The Daily Grind
Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.
Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.
sarahlizzie is the best beta ever.
"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, torn between happiness at seeing the little brother that could have been dead for all he knew, and wanting to punch Lucifer right in his calmly smiling face. "It's been…"
"Years, I know," Lucifer replied, sitting down next to Michael, a little too close for a casual, platonic visit but not so close as to be obvious about it. "I heard you were in the slammer and I thought I'd drop by." He looked around, taking in the blank, bare room like there was something to take in. "Really," he added casually, "I knew you had a penchant for teenage boys but -."
"Oh, fuck you."
Lucifer smirked at him. "I believe that was your job." A pause – then, because Lucifer really couldn't help himself; "Has anyone made you their bitch yet?" Michael's eyes narrowed at him, glaring in an expression that was so like their father that for a moment Lucifer couldn't say anything else. "I'm just here to make sure you're alright," Lucifer said, softening as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the table. "You are okay, right? You're getting out of here?"
Michael nodded; "My lawyers already have a case for me. I don't think I'll be in here long. Community service hours at worst. Maybe a fine." He shrugged, because things like this were very easily smoothed over and it's not like he didn't have time to kill or money to spend. Then, Michael's eyes flashed over to the guards, then back to Lucifer; "What are you, to me, here?" he asked, lowering his voice as he, too, leaned forward, the brothers inches from each other now.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you my family, here? A friend? What are you to me?" Michael asked, voice desperate almost, and Lucifer's eyes widened as he realized what Michael was asking. He sat back abruptly, all pretense of closeness gone.
"That ship sailed a long fucking time ago, brother," he hissed, harshly enough that Michael actually flinched, cheeks flushed in shame as he looked down. "Right now, I'm a friend. Maybe even your brother. I'll never be more than that again." With that, he stood, ignoring the little lump that formed in his throat at Michael's dejected look – he wasn't here to be played around with again. Yes, he'd loved Michael, but Michael had made it pretty damn clear that what they had wasn't going to happen again. So, he left, and ignored the way his big brother kept trying to call him back, stopped by guards that were willing to haul him away if necessary.
The next day, on a Sunday, Dean was meant to be in work. In fact, he'd tried to go into work. He'd failed. He'd almost made it there – gotten up, dressed, ready. He'd packed up a spare change of clothes and taken a shower and had, like, four cups of coffee. He'd turned the Impala on and driven her right up to his favorite parking space and slid right on in, and then…he'd seen Castiel. It's not like he had been waiting for Dean or anything. Castiel had just been getting out of his own car and heading towards the doors to the building like he hadn't seen Dean – though really, Dean had a pretty ostentatious car so the likelihood of that was slim to none – and Dean couldn't do it. He physically could not make himself get out of the car.
It said something about his mental state that just one look at the man had him near-collapsing.
But, God, he missed Castiel.
The way he smelled, and tasted, and the noises he'd make. Dean missed the way he could just…come up to Castiel and the man would smile at him in that weird way like he knew exactly what Dean was thinking…He missed the way that Castiel could say something – anything – and it would just make Dean feel all warm inside. He missed the way that Castiel always made him feel like such a preteen girl, and didn't think him silly for it, and the way that he also made Dean so high with the power over Castiel that it was like a drug.
He missed Castiel. Like air.
And Dean couldn't go inside that building, because knowing his luck he'd have to do a video with Castiel and he wouldn't be able to stay angry. Because he was still angry, damn it, and what Castiel had done was…not something he should feel pressured to forgive. Dean just couldn't get past the betrayal of it – he'd told Castiel, under duress on top of that, why he couldn't…do that. He couldn't lose control again. Ever.
He drove home, and his cell went off a few hours later. It was Castiel. Dean sighed, because although he wanted nothing less than to hear that man's voice (because he knew if Castiel started begging he'd probably cave) Sam did demand that he at least get to the point where they could be civil to each other. He picked up.
"Yeah, Cas," he said, making it sound more like a sigh than anything else.
"Hello, Dean," came Castiel's reply, sounding so stilted and formal and so fucking like home that Dean damn near collapsed onto his couch. "It's good to hear your voice."
"Yeah," Dean replied, because he was thinking the exact same thing. "Yeah, yours too." What could a little honesty hurt? "I saw you at the studio today."
"I didn't see you."
"I didn't…technically come in," Dean answered, feeling a little stronger now – enough to go get himself a beer because he needed to not be sober to keep this conversation up without just breaking down and begging for Castiel back. "But I saw you. I'm still pissed at you." It needed to be said.
"I know."
"I don't know if I can forgive you."
A pause, then; "I know, but I am sorry."
Dean shook his head, despite the fact that Castiel couldn't see him; "Stop saying that. I don't want apologies. But…" He clenched his fist around the beer bottle, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he opened it and then took the phone back into his hand. "I miss you. A lot. And Sam's gonna kick my ass if there's no effort on my part, so…" He broke off, taking a swig of his beer. "Maybe we could go have lunch? As friends?"
"How about…" Castiel began, and Dean's heart began to sink; "You just open the door, and let me in? I have pizza."
Dean had to blink at that, and almost did a double take towards the door as though it would suddenly become invisible so he could see Castiel through it. "You're here?" he asked, not sure whether he was angry that Castiel had taken to stalking him again, or insanely happy that he didn't have time to wait and freak out while Castiel came over.
"I'm here now," Castiel replied, and just on cue there was a knock at the door. Dean had a weird horror-movie moment where he stared at the door like it was going to eat him, then hastily went over and opened it. The two men stared at each other, phones to their ears, before Castiel smiled slightly and said; "I'm going to hang up now, Dean."
"Right," Dean replied, closing his phone and shoving it into his pocket before he stepped aside, letting Castiel in. The man looked…well, he always looked fantastic, but there was a tiredness in his eyes that Dean hadn't seen before their fight, and his shoulders were just a little hunched over like he was bracing himself for a blow. His normally bright eyes were dull, already messy hair in complete disarray now, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked thinner.
True to his word, Castiel had pizza. A large meat lover's, in fact – Dean's favorite – which he set on the kitchen counter, looking around the apartment and wondering if it had changed since the week he'd been there last.
"I tried going home during my lunch break, and Uriel practically hauled me outside again, telling me I needed to get my act together and at least get you to talk to me," Castiel said softly, and Dean felt kinda guilty about that, but not enough to apologize for it. Castiel's eyes met his; "I'm glad you're okay. You look…good." Dean grimaced slightly, knowing that that was probably far from the truth – he felt like hell. Castiel sighed, realizing Dean wasn't going to speak any time soon, and opened the pizza box, turning it Dean's way. The younger man finally managed to kick his body into motion, grabbing paper plates from a cupboard, along with a second beer for Castiel, which he opened and handed to the other man. Their fingers skimmed over each other as the beverage was passed, and Dean shivered noticeably. It was torture to be so close and unable to touch. He'd never had to do that before.
Dean distracted himself with the pizza, getting a slice for himself and watching as Castiel grabbed one too. This was…awkward. But kinda nice. Domestic, even. In a weird way. "Um…movie? TV? How long do you have?" Dean asked, cocking his head towards Castiel.
The man smiled very slightly. "I have an hour," he said, swirling his beer around in the bottle before taking another swig. "And there's a game on." His eyes flashed to Dean's, a mix of cautious hope and anticipation warring in his eyes. "Maybe we can watch the second half or something."
"I'd like that," Dean replied, smiling and heading over to the couch, taking the pizza and two more beers with his bottle opener with him. Castiel followed silently, taking a spot three-quarters of the way down the couch. Dean sat on the other end, a little further away than strictly necessary, and far enough away that Castiel felt the separation like cold nail in his heart. He sighed, wishing now more than ever he hadn't been so stupid and cavalier about his relationship with Dean, and wishing that he hadn't even thought of suggesting that stupid scenario for the site.
"Will you come into work tomorrow?" Castiel asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice as Dean surfed through the channels, switching on a baseball game that was just finishing the seventh inning. Castiel took another bite of pizza, washing it down with the cold beer that was much more bitter than what he usually drank, watching the game without really taking it in, his body attuned to Dean more than anything else.
The younger man shrugged, hoisting up one leg so his heel was braced against the edge of the cushion, elbow on his knee and beer bottle hanging loosely in his fingers by his calf. His head fell back against the high back cushion, exposing his throat as he swallowed, eyes focused on the ceiling. "I don't know," he answered after a moment. "I should. I know I should. And Sam is making me go to the court hearing on Wednesday, so I should at least go in to tell Chuck I won't be in on that day, but…" He trailed off, sighing again slightly. "I don't know if I can…be around you."
"I'm sorry," Castiel said, drowning in guilt. God, he just wanted to make it better. He didn't know how to make it better. It was driving him mad, the feeling that he was just self-sabotaging like he did in all his relationships curling like a leaden snake in his gut. "I wish I could fix this. I wish I hadn't done it – it's one of the biggest regrets of my life, Dean, please know that and believe it."
"I do believe it," Dean replied, voice bitter and sad. He huffed a laugh. "That's the problem. I know you regret doing it. So why did you? That's what I can't figure out." He turned his head, then, looking Castiel in the eye. "Do you even know the answer to that?"
Castiel blinked, his eyes going back to the TV, and answered that he didn't.
"Jo – the girl I almost killed – came to see me yesterday," Dean said, looking back up to the ceiling again in time for Castiel to turn his head, surprised. He shifted on the couch, facing more towards Dean and bringing his body just a little closer, subtly, so much so that if Dean noticed, he didn't comment. "She told me she forgave me. Forgave me, almost instantly, in fact," Dean said, shaking his head. "I have no idea how she did it. She trusted me, and I violated that, and turned it against her, and almost killed her with it. I took some secret part of her and used it against her, and almost destroyed her with it. And she forgave me." He blinked, coughing once to clear his throat before taking another swig of beer – the alcohol was loosening his tongue, creating a pleasant little fog in his brain. "That's what you did, you know. In my eyes. Not to the same extent, of course, but that's what you did – you took something I trusted you with and you just…But she forgave me, and I wonder if it makes me a horrible person that I can't find the will to forgive you. I want to, but I don't know if I can."
"You and Jo are not the same person," Castiel managed to choke out, his heart sinking just a little at every word – because Dean was comparing what Castiel had done to near-murder. "And physical wounds are a lot easier to heal, sometimes."
"Why do you keep making allowances for me?" Dean growled suddenly, turning and lifting his head to narrow his eyes at Castiel. "I'm being unreasonable. You know I'm being unreasonable – acting out and punishing you for something that didn't even happen – and you're not even angry. Don't you care?"
Castiel paused, frowning, the mood swing throwing him for a loop for a moment; "I was angrier at myself more than anything else," he confessed, aware that he was treading thin ice. "And as far as I'm concerned, you're allowed to act however you want. I don't have control over what you do, Dean." His voice lowered to a whisper, eyes dropping as he was unable to hold Dean's intense gaze. "I can't, and eventually I'll accept that."
There was an infinitely long pause, before Dean sighed and settled back. "Let's just watch the game, okay?" he asked, taking one more bite of his pizza slice. Castiel nodded, and neither of them spoke until it was time for Castiel to leave again. Dean showed him out with a small smile, and right before Castiel left the younger man threw his arms around him, holding him for just a moment longer than what was necessary between friends, and Castiel left feeling warm and just a little bit like things were getting better, slowly but surely.
"Sam," Castiel said by way of announcing his arrival back at the studio, striding up to where Sam was grabbing himself a coffee, without his significant other half plastered to him in some way – the younger Winchester turned to him, cradling the steaming mug in his hands; "What would you do if someone got mad at you for not being angry at their unreasonable attitude?"
Sam paused, raising first one eyebrow, then both as he deliberately stalled, blowing on his coffee to cool it down, then taking a sip, and then answering. "I take it you talked to Dean?"
"I don't know what to do," Castiel said, looking around and throwing his arms in the air desperately before his eyes went back to Sam and he seemed to deflate. "I don't know how to fix this – I want to, so damn badly, Sam, and I don't know how. Please, help me. You have to help me."
Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as he took another sip. "I don't owe you anything, Castiel – the only reason I'm willing to help is because you do make Dean happy when you're not fucking with his head."
"Please, Sam." Castiel was so desperate, so close to just outright getting on his knees in front of Sam and begging. He just wanted to have Dean back. "Please, I miss him so much. I need him, like breathing, Sam – it feels like I…I can't exist when he's angry at me."
Sam was smiling. "I think you need to tell him that, don't you?"
Castiel paused. "It sounds like you want me to guilt him into loving me again. I can't do that to him, Sam – I don't want to mess with his emotions and his mind anymore. I love him. I've never felt like this before, and I can't…when we're in the same room…it's all I can do to not touch him. I need to touch him again."
Sam straightened with a sigh. "Tell. Him. That."
"I…"
"Listen, Cas," Sam interrupted with another sigh, setting his cup of coffee down before he turned back to the smaller man, placing his hands on his shoulders so that Castiel had no option but to meet his eyes. "Dean loves you, okay? He wouldn't still be angry if he wasn't. One of you has to make the first move and it sure as hell isn't going to be him. Now pull your head out of your pitying ass and clear the air."
Castiel frowned. "I tried that."
"Bringing pizza and just letting him talk isn't clearing the air, Cas," Sam said, straightening and letting Castiel go, and the man fleetingly wondered how Sam even knew that he'd done that. "Just make him civil by Wednesday, alright?"
"What if I can't?" Castiel whispered, his voice betraying the hopelessness he felt.
"Try harder."
Dean had cleaned up his apartment a bit since Castiel left that afternoon – he'd gone through all the rooms (all of them) and cleaned them out. The apartment looked like it had just been moved into – there were even boxes. Castiel knocked carefully on the door and it swung open because Dean had kept it open and unlocked to encourage air circulation between the windows and door. Dean came in from the bedroom, carrying what looked suspiciously like bathroom cleanser, and stopped, staring at him.
"Sam, Gabriel and I were going to the Roadhouse after work, and I was wondering if you would join us," Castiel said, coming up with the lie on the spot and really hoping that Sam and Gabriel didn't have plans because that would just make him look like a jackass. Dean paused, setting the cleanser down on the kitchen counter, still staring at Castiel, and then finally nodded.
"Yeah, sure, I'll go. When are you leaving?"
"Sam and Gabriel finish in a few hours. I just wanted to give you time to…What are you doing?" Castiel asked, his eye being caught by a large box near Dean's DVD/book shelf, half-full of movies and books. Castiel went over and began to sift through it, forgetting himself and the fact that he wasn't exactly welcome here for a moment.
Dean shrugged, coming up behind him for a moment as he thumbed aside a couple of movies, then moved away again as he picked up a pile of dirty sheets and laundry that would go into the next load – because he was lucky enough to have a washer-drier combo in his apartment and didn't have to use the communal one. "Just getting rid of some things."
"Why?" Castiel asked, unable to fight the insane notion that Dean was moving away and leaving town without a word.
"Because I don't watch those movies anymore, or read those books. I just kept them because they take up room, but I don't need them and they can be put to better use elsewhere." Dean was a flurry of movement, never stopping and even as he spoke he added another DVD, as an afterthought. "I used to like them, or got them as gifts, and then I just never got rid of them despite the fact that there are perfectly good new movies that I love that can have their places on those shelves, and I didn't have room for because of all those ones that I don't need anymore. So…" He went back to grab the cleanser. "I'm getting rid of them."
Castiel paused, biting his lip as Dean moved away again, leaving him to his own devices, and he started rifling through the box. It wasn't large, but there were a lot of books and DVDs in it, and Castiel found himself fighting the insane paranoia that he would find the first movie they'd made together in amongst the 'old' things he didn't need anymore.
It wasn't there.
"Hey, Dean?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to where Dean was wiping dust off his windowsills using a wetted towel. The man nodded but didn't answer; "Where's the DVD we made?" It was a loaded question, and he knew it was, but Dean surprised him by just smiling a little and jerked his head towards the shelf.
Castiel looked to the shelf, searching out a white cover, and he found it right at eye level, exactly in the middle of the DVD's that had been left behind, which took up about three quarters of the space. He smirked a little to see that not only did Dean have the copy he had – the one not gaudy for the public – but the mass released version as well, right next to each other. He ran his fingers down the spine; a little knot easing in his chest that he hadn't known was there until he'd seen it.
Dean wasn't trying to throw him out.
Castiel sighed, and then turned around, to see Dean still cleaning. "I'll leave now, if you want," he said, feeling awkward as he'd essentially just invited himself into the home of a man with whom he didn't really know where he stood. Dean tensed slightly, looking over his shoulder at Castiel. "I'll see you at the Roadhouse."
"Wait," Dean said before he could stop himself, moving away from the window to stop Castiel leaving. He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets for a moment before he looked around the apartment. "I could use some help moving this stuff. You know, if you're not busy or anything." He shrugged again, and Castiel grinned.
"I'd love to."
He spent the next hour cleaning Dean's apartment with him, and he had just enough time to actually call Sam and Gabriel to arrange the Roadhouse thing; Dean put on some rock album playing gently in the background as the two men worked until Dean's apartment looked almost like new, the boxed full of unwanted things stacked up by the door. "I'll load those in the Impala tomorrow…on my way to work," Dean said, eyes flashing to Castiel's for a moment then away. "For now we can take your car to the Roadhouse, if you drove here."
"I did," Castiel said, feeling like he was somehow fixing this without even realizing it. And he needed to stop thinking about fixing, because this was going well, for once, and he would do whatever he needed to so that Dean stayed at least his friend. He fished his keys out of his jeans as proof. "Shall we?"
Dean looked at himself – sweaty and dust-covered, because the day was hot and he'd been running around the apartment all day – and wrinkled his nose. "Let me change first," he said, going into his bedroom for a moment. Castiel waited patiently and ignored the fact that Dean had shut the door behind him to stop any spying. Though they were healing, he wasn't out of the woods yet. Dean came back out a few minutes later dressed in much of what Castiel suspected was his entire wardrobe; jeans, t-shirt and unbuttoned shirt over it, boots already put on and he'd splashed water on his face, scrubbing away the dirt that had gathered around his neck and face. He smiled slightly at Castiel, looking nervous as he sidled up to the door, pausing to let Castiel through first so he could grab his keys and wallet and lock up after.
"Lead the way, cap-i-tan," Dean said, gesturing towards the elevator that would lead down to the parking garage. Castiel shook his head;
"I parked out on the street. I didn't think I would be here long," he explained, heading instead to the elevator that led to the main entrance. Dean blinked, but if he had anything to say to that he kept it to himself, following Castiel into the elevator and punching the ground floor button. The ride down was awkward, especially considering what they'd been doing last time they were in an elevator together; Dean was flushed and fidgeting, torn between nervous and full of anticipation of the night ahead, because it would feel good to relax with Sam and Gabriel at the Roadhouse – where there were witnesses, you know.
Castiel's car was…well. It wasn't even a car. It was a van. An eight-seater mini van that was the epitome of soccer moms everywhere. Dean raised an eyebrow at the car when Castiel unlocked it, opening his door and catching Dean's eye. He flushed a little and shrugged; "My family was a big one, and since I was the baby I got the car when I grew up. Everyone else got their own."
Despite the fact that Dean felt incredibly domestic in the mini-van thing, the seats were very comfortable and they were heated, which counteracted the industrial strength A/C Cas had going, so it worked a few bonus points in the car's direction.
The next thing Dean raised his eyebrow at was Castiel's music choice; the man had a CD in, which was just finishing the chords to 'I'd Come For You' by Nickelback when the car started, and then began to play 'Crazy In Love' by Eminem. Dean could see no rhyme or reason to it, and looked to Castiel for explanation.
Castiel sighed. "My cousin decided I needed to get to know 'real music'. I find myself disagreeing with more of the song choices, but the radio's broken and I can't stand a silent car," he said unapologetically, making a left turn towards the final stretch.
Dean snorted; "Dude, I'm burning you a CD of real music so you can stop listening to…this," he answered, gesturing at the CD player as though the song it was playing was a physical taste in Dean's mouth and he was repulsed by it. "I almost feel the need to perform an exorcism on it or something."
Castiel chuckled. "I'm sure I shall enjoy your music much better." He pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse, sliding in between a free space and a Volvo Station wagon and cutting the engine. "Ready?" he asked, perfectly happy to just stay in the car and talk or something, but that's not what they came here for and this casual banter was doing a lot for lifting both his and Dean's spirits – they were just two friends, hanging out, and it felt good.
Gabriel and Sam had already bagged them their favorite booth and Dean slid right in so Castiel could take the end, the older man sitting a respectful distance away. Dean's eye was drawn by the two extra chairs set up at the end of the booth and he jerked his head at them, catching Sam's attention; "Who're those for?" he asked, voice going hoarse as he tried to make himself heard above the music.
Sam grinned back at him, arm slung around the top of the booth, free hand curled around a beer. "Jo's coming to hang out and she's apparently got a new friend she wants to introduce to us." Dean blinked, because he didn't think they'd transferred to the hanging out stage after he and Jo had had that heart to heart only yesterday, but hey – more power to her.
"Hey, guys." That was Jo, and she looked…fabulous. Her long blonde hair was half-pulled up, letting soft curls fall a little around her face, the rest clipped away from her pale neck, and she wore a tight thigh-length dress that hugged her slim, toned body very nicely, with nylons and black heels to top it all off. There was a necklace with a tiny heart hanging down past the breast-line of the dress, and she waved at all of them before pulling out the chair, setting herself down. In the dim light of the Roadhouse her scars were practically invisible, but to Dean it was like they were painted in neon glowing paint, criss-crossing her skin and standing out to his guilty vision. "How's everybody?"
"We're good. Can I get you something to drink?" Sam asked, because he's always been a little smoother in uncomfortable situations.
Jo grinned and shook her head. "No. Adam's getting them."
Castiel paused for a split second, then his eyes widened, and he spoke at the same time as Dean; "Adam?"
Jo blushed, and smiled a little sheepishly. "He's such a sweetie, and he just came up to the Roadhouse like a little stray puppy and my mom got him a job with the pizzeria down the street. And he always hangs out around here so…" She shrugged.
"Good for you, Jo," Dean said, smiling a little as he reached across the booth, placing his hand over hers. She smiled back at him. "I'm glad. I'm sure he's a good kid."
"He is a good kid," Castiel added; "Though I'm wondering why you're making the sixteen-year-old get the drinks." There was muffled laughter around the table, and Dean had just enough time to realize that Sam and Gabriel didn't seem all that surprised – because Dean's been kept out of the loop long enough so he probably doesn't know all kinds of shit that's been going on – before aforementioned 'kid' showed up with four beers, two of which he slid over to Dean and Castiel, the third he handed to Jo before sitting down with his own. "Hello, Adam," Castiel said, raising his beer in greeting.
Adam grinned, his eyes going from Dean to Castiel and back again. "Hey man, how's it going?" he said, taking a swig of beer.
Castiel looked to Dean for a long moment – the man wasn't paying attention, wrapped up as he was with Sam filling him in on all that had been happening in the studio since he shut himself away – then back to Adam. "Better."
The rest of the night was whiled away in drinking (though not on Cas or Sam's part because they were the drivers) and merriment. They ended up staying at the Roadhouse way later than anyone had a right to, and Dean kissed Jo on the cheek before he left with Cas, getting a ride home since he'd been driven there, bidding Sam, Gabriel and Adam a good night.
When Castiel pulled up to Dean's apartment, he cut the engine and just sat, because Dean was swaying a little and he honestly doubted the man's ability to make it up to his apartment without falling, but Dean surprised him; he leaned over, catching Castiel's chin in his hand so the other man couldn't pull away, and slanted his lips across Castiel's. It was chaste, a little sloppy and tasted like beer and whiskey, but it warmed Castiel all over, and he was clutching back before he could stop himself, sighing into the kiss and the feeling of rightness that he always had around Dean.
The younger man pulled away too soon with a little giggle. "I'll see you tomorrow for work, Cas," he husked, voice whiskey-smooth and smoke-rough, and kissed Castiel one last time before he slid out of the car, grinning like the sun had come out after a long rain and everything was finally going right.
Maybe it was.
