Chapter Text
It’s not a bad day, or rather it's been as bad as any other day in Dean Winchester’s life. Really, there hasn't been anything that would make it worse, maybe the rain. Dean hates the rain. It's pouring down in thick ropes of water instead of separate drops. Dean got soaked as he went from the garage to the car. He stopped at the grocery store to grab a pack of beer and instant mac and cheese. The teenage cashier gave him a weird look, as if it was his fault that he was dripping wet.
He tries the radio, thinking some classic rock might help him forget that he's on his way from an unsatisfying job to an empty house. But thanks to the storm, there's only statics. He swears and pulls out of the parking lot.
He drives slowly, the road is a mess and he can barely see anything, because the water's coming down in sheets, rather than droplets, obscuring his windshield.
It's when he's stopped at the lights he sees the kid. A boy, too thin for his height and not enough clothes on for this weather. He's leaning against the wall of a liquor store, arms wrapped around himself.
The light has turned green, but there's no one waiting behind him, so Dean just rolls down the passenger window.
"Hey! Do you want a lift?"
The guy looks up, his eyes finding Dean. He looks around, not sure Dean is talking to him.
When he jogs towards the car, shielding his face against the rain with his bare arms, Dean can finally see his clothes and face properly and he realizes he might have made a mistake. The boy is wearing a net tank top which reveals more than it covers and cut off shorts. He has dark circles of smudged mascara around his eyes but despite them, when he pokes his head into the window, Dean notices his eyes are bright blue.
"Hey handsome, want company?" he asks in a voice much deeper than Dean would expect from someone so young.
"I uh..." Before Dean manages to process the fact that he´s talking to a male prostitute, the young man opens the door and slides to the passenger seat, running his hands through his drenched hair as he does.
"Look I didn’t... I thought I’d just take you home," Dean stutters. The guy smiles too bright. It doesn’t reach his eyes. When Dean really looks at them, they look very tired.
"If that's what you want. It's better than doing it in the car." The boy answers and reaches his hand to stroke Dean's thigh. Dean jerks away like a wounded animal and hits his other knee against the door of the Impala.
"Hey, hey, easy tiger! I mean it. I don’t want to buy your... service or whatever."
"So why did you stop here?" The guy is squinting at him, head tilted to one side. With the mop of dark wet hair sticking up in all directions, he looks like a confused bird.
"Because I saw a young kid out in the rain. I just wanted to give you a lift to somewhere you can stay through the night."
"I don’t need your charity," he snaps and starts to open the door.
"Wait!" Dean grabs his arm. The kid looks at him with horror in his eyes and jerks out of his grip.
"Come on. You’re not gonna get any... customers in this weather anyway. You might as well go home and get some sleep. I just don't want you to die of pneumonia."
The kid sighs, his shoulders slump a bit.
"I don't have home," he mutters, looking out of the window.
"No home? But you have some place to stay, right?"
He shakes his head and shrugs. "Sometimes I sleep in a motel, when I have money." He looks at Dean, eyes narrow and sharp.
"But in this weather? No job, no money. Which means no place to stay."
Dean bites his lip looking at the kid. He's shivering, his full lips are turning blue and his arms are covered with goosebumps.
Dean takes a breath, the decision already made.
"You can stay at my house tonight."
The boy looks at him with wide eyes, then he squints again. "For what?" he barks out.
"What do you mean?"
"What's the prize? Do you want to fuck me? You can, but you have to use a condom. Or will a blowjob do? Or do you want both? I’m not doing anything kinky, I’m too cold and tired for that."
Dean stares at him, surprised by his business tone. It makes something slimy curl around his stomach. He shakes his head.
"I don’t want anything."
"You don't get something for nothing."
"I just want to help," Dean answers, losing his temper. "So are you going with me or not? I don't know about you but I'm freezing my balls off here."
The kid presses his lips into a tight line and looks down at his hands.
"Okay, take me somewhere warm."
Castiel is pretty sure he's made a mistake. The guy seems quite nice, sure. He's actually very handsome, full lips and sharp jaw, he definitely doesn’t seem like someone who has to pay for sex. And he's really polite. Which means he's probably a pervert and a serial killer and he will do terrible things to Castiel and then feed him to his cats.
But the fact is Cas is cold and tired and there was no chance he could earn anything today, so it looked like a good idea to let somebody help him.
No, it's never a good idea to let anyone help you, because no one helps you for free and if the guy says he doesn't want sex, then what he wants might be even worse.
"So what's your name?" The deep voice snaps Cas out of his thoughts.
"Jimmy," he answers without looking at him.
"I’m Dean, Dean Winchester."
"Hello, Dean." This time he turns to take a proper look at his knight in shining armor slash potential murderer. Yeah he's pretty hot. In his late twenties or early thirties, he has the rough look of hard working man but his plump lips and big bright eyes make him look somehow sweet, kissable. He probably wears a big knife in his boot and slashes young boys' throats on a daily basis.
"Here we are," the man -Dean- says when he parks in front of a nice, small house - frontyard and picket fence and the whole shebang.
It really creeps Cas out.
"Uhm are you... are you sure you won't kill me and bury me in the backyard?"
Dean huffs out a laugh. "Yeah I'm sure about that."
"Good, because I'm not," Cas mutters and gets out of the car.
The rain hasn’t stopped, so they have to run to the front door.
Dean unlocks the door and lets Cas in. He looks down at the puddles of water forming around his sneakers.
"Stay here, I'll get you a towel or something," says Dean as he disappears further into the house, leaving Cas in the hallway.
Cas looks around, the house looks nice, if a little bit worn out.
"You live here alone?" he asks when Dean comes back and hands him a towel.
"Yeah, I'm divorced. Come in. Tea or coffee? Are you hungry?"
He doesn't want to say yes, but his empty stomach overrules his mind. "Yes. Please," he adds hurriedly following Dean into the kitchen.
"I only have instant mac and cheese if you don’t mind."
"It's fine. And I'd like coffee, please."
Cas sits down at the table and starts to dry his hair with the towel.
Dean looks at him and narrows his eyes with concern.
"You're still cold. You should take a shower. The bathroom is upstairs."
Cas nods and obediently goes to find the bathroom. It's great to take a nice hot shower in a clean bathroom. When people let him take a shower, it usually means they don't want to touch a filthy whore, but a whore that smells with their own shampoo. Dean's shampoo smells nice. Cas wonders if Dean has changed his mind when he hears the knock. He takes a deep breath and turns the shower off. The door creaks and Dean steps inside.
“Jimmy?”
Dean's eyes widen when he sees Cas standing in the middle of the bathroom naked.
"Ugh," is all he's able to get out. He takes a step back as Castiel takes two forward, entering his personal space.
"Come on, Dean. I always pay my debts." He leans closer and touches Dean's arm.
"I just... I-" Dean holds up a bundle of clothes as a shield.
"I won't tell anyone," Cas whispers seductively getting even closer, almost pressing himself against Dean.
"Wait. Wait, stop! I'm not... I'm not like that! I... I'm not interested in men, okay?"
Cas freezes and takes a step back. "You're straight?"
"Yes," Dean breathes out, relieved that Cas finally gave him some space.
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm fucking sure."
"Oh. Sorry, I guess." Cas bows his head, suddenly embarrassed by his nudity.
"Just... just get dressed and come and eat." Dean shoves the clothes into Cas’ chest, not looking at him and leaves.
Well done, Castiel. The guy is just trying to help you and you managed to freak him out. Because he's straight. Straight guys don't like male prostitutes like you and you fuck up by offering yourself like the slut you are. Just perfect. As if things weren't awkward already, you just made them super awkward. You should eat his mac and cheese and get the fuck out of here.
Castiel puts on the clothes Dean lent him. Gray sweatpants that are a bit too long and a worn out and an AC/DC shirt that is the right kind of too big that feels cozy.
When he gets back into the kitchen, there's a plate of food and a mug of coffee waiting for him. Dean is already eating.
"I made decaf so you will sleep," he says when Cas takes a seat.
"Thank you. Uhm, Dean, look I'm really sorry-"
"It's okay," Dean cuts him off, "just don’t throw yourself at me anymore, would you?" He actually smiles a bit so Cas returns the smile.
"I won't."
"Good. I really took you home just to help you. Nothing else. You have to believe me."
"I do," Cas mutters, eyes fixed on his plate, "I'm just not used to being treated like this."
There's an uneasy silence, interrupted only by clanging of cutlery against plates.
"Jimmy?"
"Hm?" He swallows and looks up to see Dean staring at him.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty one."
"You're not twenty one."
"I am!"
"You're not."
"Okay, I’m nineteen."
Dean raises one eyebrow questioningly.
"Really, I am."
Dean nods and takes another bite before he continues. "Why... why are you like this?"
It makes Cas' throat constrict. He hates questions like this.
"What do you mean like this? Gay? Hooker?"
"Homeless. I mean homeless."
"I told you I don't have enough money."
"I know but... What about your family?"
Cas clenches his teeth. "It's none of your business," he hisses turning his attention back to his meal.
"Yeah, you're right." Dean gets up and rinses his plate in the sink. He opens himself a bottle of beer and leans against a counter top.
"I have a younger brother. When we were young-"
"Stop," Cas barks out looking at Dean with daggers in his eyes.
"Just don't. Don't tell me your tragic backstory. I don't care. And I'm not telling you mine." He gets up and cleans his own plate. He feels Dean's eyes on him.
"You can sleep in the guest room," Dean finally says. It takes Cas aback, he expected Dean to kick him out.
"I have to go to work in the morning so I'll wake you up."
Cas nods avoiding Dean's eyes. "Thank you, good night," he says quietly and heads upstairs.
The guestroom is nice. It was obviously furnished and decorated by a woman, Dean's ex probably. Pastel colors on the walls, curtains and floral patterns. The bed is soft and the bedding smells nice. It's the nicest room Cas has slept in years. He feels a bit guilty for snapping at Dean, but the tiredness is stronger than all the thoughts running through his head, so it doesn't take him long to fall asleep.
Dean can't sleep. He can't stop thinking about the kid in his guest room. Of course the bathroom incident was awkward and it freaked Dean out, but there's something that's telling him all the bravado is just Jimmy's way
of dealing with things. Dean's sure he's a good boy in a terrible situation. Maybe he reminds Dean of himself when he was young and had to take care of himself and Sammy. He never did those things like Jimmy, but he did a lot of things he’s not proud of to gain at least a few bucks for food.
It probably isn't Jimmy's fault that he ended up on the street and he deserves help. With that thought Dean finally closes his eyes and lets sleep claim him.
"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!"
The boy makes a grumpy sound and hides his head under the pillow, when Dean enters the room.
"Come on, breakfast is ready and I have to leave in an hour." Dean yanks the comforter away which makes Jimmy sit up and look at him with murder in his eyes. His hair is mussed and he looks like an angry kitten. Dean can't stifle a laugh when the too deep voice says "I don't eat breakfast."
"What? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You have to eat at least something. Come on. I have pancakes."
"Food in the morning makes me sick," the kid grumbles, but he gets out of the bed and follows Dean, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Wow, you made all this?" He asks when they arrive into the kitchen and he sees Dean's creation. Pancakes, eggs, sausages, the whole nine yards.
"Yeah. Don’t look at me like this. I don't live on instant food, I actually like to cook."
Jimmy takes a seat, a look of awe still on his face. "I haven't eaten a cooked breakfast for... probably since I left home."
Dean wants to ask. He wants to know how long Jimmy's been on the street and why. But even though it's like an itch he can't scratch, he doesn't ask. Last time it only made Jimmy angry.
"They kicked me out," Cas says grimly out of nowhere. Dean looks at him but shakes his head to show he's lost.
"You asked, why I'm homeless. My family kicked me out for being gay."
"What? Are you kidding me?" Dean bursts out in disbelief.
"Yeah I'm kidding, I ran away because I actually wanted to be a prostitute!" Cas retorts sharply and stabs his pancake with a fork.
"No, wait, I mean... that's terrible. How can anyone do that to their own kid?"
The boy shrugs and shoves a piece of bacon into his mouth. "Ask my brother. He's the one who kicked me out."
Dean shakes his head, still unable to believe.
"What a dick. And what about your parents?"
"My dad is dead and mom is too ill to care. But they were religious nuts just like my brother, so I think they would agree."
Dean rubs his face with his palm, disgusted by the story.
"Shit. I'm sorry, Jimmy."
"It's Castiel," the guy says more to the stack of pancakes on his plate than Dean.
"Excuse me?"
"My name is Castiel, not Jimmy."
"Oh."
"I never tell my real name to johns," he explains apologetically.
"That's wise." Dean nods. He gets up and starts pacing back and forth, rubbing his chin. If he wasn't sure about the offer he wanted to make, he's sure now, but he's still nervous Castiel, not Jimmy, will tell him to go fuck himself.
"So, uh, Castiel... Cas, I have an offer for you."
"Did you change your mind and you want to fuck me?"
Dean turns to him irritated, but when he sees the spark in Cas' eyes, he realizes the boy is joking and smiles back at him.
"No, but if you want, you can stay here."
Cas' eyes go wide and he gapes at Dean. Yeah that was exactly how you shouldn't have told him, Winchester- Dean scolds himself and sits down, this time closer to Castiel.
"This house is too big for one and I have to spend a lot of time at work so I don’t have time to take care of it. So if you’d be willing to do some chores, nothing big, just a bit of cleaning, dusting, doing laundry and such things, you can stay. You wouldn’t have to pay me anything so you’d be able to save some money and then maybe get your own place."
Cas squints at him, lips pressed tightly together. It's weird to see such a serious expression on such a young face. It reminds Dean of Sammy and he feels a pang of pain in his chest.
"What's the catch?" Castiel asks after a good minute of staring right into Dean's soul.
Dean takes a deep breath before he answers. "You stop selling yourself."
He doesn't expect Cas to burst into laughter.
"So that's it? You wanna save my soul? Who do you think you are? Some kind of Messiah? Picking up stray kids and setting them right?"
"Cas I-"
"No. Stow your bullshit. I don't need it." Cas gets up so fast his chair falls down. He drops his fork with a clang.
"I don't need to be saved." He hisses and storms out of the room. Dean sighs and follows him while Cas collects his things.
"Wait! Cas, wait for a fucking second!"
"No, Dean! I don't care what kind of guilt you're trying to redeem here, but I'm not gonna be your charity case!"
Cas shoves him out of the way, then he stops and starts to take off the old AC/DC shirt Dean's given him.
"For fuck's sake at least keep the stupid clothes!"
Cas snorts but he keeps the shirt on. "Thank you for letting me stay," he says, not looking Dean in the eyes. Then he's running down the stairs and before Dean can collect himself, he hears him slamming the front door.
Dean sits on the stairs and hides his face in his palms. There was a ton of things he could have said but he didn't. He couldn't. It would be in vain. Castiel is too hurt to believe someone is offering him a genuine help. Too proud to accept it. It makes Dean even more eager to help him, but he's helpless. Cas' words left him speechless. Maybe he was right. Maybe Dean was trying to redeem himself. Maybe he wanted to give Cas the opportunity he didn't have, the opportunity to get out of the mess he's in.
Anyway, there's no way to save somebody who doesn't want to be saved, so Dean lets it go.
Or at least he tries. Every time he's passing the liquor store, he's looking for familiar figure. Every night he thinks about the young man and if he's safe. Does he have enough money to sleep in a motel room tonight? What if somebody hurts him? Does he take care of himself? He might catch something. He curses Cas' family every time. And he curses himself for letting him leave. For not being more persuasive, for not explaining his intentions better.
And it's actually pretty ridiculous because Dean has never spent so much time thinking about a prostitute. Not even when he was a teenager and had a crush on a stripper in local night club.
Except for his thoughts, his life goes back to normal. He goes to work, he watches TV and drinks beer, once in a while he calls Sam. For two weeks, nothing extraordinary happens.