Chapter Text
Castiel Novak had worked at Singer's Salvation in Lawrence, Kansas for three months before he met Dean Winchester, the son of a long time friend of shop owner, Bobby Singer. Castiel was behind the counter, restocking to-go lids and coffee stirrers, when the bell over the door dinged.
“Can I help--”
“Uh, you're not Charlie,” the man standing there cut in, hands thrown out to the side, his face slightly alarmed.
“Wha-- uh...no. Charlie will be off for few weeks,” Castiel stammered out.
“What? Why? Where's Bobby? Bobby!” Customers in the store looked up from their laptops and morning newspapers and Castiel started to slightly panic.
The door marked Employees Only swung open and an older gentleman stepped through, a scowl on his face. “Is there a problem out here?” he grumbled.
“Bobby, where's Charlie?”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Oh calm down, princess. She's off workin' on some school project. She'll be back soon enough.” He clapped a hand on Castiel's back. “Castiel is more than capable of fixin' your damn cup of coffee.”
Looking from one man to the other, Castiel muttered, “I assume so...” trying to not get involved in...whatever this was.
The man just huffed. “Probably try to sell me some cappa-latte-cino crap with whip cream or something...”
Bobby adjusted his baseball cap with a sigh and pulled a large cup from the stack. “Large cup.” He slapped it down on the counter, pulled the coffee pot from the warmer, and filled the cup until the liquid was about three inches from the top. “Plain, black coffee. No cream. No sugar.” He flipped the lid on the ice freezer and grabbed a couple of cubes. “And the most important part: two to three pieces of ice so that dainty lips over here doesn't burn himself again,” he said, dropping the cubes in and snapping on a lid.
“Oh my g-- it was one time, Bobby. And it was hot!”
Castiel rubbed a hand along his mouth to cover the growing smile as customers close enough to overhear chuckled in amusement.
“It's supposed to be hot,” Bobby replied, then leaned over to Castiel and murmured. “He likes to act like it's rocket science, but it ain't. Here,” he said handing over the cup. “Here's your coffee, you big baby.” Bobby stomped off, pushing back through the Employees Only door. “And you better leave a damn tip!” he yelled as the door swung shut.
Castiel stood quietly as the man pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket. He tossed a few at Castiel and stuffed the remaining bills in the tip jar.
“Um, thank you,” Castiel said, placing the money in the register.
The man nodded. “So, Castiel huh? That's unusual. Family name?”
“Oh uh, my...family was pretty religious,” Castiel replied.
“Ah,” he said. “Wow, sorry,” the man said, shifting his cup to his left hand and holding out the right. “Dean Winchester.”
Castiel grasped Dean's hand, pleasantly warm from his coffee cup, the skin rough and calloused.
“Castiel...Novak,” he replied.
Dean shook Castiel's hand a few times and released it, stepping back. “Well, I should get on the road,” Dean said. He tipped his cup in Castiel's direction. “I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow then.”
Castiel nodded. “Have a good day, Mr. Winchester.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you too Castiel.”
\\\\////\\\\////\\\\
Castiel was not prepared for the Dean Winchester inquisition that took place in the following weeks. Dean wanted to know where Castiel was from (Pontiac, Illinois), if he had any brothers or sisters (two brothers and one sister), how long he'd been living in Lawrence (3 months) and how long he'd been at the shop (almost the same amount of time). Whenever Dean asked a particularly uncomfortable question that Castiel would try and talk his way out of answering, so why'd you move to Lawrence anyway? he would spend the next few days asking things of no import like, hey what did you think of that movie with Channing Tatum where they blow up the White House? or what are your thoughts on Bon Jovi? And Castiel would have to admit that he had never seen that movie and he really had no thoughts on Bon Jovi one way or the other. “Cas,” Dean had said, his face terribly serious. “Everyone has thoughts on Bon Jovi.”
That evening, Castiel had done a little research and listening and decided that, on occasion, Bon Jovi kinda rocked. When he informed Dean the next morning, Dean slapped a palm on the counter and exclaimed, “You're damn right he does!”
Castiel learned a lot about Dean in that time as well. Dean had lived in Lawrence his whole life. His brother, Sam, also lived in town and attended The University of Kansas, majoring in law. Dean was a auto mechanic and restoration artist, specializing in classic cars and was especially proud of his 1967 Chevrolet Impala, that he inherited from his father. “I tell you Cas,” Dean had said. “Baby's never let me down. Best car I've ever had.”
Castiel also learned that Dean would sometimes be out of town for weeks or sometimes months at a time, going to classic car shows, hunting down original parts for his projects, or buying old junker cars to restore, which is why Castiel had only just now met him. As he soon discovered, when Dean was in town, he came to the shop every day at the same time and ordered the same thing. “Coffee should be pure, Cas,” Dean had said solemnly. “Not this blended down fru-fru crap.”
And as time passed, Castiel began to take note of little things about Dean. How his eyes lit up, bright green and full of excitement whenever Castiel inquired about his latest car project, small creases appearing at the corners as he exclaimed, “Dude! This car is going to be sweet when I'm finished with it. Besides Baby, probably the best project I've worked on in a while. You should come check it out sometime.”
Castiel noticed how Dean would really listen when he spoke, as if his words were the most important thing Dean would ever hear and what was once a quick interaction every morning, began to draw out longer and longer, Bobby sometimes coming up to run Dean off. “He's tryin' to work,” Bobby would tell him, scowling. “Not listen to you yammer on all morning long.”
Dean had a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks that Castiel was finding harder and harder to ignore and that fact was quickly becoming a problem. “What?” Dean had asked one day when Castiel had been staring at his face too intently. Dean brushed a hand across one cheek. “Something on my face?” The lie just fell out of Castiel's mouth. “Wh—uh, yeah...but, you got it.”
Some days it was all Castiel could do to not vault over the counter while telling Dean to just shut up and kiss him already, and he started to think that maybe...he might actually like Dean Winchester a little too much.
On the same day he had come to that realization, Bobby reminded Castiel that he would be back on the closing shift next week since Charlie was back in town. A funk settled over him throughout the afternoon, knowing that after tomorrow, his interactions with Dean would cease all together. It carried on through the evening, his dinner tasteless, nothing keeping him distracted, until he finally dragged himself to bed.
Castiel awoke some time in the middle of night gasping, hands clutching at his pillow, his cock hard, the dream still fresh in his mind. Dean had been here in his apartment, lying naked on his bed, panting as his dick slid in and out of Castiel's mouth. Pushing his sweatpants down, Castiel wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, groaning at the pressure. Working his hand up and down the length, he fantasized how it would feel: Dean's shaft sliding past his lips, over his tongue, brushing against the back of his throat. Castiel pumped his hand faster as he wondered how his name would sound falling from Dean's lips as his come flooded Castiel's mouth.
“Oh god...” he grunted, spilling all over his hand and bed sheets, hips bucking forward. Castiel laid there, face pressed into his pillow, his body shuddering from the intensity of his orgasm. He kicked his sweats all the way off before rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Slightly confused and too exhausted to care about the mess he'd just made, he eventually drifted back off to sleep.
\\\\/////\\\\////\\\\
“Hey you awake there, Cas?”
Castiel startled at the sound of Dean's voice and his hand slapping down on the counter.
“Shit! Uh, I-...sorry. Sorry, I was just...preoccupied,” he offered lamely.
“Deep in thought, huh? Care to share?” Dean asked with a grin.
Sure Dean, Cas thought. I was just thinking about how last night I jerked off to the thought of sucking your cock. Sit down. Let me tell you all about it. Or perhaps demonstrate.
“It was nothing, really. Just uh...something I read last night,” he answered, moving to fix Dean's coffee.
Accepting it with a thanks, Dean tossed a few bills on the counter. “Can't stay and chat today. I'm heading out to a car show this weekend so I gotta hit the road. I'll see you Monday though.”
“Actually,” Cas said as Dean started to walk away, “You won't. Charlie's back so I'm going back to afternoons.”
“Oh,” Dean replied, his brows furrowing. “Oh. Well...I'm sure I'll still see you around, yeah?”
Castiel nodded, though he knew that was most likely not the case. “Sure. Enjoy your trip.”
“Yeah, thanks. Later man.”
\\\\////\\\\////\\\\
Sunday evening, Castiel found himself slouched on the sofa, staring curiously at his phone, which had whistled out the notice of a text message a few minutes before. Approximately four people had his phone number, three of them not being anyone he cared to speak to right now. Sliding his finger across the screen, he pulled up the messages again.
9:08pm Hey Cas, it's Charlie. I need a huge favor.
9:09pm Everything ok?
9:11pm Yeah thanks. I just need to change my shift at the shop. Wondered if you could stay on mornings. Need to free mine up.
9:12pm What?
9:12pm Sorry. I mean, yes, of course I can.
9:14pm Thanks Cas. You're a lifesaver.
Castiel set his phone aside, smiling, really smiling for the first time since Thursday.
That Monday, Dean walked into the shop, not looking very surprised to see Castiel behind the counter. “Fancy seeing you here,” Dean said with a smirk and stuck around for an extra forty-five minutes to regale Castiel with tales from his car show adventure. Castiel hung on every word.
\\\\////\\\\////\\\\
The first time Castiel ended up in Dean's house, it was after they had gone to a football game. Earlier that day, Dean had come into the shop and Castiel had passed him his coffee as he walked up to the counter.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said. “Bobby around?” He pursed his lips to blow over the lip of the cup before taking a sip.
Everything was suddenly white noise, blood roaring in his ears, or maybe he was having a stroke, but at the moment all Castiel could focus on was Dean's mouth, lips pink and pouty as he sipped at his coffee. Had Dean said something?
“Cas, you ok?”
Castiel blinked. “Hmm? What? Oh, Bobby. He uh...I think he's in the back? Er...wait here.” He turned abruptly and disappeared through the Employees Only door, his breath ragged. Jesus. What the hell?
Collecting himself, he walked down the short hallway, gave a quick knock on the door to the small office, and poked his head in. “Bobby? Dean is asking for you.”
As it turned out, Dean had two tickets for the Kansas Jayhawks game, courtesy of Sam, and asked if Bobby wanted them.
“Sorry, son,” Bobby said. “I got a dinner date tonight. Why don't you and Cas go?”
Castiel choked, nearly dropping the pitcher of water he was pouring into the reservoir of a coffee maker.
“Kid needs to get out of the damn house now and then,” Bobby groused.
“Yeah sure. I could move some things around and go instead,” Dean said, looking at Castiel. “Up for a football game?
\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////
After missing the turn off twice twice and calling Dean for help, Castiel finally pulled into the driveway of Dean's house. Set way, way, way off the main road, the house was a two-story log cabin, the roof a dark green, with a wrap-around porch and full length windows in the front. Dean came down the front steps as Castiel stepped out of his car.
“Sorry,” Cas said. “I kept passing the turn off.”
Dean waved away Castiel's apology. “No biggie. It's a bitch to find, I know. ”
He twirled his keys around one finger. “Ready to take a ride in Baby?” Dean asked with a wink.
When his extreme nervousness had passed, Castiel actually started to relax and have fun. He didn't really know much about football, but Dean patiently answered all of his questions about downs and yardage and scrimmage and anything else football related.
“Have you never even watched football on tv?” Dean asked him, incredulous.
Cas shook his head and shrugged. “Not really, no.”
Dean stared at Castiel a moment before shaking his head, downing the rest of his beer.
Afterwards, the drive home was silent and Castiel felt painfully awkward, not knowing what to say to ease the tension. Dean was no help, oddly quiet as he stared at the road, and Castiel gave up, turning to look out the window. Mercifully, Dean soon pulled into the driveway, next to Cas's car.
“So...” Cas began. “Thanks for the invitation. And the ride.”
“Sure,” Dean replied absently. “Hey, you wanna come inside? Have a beer?”
“Uh, well...”
“Yeah. Come on, let's have one last beer,” Dean said as he exited the car, giving Cas no more time to protest.
Ushering Castiel inside, Dean flipped on the lights before closing the front door. Castiel barely had a moment to admire the inside of Dean's home when he found himself pushed up against the wall, Dean's mouth firm on his, hands clenching around Castiel's shirt. The moment Dean's tongue slipped past his lips, Castiel froze.
Dean wrenched his mouth away. “Shit,” Dean said, panting lightly. “Shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--”
“No,” Cas replied, slightly breathless. “It's ok, really. I was just...surprised. I didn't expect--” he trailed off, not really knowing exactly what he wanted to say.
Dean chuckled. “Well, I'm certainly glad it's ok.” He rested his forehead against Castiel's. “At least you didn't punch me in the face.”
They stood that way for a few minutes, Dean's forehead resting against his, his arms draped around Castiel's shoulders. Castiel felt absolutely lost, so he just stood flat against the wall, enjoying the warm press of Dean's body against his, surrounded by Dean's scent.
“Hey,” Dean said, a moment later, slipping his fingers under Castiel's shirt collar to pull it away from his neck. “Is that a tattoo?”
Castiel's felt his heartbeat quicken. He shrugged Dean's hand away.
“Dean,” he gasped. “I'm sorry. I have to go.”
He could hear Dean calling after him, asking him to wait, and he wanted to more than anything. But he didn't. Castiel called in sick for the next two days and hid in his apartment the entire weekend. While he felt bad about doing so, he just couldn't face Dean yet. He ignored the calls and texts from both Dean and Charlie, which made him feel even worse. He almost expected, wished if he were being honest, that Dean would show up at his apartment, and when the weekend passed with no sign of Dean, he felt both relieved and disappointed.
On Monday morning, the bell over the door sounded, and as Castiel turned around, the greeting died on his lips. Dean. Standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. Castiel wished for wings to carry him from this place immediately. A hole to open up in the floor and swallow him. Anything.
“Cas.”
“Hello, Dean,” he gasped. Castiel couldn't look away from him, though he wanted to. Dean's green eyes were bright and locked on his. He felt pinned, those wings he wished for, clipped. Castiel's focus narrowed to Dean's face and the annoyance, the hurt, and the determination he saw there.
Dean leaned on the counter. “Look, I'd like to talk to you.”
Castiel gestured around him, fumbling for words. “I'm...It's...work,” he mumbled.
The muscle in Dean's jaw ticked. “Wait here.” And he pushed through the Employees Only door. It felt like an eternity, before Bobby came through the door.
“Why don't you go ahead and take a break, son,” he said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder.
Castiel didn't feel in control of his body as he walked to the back, feeling like he might float away at any moment or just collapse. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to hide. He found Dean sitting behind Bobby's desk, idly turning back and forth in the chair.
“Dean,” Castiel began.
“No,” Dean said abruptly, holding up one hand to point at the chair across from him. “Sit down. I'm talking.”
Castiel sank down into the chair.
“Look. I'm not really sure what I did to make you just...take off...and avoid me for almost a week,” Dean said, fixing Castiel with a pointed stare. “...but I'm done with it. Look,” he sighed heavily. “I like having you in my life. Whatever it is, it's...you don't have to explain anything. I..I enjoy our friendship, ok?"
Castiel scraped a fingernail across the desk, smiling. “I enjoy it too, Dean. I really do.” Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he apologized. “I am sorry about leaving that night...and for the rest.”
Dean waved a hand. “No worries, man.” He stood, stretching. “Alright, let's end this chick-flick moment. I gotta get to the shop. I'll talk to you later ok?”
\\\\////\\\\////\\\\
It was nice, Castiel thought, having someone to just...be with. It seemed like Dean was always dragging him one place or another; football games, movies, dinner. And while Dean always kept a respectful distance, he also always seemed to find a reason to touch Cas. A hand clapping his back or shoulder. An elbow nudging him in the ribs. And as a month of this easy friendship slipped by, Cas began to crave these small touches and felt almost empty when the warmth of Dean's hand left him.
The second time he was at Dean's house, he had been invited over for a guy's night: a game on the flat screen, pizza, beers. He enjoyed meeting Dean's other friends and his brother, Sam. Castiel even got the tour of the house before everyone arrived. The kitchen was large and open with a large window that looked out onto the back deck and densely wooded backyard. The ground floor also had a small office, bathroom, and living room.
The living room was immense with floor to ceiling windows, numerous shelves that contained mechanics manuals, random books, and several family pictures. It also housed the saddest looking plaid couch that Castiel had ever seen. “Dean,” he had said. “That couch is making me extremely sad.” Dean had flashed him a weird look, told him to shut up, and dragged him upstairs to see the two guest rooms, bathroom, and Dean's master suite, which left Castiel flushed and stuttering.
After everyone else had left, Dean and Castiel sat slumped on the couch, a late night talk show on the TV, but neither of them was really paying attention, not particularly ready to part company.
“So,” Dean began, turning his head slightly to look at Cas.“Was it ok? Did you have a good time?”
Castiel glanced at Dean, nodding. “Yeah. I did.” He smiled. “Sam was pretty cool.”
Dean snorted. “Please. My brother is giant nerd. Emphasis on giant.” He paused for a moment. “And emphasis on nerd too actually.”
Castiel chuckled. “Well, he certainly is enthusiastic about his studies, but I wouldn't say that.”
“Uh yeah. Definitely a giant nerd.” He groaned as he sat up. “You want another beer or something?”
Castiel shook his head and struggled to sit up. “No, but thanks. I should be leaving pretty soon anyway.”
Dean perched on the edge of the couch, head bowed and fingers laced together. “Cas?”
Castiel looked over at him. “Yes?”
“I'd like to kiss you.”
Cas's stomach fluttered wildly and he could feel the pulse in his neck jump. “Ok.”
And then Dean was there. A delicious warmth pressed against his side, one hand on the side of Castiel's face, the soft press of Dean's lips to his own and Cas thought he might drown and that would be ok. It was all at once too much, but not nearly enough and he grasped onto the sides of Dean's shirt because he didn't know what else to do.
He became increasingly frustrated with the small kisses and pulled Dean closer, pushing his tongue into Dean's mouth, warm and with the lingering taste of beer. Dean let out a muffled noise of surprise and then sank deeper into the kiss. The small groans from Dean spurring him on, he pushed Dean back against the couch, and straddled his legs. He could feel Dean's erection pushing against his own through their jeans.
“God...” he gasped as his hips jerked forward, and he tugged on Dean's t-shirt. “Take it off.”
With no hesitation, Dean whipped his shirt over head and tossed it aside, pulling Castiel back to him. Dean cupped Castiel's face in his hands, kissing him so hard their teeth clicked together, his tongue slip-sliding along Castiel's so deliciously. Dean groaned, reaching up to undo the buttons on Castiel's shirt and he jerked back, sliding off Dean's lap and onto the floor.
“Fuck...Dean, I'm sorry. I...”
Dean moved to sit on the floor. “Cas, look at me,” he said, waiting until Castiel raised his head slightly. “Whatever it is you think is going to scare me off, it won't.”
Castiel shook his head. “It's not that. It's just...personal. That's all. I want to show you, I do...just...” He trailed off, not sure how to explain.
Dean placed a hand on Castiel's leg. “It's ok, Cas. You don't have to say anything. Just....don't run off.”
“I'm not. I won't.” Cas whispered. I promise. He huffed out a small laugh. “Did I...I just ruined the moment, didn't I?”
Dean chuckled and leaned back against the couch. “Nah. I was enjoying myself. You?”
“Very much so,” he replied, scooting across the carpet until he was kneeling beside Dean. He leaned over, his mouth hovering above Dean's. “Could we...start over?” he whispered against Dean's lips.
“Absolutely,” he whispered back, cradling the back of Castiel's head with one hand as their mouths moved together.
Castiel ran his shaking hands over Dean's chest and down his stomach, then between his legs, palming Dean's cock through his jeans. Dean's head fell back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed as a ragged “fuck...” passed his lips. Castiel popped the button on Dean's jeans, working the zipper down as Dean kicked off his shoes. Dean arched his hips as Castiel hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants and boxers, easing them down and off his legs.
Castiel felt dizzy. He was here with Dean, who was utterly naked; the flat planes of his chest, the tightly bunched muscles of his abdomen, and his cock, thick and half-hard. Castiel swallowed past the lump in his throat, wanting this, wanting Dean, more than he'd wanted anything in a long time.
He pushed Dean's legs apart and moved between them, running his hands up Dean's thighs, the muscles tensing. As he reached his hips, he wrapped one hand lightly around Dean's cock and leaned down, swirling his tongue around the head.
Dean hissed, his hands grasping at the carpet as Castiel's tongue made contact, licking sloppily around the head, his tongue teasing at the slit, his lips kissing away the precome gathered at the tip. Dean bit his lip, watching as Castiel licked up the shaft, move back to the base, then lick up to the top again. When Cas slid his mouth down the entire length of Dean's cock, he felt Dean shudder, his hips bucking slightly.
Castiel bobbed up and down on Dean's cock slowly, reveling in the smooth texture of the skin, how thick Dean was, how the head brushed against the back of his throat. He loved the feel of Dean stretching his mouth wide open. When he felt Dean place a hand on his head, his fingers tightening in Castiel's hair, he let out a small moan at the sensation.
“Fuck...Cas...” Dean's voice was hoarse. “...Jesus...fuck....I'm gonna...come...”
Castiel groaned as he felt Dean's cock swell before come flooded into his mouth. Castiel swallowed it down, sucking lightly on Dean's dick until he felt it soften, licking and sucking it clean. He pressed light kisses along Dean's hip and up his stomach, before shifting up to press a kiss to Dean's lips. Dean slid his tongue into Castiel's mouth, giving a satisfied grunt. He pulled Castiel into his side, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“Well,” Dean said, still slightly breathless. “That...was awesome.”
Castiel chuckled. “I'm glad you enjoyed.”
“Oh yeah,” Dean replied, pushing Castiel down until he was flat on his back. “And now it's my turn.”
\\\\////\\\\////
That night, Dean lay in bed and wondered what was really going on. Cas had been flat on the floor, panting, pupils eclipsing the bright blue of his eyes. He'd let Dean suck him off and he had to admit that Cas had a fantastic cock, which was accentuated by a barbell pierced though the head. That had been completely unexpected, though it was an interesting sensation, sliding across his tongue and clicking lightly against his teeth.
But Cas had only pushed his pants down just enough to let Dean pull his dick out and get his mouth on it. He thought he could see tips of tattoos around Cas's hips, but he wasn't completely sure. And if there were tattoos, why was he hiding them? Did he imagine Dean would think less of him. It was strange for sure. He could probably ask Bobby or Charlie, but hell they may not even know.
Now that he thought about it, he couldn't ever recall seeing Cas in anything but long-sleeve shirts. Was he covered in tattoos? The thought was surprisingly...arousing. He'd never given much thought to them before – he could take it or leave it. But the thought of Castiel, quiet and awkward, with this secret hidden underneath his clothes, that only Dean might one day know about? To trace those hidden designs with his tongue while Cas writhed beneath him?
Yeah. He was fucked.