"I cannot believe you! You've acted like a complete and total wanker since we walked in the front door!"
Balthazar is dragging Castiel back outside. The production trailer has just rolled up, and the crew is scrambling around, unloading lighting and sound equipment. There's people everywhere, moving gear into Dean's house, and Castiel and Balthazar retreat to one end of Dean's lovely front porch.
Castiel leans over the porch rail, gazing out at the Impala sitting in the driveway like a queen.
"Well it's not like I meant to upset him."
"You tried to buy his car, when he clearly wasn't selling, then insulted his house and his livelihood all in one idiotic sentence. What part of that did you think wouldn't upset him? Why didn't you just stab him in the eye while you were at it? Excellent job, you cantankerous bastard."
Castiel whirled on Balthazar, fury in his eyes.
"I told you I didn't want to do this," he hissed. "Over and over again, I told you. And you refused to listen, you just plowed ahead as usual. You don't care what happens as long as you get the shot you want and the footage you need. You're a damn bloodsucker, Balthazar. Don't even presume to act like I'm the only one at fault here. Maybe next time you should consult me first before you make idiotic plans!"
"Well, maybe you shouldn't have gotten a reputation for being an asshole, and I wouldn't have to work so hard on fixing your PR. Have you forgotten the little incident in Los Angeles? Because I haven't. And if that gets out, you're screwed. Career-ending screwed, Cassie. I've done everything I can to bury that. Now it's time to play nice for the cameras. You can only get away with playing God for so long, Cassie dear. Time to come back down to Earth and make friends with the other children, starting with Mr. Winchester."
Castiel huffs and drops into a white rocking chair. Balthazar's right. That incident in California could end him. He'd been drunk, very drunk, and made a stupid mistake, making an obscene pass at a very well known, very straight celebrity. Luckily, the guy wasn't interested in his name getting out there either, so for now at least, it was all very hush hush. But if the other party ever started talking…
Food Network had no issue with openly gay chefs. They did have an issue with their stars getting into trouble, and being accused of sexual harassment by an Oscar winning actor would definitely be an issue for them.
So Balthazar buried it. He made sure everyone involved was compensated, took care of the actor, and made it go away. Unfortunately for Castiel, that left him pretty much at Balthazar's mercy where PR was concerned. Hence the recent trips to Savannah and New Orleans to play nice with America's Sweetheart and Mr. Cajun Himself.
"Ok. Fine. I'll do this your way, I'll smile and be friendly and charming. I won't insult his house or car or livelihood or even the cracks in his driveway. I'll go to the store with him and be helpful, I'll show him how to mince garlic like a pro, and when it's over, I'll go home and sip some Merlot and forget this ever happened."
"That's my boy," Balthazar retorts sarcastically. "Now go get dressed. Dammit, we're behind schedule already."
Castiel nods, and pulls himself back up out of the chair, and wanders down the steps to the small RV parked at the end of Dean's driveway.
He looks longingly at the Impala before making his way inside. Maybe he could play nice enough to convince Dean to take him for a ride later.
Hey, a guy could hope.
Dean, dressed now in the clothes Charlie had selected for him, made his way down the steps, carrying on a discussion with his new friend about who was the better starship captain.
"Kirk, hands down, all-time best."
"No, dude, Janeway! She broke down the standard, she was pioneering."
"Kirk was a badass. He was like the Han Solo of Star Trek."
"Oh, please. Seriously, you're going to try and put Kirk in the same league as Solo? We all know Solo tops them all."
"Well, that's true. Solo, Mal Reynolds, and Kirk. That's my team."
"Ooh, yeah, I can get behind the Mal Reynolds. Love me some Joss Whedon."
"Me too! Buffy fan?"
"Does a slayer carry a sharp stick?
Dean laughed at Charlie's response. They were still laughing when they walked into his den, flopping down on the leather couch simultaneously. Charlie's eyes swept the room, checking out the memorabilia on the walls, and the loaded book shelves.
"Lot of books, lots of awesome DVD's, no game system?"
Dean grins and stands, crossing the room to the fireplace. "I come prepared, sister," he smiles, and pulls on the front of the mantle. The mantle opens on a hinge, revealing a large open space inside.
"Oh baby. Oh baby. I'm so moving in here. PS3, Xbox, Wii? Holy cow, I'd marry you just for the game stations, except I'm totally taken. You're like my evil twin though. Older evil twin, but still."
"Taken, huh?"
"Yeah, my girlfriend Gilda actually goes to KU. She's an Environmental Studies major. Dude, I'm from Topeka, so I was pretty friggin' happy you turned out to be a Kansan too. I was ready to come home for a while."
"Grew up here too?"
"Yup, but left as soon as I was old enough, moved to New York. Met Gilda online, and poof! Back to Kansas. I split my time between here and there."
"Must be kinda hard."
"Sometimes. But she's totally worth it." Charlie gets a moony look on her face, and Dean can't help but smile. He could tell she was completely nuts about this Gilda chick. Grabbing a picture frame off the end table, she looks at it a moment, then looks up at Dean. "Is this Sam?"
"Yup, that's my "little" brother." He loves that picture. He and Sam were standing on the sand on the beach at Waikiki. He'd taken Sam to Hawaii as a graduation gift when his brother finished law school several years before. Braved a plane and everything.
In the picture, they've got their arms around each other's shoulders, huge smiles and dark sunglasses, Sam's ridiculous floppy hair wind-blown, both a little drunk from one too many Mai Tai's. Dean had never had more fun then he'd had that week. Drinking too much, learning to surf, taking long drives around Oahu, visiting the Arizona at Pearl Harbor, just him and Sam, doing whatever the hell they wanted, whenever they wanted.
They were young, and happy, and content with their lives.
Now, less than five years later, and Sam was still happy, a rising star at his law firm, married to his beautiful Jess, gorgeous house in Overland Park, and talking about starting a family.
And Dean? Well, he had a house. And a business. And his beautiful car. So that would have to be enough for now.
"Dude. He's taller than you, and you're not exactly short. He's like some kind of, I don't know?"
"Sasquatch?" Dean supplies with a smile.
Charlie giggles. "You totally call him that, don't you."
"Yeah."
She laughs again, and Balthazar sweeps back into the room, chatting a mile a minute to the people around him, giving orders, all while typing on his phone. "Oh, lovely, you're ready, just need hair and makeup, Charlie, take him out to the trailer please."
"You got it boss."
"Makeup?" Dean whispers.
"Don't worry, we're not talking about making you a girl or anything dude. Just enough to make you not too shiny for the cameras. You won't be a painted whore." She grins and Dean chuckles.
"Well that's a relief."
Castiel is leaning back in the chair, getting his hair artfully mussed into the preferred style, what Jeannie calls "sex hair", when Charlie brings Dean in.
His new outfit is even better than the old one.
He's wearing tight, really tight, dark blue jeans that fit him perfectly, a nicely fitted black blazer, and a jade v neck tee that makes those damn green eyes appear even greener. Castiel mourns the loss of the bare feet, as Dean now has on a pair of laced-up black leather boots. He sits in the chair Charlie directs him to, looking horrendously uncomfortable as he takes in the myriad of styling products and makeup lining the shelf below the large mirror directly across from him.
Dean looks over at Castiel for second, meets his eyes, and looks away quickly, a hint of shyness in his expression that turns Castiel to goo. God, he's just so damn adorable, and he doesn't even realize the effect he has.
"Ok, Chef, you're done. Go get dressed." Jeannie points to the back of the trailer. "Your outfit's back there waiting for you."
"Sounds good." He stands, looks at Dean for a second, who's furtively looking everywhere but at him, then heads to the back.
Castiel finds the outfit she'd laid out for him, and starts stripping out of his other clothes. He can hear Jeannie and Dean talking in the other room, and he can't help but smile at the sheer amount of nervousness in the other man's voice.
Dressing quickly, he walks back into the makeup area, watching as Jeannie smears foundation and powder on Dean's face, hiding most of his lovely freckles. He knows the makeup is necessary, but still, it seems like such a shame to cover all of that up.
Dean's still not looking at him, and avoids his eyes when Castiel comes and stands behind the chair so he can see Dean's face in the mirror.
"Looking good," he says softly, and pats Dean on the shoulder, enjoying the other man's slight flinch.
What is that asshat playing at?
Twenty minutes ago, he's acting like he can't stand Dean, now he's patting his shoulder and being all complimentary and digging into Dean's skull with those damn blue eyes.
Dean's an honest guy, and he can appreciate attractive scenery. Chef Castiel's intense blue eyes haven't escaped his notice. He hasn't missed the thick dark brown mop on the guy's head that screams all night sex, and he sure hasn't missed the way his whole face changes when he smiles.
He's changed into a simple white button down and navy blue pants, and Dean finds he actually kind of misses the torn jeans and ratty tee. Then he mentally kicks his own ass for that thought. Castiel leans in closer, and Dean's really had enough.
"Dude. Personal space, Cas!"
Castiel stands up, back rigid. "What did you call me?"
"Cas. Short for Castiel, which is friggin' mouthful."
Castiel's face goes stormy, and Dean figures he's gone too far, then Castiel shrugs.
"I like it," he says, and makes his way out of the trailer.
Jeannie laughs at the confusion on Dean's face.
"Guess he thinks it's better than Cassie, which is what Balthazar calls him. I think he likes you, Dean, he just sometimes has a weird way of showing it," Charlie chimes in, laughter in her voice as well. "Anyway, when Jeannie's done with you, come outside and find us. The sound and camera guys are working on the Impala, so we'll be over there." She ducks out the door, furiously typing away on her cell as she goes.
"Ok," Dean calls after her, looking in the mirror as Jeannie messes with his hair, Charlie's words suddenly clicking into his confused brain. "Working on the…wait, what are they doing to my car?!"
Castiel is standing next to the Impala, watching the camera guys set up the mini cams, when Dean comes flying out of the trailer, the makeup bib still around his neck, fear and fury warring for dominance on his mostly made-up face.
"What the hell are you doing to my car?!" he shrieks, yanking one of the camera guys off the hood and inspecting the camera mount.
"It's ok!" Charlie yells, "It's just temporary, it won't hurt the car or anything, I swear!"
"Why are they doing it in the first place? I didn't think we were filming in my damn car for pete's sake!"
"I believe the plan is to drive to the store in the Impala," Castiel informed Dean.
"What? Why would we do that?"
"My idea!" Balthazar smiles, as he appears in the center of the commotion. "The episode is mostly about you, and your home, your life, so I thought you and Cassie should ride to the store in your car. Makes sense to me." He clearly considers the matter settled and moves off to handle other issues.
Castiel watches several emotions dance across Dean's face, resignation finally settling in. It's fascinating to watch him. His face is so open, and his eyes tell a person exactly what they want to know. Castiel wonders what he would see in those eyes if Dean were excited, or aroused, and he mentally stomps on that train of thought.
"No control in my own damn house," Dean grumbles, as Jeannie and Charlie both grab an arm and drag him back to the makeup trailer.
"Don't get a single damn scratch on this car," Castiel informs the crew, wondering why the car is so very important to Dean, but finding that he cares enough to see it protected for him. The camera guys acknowledge his words, and get back to working, and Castiel wanders back into the house.
Other members of the crew are moving around the kitchen, moving stuff off of Dean's counters, replacing it with things they'll need, and setting up lights and sound equipment.
Castiel moves into the den, marveling at Dean's built in bookshelves, wondering if this was something else the man did himself. There's lots of DVD's, and lots of books, several of which are thick Chilton's car repair manuals.
He's surprised to see titles by Vonnegut, Kerouac, Poe, and Lovecraft. Apparently, being a mechanic does not preclude intelligence, and he's disappointed in himself for ever thinking it did.
On the mantle are several framed pictures, and he looks at them with interest. One catches his eye right away. It's of the Impala, and leaning against her hood is a handsome dark haired man with an arm wrapped around a gorgeous blonde woman. She's holding a dark haired infant; the man has a blonde toddler in his arms. They're all smiling, and Castiel notices the woman has Dean's eyes.
"That's me, my brother, and my mom and dad. Now you know why I won't sell the car," Dean says softly behind him, and Castiel jumps slightly and sets the picture back on the mantle. He turns to look at Dean, surprised at the level of pain and sadness looking back at him from Dean's eyes.
"Are they gone?" he asks quietly, "Your family?"
"My mom and dad are. My brother lives in Overland Park with his wife."
"I'm sorry for your loss. My parents are gone as well. It's difficult. Sometimes I think of things I wish to tell them, and I've got the phone in my hand and dialing the number before I remember. You never get over it."
Dean nods in agreement. "Nope. You never do."
"Any brothers or sisters?" Dean asks Castiel, relieved that they seem to have found some common ground.
"One brother, Gabe, and a sister, Anna. We're pretty close. You?"
"Just Sammy and my little brother, Adam. But we're pretty close too." Dean grabs the picture Charlie was looking at earlier. "This is Sam, when we went to Hawaii a few years ago."
Castiel takes it from him and looks it over. "He's very tall. You look happy here."
Dean laughs. "Yeah, he's like 6'4", and we were happy. Drunk out of our minds, but happy. After we got that picture taken, we got more drunk, then decided to go to a Luau, and almost got kicked out for being a little too enthusiastic. That's one of those things we don't tell his wife about."
Yeah, 'cause seriously, Jess would've killed both of them if she'd known just how determined Sam had been to kiss one of the hula dancers.
"I'll never forget his drunk ass trying to stay upright long enough to learn the hula moves the dancers were trying to teach us. We both passed out later in our room, he didn't even make to his bed. Slept late as hell the next morning, and did it all over again. Best week of my life, but 90% of it's a drunken blur."
"Sounds like fun. I love Hawaii."
"Me too. I want to go back someday."
Castiel smiles at Dean, and Dean can't help but smile back. Maybe the guy was just having a rough morning, 'cause he seems nice as hell now. Maybe Dean misjudged him.
"Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah, Cas?"
Castiel smiles at the nickname. "I'm sorry about this morning. I was hung over, and I'm not a huge fan of this publicity crap. But none of that's your fault, and I'm sorry. Truce?" He extends his hand for Dean to shake.
"No man, no truce," Dean says, taking Castiel's hand and shaking it, "Friends?"
Cas grins at him and Dean grins right back.
Things are definitely looking up.