Work Text:
“Welcome back to the Weekly Watch, I’m Anthony, and up next we have a behind the scenes look at the latest and greatest of the boy bands, the up and coming rulers of the teenage female population, the group that’s about to kick One Direction right off their long held thrones, and converting many Beliebers to their new brand of faith. That's right ladies, The Avenging Angels. We now go to Maria, our on site reporter. Maria?” Anthony smiles his patented, sleazy smile before the screen shifts to show a pretty woman with long curled hair, holding a small microphone and slowly walking around what can be assumed to be behind the stage.
“Thanks Tony, it’s absolutely wonderful to be bringing this inside look to you all. I’ve been here about a day so far, and let me tell you the atmosphere here is unlike anything I've seen before. The boys have been on tour for about a month now, following their debut single and first hit album, Lovepocalypse. For any viewers who haven’t taken a listen yet- which, if you haven't, do you live under a rock in the ocean?!?! Anyway, for that one, unfortunate soul, I'm telling you to take a listen. But for now, I’ll be showing a bit of how things work, and then we’ll be sitting down with the members themselves to hear about how they’re finding their newfound success. Let’s get moving!”
The false cheer and over the top compliments were slightly sickening. For the next five minutes scenes are put back to back, showing various lighting equipment, the sound guys, the instruments, the stadium, the stage, and the tiny rooms where the stars spend their free time and get dressed. Finally, with more wide smiles and false bravado, the woman, Maria, is shown sitting in one of the larger rooms, a couch laid in front of her. She flips her fake hair over her shoulder with her fake nails and clutches a clipboard on her knee.
The boys are shown filing in and saying hello, plopping down on the couch. First Kevin, the youngest member with his big eyes and floppy hair, then comes Crowley, the smart yet sneaky lyrical genius, all in black with an evil grin plastered on as he sits very close to Kevin, who shifts as far as he can away. Next comes Sam, the mammoth of the bunch and self-proclaimed romantic, awkwardly loping into the room and sprawling on the couch before realizing how tiny it is for all five of them and squishing up to Crowley, who looks over at his position tucked between his two fellow band members with a pleased smirk. Next comes Dean, the all-American, womanizing jock of the group. He sits next to his brother, Sam, shooting a nervous smile at Maria.
At this point, the couch is full. To maximum capacity. Kevin and Dean are squished in at the ends, and Sam takes up most of the middle.
“Where is Castiel?” Maria asks. “We can't do this without him.”
“He is on his way. I believe Garth was getting him. He was up late again, and took a nap.” Kevin, the nerd of the group, supplies helpfully.
Just then, in walks Castiel. Hair in its customary too long, curly, sex-ruffled mess, the left side with a shaved stripe to show off his medium sized black gauges and the feather tattoo running up his neck, he is the punk of their group. He is the scandal, the ‘bad-boy’. The girls obsess over the band in general, but they mostly fangasm for him. He is their lead singer, voice made from gurgling gravel and whiskey. Crowley and Sam may come up with the lyrics, but without Castiel to sing them they would not get very far. However, his voice would be underutilized without the skill with guitar that Dean brings to the group.
Dean is the oddball. He doesn't fit into their category of punk rock/boy band style music. He is brash and rough and swears and sleeps around. He likes classic rock the best. He is constantly in the tabloids. Well, they all are. Except Kevin and Sam. Kevin and Sam are the good guys, the nice ones, looking for romance, and commitment. Not that Dean, Crowley, and Castiel don't want those things; that's just what their public image turned out to be like. This combination of ‘good-guys’ and ‘bad-boys’ is what has made them so suddenly successful. Harry, Louis, Niall, Zayn, and Liam are swiftly being eclipsed by the new American man candy.
“Where am I supposed to sit?” Castiel is sleep rumpled and grumpy. He blinks blearily at the tiny couch filled with his friends, and without even waiting for a response, heads over to Dean and sits on top of him. Dean splutters and shifts so he’s sitting less relaxed than he was before. His knees dig into Castiel’s thighs. He half expects to be shoved off, so he grips Dean's arms, forcing him to stay underneath him. For a scrawny hipster dude, he has damn good upper arm strength. Dean is tired. Its been a long day. He gives in and lets him be.
Maria smirks at her OTP’s shenanigans. Crowley and Sam and Kevin roll their eyes, comically simultaneously. The cameras eat it all up.
“Alrighty, lets get going then. So, I have questions for each of you, as well as group questions. Who wants to go first?” Crowley lets out a put upon sigh and raises his hand.
“Okay, Crowley. So how about you give us a first name. I’ve seen every interview and you refuse each time. Really, I'm not surprised some fan hasn't figured it out already.” Maria leans forward curiously. It's been almost a running joke between the band and the media. What is Crowley's first name? No one can find a birth certificate for Crowley, and anyone who knows can't be bought. Crowley holds all the cards in this game of intrigue.
“Darling, you know I won't tell unless I’ve got some motivation. What are you willing to give me for such valuable information? We could make a deal.” Ah, yes. Crowley’s infamous deals. No reporter has been able to make a deal with him and be successful. Being the only British guy in an American boy band is something the others poke fun at all the time, but it only adds to the mystery behind his name.
But Maria knows Crowley well enough. After all, she spends all her free time obsessing over the band. She knows she will never get a straight answer out of her, but it was pretty customary to ask.
“Well, I'm afraid I have nothing to offer really.”
“I think I could settle for a continuation of this lovely… conversation after the interview. Perhaps somewhere… camera free?” Crowley smiles lewdly. This was also a predictable move. Crowley likes to flirt to make the interviewer uncomfortable, and more likely to mess up or give him what he wants. She knows it's coming, but she still can't help the shiver of excitement. Imagine, having your idol try to seduce you. Exactly, so no judgments. No one would be able to resist the bait either. However, this is not the time or place. She has a job to do.
“Moving on,” She says, throwing a wink at Crowley, “Kevin. I heard you’ve been applying to colleges. Isn't that a bit hard with the career taking off right now and all? Do you plan on leaving the band?”
“Right. That rumor. Well, I'm sure you know how before this I was well on my way. Took my AP’s, got all 5’s by the way, and was studying for the second round of SAT’s. But the money was the issue. I really couldn't afford it yet. I needed a part time job to start earning money. I was trained classically on the cello, and it wasn't hard to switch to the electric cello, and then try out the bass. I never expected this level of success. And you know, this is just like a family. These guys are my brothers. I really can't leave now. I'm in it for life. But I'm happy you know? These guys are great, the fans are great, and the music is great. I couldn't be happier.” Kevin seemed satisfied with that answer, hoping it would put an end to the rumors. He had gotten threats on twitter from girls who thought he was leaving. It was a bit scary.
“That sounds like a cult. Once you're in, you never come out.” Maria laughed nervously at the ill timed and just plain bad joke. She berated herself mentally. Where had that come from? Well, they could always edit it out. The band laughed, but it rang hollow. Truth was, she wasn't very far off by calling it a cult.
“Anyway, um, Sam.” She smiled indulgently. “Tell me about this girl. There have been quite a few rumors flying around that you’ve got a crush on one of the crewmembers touring with you. We spoke with quite a few lovely young ladies this morning. Care to let us in? Ruby… Madison… Jessica…?” Sam was blushing so hard by the time she got to Jess, and his eyes lit up a little when she did.
“Okay, so Jessica Moore. How did you two meet? Are you going to ask her out?!?!” This was a matter of national importance. Maria was nearly out of her seat with excitement. If Sam answered, this would make her interview about ten times more successful. She flipped the hairspray stiff curls over her shoulder again.
“Haha, uhh, alright. I’ll level with you. She’s a smart, beautiful girl. A complete sweetheart, funny, passionate… the list goes on. I’ve written a song or two about her. She knows this, of course, and we sort of went on a date?” Sam rubs the back of his neck nervously.
“Wow, sasquatch, you don't even know?” Dean interjects, unable to keep from teasing his brother. Sam blushes even harder, shrinking to try and make himself smaller, a feat completely impossible.
“Shut up, jerk. You're not any better.” Sam hits him lightly on the shoulder. Dean just laughs.
“Bitch.” It's one of their infamous exchanges. Definitely going to be shown in the interview.
“What’s he mean by that Dean? You got anybody special in your sights?” Maria eyes him sharply; asking the one question every girl out there wants to know. Dean shuts his mouth real quick, shifting under Castiel uncomfortably. Cas shifts back, forcing him to stop or make things even more sexual than they already were, what with them being pressed ass to crotch.
“Special? Hah. You don't have to be very special to get Dean’s attention.” Cas makes a sarcastic crack. Sam sits back up laughing, and Crowley chuckles. Kevin grins. Apparently, it's a running theme.
“Aw, can it. Just ‘cause I get laid and you don't.” Dean grumbles. The smile slips off Castiel’s face, and he shifts forward, finally off of Dean's crotch. To which, all Dean can think is, thank god, because things were about to get even more awkward if he had stayed there any longer.
“Yeah. Well. At least when I do they’re something special.” Castiel shifts back into his brooding frown.
“Speaking of which, Castiel, I was wondering if you were perhaps no longer on the market? Any hidden girlfriend?” Maria tries to get the interview back on track.
“No.” Apparently, Castiel’s mood has been ruined.
“Any… boyfriends hidden away in the wings?”Maria approached this tentatively. Castiel’s sexuality was something the fangirls had always questioned, but had never been brought up before. Castiel makes eye contact for the first time since entering.
“I don't think I should answer that question.” Comes the ambiguous response finally. Cas smirks at the camera through his eyelashes, then slides off of Dean’s lap and ambles out of the room, showing off his leather clad ass. The other band members stare after him in shock. Kevin and Sam's mouths snap shut, and Crowley looks entirely unsurprised. After a beat of silence, Dean clears his throat loudly, shifting in his seat.
“So… what else did you need to ask us? We’ve only got about ten minutes before afternoon rehearsal.” It was typical Cas, dropping a shocker then sidling out, never looking back with his black lined lasers. It was frustrating, but they were beginning to get used to it.
Maria recovered, asking,
“Um, well, all I had left was how you guys are coping with the change in lifestyle. It’s probably been a pretty big transition.” They all nod, and Sam takes the lead on this one.
“Yeah, it has been tough. We all miss our families, and the tour is exhausting. But it's worth it.”
“Well, those of us with families, anyway.” Dean quips. Always the negative nellie, his angst shining through again.
“Shut it Dean. We have it good. We’ve got Jo and Bobby and Ellen.”
“Yeah fine.” Dean loses interest, getting up and leaving. Sam shrugs apologetically at Maria, who assumes the interview is over. It wasn't all bad. There were some really good points, and they can paste things together to make the drama look more scandalous. She is satisfied.
Sam was toweling the sweat off his face when he walks past the supply closet in the hallway from the stage to the rooms. It had been a tough rehearsal, the lights heating things up like the sun, and the exercise making them all drip with exertion. He was the last to leave the stage; having to talk with their creative director Missouri about his drum solo a bit. In any case, he is just passing by when he hears Dean trying to whisper but progressively getting louder in frustration. He immediately stops, debating whether to snoop or to keep walking by. He wavers, but settles on snooping. Dean never tells him anything anymore anyway. He would always walk away mumbling about how it was 'for his own good'. Which was total bullshit.
“Dude, they’re going to find out eventually. This isn’t something I can just, like, hide. Especially not from Sam. He already knows something’s up. Soon the vultures will figure it out too.” Dean sounded desperate.
“Yeah, well, you promised. ‘In my own time’, remember?” Castiel sounded like he was quoting.
“Yeah, but its been two months. If you can't find the balls to be honest with our own band members, I don't know if this is going to work out.” There’s a beat of silence. The rustle of fabric.
“Look, all I’m asking is you tell Sam. I can't keep hiding this from him.” Sam was nearly vibrating with curiosity. What on earth could they be hiding from him? Sure, Dean had been behaving a bit strange, not appearing in the tabloids for a record length of two whole weeks. Plus, since they usually shared a hotel room, he knew Dean hadn't gotten laid in at least a month, despite their cracks during the interview. It wasn't adding up in Sam’s mind, so he listened closer.
“You know what? Dean, this is hard. You know how I grew up. I can't just… come out.” Castiel sounded on the verge of crying, which was ridiculous, because he was one of the most stoic emotionless people Sam had ever met. again, Dean had always been the only one able to pull reactions out of Cas, either from anger, annoyance, or humor. Sam began to wonder if this had to do with his vague response about his orientation at the interview earlier…
“Shh, hey, look. Cas?” The cloth rustled again. “I get it. I do. I'm terrified. But I'm serious about this, and I thought you were, too. We don't have to tell them yet, but just. Can you think about it? I'm in this relationship for a reason. I want this to work.” And suddenly all the pieces align in Sam’s mind, the puzzle fitting together perfectly. Everything from the sexual tension when they had first brought Cas into the group to Dean’s lack of conquests suddenly made sense. No wonder Dean had looked so uncomfortable when Cas sat on his lap. And Cas had looked so smug…
Sam crept away from the door, but not before he heard Cas whisper, so barely audible he thought he had imagined it,
“I love you, Dean.” And then Dean was whispering back, but in a louder, more confident voice,
“I love you, too, Cas. Don't ever change. I need you, okay?”
“Yes, Dean.” Feeling sick from eavesdropping on such a tender, private moment yet elated at the revelation, Sam snuck away just in time before Dean and Cas opened the door.
Dean was nervously sweating. Telling Sam hadn't been that hard, since he had apparently already known. But this was a whole other basket of crazy. This was a whole room full of vultures. But, Dean Winchester didn't get nervous. Or, well, he did, but he covered it up with a joke or a frown. Next to him, Cas was curled into a ball of nerves.Dean could feel the tension running off of him. Having been raised by a bunch of homophobic dicks, he was having a much harder time with this than Dean.Dean sighed, stowing his personal crap for now, because Cas needed the support more than he did. Dean had known from the moment he saw the black haired, blue-eyed singer that he was in trouble; he had simply never imagined it would end up like this.
Hoping to ease Cas’s tension, he looped an arm around his waist and pulled him against his side. Cas actually tensed up more, before relaxing a tiny bit into Dean's warmth. He unfolded his arms and put one skinny limb under and around Dean. Linked together like that, they stood, waiting for Chuck to come show them into the room of doom.
Eventually, he came, and they followed him into the room, never separating. Chuck gave a brief introduction while they watched the reporters catch on. Some of them realized it fast, eyes darting from their linked arms to their close proximity to Chuck and back again. Dean felt like he couldn't breathe. Goddamn it, why had he pushed for this? They both needed more time, apparently.
But then, Cas surprised him. He was always doing that. Cas took the microphone from Chuck, and said,
“I am sure you have heard from my interview earlier this week with Maria Bario, but I am not exactly straight. I would like to introduce you all to my boyfriend, Dean.” He handed Dean the microphone, but really, what was he supposed to say after that?
“Uh, yeah. I know you all think I'm like, a big womanizer or something, but the truth is I’m bi. And I’d like to introduce you all to my boyfriend, Cas.” And that was that. He handed the microphone to Chuck, kissed Cas onthe temple, and walked out, arm never leaving Cas’s waist. The room exploded, each reporter scrambling to get their question in, but they were simply ignored. Boy, the fangirls were really going to have a field day with this one.
Once they were out of the room, Dean and Cas stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, Dean broke into a smile, and then a big grin. Cas matched it. They just drank each other in for another few minutes, before Sam came barreling down the hallway.
“Oh, man, c’mon guys. Go get a room for all that eye sex.” Sam teased them, but he was secretly bursting with happiness for his brother and best friend. They looked so happy. Now if only he could get up the balls to ask out Jessica on a real date this time.
Crowley and Kevin joined them, and they all made their way to the dressing rooms to get ready for that nights show. Dean and Cas never separated, hands linked.