with him again.”
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Anger and disgust, maybe? He definitely
wasn’t expecting Gabe to sit up and cross his arms over his chest as he gave
Sam a serious look. “Did it bring you any closure? Were you coerced or did you
choose to make that move?”
Sam busied himself with his bag, opening a pocket he didn’t necessarily need
into. “It was me.”
“And?” Gabe pressed. “How about now? Do you still… do you still want him?”
“I… I don’t know. I thought I did.”
“Until?”
Sam motioned to the door. “Until I realized that I was just a placeholder for
him. I was there because he couldn’t have Cas.”
“Ouch. You know, that’s a really good reason to get over someone.”
Sam snorted. “Even if that someone is your brother and it was incredibly fucked
up to want him in the first place?”
“Even if.” Gabriel smiled. “Sam, after everything you’ve gone through — you
have to realize that normal right and wrong doesn’t pertain to everyone. If it
had been right, if you and Dean had decided that you were the only thing each
other needed, then I think that would have been a perfectly valid
relationship.”
“Christ, where were you when I was getting my head shrunk?”
“Right down the hall. How do you think I know all of this shit?” Gabe winked at
Sam, before standing up and moving to where his bag sat by the door. He dug
around inside of it for a few moments, until he triumphantly pulled out a pair
of shorts and a worn out t-shirt. He didn’t hesitate before starting to change
into his pajamas.
Sam turned around, not sure if he should give Gabriel privacy or not, but
figuring that he could turn back to his bag without being obvious. He found his
own comfy clothes for sleeping, and proceeded to change into them on the spot,
quickly.
When he turned back around, Gabe was sitting on the bed again and picking at a
string on the duvet. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Being back with you is… overwhelming. In a good way, but still.” For once,
Gabriel seemed unsure of himself, his voice small and shaky. “But I can’t help
thinking about the last time we were around each other. Those feelings haven’t
gone away, but I need to know where you stand. I need… to know if I should
protect myself from the pain.”
“Gabe…” Sam approached the bed but didn’t know if he should sit down or not. He
knew he’d have to eventually. “When I did that… I’m so fucking sorry. I was an
asshole. I shouldn’t have said I didn’t like guys — obviously you know that’s
not true.”
Gabriel wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “So it was just me, huh?”
“The opposite, actually. You were the first person to make me realize I could
have feelings for someone, beyond what happened with Dean. And… I wasn’t
prepared for how much that fucked me up.” Sam sat down next to Gabe and leaned
against his shoulder. “Can we start over? Without the element of a hospital and
doctors and all that shit looming over our heads?”
“See? I always knew you were the smart one.”
“So this whole ‘sharing a bed’ thing isn’t going to be awkward, right?”
Gabriel shrugged, and stepped off the bed to pull back the blankets before
crawling back in. “Depends how awkward you think sleeping with random boners
poking you in the hip is.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Maybe we should establish a pillow
barrier. I’m not sure my self-control is that strong.”
                                      ---
Dean first went into therapy thinking ‘I’ll find my answers here.’
Unfortunately, as his counsellor liked to remind him, it was more like ‘I’ll
talk until my answers are obvious.’
Every week she reminded him that healing wasn’t based on a set schedule. It
wasn’t like a head cold where the gestation period could be estimated and he
could plan on a date when he would be ‘better’. The way she talked, there was
no such thing as cured... he would just learn to evolve beyond his problems.
Sometimes, when Dean was in a bad mood, he thought it was all a load of
bullshit. He would tell himself that the next session was going to be his last
— and then he’d walk out the next time and actually feel like something had
been accomplished.
That didn’t stop him from wanting the answers to the biggest issue plaguing
him. Bree McKenna.
Though she continued to dock his pay, his employer had finally started to trust
him again, and he was able to find his own way to client appointments without
Goon #1 and Goon #2 accompanying him. And though he didn’t put it past her to
continue monitoring his whereabouts at any given moment, he had stopped
worrying about it.
Which was probably how he found himself sitting in the lobby of a very familiar
condo building on the riverfront and wondering why the fuck he thought it was a
good idea to be there.
He wasn’t convinced that it was — so he hadn’t made an effort to ride the
elevator up to Castiel’s floor. Because he wanted to see the other man — he
really fucking did — but he was also still aggravated about the things Castiel
had said the last time they met.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face that again.
Shaking his head, Dean turned around to leave — and ran directly into a solid
form standing a couple feet away. “Shit, hey man, I’m sorry—”
The well-dressed man frowned, and a look of recognition washed over his face.
Shit. If this was another one of Bree’s tails, Dean didn’t know what he’d do.
Although this one wasn’t so big, maybe Dean could take him…
“You’re Dean.”
“Yeah,” he confirmed after a pause. If Bree had sent this guy to keep tabs on
him, he’d know who he was. “And you are…?”
“My name’s Henry — I’m a friend of Castiel’s. And you and I need to talk.”
***** Chapter 33 *****
Chapter Notes
     SO! Miss Hufflebutt has her computer back which meansssss.... NEXT
     WEEK IS LIVESTREAM WEEK! Yay! The livestream will happen on either
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     If you want to participate please fill out this_form! It's also a
     good idea to watch our tumblrs for posts about when the stream goes
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     This may be your only chance to see Submersion written, because we
     are really close to the end. So sign up, kids!

  ”As long as I am breathing, in my eyes, I am just beginning.” - Criss Jami
                                      ---
It was probably a moot point to start following the ‘don’t get in cars with
strangers’ rule. When ‘Henry’ had suggested they talk, Dean knew that it
probably wasn’t a conversation that should be held in one of the trendiest
condominium buildings in Portland. So he shrugged and told the man that was
fine, as long as Henry didn’t mind giving Dean a ride home while they chatted.
“After you,” Henry said. “I’m parked out front.”
“Okay.” Dean led the way through the lobby, out the front door, and to the
sedan that Henry indicated. He got in the passenger door and gave Henry the
necessary directions.
“I don’t know if you know this,” the older man began, “but Castiel is in love
with you. He may not be entirely aware of this fact either, but that doesn’t
make it less true.”
“Jesus, you really like cutting to the chase, don’t you?”
“When I’m watching my best friend suffer like this, then yes, I don’t see any
point in beating around the bush.” Henry cut off his words as he approached
downtown traffic, but when he slowed to a stop at a light, he glanced briefly
in Dean’s direction. “I know about your ‘arrangement’ — I also know that you
both wish there weren’t a third party playing the part of puppet-master. What I
don’t understand, is why you two aren’t just getting over yourselves and
getting together already.”
“It’s… complicated.”
“But why? Why does it have to be complicated?”
“Because!” Dean felt like a child whose parents kept asking him to use his
words and explain his feelings. “I tried, okay? I tried to make that happen.
Despite the bodyguards watching my every move, and the wicked witch of Portland
keeping half of my pay, I called Castiel to try and explain what I wanted.”
Dean could feel the pain from the words, even weeks later. “I don’t know how
you can sit there and claim that he loves me when his fucking solution was for
me to join another agency. He loves the sex, not me.”
“Castiel, when it comes to medicine, and surgeries, and procedures, is a very
intelligent man. One might even say a genius. When it comes to people? And
relationships? Pardon my French, but he’s a fucking idiot.”
“If you say so,” Dean mumbled. The entire idea of Castiel actually wanting him
seemed like a fairy tale destined to never come true.
“Dean, why are you so convinced that there’s no way he can have feelings for
you? What is it going to take for me to persuade you? The man’s been a mess
without you, I promise.”
The car slid up to a parking spot in front of his apartment building and Dean
stared out the window at the brick exterior. “Nothing good like that happens in
my life, Henry. I mean… I’m a fucking prostitute and this isn’t exactly Pretty
Woman.”
“Just because this isn’t a movie doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy,
Dean. You and your brother both.”
Wait, what? “How do you know about my brother?”
Henry stared at the steering wheel for a moment, before turning and motioning
towards the building outside. “You got some coffee up there? I don’t think our
conversation is anywhere near being over.”
“Looks like I’m gonna have to find some.”
They exited the car and rode the elevator up to Dean’s floor in silence. Dean
began to busy himself in the kitchen as soon as they got in the door.
“Do you live alone?” Henry asked.
“No,” Dean said, trying to judge how much water they’d need for two cups, and
then just deciding to make the entire pot. “And my roommate won’t be out for
much longer, so keep talkin’.” He started scooping grounds into the coffee
maker and turned on the machine. “What’s this you were saying about Sam?”
Henry leaned against the kitchen counter, since there weren’t any stools to sit
on, and watched Dean make the coffee. “I met your brother a couple days ago.
Apparently, he’s close friends with my young cousin, who’s just moved here.
They ran into each other at the airport when your parents were trying to force
Sam to move away from here.”
“‘Trying to’... What do you mean? Sam left.”
“Sam is still in Portland. When he ran into my cousin, he broke down and
confided in him all that was going on. Gabriel, my cousin, assured him that if
Sam wanted to stay, Gabe would help him out. So he decided to break away from
your parents’ control.”
“He… he did?” Dean stood at the counter, facing away from Henry. He watched the
coffee drip down into the carafe. Sam had never been able to stand up to their
parents before. If this was true… maybe it was a sign that Sam was going to be
okay.
“Are you aware of your employer's attempts at recruiting Sam to work for her?”
That got Dean’s attention. He turned on his spot to look at Henry directly.
“What did you just say?”
“I said that Bree McKenna contacted Sam and offered him a job. Even got so far
as to assign him a long term client…” he paused for a moment, before snorting a
humorless laugh. “She sent him to Castiel.”
“Fuck.” His stomach felt as though he’d have to pick it up from off the floor.
“But they didn’t... “
“No, nothing happened. To be honest, I don’t think Castiel would have wanted to
see anyone that wasn’t you, but he agreed to the appointment in a fit of
loneliness.”
“I should never have let Sam stay in Portland — Bree’s been having me followed.
That must be how she got to Sam.” Dean laughed bitterly. “And I thought I
couldn’t fuck the poor kid’s life up any more than I already had.”
“He’s not working for her, Dean. I don’t think he ever really did.”
“But she’s got her claws in him.” Dean shook his head and glanced around his
apartment nervously. “It’s like once she knows you exist, you’re screwed for
life.” He scratched at the back of his neck, before turning and focusing on
pouring the coffee. “That’s another thing. How could I ever actually be with
Cas? Bree would never allow it.”
Henry accepted the mug Dean passed him. “Do you owe her any money?”
“No,” Dean shook his head. He was about to say more, when the sound of the door
opening garnered his attention. He looked up and watched over Henry’s shoulder
as Charlie entered the apartment while humming an old Distillers’ tune. When
she looked up and noticed another person in the apartment, she immediately
frowned. Dean forced a smile and motioned to the older man leaning against
their bar. “Charlie, this is Henry. He’s a friend of Castiel’s. Henry… this is
my roommate, Charlie.”
“Cas’ friend?” She looked between the two of them before settling on Dean.
“Does that mean you’re finally getting your head out of your ass?”
Henry turned his attention to Charlie and nodded his head in a gesture of
respect. “Pleasure. And I’m glad to see I’m not the only one of the opinion
that Castiel and Dean need to sort this out.”
“Right? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell this idiot for weeks!” She slipped
her bag off her shoulder and laid it on a chair near the door. “You would know
what’s going on with Cas more than I do, but I’d guess he’s been about as
miserable as this guy over here.” She pointed her thumb at Dean.
A grin tugged at Henry’s lips. “Like you wouldn’t believe. He’s constantly
moping and barely focuses on anything other than work.”
She kicked her boots off and moved fully into the kitchen. “Does he do this
thing where he forgets to eat, and then gets mad at you when you remind him
that he needs more sustenance than two pieces of toast and four Tic Tacs over a
period of twelve hours?”
“It’s more like three cups of coffee and two scrambled eggs,” Henry said with a
laugh. He looked up to Dean and motioned to Charlie. “I like your roommate. Her
and I are going to lock you two in a room until you sort this mess out.”
“Like ‘The Parent Trap,’ except gay and kinky. I can get behind that.”
                                      ---
“I’m pretty sure we aren’t supposed to be up here.”
“I’m pretty sure that you’re a weenie and you’d better get that hot ass through
the door before I do inappropriate things to it.”
Sam rolled his eyes as he stepped through the shorter-than-average door and out
onto the roof of Castiel’s condo building. As soon as he had moved beyond the
HVAC units and could actually see the city, he gasped. “Holy shit.”
“Now, do I come up with really good ideas, or do I come up with really good
ideas?”
“I gotta admit, this was a pretty brilliant idea.” He helped Gabe lay out the
blanket he had brought before settling down on it and holding out his hand for
the package of Oreo cookies and the thermos of milk. “Come on, don’t be
stingy.”
“Hmm, I don’t know… what’s in it for me?”
Sam scrunched up his nose as he contemplated this. “Hmm. One kiss per cookie?”
“That sounds reasonable. You know it’s a ten cookie minimum, right?”
“Do I get bonus points for eating the entire package?”
“Well, no. I want some cookies too.” Gabriel sat down beside Sam, shuffling
close enough so their knees were touching.
After pouring some of the milk from the thermos into its lid, Sam carefully
held it between them and motioned for Gabe to open the cookies. “Do I kiss you
before or after the cookie is delivered?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Buyer’s choice.”
Reaching over, he pulled out a cookie and bit into half of it without bothering
with the milk. Once he had swallowed the bits, he leaned forward to kiss
Gabriel. Instead of keeping the kiss chaste, though, he deepened it immediately
— letting Gabe taste the chocolate on his tongue. “Is that sweet enough for
you?”
Gabriel stared at Sam, his expression both dazed and awestruck. “You have no
idea.”
                                      ---
On the concrete roof of Castiel’s building sat an empty package of Oreo cookies
and a tipped over thermos that used to hold milk. Sam laid stretched out on the
blanket with his head in Gabriel’s lap and stared up at the stars above. “Can
we both agree,” he whispered, “that this whole ‘taking it slow’ business is a
pain in the ass?”
Gabriel laughed as he continued to brush his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Are
you thinking you’d rather have something else in your ass?”
Sam could hear the hesitation behind the joke. He frowned, feeling a tug on his
heart. He was beginning to think that the hesitation meant a lack of desire.
Despite Gabriel’s initial warning that Sam might wake up with morning wood
poking at him — it had never happened. In fact, most mornings Gabe got up,
showered, and dressed while Sam was still asleep. “Would that be so bad?”
“Sam…”
“It’s just, what are we doing? Don’t you want me?”
“Why does everything have to center around a sexual relationship?”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He didn’t have an answer
for that. “I… I don’t know,” he finally answered. “Isn’t that just how it
works?”
Gabriel sighed and pushed Sam’s head until Sam finally sat up. Once they were
sitting staring at each other, Gabriel reached over and grasped Sam’s hand into
his own. “Do you think that’s all that is needed for to people to love each
other? That they be sexually compatible?”
Sam frowned, and focused on Gabriel’s hand. “Well, when you say it like that… I
guess I never really thought about it. With Brady, I slept with him before I
knew him well at all. But I knew Dean pretty well.” He shrugged. “So I don’t
know.”
“Sam,” Gabe pulled Sam’s fingers up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Did
you love Brady?”
He closed his eyes at the feel of Gabriel’s lips, wanting to sink into the
sensation. “I feel like I was supposed to.”
“No,” Gabriel shook his head. “That isn’t how love works. It’s not about
obligation. It’s about did you or did you not.”
“Then… Shit. I guess I didn’t.”
“Love and sex aren’t an exclusive pair. If they were — asexuals would never
have romantic relationships. Love is about finding someone that you are
compatible with and that you want to spend all of your free time with.” Another
gentle kiss. “Sex is just another way of showing that love.”
“Is that… is that what it is with you? When you have sex?”
With a frown, Gabriel dropped Sam’s hands and started absently putting the mug
back on the thermos. “I don’t have an answer for that, Sammy. I haven’t ever…”
“You’re… a virgin?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“You must think I’m some kind of slut.”
“Are you serious?” Gabriel shook his head and closed the space between them
again, snuggling against Sam’s side. “Why would I ever think something so
negative about you? Did you not just hear my whole grand speech on love, Sam?”
“Do you think that’s what… do you think we could have that? I mean, I’m pretty
fucked up.”
“And I’m not?” He laughed. “Sam, I’m not saying I have past experiences even
close to the trauma that you went through, but I am no angel. I’ve been through
— and caused — my share of shit.”
Sam snorted a small laugh. “I guess we all have.” He turned his head to where
Gabriel was fitted snug against his shoulder and tilted Gabe’s face upward with
a finger under his chin. The kiss was tender, and soft, and patient.
When they broke apart, Gabe stayed close to Sam so that their breaths were
still mixing. “We are on no one’s schedule but our own. So, please don’t read
into my desire to take things slow and assume that I don’t want you like
crazy.”
***** Chapter 34 *****
Chapter Notes
     A whole month without an update? I'm so sorry guys. The only real
     excuse we have is that we've signed up to do Dean/Cas Big Bang and
     wanted to get as much of that done as possible. (You guys are going
     to LOVE IT.)
     So. Good news: updatessss!!!!
     Bad news: this is chapter 34 of 35. (Not that the verse will end at
     that, of course. We'll have a couple side stories pop up for good
     measure.)

  ”Saving a worthy relationship is easier than trying to start a new one.” -
                               Dennis E. Adonis
                                      ---
Dean wasn’t sure how it happened. One moment he was in his apartment having a
perfectly good conversation with Henry — the next he was getting shoved into a
car by his best friend and Henry Wesson, and transported back to Castiel’s
apartment. Every time he tried to speak, Charlie closed her fingers against her
thumb and said, “Hush.”
When they got to the condominium, they dragged him to the elevator and on to
Castiel’s floor. Charlie stood off to the side of the door with Dean, while
Henry knocked. She kept one hand on his elbow — probably to make sure he didn’t
bolt out of there.
“I don’t know what you think this is going to accomplish,” Dean grumbled,
staring at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Dean Michael Winchester!”
“What?” He winced. He knew Charlie well enough by now to be able to sense a
scolding when it was coming on. Especially when she used his middle name.
“Dean. Do you trust me?” The soft tone of her voice caught him off guard.
“‘Course I do.”
“Then man the fuck up and do what you’re told, Winchester!”
Dean didn’t have time to respond before Castiel opened the door. Henry politely
asked Castiel if he was alone… and quickly shoved him back into his home when
the answer was affirmative.
Cas barely even had time to realize Dean was there, too, before they were both
shoved into the master bedroom. Charlie and Henry stood in the doorway with
their arms crossed over their chests. It was Henry that spoke up.
“You realise that you two aren’t leaving this room until you figure this out.”
“What are you—” Dean made a step towards the door before it slammed shut in his
face. He heard the lock click closed from the other side.
“Until you figure this shit out, Dean!” Charlie’s voice echoed from the other
side of the door.
“This isn’t funny, Charlie!” The doorknob rattled uselessly in his hand.
“Work it out, Dean,” she sing-songed. “And yes it is!” Her voice grew faint as
she moved down the hallway, Henry’s footsteps echoing behind hers, and he knew
it was useless to try and argue any more. He turned around, letting his back
sink against the door. Castiel stood in the middle of the bedroom, looking just
about as stricken as Dean. “Uh… hey. Cas.”
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean waited a moment, eyes looking everywhere but at Castiel or the bed where
he had fucked Cas. He shoved away from the door and headed for the bathroom.
“Think I’m gonna just… hide in here until they come to their senses.”
“If you think that’s for the best.” Castiel sat on the edge of the bed that
Dean was definitely not looking at.
He got halfway to the bathroom before he stopped and turned back to Castiel.
“You know, this would go a lot faster if you would just tell that friend of
yours the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Yeah. You know… how you only want this to be a business relationship.”
“Dean…” Castiel looked shocked.
Castiel wasn’t supposed to look shocked.
“Are you saying…” Castiel looked from his hands back up to Dean. “Are you
saying you’d be open to it being otherwise?”
Dean rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. “Really, Cas? Really? I
fucking risked my life to see you. Even though Bree McKenna made it explicitly
clear that I wasn’t to go anywhere near you.” He stepped closer, pointing at
Cas. “Do you really think I would have done that if I didn’t want you?”
“Dean, look at it from my point of view.” Castiel reached his arm out like he
wanted to touch Dean before quickly drawing it back. “I’ve only ever known this
relationship for what it was — a mutually beneficial working relationship. God
knows I wanted you outside of it… but who was I to assume that you would want
to give up the money just because you want to be with me?”
“Well, I’m telling you now, okay? Maybe it makes me desperate, or
unprofessional, or whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I don’t
fuckin’ care anymore. I miss you, and everything sucks without you. I don’t
care about the stupid money.”
Castiel was off the bed in a flash, grabbing onto Dean and forcing him back
against the wall behind him. Castiel’s eyes went dark as he raised his thumb up
to Dean’s bottom lip. “God, you have no idea how much those words mean to me. I
can’t function without you here, Dean.”
“I’m here now,” he said, before surging forward and capturing Castiel’s mouth
underneath his own. In that moment he didn’t care if he was being too
aggressive, too forward. If he was throwing off their ‘dynamic’ or what-the-
fuck-ever it was. All he wanted — all he needed — was Cas.
The kiss was messy, and sloppy, and there was too much teeth clacking and
knocking together for it to be even that enjoyable. But it was everything that
Dean needed.
                                      ---
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
Henry looked over towards Charlie and smiled gently. “We both know that this is
the best thing for them. They need to face their issues.”
She picked mindlessly at a thread of lace on her stockings. “I just expected to
hear more wall banging. Whether that be from sex or fighting.”
“They’ll do what they need to. I think they love each other too much to argue
for long, though.” He stood and held out a hand to her. “How about we go get
some frozen yogurt? My treat.”
Charlie furrowed her brows and frowned at the closed door. “You really think
they’ll be okay?”
“I really think they’ll be okay.”
They both jumped then, because that was the moment a very dull but very loud
thump resonated from the wall of the room where they’d left their friends.
“Oooookay,” Charlie said to Henry, her eyes wide, “and they’re fucking.” She
took Henry’s outstretched hand and began to lead him to the front door.
                                      ---
“I have never seen a six-foot-plus guy go down a waterslide.” Gabriel shook his
head, floating in the water and watching Sam swim towards him. “I swear that
splash hit the ceiling!”
Sam rolled his eyes, pushing his wet hair out of his face as he swam up against
Gabe and wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s waist. “I knew you’d be a size
queen.”
Gabe smiled and planted a kiss on Sam’s cheek. “So what if I am? Pretty sure
that’s the right kink for my present company.”
Sam bit back a groan at Gabe’s words, flashing back to that morning when he
woke up with his hard dick pressed against Gabriel’s ass. He had panicked,
scrambling out of bed as quickly as possible so that Gabe didn’t wake up to
that. When he’d made it into the bathroom in a rush, he had spent the next ten
minutes masturbating to the idea of Gabriel on his knees…
He shook his head and pulled away. Even the cold public pool water wasn’t
helping to diminish his arousal. “I think I’m going to swim in the wave pool a
bit.”
Gabriel grinned. The little shit knew exactly what he was doing to Sam’s
composure. But he let Sam go all the same.
An hour later when they were both worn out and tired of dealing with the young
kids in the pool, they climbed out and walked towards the changing rooms.
Before they could get to the men’s room, though, Gabriel was gripping Sam’s arm
and pulling him towards a separate hallway with ‘family’ changing rooms — large
bathrooms with their own shower and locking door.
Privacy.
Once they were locked in the room with their bags of dry clothes and towels,
Sam frowned and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I don’t know that sharing a
changing room is a good idea, Gabe.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel said, looking up at his boyfriend. “I
think this might be just about the best idea I’ve ever had.” He stepped closer,
placing his hands on Sam’s hips before letting his fingers slide down, hooking
into the waistband of Sam’s swim trunks. “I think we’d best get you out of
these wet clothes,” he said softly, his eyes raking over Sam’s body.
A shudder ran down Sam’s spine, and his cock stiffened beneath the wet trunks.
“Shit, Gabe.” He shook his head. “I thought we were waiting? I thought we
didn’t need sex to prove anything?”
“We don’t,” Gabriel replied, smoothing one hand over Sam’s back. “I know you
know how I feel about you… and it doesn’t mean I don’t want you desperately.”
“Good,” Sam replied, bringing his face down to Gabriel’s and mouthing at his
earlobe. “Because the feeling’s really fucking mutual.”
“I can tell.” His eyes roamed down Sam’s body, landing on the hard outline in
his swim trunks. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and worried at it.
“I just want to touch you, Sam. But if you tell me to stop… I will.”
Sam nodded his consent before his brain was able to make his mouth catch up.
“Y-yeah, please. I want that.”
Gabriel’s hands moved again, thumbs tucked under the waistband of Sam’s wet
shorts as he moved his hands to the front and slowly began peeling them down.
The pace was torture and it seemed like forever before finally Sam’s cock was
slipping free of the material.
“Oh God, Sam,” Gabe moaned, wrapping his right hand around the base of Sam’s
cock. “For this, I will happily be a size queen.”
The rest of Sam’s skin was shivering from being wet in the chill air, but
Gabe’s hand felt hot on his dick. He canted his hips forward into his
boyfriend’s grasp. “F-fuck, Gabe.”
“Shh,” Gabriel soothed, planting a gentle kiss on Sam’s collarbone. “I got you,
kiddo.”
“I, I want to touch you, too,” Sam whispered, his breath hitching as Gabriel
jerked him slowly.
“Please.”
Gabriel didn’t have to beg. Sam moved his hand down, undoing the tie on
Gabriel’s bathing suit and pushing the trunks down his legs. His cock was just
as hard as Sam’s, and Sam groaned as he wrapped his hand around it and stroked.
At the same time, his lips latched onto Gabriel’s neck.
He relished the feeling of the smooth skin of Gabriel’s cock under his hand
just as much as he did being touched. But it was nothing compared to when
Gabriel lifted his hand from Sam’s erection — eliciting a small whine of
protest — to take them both in his hand.
Shit, it felt better than he ever expected. His hips shifted, forcing his cock
closer to Gabriel’s. Sam moved his lips up the other man’s and nibbled gently
at his earlobe. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me, Gabe.”
“Fuck, Sam,” Gabe’s breath ghosted hot and wet against Sam’s skin as his hips
stuttered and he almost lost his grip on their cocks. “You keep talking like
that and you might just kill me.”
Later, Sam would probably second-guess himself for coming so easily and
quickly, but with Gabriel’s hand on his hot skin, and voice tickling his ears,
he couldn’t do much more than pull Gabe forward and moan as his cock erupted
over Gabe’s hand. “Oh fuck.”
Gabriel was only a half-dozen furious tugs behind him before he was adding to
the mess between them and whimpered swear words in the small, humid changing
room. As his body came down from the high, Gabe leaned heavily against Sam.
“When we go all the way, Sammy, it’s going to be perfect.”
***** Chapter 35 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you all SO MUCH for joining us on this wild ride. This was the
     longest story we had ever put together and seeing it reach its
     completion is kinda sad. The good news is: this verse is NOT over. We
     have at least three things planned. (A Sabriel one-shot, an alternate
     ending featuring wincest, and of course the long awaited SEQUEL...)
     To all of our well loved readers, please feel free to subscribe to us
     as authors so you don't miss a minute of our future endeavors! (Like
     our DCBB!)
     Much love. Much kisses. Much happy tears. Thank you, thank you, thank
     you.
     xoxoxo
     B and Nat.
See the end of the chapter for more notes

             ”A true love story has no endings.” - M.F. Moonzajer
                                      ---
It was almost three in the morning when Sam snuck out of Castiel’s guest
bedroom — now his and Gabriel’s bedroom — to find a snack in the kitchen. It
was turning into a rare happenstance, but he still had nightmares every once
and a while, and that night was one such occasion. He hoped some graham
crackers and milk would help his stomach settle back down so he could go back
to sleep.
Sam was so focused on pouring himself a glass of milk that he didn’t notice
another body entering the kitchen behind him.
“I used to do that for you, when you couldn’t sleep. Do you remember?”
Sam shivered, staring down at the milk. His nightmare had to be playing tricks
on his mind. There was no way Dean was there. He and Cas were still not a
thing, right? He waited a moment, before turning to see that his brother was
indeed standing at the edge of the kitchen. He remembered back to waking up as
a young boy and going across the hall to Dean’s room. He would wake his brother
up and beg him for some crackers and milk.
“I remember.”
“It used to be so easy,” Dean said, and it sounded like he was thinking aloud,
that Sam’s presence was just a coincidence. “Making your nightmares go away, I
mean. I’m sorry it got harder to make your nightmares go away, Sam.”
Sam looked at his brother in the half-light coming from the city beyond the
large curtain-less windows in the main room of the condo. He’d heard that
before, but this time something else hung unsaid in the space between them. He
remained silent, letting Dean continue.
“But… I know now, what I’m starting to know now, is that I couldn’t stop it. I
couldn’t stop everything. I did what I could at the time, and we were kids,
Sam, and that bastard took that away from us. And I did my goddamn best, and
that’s all I’ve been trying to do ever since, and sometimes I fucked it up
pretty bad, and sometimes I fucked it up even worse than that, but I’m still
trying.”
Dean’s voice broke on his last word, his hands balled into fists, and Sam was
at his side immediately. There was no hesitation as he pulled his brother in
tight. “It’s okay, Dean. He can’t hurt us anymore. Alan’s dead, remember?” Sam
pulled back, leaning his forehead against Dean’s. “For years we’ve been hunting
this ghost. The ghost of the man that ruined us. But it’s time we both let go
and move on, right?”
His brother snorted a humorless laugh. “Funny. I’m pretty sure my therapist
keeps saying the same shit.”
“Therapist?”
Dean smacked Sam’s arm and pulled away, moving across the kitchen to pull down
a cup of his own. “Don’t say shit, man.”
“Okay.” Sam leaned against the granite countertop. “Can I ask about Cas?”
Dean shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“What happened? Are you two still doing this through Miss McKenna?”
“No fuckin’ way. I’m never going back there again — the money can fuck itself.
Any other job is better. And Cas isn’t worried about her, so I’m trusting him
on this one.” Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Cas and I… we’re going to
figure us out on our own.”
“Well… good luck with that.” Sam couldn’t imagine basing a real relationship
off of how Cas and Dean started out. But then again, apparently it was a legit
enough lifestyle that they weren’t the first couple in history to go there. Sam
slowly dipped a cookie in his glass of milk, trying not to think about the
lingering inappropriate feelings that he had for his brother. Despite Gabriel
saying that it was okay if it was ‘their’ normal… Sam knew that it would never
be right. Never could have been right.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sam. Not again.”
“Of course not.” Sam frowned, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye.
“But you’ll never be mine again, either.”
“Like that? No. But can you look me in the eye and say that would have been a
good direction for our lives? You’re right, Sam. Everything that happened in
the past was this big monster we were trying for years to get the best of. We
thought the answer meant being apart, and then we thought it meant being
together.” Dean stepped closer, laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay to
harbor those feelings. It’s not like I don’t feel the same way. But we have to
accept where we are right now. Accept that the best thing for us to be is
brothers.”
Shit. Sam couldn’t argue with that. “I’d…” Sam swallowed, cleared his throat
before continuing, “I’d really like that, Dean.”
“Good.” Dean squeezed Sam’s shoulder before stepping back. “Now… about this
Gabriel character…”
“He’s a good guy, Dean. He… makes me happy. More than I thought anyone could.”
They carried their milk and graham crackers into the living room and spent the
next two hours discussing Sam and Gabriel’s past, and the time Sam spent in the
asylum. Sam was laying with his head on Dean’s thigh, staring up at the tall
ceiling, when he found the courage to ask, “If they come back… will you help
me? With mom and dad?”
“Of course I fuckin’ will. They’ve gotta learn that just because they’re our
parents doesn’t mean they automatically know what’s best for us. We can handle
them, Sammy. Together. I mean, we’ve made it this far. And if I’m workin’, and
you’re workin’, and we both got a steady roof over our heads, there ain’t much
they can do.”
Sam smiled. His brother was correct. They were stronger together, than apart.
They had survived a lifetime of tragedy and were still young — but they had
survived only because they stood side by side. “I’m glad you’re here, Dean. And
I’m glad you were there too.”
Dean leaned down and pressed a dry kiss to the side of Sam’s head. “Me too,
Sammy. Me too.”
                                      ---
Castiel’s hands shook a bit as he secured the handcuffs. He paused, making sure
to ask once more, “Where is the secondary key?”
“Hanging inside the door of the bathroom cabinet,” came the steady reply.
Cas nodded, but it didn’t help ease the tension in his spine. He wasn’t sure
how he was going to get into the ‘scene’ when he was so nervous about something
going wrong. His cock hadn’t twitched once.
But this was Dean’s idea. After their reunion — and after Henry and Charlie had
finally unlocked them from the bedroom — they had spent hours discussing
important moments from each other’s past.
Including one from Castiel’s that refused to stop haunting him.
He had broken down and told Dean about the scene-gone-wrong, when Paul had
gotten stuck in the cuffs without the spare key nearby. He had explained how
that moment had caused him to try and ignore the BDSM lifestyle for a long
time, just because he was worried about it happening again. It was the whole
reason behind him making sure Dean knew his safe word and repeated it
constantly.
Dean had listened intently before suggesting that they recreate the scene, and
show Castiel’s brain that it wouldn’t go wrong every time.
Easier said than done.
“We can stop any time you need to, Cas,” Dean said reassuringly, “We don’t have
to do this. But I trust you. Completely.”
That meant a lot more than he would ever admit. Castiel nodded and clicked the
final handcuff shut, locking Dean’s hands in place. He was on his back, which a
pillow positioned beneath his hips so that Cas would have access for the next
part of Dean’s ‘idea.’
It had been more of a teasing statement on Dean’s part, but when Castiel had
heard ’you could handcuff me to the bed and force me to have a prostate orgasm’
— he knew that was exactly what he was going to do. He started with a slow
trail of kisses that lead down the gorgeous planes of Dean’s body.
The beauty of their new relationship was that they didn’t have a time limit.
Castiel could pleasure Dean for as long as the younger man could stand it.
An hour full of slow touches and fingernails raked over sensitive skin later
later, Dean was almost as much of a quivering mess as Castiel wanted him to be.
“You look so pretty spread out for me like this, Dean,” Castiel said, working
his second finger in and out of Dean’s lube-sloppy hole. “I should get a pair
of those panties I bought for you. We could start all over again with you
dressed up for me.”
The handcuffs rattled against the bedframe as Dean shifted and tried to push
himself closer to Castiel. “Please, sir,” he begged. “Please fuck me. I need
your cock so bad.”
Desire and lust mixed with something warm in Castiel’s chest. Dean wanted him,
that much was clear, from his flushed skin and the way his throbbing cock was
leaking precome onto his stomach. But there was also something glinting and
mischievous in Dean’s eyes, something that Castiel never could tame nor would
he ever want to — Dean was enjoying this scene. Immensely.
“You’ll get it,” he whispered, tweaking his fingers just right and watching
Dean’s hips jump off the bed. “After you come for me.”
The moan that elicited from Dean had Castiel thinking at first that Dean was
coming right then and there, but he hung on.
“I — I c-can’t,” Dean panted, a tear squeezing out of the corner of one closed
eye. “I need—”
“Shh,” Castiel smoothed his hand over Dean’s chest and stomach, his other still
buried inside Dean’s ass. “I know what you need. Do you trust me?”
Dean’s nod was frantic.
Castiel slipped a third finger inside his lover, who looked like he was about
to explode from pure need. Once the third finger brushed along Dean’s prostate,
Castiel leaned forward to lick a small trail of skin just to the left of Dean’s
needy cock. The illusion worked, and Dean cried out and thrashed against the
bed as he came all over his bare stomach.
Knowing that Dean would be extra sensitive at that moment, Castiel bit back a
wicked smirk and wrapped his lips around Dean’s cock once he was done coming.
Dean cursed and the handcuffs rattled as he fought to pull Castiel’s head away
even though he couldn’t. “Stop. Please. Oh fuck it hurts but it feels so good.
Fuck.”
Castiel grinned around Dean’s spent cock before humming against it once and
slowly releasing it from his mouth. “I need you so badly Dean, you have no
idea.” He crawled up to the head of the bed, reaching for the key to release
Dean from the handcuffs.
“No,” Dean said, pulling away from Castiel’s hands ever so slightly. “Leave
them on while you fuck me. Please.”
He growled at the sound of those words, and quickly reached for the spot on the
bed where he had laid out a condom beside the bottle of lube. Castiel covered
his cock with the latex and a generous amount of lubricant, before he gripped
Dean’s legs and positioned his ankles on his shoulders. It lined his cock up
perfectly and he forced his own eyes to stay open and watch the look of pure
joy rush over Dean’s face with the first deep thrust.
There was so much he wanted to say to Dean in that moment — You look so hot
like this. Thank you for being so good for me. Thank you for coming back to me.
I love you — but Dean knew. Castiel made sure that Dean knew all of that every
single day.
Castiel knew at that particular moment that he wouldn’t last very long. He
ducked his head in shame, wishing he had the stamina to fuck Dean all night. It
was too late to change fate, though, so he continued moving — giving it
everything he had until he watched happily as Dean’s cock began to twitch
again.
He wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock and met those life-changing green eyes.
“Will you come again for me, Dean?”
Dean groaned. “Jesus, Cas, you’re gonna kill me.”
“Is that a no?”
The cuffs around Dean’s wrists rattled as he strained against them to reach
Cas’ lips. “It most certainly is not.”
                                      ---
It was weird to go from ‘out of this world, tied to a bed’ sex… to watching the
eleven o’clock evening news. Dean was finding, though, that one of his favorite
parts about his newly developed relationship with Castiel, was the mundane time
spent together. The simple tasks that they did with each other that made it
seem like a real, legitimate, relationship.
Like snuggling in bed and watching TV.
He was just about to doze off, when he heard the reporter for KATU discussing a
‘late breaking’ story.
“... suspect, thirty-six year-old Breanna McKenna, has allegedly been arrested
on multiple counts of extortion, coercion, human trafficking, and contributing
to the delinquency of a minor. Local police raided the Hollywood District
building early Tuesday…”
Dean sat straight up in bed, suddenly awake. “Holy fucking shit.”
Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s back and rubbed gently. “I told you that I took
care of her, Dean.”
His gaze shot a look back and forth between the man beside him and the
television screen. Her face was covered by an expensive handbag, but it was
unmistakeable: Bree McKenna had been hauled away by the cops.
“How did you—”
Castiel shrugged, sat up, turned his pillow over and lay back down. “I may or
may not have certain… connections.”
“Damn.” He frowned, laying back down and resting his head on Cas’ shoulder.
“What if she sends her henchmen after you? She must have people.”
“Nothing can be tied back to me.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on the top of
Dean’s head. “Or you. I made sure of it. We’re free.”
Needing to be closer and needing to touch, Dean brushed his hand slowly up and
down Castiel’s stomach, watching his fingers brush over dark hairs in the light
of the TV. “If I was ever going to fall in love with someone, it would be you.”
“If?”
He shrugged a shoulder, not daring to look up at Castiel. “I’ve had a fucked up
life. I’m not even sure I know what love is.”
“I think… what most people think love is is overrated. Or rather, how they
define it is. You, Dean Winchester, are terribly important to me, and I suspect
you may feel somewhat the same. I think that counts, don’t you?”
That made him smile, and he tilted his head back to catch Castiel’s gaze. “I
like that. And I agree.”
                                      ---
It was a celebration of sorts. And… mostly Charlie’s idea. After catching Dean
in their apartment one Saturday afternoon — two weeks after he and Cas
officially became something — Charlie suggested everyone go out to eat and get
to know each other.
So that’s how they ended up at a downtown Italian restaurant crowded around a
table for six, laughing and joking like people who hadn’t all been through some
hell or another. Laughing and joking like people who were getting better.
“Where do you even put all that food?” Sam gaped at Gabriel as his boyfriend
started in on his third full plate of pasta.
“I take ‘all you can eat’ very seriously,” he replied, around another forkfull.
Dean watched the exchange with a soft smile, loving the way that his brother
and Gabriel acted like two cheesy nerds in love. It was what Sam deserved. He
felt an arm rest against the back of his chair, and knew that Castiel was
leaned closer than necessary. Dean didn’t mind.
His gaze drifted to the other end of the table, where Charlie and Henry were
chatting politely. Dean fought a cringe — as the only two non-coupled people
present, they had sort of gotten stuck together. He just hoped it wasn’t as
awkward as the two of them looked.
As soon as his gaze turned away from his best friend, Dean heard a loud snort
from that side of the table. He looked up to see Charlie holding a napkin to
her face as Henry grabbed the glass of water from her hand and set it back
down. She was laughing so hard she had apparently shot water out of her nose.
What in the world were they talking about?
“There’s no way you’ve seen that,” Henry said around his own laugh. “That is
the most foreign and obscure movie to ever be created!”
The whole table seemed to be focused on Charlie — making sure that she was okay
as she tried to calm down. “That was the best usage of that reference… I just…
I barely know you but I’m so proud.”
“What is going on?” Dean whispered to Castiel, watching as Charlie and Henry
continued to quote a movie that he had never even heard of.
Castiel snorted, leaning closer to provide an answer. “This is Henry flirting.
It’s an art.”
Dean nearly choked on his wine. He swallowed down a larger mouthful instead,
and turned to look Cas in the eye. “Does he not realise he’s sorta really
barking up the wrong tree?” Dean shook his head. “Poor guy… but if he’s really
that dense…”
Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Henry asking a question
loud enough for the whole table to hear.
“Charlie, sweetheart… would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”
Dean could no longer hold back his laughter, as he leaned forward and slapped
the table top lightly. “Oh my God. That’s precious.” Dean shook his head. “Let
him down easy, Charlie.”
Charlie looked around the table, seemingly aware that each of their friends
were listening quite intently, even if they were mostly pretending not to. She
looked back at Henry, who certainly seemed quite clueless to the fact that they
were suddenly everyone’s focus. The look on Charlie’s face bordered on a smile,
but was wholly quite unreadable.
The smile slipped from Dean’s face.
“You know what, Henry?” Charlie said, smiling openly now as she placed a black-
nailed and tattooed hand on top of Henry’s. “I would love to.”
Dean was going to pass out. “Are pigs flying?” he mumbled.
“I’m… not… sure,” was all Castiel could manage. He looked just as confused as
Dean.
“I think they’re cute,” Sam interjected from his spot on the other side of
Dean. “And I don’t think anyone sitting at this table can give an argument
against unusual relationships without being a hypocrite.”
That was true. His little brother definitely had a point.
But still… Charlie and Henry? Charlie, the punk-rock ‘eat ‘em and leave ‘em’
queen, with Henry — everyone’s favorite 30-year-old grandpa?
Dean gave it one date, tops.
“Oh shit,” Cas growled under his breath. Raising an eyebrow, Dean turned to Cas
and tried to figure out why his lover-turned-something was looking worriedly
across the restaurant. Castiel cowered a bit. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in.”
He said it loud enough for the whole table to hear and turn to look.
But it was two very distinct voices on his left that simultaneously asked, “You
know Paul?”
And then looked back at each other in shock.
                                --- The End ---
Chapter End Notes
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