The second chapter is here! I decided to focus my energy on this story for the moment, as opposed to "Broken Wings", because this one is simply easier to write. I apologise for the lack of Destiel but promise that there will be more fluff in the next chapter. Enjoy!
This wasn't his bed, or his house for that matter. Usually, Castiel would be woken up by the sound of Meg (the early bird that she was) clanging pots and pans, or perhaps the tone of his alarm clock if he hadn't slept through it already. But today, he was stirred by the unmistakable grunts and snores of a semi-naked man sprawled out beside him.
He gasped silently, almost falling off the edge of the king-size bed he appeared to have spent the night in. The stranger had his one leg stretched out onto Castiel's side, whilst the other was hanging loosely off the mattress, and his arms were stuffed beneath his pillow.
"Hey," Castiel hissed "You, there! Hello?"
He glanced around the room, taking note of the toppled over furniture and discarded sheets on the floor. A sudden, dull throb pounded his head and he winced, massaging his temples gently. Hangovers were certainly not a regular occurrence in Castiel's life; he must have drunk way too much the night before.
Then it hit him with incredible force. Banging headache plus stranger in bed plus lack of clothing plus no memory of what the hell happened last night equalled big trouble.
The kind of trouble you land yourself in when you have sex with a bisexual stranger.
A male bisexual stranger.
When you're not even gay.
What the fuck.
Castiel sprang out of the bed and lunged for his clothes, which seemed to be dotted around the room in the most unlikely of places. He was reaching for his boxers dangling from the ceiling fan when a voice made him jump.
"You OK there, Cas?" His words were still dripping with alcohol and fatigue.
Castiel squeaked, hiding his nether regions with trembling hands "I-I was just… um…"
The stranger sat up in bed and offered a sluggish smile "Running out on me?"
He could feel his face heating up "S-Sorry, I-"
"Nah, don't worry about it." The man replied softly "Happens all the time!"
That somehow didn't make him feel like any less of a douchebag, so he sat himself down on the foot of the bed sheepishly "I must sound like an idiot, but I'm afraid I can't remember your name…"
That made him chuckle "Dean. It's Dean Winchester."
Memories stretching back from his encounter with Hannah up to his lips pressed against this man suddenly flooded his mind and his mouth dropped.
Dean grinned "It all coming back to you, lover?"
Castiel cringed "Yes."
"Then you probably remember," Dean pushed himself from off the bed and dragged his feet across the room "How you made noises hardly detectable to the human ear?"
Now his face was burning "N-No, I can't recall that."
Dean flicked a switch on the wall, initiating the fan above so that the sudden motion caused the boxers to drop down onto Castiel's lap "You want breakfast?"
Before he had time to answer, the green-eyed man had disappeared into the next room, now stark naked without a care in the world. Castiel had to get out of here.
He fumbled for his mobile, which was luckily still in his back pocket, and scrolled through his contacts until he came across Meg's name.
I think we may have had sex, but I can't remember properly. Help!
When Dean reappeared with a bowl of something steaming, he had to slip his phone away quickly and smile.
"One bowl of… porridge, I think it is. I dunno, I don't eat this crap."
Castiel gave a small chuckle and took the bowl politely, peering down at the smooth, cream-coloured food in his hands; 5 blueberries had been arranged into a smiley face on the surface and he couldn't help but blush at the kind gesture.
"Thank you, Dean."
"You're very welcome, Cas." He grinned whilst tearing a strip of bacon from his own plate and popping it into his mouth.
A welcome silence followed, with both men quietly eating their breakfast and exchanging small, awkward glances regularly.
"Uh, so…" Dean set his plate aside after a while and coughed into his hand "About last night…"
Castiel followed his lead, knotting his fingers together shyly "Yes, I think it's about time we discussed that."
"You must do this kinda thing all the time, right?"
He was so stunned by the sudden accusation, it took him a moment to respond "E-Excuse me?"
Dean threw his head back and chuckled "The whole 'I'm not gay, so let's just talk' thing? A real turn on, I must admit."
Castiel clutched at the sheets desperately, now feeling far more self-conscious of his bare skin than he had done earlier "I'm not gay!" His voice broke with panic.
He couldn't remember how last night's events had played out, but he liked to think that despite the high possibility that he had had sex with a man, he was still very much straight.
"Really?" Dean eyed him suspiciously "Are we gonna drag this out now?"
Castiel could only muster the energy to frown at the freckled stranger now glaring at him from across the bed. Sure, after having awkward, unprepared sex, this conversation was never going to be pleasant, but he had hoped that it would at least be civil.
"I'm not some homosexual slut-bag!" He managed after a while, though his choice of wording wasn't exactly what he'd expected to come out with.
Dean smirked "Well, at least you didn't charge."
"I'm not a male escort, either…"
"That's what I said!" He raised his hands in the air slightly "I'm not judging you or anything, but you did kinda pick me up from a site called 'Guys in Gear'…"
"Excuse me?!" Castiel wailed "You were on the site in the first place! And I didn't pick you up; I merely started a conversation with you. You're the one who asked me to come around to your apartment."
"And you're the one who said you wanted to 'talk' and then decided to jump me within the first 5 minutes of our conversation!"
"I did not-" Well, considering last night was a blur, he could very well have been the one to make the first move.
"Exactly."
Castiel pushed a blueberry down into the porridge, watching it become engulfed by a mass of oats, and huffed "Well, it's nice to know how highly you think of me."
"Dude," Dean flicked something at the older man's cheek (cheese, perhaps?) and grinned "I think you're a god… I mean, last night, wow. You just… you could do this thing with your-"
He stopped at Castiel's expression, one of utter humiliation, and everything fell into place.
"Oh. You, uh… you really are straight, then?"
Castiel couldn't so much as look at the man, let alone respond, so he offered a meek nod instead.
You could cut the tension with a knife as both men finished their breakfast silently with eyes fixated on anything and everything that wasn't each other, mentally trying to swab away any graphic images of one another's genitals for the sake of their own dignity.
After a while, it was Dean who landed his plate on the bedside table with a frustrated grunt and turned to face the blue-eyed man trembling on his bed "So, you used me?"
Castiel gawped at the boldness of the question "I-I… no, I-"
"You thought: hey, gay guys are desperate, right? How 'bout I go get steaming drunk and have hideous, homosexual relations with a man I don't know!"
He blinked rapidly as Dean let his mouth take over.
"You and your friend, your ex-girlfriend for that matter, thought it would be friggin hilarious to mess around with the hopelessly desperate mother fuckers of the internet, right?!"
Castiel shook his head in small, desperate motions and managed to jump into the conversation "No, that's not how it happened!"
"What, so you are gay?" Dean raised his eyebrows, knowing that he had this stranger in a trap "Because you've either just discovered your sexuality and given into a long-lasting desire, or you simply wanted to let off some steam and figured that my kind was offering it on a plate."
"Neither!" Castiel exclaimed, his usual low, gravelly voice reaching a new high "You're really not being fair, Dean…"
The man scoffed "I'm not being fair?! I've just been made some straight guy's bitch!"
"I think I'm done with this discussion," His voice cracked ever-so slightly "I'm sorry to have caused you such embarrassment, but it truly wasn't my intention to be deceitful…"
Dean batted away his apologises "Yeah, whatever, Cas."
"It's Castiel…"
"Really? Because that name kinda sucks… it sucks ass big time."
Castiel wrinkled his nose in distaste "I'm named after an angel of the lord. You're named after a statesman…"
Dean's face contorted with confusion for a second, before unravelling with rage once again "Yeah, like I said, whatever… door's that way!"
He pointed out the front door like the stranger might have difficulty finding it and sneered "You know, the one you shoved me against last night when you were begging me to ride you like a friggin cowboy!"
Castiel's face burnt with shame as he grabbed his trenchcoat and slipped through the door, not even bothering to respond to the man's childish taunts.
He weaved down the steps clumsily whilst trying to adjust his tie, knowing too well that it would simply find a way to twist itself around in the end. Anything to keep his mind off last night, or the conversation that had taken place 2 minutes earlier, for that matter.
His phone suddenly vibrated against his thigh.
What?! Clarence, you little slut…
He felt his face flush as he leaned against the staircase wearily.
Just don't. Turns out Dean Winchester is an inarticulate ass-butt.
Sure, that wasn't exactly true; Castiel had actually been pretty impressed by the freckled stranger's quick-tongue. But, it was far easier to insult him right now.
Shame, I kinda liked the idea of having a gay best friend to compare outfits with.
Not all gay men are womanly, Meg.
Did I touch a nerve?
No, I'm simply stating the obvious. Now what about my little problem?
Just leave! Don't worry; I won't spill your secret.
I'm heading towards the exit as we speak. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll disown you faster than you can manage to muster a half-hearted apology.
Geez. Paranoid, are we? I'm fishing out the vodka – I'll have 8 shots lined up for you when you get back. I get the feeling this will be easier to discuss when we're shitfaced.
Castiel winced at the idea of drinking so early in the morning, but he certainly didn't welcome the notion of being sober for this conversation.
His face lighted up when an exit finally came into view, the sign still glowing in the darkness of a winter's morn. Soon, all of this would be nothing but a bad memory. Perhaps it would be a story to tell the grandkids one day (when they were old enough, of course), because, obviously Castiel would have a wife in the future…
He practically flung himself at the door, expecting to be greeted by a delightful blast of cool air. But, instead, a sharp pain rippled through his shoulder at the sudden impact, sending his entire body stumbling backwards.
For a brief moment, he began to panic. What if he couldn't get out? What if he was stuck in this building with Dean Winchester, forced to confront every hideous detail of last night?
Then his mind slowly went back into cycle; he was just getting ahead of himself, of course. With a feeble titter, he tried once more. Nothing.
He searched for a lock of some sort, or perhaps a button he had to press.
Oh, god…
"I'm telling you, Sam," A familiar voice emerged from the staircase, followed by slow, heavy footsteps "I've got it worse. No, no… I don't give a damn if you licked whipped cream off some midget's nipples, mine was actually refusing point-blank that he was gay!"
Castiel blushed an angry red; who did this Dean think he was?
"Seriously? Just, don't touch that lollipop ever again… get rid of it, now!" Dean sounded exasperated as he spoke, but the gentle undertone suggested that he was talking to a close relative "Get this – Castiel, that was his name. No joke. What a fucking dick-bag-"
He stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of Castiel, who was still very much there, in his building, looking pissed.
"Ah, Sam… I gotta go. Just get rid of that dude, would ya?!"
He hung up, slipping his phone into the basket of laundry he was carrying, and ogled the blue-eyed man stood before him. If this was a cartoon, Dean was sure there'd be steam coming out of his ears.
"So, you're still here?"
Castiel rolled his eyes "Yes. Your door doesn't seem to open very well."
Dean placed the basket on the steps carefully "Just takes a bit of man power, is all." He grinned at Castiel "Gays can be strong, too, ya know?"
He wasn't sure where Dean had got this idea that he was homophobic or something, but he couldn't help but feel offended "I accept all sexualities." He repeated his words from last night "And I don't appreciate stereotypes."
Dean didn't bother to reply; he simply positioned his shoulder against the door, holding the handle down simultaneously, drew back and slammed his weight against it.
Not so much as a creak.
He bounced his eyebrows bashfully at Castiel, feeling like his masculinity had been contradicted, and tried again with the same amount of luck.
And then it hit him "Oh, damn it…"
"What?!" Castiel whimpered.
"Looks like we did get that blizzard after all."
Both men struggled to squeeze against the door as they tried to catch a glimpse of just how bad the weather was. What once was a series of buildings and pavements was now obscured by blinding white; a thick barricade of snow had plastered itself against the building, preventing all chances of escape and ultimately sealing them in.
Together.
Castiel let out a long, low moan of terror and slunk to the floor "Oh, no…"
"Ha…" Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly "Well, guess you're staying a little while longer, then."
"Intentions of travelling? Fancying a road trip? Well, cancel your plans and sit tight, because it ain't gonna happen…"
Castiel groaned, his head in his hands, whilst Dean grinned from the opposite end of the sofa.
"We're getting record amounts of snowfall all throughout the area. With what could possibly be the city's worst blizzard in years, I wouldn't hold my breath-"
The screen blipped out with a pitiful whine as the snow howled against the windows.
"Aw, shit…"
"Well," Castiel sighed "I suppose that's just my luck; 8 hours after my first homosexual encounter and I'm forced to spend the following day with an angry bisexual man in an over-crowded apartment."
Dean pouted "Yeah, my feelings are torn to shreds…"
"I understand that you're upset-"
"Dude, I've had more one night stands than you've had Sunday dinners…"
Castiel shrugged "It wouldn't surprise me, being that my only family consists of a sweet-tooth brother and alcoholic roommate; such formal gatherings are not exactly common."
The freckled man almost seemed sympathetic for a moment, but tried to hide it instantly by forcing out a laugh "And that's not including the brother that slept with the love of your life!"
Perhaps that statement should have stung. Instead, it made him snigger, which soon evolved into vibrant peals of laughter that erupted from his stomach like an active volcano. Dean just gawped at him as if he'd stripped nude and started talking Spanish.
"Th-That was funny?" He asked after a while.
Castiel wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, allowing the last dribble of happiness to trickle down his chin until he felt empty again "Yes. I suppose it was."
"Oh… right."
Dean twiddled his thumbs, feeling like a douchebag, until Castiel continued the conversation.
"We can't expect this snow to settle down for at least a few hours," The older man shifted in his seat "And even then, we'll have to wait for it to melt by the door…"
Dean nodded his head vaguely, pretty sure that Cas was stating the obvious.
"So, we may have to make do with one another's company for quite a while."
They glanced at each other uncomfortably, worried that any hints of kindness or sincerity would chip away at their manly sheens and belittle their chances in the masculinity match they seemed to be a part of.
Castiel cleared his throat to interrupt the prolonged silence "May I use the bathroom?"
"Uh, yeah." Dean ran a hand over his face "It's just down the hall to your left."
"Thank you."
In the safety of the lavatory, Castiel scrambled for his phone; there were 3 new messages.
Where the hell are you, Clarence?
Oh, shit… you're snowed in, aren't you?
Remember to use protection!
He grimaced. Sometimes, he envied Meg's confidence and easy-going nature. Such characteristics would certainly make the next few hours more bearable.
The bathroom was small and square with your typical blue paint and while tiles. Other than the toilet and bog-standard magazine rack consisting of three paperbacks and 'Men's Weekly', the room was pretty much bare.
He double checked the lock on the door before replying to the messages.
Yes, and by the looks of it, we'll be here a while… Stuck in the bathroom – reply now!
He'd scarcely exhaled before the next message came through.
Get your ass out of the bathroom and go for round 2!
Are you listening to me?! I may have had sex with a man. A MAN!
Can it, Clarence. Wait… does your butt hurt?
He winced, almost dropping the phone before rubbing between his cheeks frantically. Surely he'd at least be sore after his first time.
No. I think I'm safe there.
So, at least you're a giver!
I'm going to pee, and then I'm going to break down the door. Wish me luck.
Nah. I think this quality time will be good for you! Go get 'em, tiger.
He didn't reply.
Even after relieving himself, the thought of having to go back into the living room and make small talk with Dean Winchester made him cringe. Instead, he took the opportunity to browse through the younger man's extensive library.
"2-headed Spider vs Giant Anaconda…" He frowned at the eccentric title, though the grainy image of the monsters battling it out amongst the city was enough to put him off.
As he was wondering to himself how on earth an author could write the events of two grossly deformed creatures destroying the empire state building during their squabble, there was a light rap against the door.
"Uh… Cas? You OK in there?"
He jumped, flinging the novel across the room "Y-Yes! I'm just, uh… b-bad stomach!"
Why did he say that?!
"Oh." Dean muttered "Well, just call if you need me."
With a shaky sigh, he collapsed against the toilet seat and ran a hand through his hair; it was always especially dishevelled in the morning. Meg had once told him that it was cute, that it contradicted with his uptight personality (which was slightly offensive) and therefore gave him 'spark'. All through college, her bad influence had encouraged him to embrace the bed-head look. But now, as a mature adult, he'd settled on smoothing it down as best as he could with whatever products were available.
Castiel presumed that Dean was a fan of pop culture based on the other two books on the rack, meaning that that was yet another thing that they didn't have in common.
With a sigh, he flicked through the first few pages of 'Men's Weekly', only stopping when the words 'How to spot when he's gagging for it' stood out to him. The title was done in red block letters and stretched out over two pages, just asking for attention.
"Of course 'Men's Weekly' is a gay magazine…" Is all Castiel could think as he skimmed through the article.
It talked about the signs desperate men gave out, the do's and don'ts of dating a cling-on and how to spot when desperation equalled desire. 'Men's Weekly' had proved to be yet another petty, self-righteous magazine catered towards one particular breed of man; ass-butts.
Is he serving himself on a platter? Is he just asking to be taken into your strong, welcome arms? Is his desperation your blessing?
How delightful… It was actually encouraging people to take advantage of others.
A desperate man may play hard-to-get on the surface, but if you beat him at his own game, he'll be putty in your hands. Does he:
1. Come to your beck and call?
2. Play the innocent man?
3. Talk-the-talk, but still melt into your arms?
Castiel tried to ignore the fact that he'd agreed to meet Dean just 10 minutes after finding him online as soon as he'd asked. Or how he'd insisted, even the day after, that one night stands weren't his thing and that he most definitely was straight. Or even how he'd promised himself, Meg and Dean that they were meeting strictly as friends, and then decided to sleep with the man anyway.
If your new man is recovering from a bad split, he may be radiating desperation! Single-newbies are like pretty presents just waiting to be torn open… Highly recommended for one-time flings.
He felt sick as the penny dropped; had Dean purposely sought out a desperate man to have his wicked way with? The article certainly seemed to have Castiel stamped down as being a fraught cling-on just looking for some fun.
Was Dean his distraction from how messed up and pathetic his life really was?
Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt up from the seat, tore the 2-page article out of the magazine and flung it into the bowl. Flushing a toilet had never been more satisfactory and as he watched the crumpled piece of paper disappear from sight, he swore to himself that he wouldn't be that man.
However, satisfaction soon dissolved to panic as water began rising from the toilet mercilessly, creating a glossy pool of clear liquid that seeped into the floor boards...
So, this one is ever-so slightly shorter than the first chapter, but I hope that doesn't matter too much! As always, I ask you to please fave, follow and/or review - it truly means the world to me. Thank you so much guys!