November 2011
'So…tell me about him?'
The glass half way to his mouth Dean Winchester freezes.
'Who?' The glass continues towards his mouth as he downs the shot of whiskey, hissing slightly at the burn. By now he should be used to it, the slight scratchy feeling the drinks bring him. He scratches at his unshaven cheek.
'Who says it's a guy?' Dean was long past trying to cover up his sexuality or be embarrassed but he was not passed being on guard or defensive.
The man laughed. 'Well for one: you're in a gay bar and for two…you're in a gay bar, brotha'
A snort. Dean Winchester literally just snorted.
'Shit…I need to stop drinking, forgot where I was for a minute.' Tapping the bar, signaling he wants another drink. The bartender shakes his head and refills his shot glass. Dean finally takes a look at the man before him. He's large, definitely a bear type, gruff with a short brown beard to match his hair. This better not be flirting because he is not in the mood and this guy is so not his type.
Taking his newly filled shot glass, he raised it and toasts the bartender before him then downs the whiskey with yet another hiss. Ugh his liver as not as young as it used to be. Maybe it was time to call it a night…feeling eyes on him though Dean looked to the bartender who was eyeing him with an emotion that in dean's inebriated state he could not place.
'My shift ends in an hour.'
Fuck. This is so not what he wanted, the guy seemed cool, a little pushy but decent. He was certainly not the kind of guy Dean would sleep with. Although it had been a while since he'd gotten laid, too long.
'Look dude, I'm flattered. Really I am, it's just that you're kinda…'
'I know this awesome little diner down the road a bit, great pie.' The bartender smiled, baring his teeth like the freaking Cheshire cat. Damn that guy had a big mouth.
Wait…did he say pie?
'Pie?'
November 2011
Studying was the worst. Sure Castiel Novak loved to read, but not 45 pages of a book describing the most mundane subject in the world. Being a Professor was a dream of Castiel's since he was an awkward teenager. It's been five years since he was that lanky creature though, he'd filled out, muscled up and become more social.
That's what people have to do when their world falls apart.
At 23 Castiel was in a Master's program at University of Chicago, where he hoped to some day get a position as an English professor. But until then he had to bit his tongue and keep from literally spooning his eyes out of their sockets if he had to read anymore about…what was he even reading?
Sighing heavily he ripped the glasses off his face and slowly massaged his temples in an attempt to ward off the impending headache he felt creeping up on him. He hates long nights like this, where he's left with no company but his own head and a book about…he looks at the book 'English writings of the 18th century' Ugh that shit sucks.
It's after 12 in the morning and he's exhausted, but he's too wound up to sleep.
Mediation. That sounds like a great idea, that would hopefully destroy the headache and wind him down so he could sleep. Of course Cas has never mediated in his life so he simply closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Being wired the way his is though, calming his head and silencing his internal voice is all but futile.
He wanders and he wonders. Growing up in Kansas it made it very easy for him to have a wild imagination, in a state of nothing he envisioned so much more. Though as he tried to calm his mind it wandered off to where it usually did when Castiel let it loose, it journeyed back to him. Being a teenager and being in love was the best kind of high that life could give a person. During a time that is so confusing and painful, love is a wonderful presence. The letterman's jacket of his Cas used to wear, the little notes they'd leave one another in their lockers, the promises made between kisses that were inevitably broken.
Fuck. Meditating sucked. Cas shakes his head, as if trying to rattle away the images. Ugh not helping the headache. Both hands back on his head Cas feels a presence behind him and a pair of hands loop around his neck. Warm lips find his ear and whispering hotly against it.
'Come to bed.' The man gently nips at his ear, earning a groan from Cas. Who turns his head and blindly kissed the man on the lips eagerly.
'I'll be there in a minute, I need to take something for this headache.'
'There are other ways to cure a headache…' the men sing songs as he walks away from Cas, swaying his hips in a knowing way.
'Hmm…you make a fair point.' Cas turns off the light in the living room, runs into his room and jumps on the bed, earning him a yelp from the other man.
May 2012
'Tell me about him.'
Dean rolls his eyes. 'Why is it I'm always drinking when you ask me about him. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous.' Taking a sip of his beer, he eyed Benny with a cold stare that clearly put all kidding aside and told him to leave it. Of course Benny being Benny didn't take any of Dean's crap.
'I'm just curious is all, brotha. We've been friends for, what now? 6 months?'
'You're counting?!'
Ignoring Dean's outburst 'My point is, that you came into this very same very VERY gay bar and sat at this stool and we hit it off that night. Well after I convinced you I wasn't trying to get into your pants and I bribed you with pie…the point is we're friends and yeah I'm curious.'
Dean swallows another mouthful, and stares at the glass. It's true, Benny and him hit it off once he told Dean he was straight and offered to buy him a piece of pie. Dean wasn't sure if he was more confused by the fact that Benny was a straight guy working in a gay bar or if it was possible for pie to taste as good as the pie at the Roadhouse. Benny explained that a large statured man such as himself could make some great tips working at a gay bar. By the end of the night the two had become quick friends and most Friday evenings Dean can be found at the same bar stool chatting with the bartender.
'I really don't want to talk about it man. It was a long time ago, back home. I was a kid and I fucked it up.' He absentmindedly picks at the edge of the bar avoiding eye contact of any sort with his friend. 'Ask me in a year, ask me when I'm sober. Until then, drop it.'
Benny feigned surrender, raising his hands and letting the issue slide for now. He knew there was more to the story then being young and stupid. Yeah he'd only known Dean for 6 months but in all that time he'd never seen him take a guy home from the bar and there had been plenty that tried. He'd never heard Dean talk about a guy unless it was his brother. Sighing he continued about his job, but watched as Dean read some papers for work, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.
December 2012
Is it possible to hate someone so much you are literally numb to their presence? Castiel looks across the room at Joshua, his boyfriend of 8 months and instantly regrets looking at him as Joshua somehow senses Castiel's eyes on him from across the room and takes that as an invitation to invade Castiel's bubble.
It's not that Joshua was annoying; it was just that anytime he breathed Castiel wanted to either kill him or throw himself off the nearest roof. Taking a breath he and forced a smile as Joshua sidled up to him and engrossed himself in conversation with the other guests at the overly swanky banquet Castiel had been invited to. What was wrong with him? Joshua was attractive; he was lithe and fair skinned, auburn hair and brown eyes with dimples when he smiled. He loved Castiel, what was supposed to be a one-night stand quickly turned into a committed relationship that was now suffocating Cas.
Is it terrible to break up with someone based on the fact that they are annoying? He was probably overreacting, yeah. He'd been stressed lately that's all it was. He put his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder, attempting to ward off the sick feeling in his stomach. It helped, that is until Joshua barked out a wheeze of a laugh at something someone had said.
Nope. Definitely not stress, Joshua needed to go.
Sighing he stood from the table, letting his hand linger on Joshua's shoulder as he continued his disruptive laughing. Castiel needed to clear his head, making a beeline for the door Cas pocketed his glasses in his grey suit jacket and loosened his navy tie. Once outside he breathed in the cold air of Chicago, ok maybe being outside was a bad idea it was fucking cold. He shuddered.
'Cold isn't it?'
Cas stiffened, he definitely thought he had been alone out here, turning he was met with a handsome stranger in a tan trench coat. He eyed the stranger warily as the man puffed out smoke from his mouth as he drew away his cigarette. 'Yeah for some reason I forgot it was December when I walked out here, just really needed some air.'
The man laughed and shrugged off his over coat, his eyebrows raised as he presented the coat to Castiel.
Castiel shook his head. 'I'm really ok, thank you very much but I'd hate to have the guilt of your death on my conscious when you perish from hypothermia.'
'HA!' The man let out a startled laugh 'you, sir are funny. But did you ever consider my guilt when you die from hypothermia? You are far too handsome to die at such a dull party.' He presents the coat again 'Humor me?'
Castiel blushes and rolls his eyes good-naturedly and shuffles forward into the coat. It's a perfect fit. He's actually been eying a coat like this for some time but Joshua insists it doesn't suit him. Stupid Joshua.
'Thank you. I'm Castiel, Castiel Novak.' He offers his hand to the man, who in turn takes it in his own.
'Balthazar Routh and truly it's my pleasure, that coat really suits you.' He runs his hands over the lapels to smooth over a wrinkle. His hands linger. 'I don't want to alarm you but this jacket is made for you. You simply must get one.' Their eyes meet.
Castiel swallows.
'My boyfriend believes that a jacket like this, doesn't 'project the proper image' a man like me wants to exude.' He uses finger quotes as he mimics Joshua's voice and rolls his eyes.
'Oh. Touchy subject?'
'You have no idea.' Castiel blurts out before he knows what he's doing.
Balthazar eyes him with a strange intensity. 'Have you ever been in love, Castiel?'
Castiel stops breathing, stops thinking, stops existing.
'Once…'
'But not now?' Balthazar tilts his head and steps into Castiel's personal space, resting his arms around Cas's shoulders pushing the boundaries.
'No.'
"What happened? That 'Once'" He can feel Balthazar's hands in his hair at the back of his neck.
'It ended.' Voice thick. 'I ended it.'
'Why?' Balthazar moves closer.
Castiel moves in, mouth against Balthazar's ear, voice gravelly and low. 'Do you really want to talk about that?'
Balthazar smirks and angles his head to press his lips hungrily against Castiel's.