To Castiel's relief, the calls to his phone petered out after a few days of him stonily answering every one and explaining that no, he wasn't about to listen to people huffing into the receiver, neither would he tell them what a bad boy he was. He was of good ethical standing. He recycled.
Only one caller remained undaunted, and Castiel couldn't seem to turn him away.
It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed hearing this once particular man groan and sigh at the end of the phone line. It didn't do anything for him the way it seemed to do for others. But the caller didn't want him to talk like someone in one of the bad pornographic films that Gabriel liked so much, he just wanted to hear what Castiel had done that day.
And, despite the fact that he knew it was just a ruse to get him to talk, so that the other man could hear his voice, Castiel found it pleasant, almost relaxing, to talk to someone outside of work who wasn't a take-out counter server, or providing technical support while he tried to fix his computer.
Over a number of days, Castiel found himself talking to the caller about work, "...completely disregarded the scripts for the 10-72-F faulty light bulb query and gave them the wrong information, which started a whole wave of new problems...' his family, '...still finding glitter in this couch, and Gabriel swears the Lusty Leopard got themselves completely STI free, but the first time I sat on it I got a very peculiar skin complaint...' and himself, '...still trying to find a precise fit but my desk chair is a little over 3mm too high, so I'm going to have to file down the legs.'
Castiel was the first to admit that he was not interesting. He had a great multitude of quirks and idiosyncrasies that were of interest only to him and his therapist. He did not like to bore people with the fact that he can only eat fruit from central California, or that he hadn't drunk alcohol since the first and only time, his first week in college, when he'd woken up with six ladybugs tattooed across his hip and a curious little parade.
But somehow, when talking to the man on the other end of the phone, he felt, if not interesting, than at least understood. As if he was finally being allowed to present a complete picture of himself to one human being. There's something about the guy's voice, a warmish tone whenever he speaks, as if he's amused, and Castiel wonders if he's being mocked, but then, the voice is too content to seem mocking. Like the purring of a cat.
He picks up the phone as it rings, setting his laptop aside and abandoning his attempts to find a way around the latest virus that Gabriel had introduced to it with a well meant 'raunchy Christmas greeting'. He was just going to have to buy a new computer, and maybe burn the old one. Better safe than sorry.
"Hello?"
"Hey Cas, got rid of that Trojan yet?" comes the now familiar voice, easy and blameless, a delinquent strolling down the street.
"Sadly no, it's gained a stranglehold in some old accounting files, and no amount of anti-viral stick waving will scare it out into the open. It's eaten its way through most of my files, and all my entire download collection."
"All your porn huh?"
"All my movies. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood in general, historical documentaries on the Third Reich, the civil war, the entire Band of Brothers Boxset...at least a hundred dollars worth of television and movie downloads."
"Bummer, hey, you like John Wayne?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
A low laugh. "I guess, if not they should. Give me your email address a second."
"Why?"
"Just gimmie it."
Castiel told him, and a second later a small pop-up informed him that he had email, the internet being the only part of the computer to still function anywhere near correctly, he wrestled his way online and saw that he'd just received three emails, each with a downloadable file attached, and all from 'D.W '.
"You should have it now," the voice said, "that's all the stuff I have on my laptop, lots of westerns, plus Deadwood seasons 1-3 and The Pacific, little BoB in there too."
"Thank you." Castiel was pleased, "I'll download them as soon as I get my new laptop."
"Good, hate to think of you being bored...so, how was work today?"
"It was...interminable, same as always. Though we did get some new guidelines on the use of scripts vs improvisation to answer queries in the most logical and helpful manner."
"No more messes like that light bulb thing?"
"Hopefully not."
"Cool. I got some shit myself today at work, completely messed up a delivery that was going out. All these cartons of CDs were meant to get over to the distribution centre from the factory, and I'd only booked three trucks, when we needed at least four, Bobby nearly lost it, I swear I thought I was going to get fired right there."
"But you didn't?"
"Nah, Bobby's cool, we had a beer later and it's all done with now. I just need to not get so distracted at work, which is really your fault after all."
"I didn't do anything..."
"Yeah, but I was thinking about you." There's a definite smile in his voice.
They talk for a further hour, and burn through what the weather's doing, how they got on with their families over Christmas, what they gave and got as gifts, the relative merits of several different bands, none of which Castiel has ever heard of, as he prefers orchestral imitations of nature noise.
By this time, Castile is genuinely concerned for the welfare of his caller, because surely he must have ejaculated by now. If not, he might have some kind of condition, or he could be suffering prolonged priapism, and is certainly well on the way to losing his genitalia via blood clot or necrosis.
Castiel coughs politely, "Are you...experiencing any difficulties?"
"Mmm? No...not really. Why, line going fuzzy on you?"
"No, it's just...it's been a while and, if you still have an erection, I would advise calling for medical attention."
There's a pause, then a startled laugh. "Dude, I'm fine. I wasn't...you know."
"Oh." Castiel said, then cleared his throat. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"No, I just, wanted to talk, you know? That ok?"
"Yes," Castiel said, settling himself into his couch and getting comfortable again. "That's absolutely fine."
