So, This is, obviously,a Destiel fanfic and I am writing it with a friend of mine, and we switch chapters. However, due to length, and plot points, the chapter we write individually don't correspond to those posted. I am not sure exactly where the fic is going to go from here, smut? maybe? Really not sure. Well, enjoy. reviews are greatly appreciated!
"Next!" Dean called, rustling the papers on the desk in front of him to the next profile in his endless pile. He sighed and pressed the pads of his thumbs into his eyes in exasperation, making tiny lights dance in the darkness behind his eyelids. Auditions had started early the same morning and all of them had been mediocre at best. Some had been bumbling hopefuls who barely had enough skill to piece together a 90-second teaser while others had been pompous assholes the likes of which Dean had no interest in dealing with.
He glanced down at the next name on his list. Castiel Novak. Interesting name. He thought, wondering if it was the man's given or stage name.
Dean looked back up at the stage and saw a single lyra hanging alone in the spotlight, softly swinging in an imaginary breeze. The metal hoop taped in black fabric made a circular shadow against the point of light. No Castiel Novak was to be found. The seconds of silence trickled by. It wasn't until Dean began to wonder whether or not anyone was going to actually show up that the sudden swells of an orchestra burst to life.
Movement on stage right caught Dean's attention and a figure emerged from the darkness engulfing the majority of the stage.
Castiel was beautiful. He was tall and lean, his simple glittering white costume teasingly tight in all the wrong places so as to leave just enough to the imagination. He had short black hair, pale skin and a piercing blue gaze that captivated Dean in such a way that he was unable to break the stare.
Good… Connect… Audience… Well… He wrote clumsily on the pad of paper under his hand without ceasing to gawk at the gorgeous man before him.
Those were the only notes he took for the entire performance.
Castiel picked at his costume apprehensively. Going back and forth between confidence and regret in his choice of dress.
The piece he had prepared was a simple but powerful one. At least he thought so. During his previous run-throughs and practices he himself had felt the emotions he was trying to elicit. The pain of love, the yearning of mind and body coming together as one in desire of a singular entity.
He grimaced as he waited in the inky blackness of backstage, shifting from one foot to the other. He had been there for hours, watching the other performers go in and out, sometimes leaving with bravado and returning with the same apprehension he was feeling now. Others seemed to have little change of heart before or after the performance, a kind of noncommittal disregard.
None had been called back and none left with anything to report but that they had performed and left. That left Cas even more nervous. No call-backs after an entire day of auditions meant a harsh critic. This being Cas's first ever real performance, he had no idea what to expect.
He had been relieved beyond comprehension when he had been lead back to where he was to enter and was met with the familiarity of a black stage, curtains and single lyra hanging from two ropes tied to a point on the ceiling far above. Performing alone on a stage in a theater he could deal with. People? Interaction? Not so much. He was always the awkward one cowering in a corner, tripping over his own words and stumbling over his feet. But when he was in the air, flying through space, dancing with the lyra, he was a completely different person. He was confident and graceful, and everything he desperately wanted to be on the ground.
There was a sudden flurry of movement from the stagehands as they prepared the stage for his act. Cas eyed the person who had gone before him in curiosity. They didn't wear the hopeful elation of a possible call-back nor did they look at all disheartened.
The two smiled briefly at each other and the smile was gone just as quickly, replaced once more by grimaces of nerves.
"Next!" The gruff and muffled cry called Cas into action. Well he sounds attractive… He thought distractedly, shedding his usual awkward mannerisms to reveal his inner performer. His confidence grew with each step he took while all thoughts of the arousing voice of his auditioner dissolved into nothing and all he could see was the single ring of black taped metal hanging from the ceiling.
The seconds of silence stretched longer and longer, growing impregnated by the tension of expectation. Cas vaguely remembered that he was hopelessly nervous. Had this been any other happening, he would have been paralyzed by fear hours ago. But this was his game, his calling. He was destined to perform and perform he did.
He waited with baited breath just behind the last black curtain shielding him from view. He took in one deep lungful of air… two… three... And finally, just as the silence was beginning to get uncomfortable, the familiar sounds of violins and violas accompanied by cellos and string basses swelling in dramatic and sudden uproar trumpeted through the speakers.
It was then and only then that he fully entered the stage. His chest rose and fell with his sangfroid breaths that perfectly matched the beats of the music. He threw his head back and pulled his shoulder blades down his back, walking in the graceful steps of a dancer. As soon as he located the auditioner seated alone amongst the rows of empty chairs, he locked eyes with him.
Cas almost stumbled at the sight of the handsome man staring inquisitively at him. He was flawless. Much too perfect to be humanly possible. This man was strong, with broad shoulders sporting muscularly lean arms. His hands were worn but sturdy and his long thin fingers deftly spun a pen between them with ease. His face was the best part however. With a strong jawline, pronounced cheekbones, perfectly pink lips, and the most deliciously green eyes, it was all Cas could do to not stop and gawk at the godly being gracing him with his presence. All he wanted to do was sit and drink the other man in as one would thirst for water in the desert.
But that could wait. Cas had to get through the audition first, and where he had been determined to be the best, his will to be called back was redoubled at the possibility of spending time with the god sitting in a hastily made up desk, shuffling papers around it and making the occasional note.
He cleared his mind and forced himself to focus once more on the task at hand. As the music trickled through the speakers, Cas spun and jumped his way in a slow and meandering circle around his apparatus. Soon enough, there was nothing else in the world but him and the lyra once more. The lyra was his and he was its. They were lovers ever locked in a battle of pain and redemption, always seeking the other out and colliding together in an explosion of emotion and dance.
He grasped the rough tape of the metal hoop and only had a moment to get accustomed to its bite before he swung himself up and into the circle. He sat there a few beats, touching, feeling, caressing, relishing the feeling of his inanimate partner until it turned into the man watching him from his desk in row 20 seat 10.
The other man smiled at Cas, twirling around him in the carefully calculated choreography Cas had spent months poring over. Cas grinned back at the man, silently confessing his love through his movements. He was lost in the rosy color of his immediate and slightly embarrassing infatuation with a man he didn't even know the name of. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing except him, the beautiful man with his captivating green eyes, and their complex dance, illustrating the story of their love.
Suddenly, it was all over. The music halted and his partner was once more a lifeless hoop dangling from the ceiling. He was sad to see the image of the smiling man fading from his mind's eye, taking one last bow and winking before disappearing completely.
He looked up from his end position, his chest heaving, and heard the sound of one solitary pair of hands clapping enthusiastically. He hunted for the source of the noise, forgetting in his post-performance high that there was only one godly man in the theater with him. When Cas had located his gorgeous auditioner, and found him smiling in the same way his imaginary double had at him, he straightened and bowed deeply. A grin of ecstasy permeating involuntarily through Cas's face to match that of the mysterious man making his way hastily through the seats toward him.
Cas straightened as the man approached, meeting those heavenly candy apple green eyes and doing his best not to gawk at his beauty. He felt as though he was being rather unsuccessful.
"That… That was… I can't even put it into words." His auditioner stated, wiping residual tears from his red rimmed eyes. Cas's chest constricted. Not only was the other man flawless, but his deep rumbling voice was the epitome of attraction. It ran over Cas like silk and sent all blood rushing to his waist with some to spare to color his cheeks. "Beautiful. Yeah. That's what that was. The most beautiful thing I have ever had the privilege of witnessing." Cas couldn't help but blush a deeper shade of red and look down at his feet, feeling his usual awkwardness trickling back into his system as the adrenaline dissipated.
"Thank you Mr…?"
"Call me Dean. What's your name lovely?"
"Castiel." He returned, marveling at the sound of Dean's name on his tongue.
"Well, Cas… Can I call you that?" He continued when Cas nodded, wringing his hands together at the unexpected human interaction. "I gotta tell you, I've seen a lot of acts in my time, some of them I thought to be really good but that? I don't even have words for what that was."
"W-well, if I were to guess I would say it was my audition." God, what was he thinking? 'I would think that was my audition'? Way to make a fool out of yourself Cas. The first complete sentence out of his mouth, and he already had to agonize over the many, many perks of being a stereotypical introvert. It was equivalent to being the world's most sardonic trumpet player inside your head, and unable to make small talk with a dishwasher if your life depended on it on the outside. Well obviously that would be hard, seeing as dishwashers can't talk.
"Yoohoo? Cassie dear, you in there?" Dean's hand waving rapidly in front of his face pulled Cas out of the stupor of sarcastic self-loathing he had been in, only to find himself in a new one, this time due to the blush that was creeping steadily toward his ears. Dean had just called him dear.
"U-um, y-yes?" He gazed nervously up two inches to fall into the green that reminded him of a field in mid-spring, bathed in the rich rays of a day's last sunlight, spires of gold and ruby reaching out from the center, almost moving…. and he was off again. Immediately averting his gaze, so as not to be swallowed whole by those eyes, (no matter how much he might want to have been) Cas found the grain of the roughly painted, black hardwood floor to be rather captivating.
Dean could only half-hide his smile as he watched Cas' bright red face disappear beneath what little bangs he had. "Well, you were sort of out of it for a second, I thought I might have to carry you back to my dressing room if you had decided to faint." Despite his attempts to hide it, Dean saw the poor man's face turn an even brighter shade of crimson, some of the color bleeding into his own cheeks.
"I-I'm sure I would have been fine… had y-you just let me lay down here for a while."
"Nonsense, I couldn't leave the newest member of our circus passed out on this dirty floor!" 'Certainly not one as cute as you.'
"Wait, you mean, I'M IN?!" Cas practically yelled, breaking character. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, an incredibly sexy ringmaster just called him dear, and said he liked his performance, and he got the job without having to wait for many nerve wracking hours for a call-back!? He wished with all his might that he wouldn't screw this up.
"Yup, that was by far the best act of the night, and you were the last to go on anyway. So, when can you start?" Dean wanted to start working with him as soon as possible, magnificent shows involving the two of them in intricate dance, defying the laws of gravity in a world that was all theirs had already started playing through his mind.
Without any further thought, Cas just managed to squeak out an, "As soon as possible!" Before Dean could even take a breath. Any time spent with him, social or otherwise, would, without a doubt, be the best moments of his life.