Who: Dean & Castiel Winchester What: “Bruce Van Halen” - Or, Castiel discovers first hand things Dean has done in his past that he doesn’t want to think or talk about at all ever. When: Monday 8/26 Where: Casa de Winchester Rating: Medium, because there is talk about pornography - some explicit imagery, but not much and only truly early on. Status: Complete
Putting in his two weeks at the garage wasn’t nearly as much of an issue as he thought it’d be. Scud was right. He was wasted on oil changes and busted lights, and he was never going to succeed at keeping himself sober and engaged with life if he stayed there. Nothing against the people he worked with, just the work itself.
When he came home, there were noises coming from upstairs. Worried that the kid was back again and this time Cas was intentionally fucking with him, Dean followed them. They led him not to the bedroom, but the office and what he saw was Cas alone. Cas alone and with Bruce Desperate-Life-Choices Van Halen on his monitor. Based on the vid he was on, Dean was pretty sure he’d made it through from Bruce’s progression just jerking off to eventually fucking a guy, because right then Cas was on the pool video.
Dean could see his spread legs dangling off the inflatable raft, his own hand moving over his dick. There were at least half a dozen other dicks in the video, and watching it...fuck, it was like being on that set again and being unable to forget all the places on his upper body he’d got come on.
It had been the best paying gig of his porn career. Second best. The one that paid the best he didn’t want to talk about or think about and usually denied ever happening even to himself.
He stayed behind Cas and watched silently until the video finished, hating the director even more for his demand that Dean not break eye contact with the camera. He was pretty sure that the premise had been just a bunch of guys screwing with their friend who fell asleep in the pool with a boner, but he couldn’t remember. He did remember trying so hard not to throw up when it happened, or when someone smeared a big wad from at least half the guys and Dean’d been expected to eat it like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Like he actually friggen liked it.
Eyes on the camera, Bruce you little slut.
He had no idea how the hell he ever managed a money shot of his own that day.
When the video was finished, Cas, with his back to the door and his knees pulled up to his chest where he could easily settle his chin atop them, cleared his throat slightly and minimized the window of his internet browser. He sat in silence like that for a few minutes more, as if processing.
Oddly, after seven or so videos, Castiel wasn't even sure what to think about it. It was Dean, and Dean was beautiful, but Castiel had gotten no real sense of pleasure watching him with other men, for what he assumed had to have been a paycheck. At first, he'd felt a short stab of jealousy -- but once that knife had twisted somewhat, the feeling had melted away. Dean in these videos - Bruce Van Halen - was younger, not his. Mostly, he just felt a strange sense of sadness that he couldn't quite place. Not pity. Just…
Castiel could probably have been more careful with the timing of his watching if he'd wanted to be more subtle about it. Originally he'd just been trying to do some research -- a more mature kind of research, sure, but still -- and it had all quickly escalated (or gone downhill, depending) once he'd found videos with Dean actually in them. Part of him sort of wanted to be caught watching these, just so he could talk about it.
Good thing he was well aware of the fact that Dean had been standing there for a few minutes already, then. "Hello, Dean," he murmured, unsure exactly of how to approach this.
Dean cleared his throat as well. “Hey,” he said, but his throat was still dry, the word cracking a bit around the edges.
Uncurling himself from his perch on the computer chair, Cas turned a little toward his husband. If it hadn't been clear before, it must certainly have been now that the angel had not found and particular appeal or arousal in watching those videos. No, those fitted slacks were as fitted as ever and nothing more.
"I meant to do some research," he said, solemnly, inclining his head toward the computer. "Just to-- well." It didn't matter right now, anyway. "How long ago was this?"
Dean looked down. “About four years ago now,” he said, shamefully looking at his stocking feet. “I needed the money, Cas. Nobody else was hiring me. It was an opportunity. I took it.” He looked up at his husband. “I’m not proud of it. At all.”
Four years ago. Castiel considered that length of time. He'd moved on to middle management about that long ago. Got his own office, decorated it with nothing. He'd rearranged the furniture of his home around then -- bought a new coffee table.
He'd been on exactly two fixed blind dates in that period of time since -- both had gone horribly. He'd read countless books. Filled out countless insurance forms.
And then he'd met Dean and everything had changed in such a short period of time.
Castiel was well aware that four years could seem like more than a lifetime in some regards.
"I did not expect you did it for any reasons of delectation." In his own way, he was nearly a reassurance.
“I meant to tell you, I just...well the idea of you and watching porn going in the same sentence didn’t really seem like it would ever happen.” Dean shrugged.
That was a rather fair assessment, actually. Cas made a little face and stood up, stretching a little just by straightening his posture. "It does not suit me," he agreed, and didn't seem sorry for it. Really, it just reconfirmed his suspicions that there was nothing and no one else that might interest him like Dean did. And, apparently, not even a .avi version of Dean would do. "It doesn't seem to suit you, either," he said, mildly.
Dean shook his head. “Nah. Spent hours in the bathroom puking after that one,” he said, nodding to the window. “Both directly after and when I drank enough to try to forget. Didn’t like it, but...the opportunity presented itself y’know?”
No, he didn't know. But then, Castiel had never dealt with the particular kinds of hardships that Dean had in life. He nodded anyway, because it wasn't always a bad thing that he didn't understand. It was just how things were.
"I'm sorry," he said, because he wasn't sure what else to say.
“For what?” Dean asked, frowning at him. There wasn’t anything for Cas to be sorry for. “Look, just tell me you didn’t get to the whips and chains or the threesome yet.”
Whips and chains? Cas looked vaguely interested and worried at the same time, and it was a very strange mix. "Well. The threesome, yes." It wasn't hard for Castiel to find the grace to look uncomfortable, considering it seemed to be one of his default states in the first place.
Dean cleared his throat. “There was ah...one that...maybe we should watch together. I’m not proud of it, and I didn’t really enjoy myself, but...it kind of helps complete the picture of my fucked up past here.”
Unsure of why Dean thought one more film might complete a picture, he just stared at Dean blankly for a moment. "We don't have to," he said slowly. "I understand that you are not proud, and you did it for money. I don't know that watching one more would further my education on the matter and make it any more or less relevant to the moment?" Why it had come out as a question was beyond him. He'd watch it if Dean wanted him to, and maybe it might be better if the other man was around, just in case. But still.
“Because maybe I need to face my past too,” Dean said softly. “But not now.” No, now he just...wasn’t in the mood for anything. He cleared his throat. “I put my two weeks in at the garage. Gonna take Scud up on his offer.”
Castiel was nearly relieved to drop the subject for now -- even though he was acutely aware of the fact that he'd been the one to sort of bring it up in the first place. It was kind of nice, though, to know that they both knew. Nothing that might come up at a later, more unfortunate time to slap either of them in the face.
He took Dean's hand in his own and then led him out of the office, toward the stairs. He'd make dinner. "Are you? That's good, I was hoping you would."
Dean laced his fingers with Cas’ and let himself try to relax while they walked together. “Just...didn’t want you thinking that I was just abandoning a sure paycheck on a maybe.” It felt weird to him, not being the provider, not seeing to everything and everyone. The check he got from the government was nice, but wouldn’t cover much by itself, and Cas made kind of a disgusting amount doing the whole insurance thing.
Castiel didn't mind being the provider, though. He made a good wage, and since he'd already lived in his home before he'd met Dean, it wasn't like the expenses had risen very much in some regards. Sure, the monthly bills were a little higher, but not absurd. And Dean's car insurance was something that he'd demanded to be able to pay for his own peace of mind.
And if Castiel was good at anything, it was managing personal finances.
"I'd rather you were happy and doing something you preferred," he admitted, not even letting Dean's hand go when they went down the stairs. "I think this will be better."
When they were actually down the stairs and in the living room, foyer, whatever, Dean pulled his husband to him and kissed him slowly. “You are perfect to me,” he said when it broke and he could press their foreheads together. “Soy milk and OCD and all.”
Only too happy to settle his hands on Dean's waist and press himself closer, Cas smiled. "Thank you, Dean." And he was grateful for it. Not many people would put up with his special brand of strange, but Dean did it like it wasn't even a concern, like it was completely normal for a person to have semi-regular freak outs over the order of things. Castiel wouldn't even get started on the soy milk. Dean just took it in stride.