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“Dean,” Cas whispers, his head thrown back, exposed throat laved across by Dean's tongue. He whimpers softly as Dean chuckles into his throat, sucking a mark against his Adam's apple. Cas' breathy moans grow louder and more frequent as Dean worships his way down his throat with his mouth, his lips and tongue trailing down, down, and down to lick and kiss across his chest and latch onto his nipple, biting into it softly and causing Cas' cock to jerk in excitement, the tip leaking against his stomach.
“So good for me, sweetheart,” Dean praises, his fingers gripping tight into Cas' hip bones, his thumb stroking the left as he pulls Cas down, who willingly complies, Cas' hand threading through Dean's honey colored hair. He shifts his hips against the mattress and groans as he watches Dean drag his tongue down his stomach, lapping at the pre-cum pooled in his belly button. Dean smirks up at Cas, his pupils large and dark, and moves to drag his mouth over the head of Cas' erection, the red stubble on his jaw scraping across Cas' thigh with delicious friction.
Cas moans in anticipation, blue eyes blown black, and jolts awake, his arm flailing out to grip at the sheet of the otherwise empty bed, sweat beaded at his forehead. Realizing he's, yet again, woken up from a dream that has left him achingly hard and wanting, he kicks the tangled sheets away and grips his erection in his hand, long fingers circling the length. He pushes his thumb into the slit, hard, scraping his nail ever so slightly and rubs the moisture there around the head, an uninvited moan falling from his lips, and with a flick of his wrist he strokes down, gripping tightly he strokes back up, then down again. After another moment, he groans low and makes quick work of finding his release, shooting white across his chest.
Panting hard, he slams his head back against his pillow in frustration, his fist balled up in anger. “Fuck!”
******
Cas wondered if he had done the right thing, telling Dean to leave without even listening to Dean's explanation. He had never jumped to conclusions before, but after so many years of the same argument with Dean and their record label over wanting to make their relationship public, their hands were tied. Dean wanted to follow the rules, he wanted to play by the book – they had a great thing going with the label, Dean would always say, and it was just easier to put on the playboy front, and with Dean being a natural flirt, sly smiles for endless amounts of women, and slightly raunchy poses with female fans, that front just came naturally to Dean.
It was something, early on, they had both laughed about – something that Cas could easily shrug off – they had dealt with rumors in the tabloids before, and their friends all knew how in love they were. Hell, Cas thought as he sipped his whiskey, when they bought their house together, the gossip mags had a field day with it, but their record label and Charlie, their agent and best friend, was quick to shut down any rumors with staged photographs of their large four bedroom home, with special interest on the bedrooms where there had been strategically placed women's clothing scattered around, giving both of them the heart breaker image that their label said the fans went wild over. After that interview, outside of their closest friends and family, they had never let another person inside of their home again.
The important thing was, though, that their friends knew the truth – that Dean and Cas were so madly in love – and everyone took extra precautions to keeping their secret. It resulted in the pair performing a very different act from their public lives to their personal ones. And while it was easy early on - fans expected a new musical pairing to be wild and out there when out for drinks, or dinner, they all assumed the boys were just having fun, it had been getting very hard to keep the true nature of their relationship secret. Harder and harder to watch Dean walk away after dinner with some blonde chick on his arm - regardless of the excuses he knew Dean would make to the woman once they were in the car. The media was starting to pick up on little clues, from the small and lingering touches while they were out in public, fingers brushing against an elbow to grab the others' attention, to the larger and probably more obvious clues of them all – Dean had stopped being seen in public with whatever arm candy the record label had told him to be with for the night. And when the news hit that the duo were currently in talks to renegotiate their contract, Cas had felt a ray of hope. Hope that they could finally, finally after so many years go public with their love.
*****
The sound of the radio shook Cas out of his musings.
“After only two weeks from announcing their split, Dean from the former duo Garrison has quickly rose to number one on the singles charts with his solo project. Speculations and rumors are still flying following one of the biggest announcements in music history, and everybody wants to know: What happened to cause Dean and Cas to part ways? Calls to the former duo's agent for interviews remain unanswered, and emails are being kicked back with an automated response that says the agent is out of town. Will the fans ever get the answers they so desperately seek? And now, with the number one single, Rest Stop,” the voice on the radio says, the speakers echoing loudly in the room.
The opening rift of a soft guitar and a slow drum beat start the song, and then Dean Winchester's smooth voice croons softly.
'Just three miles from the rest stop, and she slams on the breaks
Said I tried to be, but I'm not... so could you please collect your things..'
Sitting in the plush leather arm chair next to the expensive stereo system, the large and ornate fireplace across the room long since dormant and cold, Cas closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, listening to his former partner's voice. He swirls the ice of his whiskey glass, ignoring the grandfather clock’s chimes of noon coming from the corner. He tunes out the soft clink the ice makes and ignores the condensation dripping onto his fingers. Cas was starting to get good at ignoring things.
'She said, while you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
So I thought, hell if it's over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve'
Squeezing his eyes shut against tears that threatened to fall (so much for ignoring), his breath hitches as Dean's song picks up, and he can imagine the other man's fingers plucking out the soft guitar melody and he can see the look of concentration that would have been on Dean's face as he wrote out the lyrics, and he can picture Dean's easy smile, just for him, as if nothing had changed.
His heart broke all over again as he listened to his only love's voice parrot his own words back to him over the radio, cruel words that he didn't mean, words he only said because he was pissed and upset and panicking, for the entire world to hear. Cas stands abruptly, his shin knocking into the coffee table in front of him and knocking over a drink coaster that Dean insisted they purchase, and throws his whiskey glass against the far wall, shattering it against a picture frame that held his favorite picture of the two of them smiling at each other, almost shyly – a picture that he hadn't bothered to take down.
'Have you forgotten..'
He shuts off the radio, not wanting to finish listening to the song – he knows what it says anyway, he’s listened to the words enough to have the song memorized, and he said the fucking words anyway - and walks upstairs into his studio, his fingers trailing over the wooden railing. Cas shuts the door to the studio with a click and sits down at his piano, ignoring the empty guitar stand against the far wall, next to a microphone and music stand, and pulling a notepad and pencil close as he puts on his headphones.
Cas ignores the chimes from his cell phone, sure that it was only Charlie, letting him know she had gotten home okay after her three week long honeymoon trip around the world - because, really, why should she get to be happy when he was miserable. Instead he writes and plays, his fingers dancing over keys as he taps out melodies well into the afternoon and then the night, not even realizing when the room becomes too dark to see, nor realizing he hadn’t eaten today - again. He loses himself in his music.
******
Dean stares down at the cover of the gossip magazine in his lap. He smiles sadly at the picture there – one of his favorites, actually, a candid shot of both he and Cas sitting together at a piano, staring intently at each other with a look of adoration and verifiable heart eyes, smiles on their faces only for each other. The photograph is cropped in such a way that you could see the sheet music sitting on the stand, but you couldn't make out their hands under the piano – hands that Dean knew were held together in pure bliss and love after a particularly exhilarating session in the studio their record label provided for them. He remembered that day, actually, and he remembered making love with Cas when they got home from the studio that night. It was the first time Dean had told Cas he loved him.
They had the full picture framed in their living room, it was one that Charlie had taken of them. She had claimed anyone with eyes could see they were in love, and they worked so well together that it was only natural that they would start to gravitate closer over time – she seemed to capture the exact moment they realized it for themselves – their shy smiles spoke volumes.
Dragging his eyes away from the picture, he reads the headline: “Dean and Cas: Secret Lovers Revealed! Turn to Pg. 32 for more details!” With eyes wide and shaking hands, he turns to the indicated page and skims the text. He reads sordid details of his so called scandalous affair with the man who was only suppose to work with him for a few songs yet somehow coerced Dean into forming a band with him.
'Not true at all,' Dean thinks to himself – sure, he and Cas knew each other from the music industry, and their record label did put them together for a new project, but it wasn't like it was planned that they would fall in love. They kept it a secret, the label didn't seem to like the idea of the two of them together in any capacity other than making music, but the rest of their band knew – their closest friends and family, people they trusted. There had been talk of breaking off from their label and finding a new one – one that would let them take their relationship public, and they had even went as far as to try to renegotiate their contract – one fact that the tabloids actually had correct for once. But the rest of it, not a chance. Talking Dean into doing anything was like pulling teeth, he was stubborn almost to a fault, so the thought of Cas coercing Dean into doing anything he didn’t want to was laughable.
He remembered that meeting, though, with their label, and it did not end well for either one of them. Dean and Cas had walked into the board room together, hand in hand, and told the head of the label their demands. Dean wanted to stop hiding their relationship, he wanted to drop the heartbreaker gimmick. He wanted to stop going to different parties every night and he wanted to stop showing up to each one of them with a different woman. He had proudly announced that he and Cas wanted to get married, and he remembers the encouraging smile Cas gave him, along with a squeeze to his knee, when he said so, too. Dean was so sure that his pitch went over without a hitch, he was pleased and smug and so excited that he and Cas could finally do what they wanted to.
Dean wasn't expecting them to flat out say no. And when Dean's entire resolve deflated, Cas took over the remainder of the appointment while Dean sat there a bit stunned. He felt himself nodding along as Cas agreed for them to put out just one more album, and from there they would be free of the label and free to do what they wanted. When they left the meeting, Dean took comfort when Cas stroked down his arm, “What they don't know won't hurt them, sweetheart,” Cas said with a mischievous glint to his eye.
Dean shakes himself out of his musing and continues to read through the article, skipping over the history of Dean's humble beginnings. He 'blah, blah, blahs' to himself as he skims over his tragic backstory, orphaned on Christmas at 17 to a tragic fire set by his own drunkard of a father - killing his mother, just weeks before he turned 18, but he smiles slightly to himself at the mention of his brother Sam, someone they don't normally bother to bring up. He skips over the brief mention of Cas being a classically trained pianist and the insinuation that he wasn't living up to his full potential playing and making music with Dean.
“Castiel Novak attended Julliard,” the article reads, “He had been offered a premier position with an orchestra in London.” Dean scoffs, everyone knew that, and everyone who mattered knew that Cas hadn't even wanted to go to Julliard in the first place – it was just some half baked plan set in place by Cas' overbearing mother, Naomi - what a piece of work that woman was, and Cas jumped shipped the first chance he got. She wanted Cas to be a bit of a child prodigy: piano lessons since the age of three, violin after that, cello, anything that was classical, Cas had a lesson in and hated every minute of it. But, somehow, Cas had fallen in love with the piano and had found his voice. While he had reluctantly gone to Julliard, he really did love making music - he just wanted to do his own thing, which didn’t include being part of an orchestra, and didn’t include the classics at all.
Dean continues reading about a supposed first hand account from his girlfriend, which causes Dean to pause - of course he didn’t have a girlfriend, he hadn’t been with a woman since he was 14. He reads about how Dean had led her on, made her believe they had something.
‘Bella looks at me with tears in her eyes and tells me how Dean had promised her the universe - diamonds and jewels and trips around the world and how she found out Dean and Cas were actually in a hidden relationship when Dean invited her to the recording studio he has in his home and she realized he had a secret life.’ Bella really had painted a beautiful picture of her and Dean's supposed life together, citing fancy dinners with wine pairing, and claiming she had tamed the notorious flirt, Dean Winchester. She had it on good authority, the article read, that Dean had been getting ready to propose to her at any time, so imagine her surprise when the first time she was invited into his home - where she was so sure he was going to propose - she realized that Dean and Cas were more than what they tell the public.
Scoffing to himself at the utter drivel written and quiet anger bubbling inside of him when he looks over the pictures in the articles – pictures that he knows were displayed on the fireplace mantle of his home. Pictures that showcase the last four years of his life with Cas by his side, their otherwise private relationship splayed out in tabloids for the world to see. Coming to the end of the article, he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been to jeopardize what he had built up with Cas and a wave of despair hits him like a truck. He places the magazine on the cardboard box serving as a table and walks the few steps to his tiny kitchen, opens the small fridge and takes out a beer.
*****
Dean slowly comes awake out of his alcohol induced coma, pounding head vaguely registering the banging on the front door of his shitty, run down apartment, and he doesn't really care. The banging rattles the thin, yellow, cracking walls. He takes another swig out of the bottle of beer, wiping his damp hand across the knee of his ratty sweatpants.
“Open the door, Winchester! I know you're there,” Charlie's voice calls out, and Dean groans as he rises to his feet to stagger to his front door, tripping over an empty bottle of god knows what. He staggers slightly and catches himself with a hand against the wall and cracks the door open, his forehead against his arm as he squints against the brightness of the sun.
“What do you want, Charlie, I'm busy,” he groans, voice hoarse from disuse and too much alcohol. He stumbles back from the door as the red head pushes her way through.
Charlie wrinkles her nose in disgust, the musty and stale smell overpowering in the small room, and kicks away a broken bottle, the Star Wars printed Chucks looked out of place on her feet in comparison to the power suit she wore, “Turn the radio on.”
“Ugh, why?” Dean complains, rubbing his hand over his face, through his hair, and to the back of his neck, grimacing at the gross feeling it left behind.
She ignores him and steps over more bottles, shaking her head at the horrible state of the tiny studio apartment, making her way over to the radio and flipping it on, tuning it to the correct station just as the ending of a popular song trails off.
“And in other music news, there is a new single that has just been released from Cas, former member of the band Garrison. Reports say there is still no word on what happened to cause the famous duo to split, but rumors are flying about anything from money issues to secret relationships. Calls to their agent still remain unanswered,” the voice on the radio fades out and a funky beat plays for a few bars before a deep voice sings.
Dean drops down onto the thin couch, his mouth agape at hearing Cas's voice, a voice he hasn't heard outside of his fantasies for weeks – not for lack of trying, his texts go unanswered and his calls go straight to voicemail. He doesn't move when he feels Charlie sit down next to him, the springs in the dilapidated couch straining.
'Man I heard it go boom, boom, boom
From the back of my room
But my feet don't move
Cause I'm stuck like glue
Like sometimes when I feel light
When I like the way we're looking
In the phantom street light
Oh my god, it's another one down'
Lost in thought as he listens, he startles when he feels Charlie hit him on the shoulder, hard.
“The hell did you do to him, Winchester?” She yells, causing his already pounding head to throb. He stares at her, his mouth hanging open.
'We can make it better but we don't know just how'
“I.. I.. it wasn't like that..” he swallows thickly, his mouth horribly dry, tongue feeling like cotton. “It was a big misunderstanding. The label wanted us to work with someone else for our last album – we, we.. we wanted out,” He tries to swallow again.
'It's not like, it's not like you told me
I'm sitting here sad and lonely
It's not like, it's not like you told me
I'm giving up, I'm giving in'
He hangs his head, burying his face in his hands as he listens to the words sung, ignoring whatever Charlie was trying to say to him.
'Who's gonna be there to hold me
When someone brings me down’
As the song fades into another song, Dean lifts his head and looks around his temporary pay by the week apartment, his green eyes wide and glassy as if seeing the apartment for the first time. He looks over at Charlie and she frowns at him, reaching out to clutch his shoulder, and he turns off the radio.
“Dean,” she says, “I'm your friend first, agent second… We’ve been friends for a long time, even before you got into music. Please, Dean, talk to me.”
Dean leans back against his couch and closes his eyes for a minute, steadying himself as he thinks back to that night – the night where everything he had worked so hard towards crashed down around him.
He led Bela through the house, steering the blonde upstairs and away from the living room he shared with his partner of four years after he had stopped in their kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water for the two of them. He was excited to show her his work space, he and Cas had worked hard to make a name for themselves and the meeting with their record label had went well, even without Cas' presence there. The label gave good suggestions, ideas for them to tweak their sound when he played a couple demos for new songs they had been working on. They had talked about bringing in a female voice for a particularly sultry sound, and the promise it would bring it more draw and a larger fan base had Dean's blood pumping. Different sound, more fans - perfect for their very last album. No catch, he was promised, and they could use their own studio space to record just as they had in the past. Quickly agreeing to show their hopefully new partner where they'd be working, he had the blonde follow him home in her car.
Dean let the palm of his hand hover over the small of her back as they took the stairs, ignoring the blood red finger nails pressing against his bicep. She giggled and pulled on the sleeve of his button down shirt, which he ignores, too, his mind reeling with what they could do with the added voice to their sound. Bela trickled her finger tips down his arm when they reach the top of the stairs and winks at him.
“C'mon, Dean, show me where you make your music,” she giggled again, her red lips close to his neck as she breathed her flirtation in his ear, her British accent thick and truthfully, grating to Dean's ears.
Dean shrugged the woman off his shoulder, taking a step back from her, he cleared his throat, “Bela, I said I'd show you the studio so you can get an idea of what you'd be working with, and that's it. We’re not here for anything else, and Cas should be back soon - then we can make sure your voice works with both of us.”
He side stepped her and opened the door to the studio he and Cas had built from the ground up. He smiles as he sees the piano in the large room, his mind wandering as memories of the night before dance through his mind. He trails his hand over Cas' piano, fitting his fingers over the prints left behind from their night time activities, a light blush across his cheeks as he recalled Cas pounding into him from behind, the marks on the back of his neck still fresh, and later scattering the sheet music to their newest song as Cas road him on the piano bench, hands slamming against black and white keys.
Downstairs, the front door opened and Cas threw his keys into the dark, bamboo key bowl on the entrance table and toes out of his shoes. He shrugged out of his coat, a well worn black leather jacket that was actually Dean's, and throws it on the back of the large sectional couch, frowning slightly when he hears soft voices coming from upstairs. Since Dean wasn't due back from his meeting with their producer until later, he ascended the steps to find out what he was doing home so soon.
Dean turns to face Bela, a small smile still on his lips as he shakes himself out of his memories, “We do all our writing and recording in here, if you decide to work with us it will be here and we'll have to schedule time with Ca-mmpfh,” his words are cut off as Bela presses her body against him, her red lipsticked mouth pressing hard against his own, effectively cutting off his words. Dean throws his arms up, his hands on Bela's shoulder and gives her a hard shove, her lipstick smearing across his cheek, just as Cas enters the studio.
“Dean,” Cas's low voice says, cracking as he looks back and forth between the two, taking in Dean's wide eyes and lipstick smeared face and Bela's cruel smirk.
“Cas,” Dean croaks, surging forward, “It's not what it looks like.”
“Well, I'll just let myself out,” Bela smirks, looking between the two and making a show of smoothing her hands down the front of her shirt. She brushes past the both of them and makes her way downstairs and out the door.
“Get out,” Cas says, his voice low, blue eyes filling with tears as Dean holds his hands up, moving forward.
“Please, Cas, listen to m-,” Dean tries again, reaching his hand out to touch Cas's shoulder, to pull him close, which is promptly shrugged off.
“Get out of my house, Dean, now.” Cas turns and walks out the door of their studio, right into the bedroom, he slams the door behind him.
Dean stands in the middle of the room, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He turns and grabs his guitar, propped up against the wall, and leaves the room, and his home.
Dean sighs heavily as he finishes telling Charlie the entire story, he watches her reaction, his vision blurry with unshed tears and the haze of too much alcohol.
“Oh Dean,” Charlie whispers, her eyes kind and sympathetic as she pulls him into a hug. Dean rests his head on her shoulder and lets out a sob. He cries out all the pent up tears and anger of the past couple weeks, and he sobs ugly sobs, feeling sorry for himself and for the lover that wouldn't give him the time of day, not for lack of trying. He lets his emotions wrack through his body, shoulders shaking as Charlie holds him.
Hiccuping softly, Dean pulls back from Charlie and furiously wipes at his eyes, grinding his fists against his swollen eyelids, “I don't know what to do, Char, I love him.. he's it for me,” he trails off.
Charlie sighs softly and pats her friend on his knee, “As your friend, you need to tell him how you feel. As your agent,” she hmms softly, as if in thought, “You write. And you leave the rest to me.”
*****
“Did you ever think that maybe-”
“Charlie,” Cas sighs, his phone chiming. He dismisses Charlie's words with a wave of his hand as he pulls his phone out of jeans. He knew what the message would be, but he felt compelled to check, regardless, and it doesn't stop the frown marring his features as he sees the new text message from Dean, the same message that has come through every single day at the same exact time since he told Dean to leave. A simple 'I love you.' He deletes the message without bothering to open it.
“No, Castiel, you listen to me,” Charlie interrupts, bristling in anger with her finger pointing right in his face. An angry Charlie was rare. The usually happy go-lucky woman was always quick with an easy smile, and she could normally brush off frustrations and setbacks – it was honestly what made her such a great agent and an even better friend. She had the patience of a saint, and she always seemed to know the right thing to say. Needless to say, in true red headed fashion, her anger was definitely a sight to behold.
His head jerks up and his eyes widen in surprise at the rare use of his full first name, his mouth gaping open at the venom in Charlie's voice. He quickly shuts his mouth to silence any retort that he would have otherwise said.
“If you won't talk to him,” she says, “Then I'm going to talk to you and I'm going to tell you how stupid you are, so shut up and listen.”
So he does. Cas sits there on his couch and he listens as Charlie relays how broken Dean is, how Dean has fallen into a sorrowful stupor and how he refuses to leave his shitty little apartment unless it's to go to the record label's studio to record whatever he's written. She tells him how Dean's not really eating, how he's not sleeping, and how he blames himself for not being more open with the media in the first place. She talks about the magazines and how the music world is abuzz with their now very public relationship, and through it all, Cas says nothing. He sits with his hands folded in his lap and his head down.
Cas sits quietly as she tells him about Bela, and how she was the one to leak those photos to that ridiculous tabloid, and how that was her plan all along – to exploit and use Dean's position in the music industry to try and advance her own career. Charlie tells him about how Bela was hired by Crowley, their sleazy record label manager, to out them, and all the promises that bringing her in would be great for their image - an excellent way for their last album to go out with a bang. She tells Cas about the night he forced Dean out of their home and out of his life, and she tells him how it was Bela who stood in this very living room they were currently sitting in and snapped pictures with her cell phone with intent to sell them for a quick buck, and like the good friend she is, she pulls him in for a tight hug when the realization of what he had done hits him all over again. She whispers soothing words to him as she rubs her hand across his back as he cries into her shoulder, and she offers him a tissue when he finally pulls away.
“I – I … I didn't know, I thought -”
“I know, Cas. But you can fix this,” Charlie says, her usual bright smile back on her face, a refreshing view in comparison to the anger there not so long ago.
“How?” he asks, his blue eyes rimmed with red and his face pale.
“He wrote another song,” and Charlie is already digging through her messenger bag.
Cas nods at his friend when she holds up a tape triumphantly, gesturing over to the stereo as Charlie gets up to put the tape in and presses play.
His eyes widen in surprise when the rich piano that Dean so rarely played filled the room, his preferred instrument being his favorite guitar. Cas closes his eyes as he listens, the melody soft and the notes slow and haunting. Beautiful, and Cas is reminded of just how often he would tell Dean he should play more often. His heart skips a beat when he hears Dean's voice, a voice so full of emotion.
'Take your head around the world
See what you get
From your mind
Write your soul down word for word
See who's your friend
Who is kind
It's almost like a disease
I know soon you will be
Over the lies, you'll be strong
You'll be rich in love and you will carry on
But no - oh no
No you won't be mine’
Cas glances over at Charlie, his brow furrowed in concern and an unspoken question on his face. She nods at him, confirming that Dean's song was in fact written specifically for him. His heart breaks all over again as he listens to the emotion in his lover's voice.
'You'll be rich in love and you will carry on
But no - oh no
No you won't be mine’
His breath catches in a sob as the piano trills softly, the repeating words dancing through his mind, and he is so lost, and feels so sick to his stomach with heartache and regret. Regret for not even giving Dean a chance – the chance to explain like he deserved. Cas' heart was heavy that regardless of there being no doubt in his mind of the love Dean had for him, he still jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Stupidly so, Cas knew this, and in hindsight he knew that it made no sense for him to jump to that conclusion - they had been together for years, for god’s sake. Cas was a colossal idiot. The piano trickles off into nothingness, silence, and Cas doesn't say anything when Charlie speaks again.
“The radios are playing both your songs back to back to back, you know,” she says softly, and Cas stares silently at her, willing her to continue. “They're saying you two are using your music to speak to each other. A sort of call and answer. They're wondering what you'll write next.”
Cas nods at her and takes a deep breath. “I have a response, then.” He leans back against the couch, head tilted slightly as if in thought. He grabs his phone and thumbs through his contacts, selecting the one he was searching for, he taps out a short text and hits the 'send as delayed message' option, choosing his date and time before closing out of the app and putting his phone back in his pocket.
“Give me a few days, and I'll have something for them to play,” he steels his shoulders and stands, inhaling a deep breath as he does so. “And then you can tell Dean we need to set up an interview.” He turns his back to Charlie and makes his way up stairs and to his studio, drowning out the happy squeals of his friend.
*****
Dean groans as he opens his sleep heavy eyes, he briefly wonders why his bed is more uncomfortable than usual before he realizes that some time during the night the air mattress he had been sleeping on somehow deflated. Sitting up with a wince, his bones and joints making loud cracking and popping sounds, he yawns and slaps his hand around for his phone. Finding it, he clicks the screen to wake it up, pausing mid yawn when he sees the new text messages notification pop up on the screen.
>>From Cas: I'm sorry... I love you.
Mouth open wide in shock and relief, a sense of giddiness rises up in Dean's chest, the tightness he had been feeling for weeks slowly starting to loosen it's grip. He stares down at the message, as if he were looking at Cas himself through the tiny phone screen. It's like he can see Cas' pretty blue eyes and his hair, messy regardless of what he does to it, and that thought makes him smile. He nearly drops his phone when it chimes with a second text message, startled out of his thoughts.
Opening the message, he sees it's from Charlie with a music file attached. Frowning in confusion, he pushes himself up off the floor and makes his way over to the bathroom, hitting play on the file as he wets his toothbrush and shoves it in his mouth to clean the sleep off his tongue.
As he reaches into the bathtub, turning the water on hot, he listens to the music coming from his phone. He recognizes bits of the music playing as licks and chords he and the band had tinkered with over the years but had never been able to find the right lyrics to go with the music. Adjusting the temperature of the water, he steps inside the shower and closes the curtains as Cas' voice fills the tiny room.
'I don't want to be lonely no more
I don't want to have to pay for this
I don't want another lover at my door
It's just another heartache on my list
I don't want to be angry no more
You know I could never stand for this
So when you tell me that you love me know for sure
I don't want to be lonely anymore‘
He lathers his hair with way too much shampoo, some fancy, overly expensive minty citrus scent Cas favors that he takes comfort in using himself, and uses the leftover suds to wash the rest of his body, all while listening and thinking, his mind swirling with the answers he didn't realize he had questions for.
'What if I was good to you?
What if you were good to me?
What if I could hold you
Till I feel you move inside me?
What if it was Paradise?
What if we were symphonies?
What if I gave all my life to find some way to stand beside you?’
With a new resolve, he turns off the water and grabs his towel, drying off quickly. Dean ties the towel around his waist and grabs his phone, thumbing open the text message from Cas as he walks back into the living room.
<<To Cas: I heard your new song. Charlie sent it.
He hits send on the message he had typed out before setting his phone down on the still deflated air mattress. He opens the top flap of a grungy box on the floor and pulls out a pair of boxers and steps into them as his phone lets off a chime. Snapping the elastic band against his hips, he grabs his phone and opens the message.
>>From Cas: Come home, Dean.
*****
Hearing the roar of a familiar car creeping down the otherwise quiet street, Cas gets up from where he was curled up on the couch and goes to the front door. He opens it just in time to see the sleek, black monstrosity pull into the driveway, and he leans his shoulder against the door frame as he watches Dean exit the beast of a car. Cas crosses his jean clad legs as he leans, propping a naked foot against the opposite side of the frame, and he watches as Dean takes a deep breath before he turns to look up towards the house. Dean offers him a tentative smile that Cas can't help but return, and Dean takes that as permission to walk up the walkway and step onto the front porch.
“Hi, baby,” Dean says quietly, hesitant, and his head bowed slightly as he stands at the top of the porch steps, submissive.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas breathes out, pushing himself away from the door frame, the slight creak of the wooden porch causing Dean to look up.
Seeing nothing but love in the eyes and easy smile on Cas' face, Dean surges forward into Cas' arms, dropping the duffle bag off his shoulder. He pushes close to Cas, wrapping his arms around the slightly shorter man. When Cas returns his embrace, Dean relaxes into Cas' body. He presses his face into the crook of Cas' neck and noses the skin there, inhaling quietly as he clings to his lover.
After a few moments of quiet reverie, Cas pulls back from their embrace and places his hands on Dean's upper arms, his eyes meeting Dean's – blue staring into green as he lifts his right hand to cup Dean's face. Dean kisses the pad of Cas' thumb and that seems to break whatever resolve the two had left; their mouths crash together in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue and absolutely glorious.
Cas whimpers quietly as his lower lip is tugged in between Dean's teeth and sucked on. He clutches his fists into the front of Dean's shirt and pulls, breaking away for a moment. “Inside, now,” and Dean chuckles, invading into Cas' personal space all over again, his mouth latching fervently onto Cas' neck, sucking a mark against the sensitive spot right under his ear, all while walking Cas backward through the front door, kicking it closed behind him, mouth never leaving Cas' warm skin.
When the door latches shut, Cas presses his hips up against Dean's, digging his denim clad erection against the other man's, eliciting a dirty moan from someone's lips - neither can keep track of who; and while Dean was momentarily distracted, he pushes Dean off of him and turns, pressing Dean's back hard against the door before he crushes their mouths together, his tongue darting out to lick open Dean's mouth.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasps as he reaches down to grope Cas' ass, pulling him tight against his groin.
Cas grins roguishly and yanks up at Dean's shirt, pulling him forward as Cas walks backwards towards the stairs. “That's the idea.”
Dean chuckles and steps forward after hastily toeing off his boots, following, and lifts his arms up allow Cas to pull off his shirt. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he pulls Cas close again and kisses the already swollen lips, lips that opened up to him immediately, his hands fumbling with Cas' belt as Cas struggles to get out of his own shirt. Finally succeeding in unlatching the belt, Dean yanks it out of the loops of Cas' jeans and throws it somewhere behind him, vaguely hearing the metal hit the wood flooring. From there, Dean surges forward and cups his hand over top of Cas' erection and squeezes, reveling in the low groan it drags out of Cas' mouth. He wrenches Cas' shirt over his head and throws that, too.
Cas runs his hands across Dean's stomach and up over his chest, his thumb brushing over a hard nipple and deciding to keep his hand there, he pinches, flicking the taught bud ever so slightly. He takes his free hand and threads it through Dean's hair, yanking hard as he drags Dean in close to kiss him again, his back hitting into the railing of the staircase as they fight for dominance, making him realize they were only halfway up the stairs in the first place. He breaks his mouth away and turns, climbing the rest of the way to the second floor. Reaching the top, he doesn't pause, he makes his way into the master bedroom, and Dean follows, staring blatantly at Cas' ass as they walk down the hallway.
Reaching the door of their room takes longer than it should have, and neither one of them hesitates to push the door open. Cas shoves Dean through the doorway, a bit roughly, and stands before Dean. He hooks his fingers into the front two belt loops of Dean's jeans and tugs down, growling in frustration when they don't budge. Dean bats Cas' hands away and flicks open the button on his jeans and roughly tugs down the zipper, grinning at Cas who quickly yanks down the denim as if it offended him.
Dean allows himself to be pulled close to Cas, and he tilts his head to expose his neck, keening in pleasure when Cas laps his tongue against the pulse point there, just before sucking. He groans loudly as Cas manhandles him towards the bed, and just as the back of his knees hit the head of their mattress, he pulls open Cas' pants, the button skittering across the floor and the zipper breaking open. Cas shoves Dean onto the bed and pulls his pants down, boxers and all, his erection dark as it bobs upward, slapping against his skin.
“I'm going to fuck you, Dean, really show you who you belong to,” Cas croons, his voice sounding like whiskey soaked gravel, and Dean blushes pink, trying to scramble upwards on the bed to no avail as Cas has grabbed hold of his ankle, quickly yanking off his socks and keeping him right in the middle of the bed. Dean whimpers, his heart jumping at the sight of pure lust in Cas' eyes. He pauses a moment to take in Cas' face, his eyes blown wide with lust, barely any blue left around the black of his pupil, and with a predatory grin, Cas crawls on his knees up Dean's body, one hand yanking Dean's boxers down and his mouth lowered to lick a stripe up the underside of his freed cock, his hand coming up to grip Dean's hip hard, sure to leave bruises later, holding him down.
Dean groans loudly, his fists clutching into the sheet he's lying on top of, and he cries out when Cas swiftly swallows down his leaking cock, his tongue hot against the tip and swirled around the head. He whimpers at the loss of Cas' mouth and the rush of cool air on his overheated skin. He babbles nonsensical words that make Cas grin all while Cas drags his teeth over Dean's skin, stopping only to suck a mark into his hip and then trail wet kisses up, up, and up. Moving up against Dean's body, he bites down onto a nipple, causing Dean to thrust his hips up and whine at the friction it causes against Cas' thigh, and Cas reaches down to squeeze his cock, his thumb pressing into the slit.
“Don’t move, Dean.”
Releasing Dean's erection, Cas reaches over and opens up the nightstand next to the bed. He fumbles around and grabs the bottle of lube that's been stashed there since the night Dean left. Shutting the drawer with far too much force, Cas sits back on his heels, between Dean's legs. He shifts slightly and presses his knees against Dean's inner thigh, causing Dean to open his legs further for him, and he pops the cap of the bottle, pouring the liquid onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up slightly.
Dean grabs the bottle out of Cas' hand and scoots, his legs draping open over Cas's thighs, causing his hips to lift. He mewls when he feels Cas' finger circle around his tightly puckered hole, and sighs softly when Cas runs his other hands up and over Dean's leg. He hisses slightly as Cas presses his index finger inside. His hiss turns into a moan when Cas twists his finger just so, pumping it slowly in and out before adding a second finger. Dean gasps harshly and Cas leans down to capture his mouth in a kiss. He stays there, worshiping his mouth with his own, his fingers scissoring him open until he's able to add a third finger, and when Cas' finger tips curl and press against Dean's prostate, his cries are muffled by Cas thrusting his tongue inside his mouth, licking into him as if he were water.
“Cas... Castiel, baby, please..” Dean chants his name like a prayer, and Cas groans loudly, taking his cock in hand and stroking it once, adding more lubrication to it.
He pulls his fingers back, and Dean's hip jut upward in chase. Cas reaches down and presses his thumb against his wet hole, dragging it across the rim and smiling at Dean's hiss of pleasure. He shifts again and pushes against Dean's legs, holding them open as he positions himself right against Dean's entrance, dragging his cock head along Dean's ass. Cas exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding and looks down at Dean, watching as he slowly pushes into Dean's hole. He stops for a moment to catch his breath and allow Dean to adjust. Seeing Dean's firm nod, he pushes in further, relishing in Dean's gasp of pleasure.
“Yeeess, Cas..” Dean hisses, his eyes open wide as he watches the look of pure bliss come across his lover's face, his head thrown back and mouth open in a silent groan. He angles his hips slightly, forcing Cas the rest of the way in, and shoots a hand out to clutch at Cas' wrist, causing Cas to tilt his head down to look at Dean. He swallows and licks his lips.
“So good for me, Dean, look at you,” Cas praises, hips still as he takes Dean's cock in hand and strokes once, twice. “Look at you,” he laments again, his thumb rubbing through the moisture beading at the tip, “so hard for me. Leaking. Mine.” He accentuates the word with a sharp thrust of his hips, Dean crying out.
“Caaass..” he cries, pupils blown in pleasure.
Cas thrusts his hips again, slowly, dragging it out, and Dean whines, wiggling and begging for Cas to get the angle right. “Mine, Dean,” he says, the head of his cock just barely pressed into Dean's hole. “Tell me.”
“Unngh, Cas.. fuck.”
“Tell me,” he rolls his hips, cock head catching on the rim, and back out again.
“Yours,” Dean breathes, voice shaky.
Cas pushes slowly back in, stroking his fingers against Dean's cock as he does so. “Again, Dean.” He leans forward, trapping Dean's dick between their stomachs and he drags his mouth against Dean's neck, his jawline, and finally to the corner of his mouth.
Dean's breath stutters and he whimpers, “Cas, yours,” he grabs Cas by the shoulders and turns his head to capture Cas' lips with his own, “Yours baby, all yours.” He shifts his hips upward and gasps in pleasure as Cas finally thrusts into him. Dean reaches up and threads one hand through Cas' hair, tugging on the unruly locks, and his other hand squeezes his shoulder, leaving behind red marks.
Cas thrusts into him at a frantic pace, his head against Dean's shoulder and his mouth open as he whimpers and moans against skin. He pulls back slightly to give them room and grabs Dean's hand out of his hair to drag it down, he presses his hand, along with Dean's own, onto Dean's dick and strokes, jerking Dean off with him.
“Dean, I'm gonna..” and he's cut off by the force of his orgasm, painting the inside walls of Dean's ass with his release, and within moments Dean's own release follows with a loud cry, hot and sticky between them. Shaky arms cause Cas to collapse over top of Dean in exhaustion, and Dean chuckles weakly, pressing a kiss to Cas' temple.
After moment, Dean pushes on Cas a bit, “Off, baby, you're heavy.” And Cas hums in quiet displeasure before slowly moving off of Dean, pressing a kiss to his lover's lips as he slips out of him. He grabs the corner of the sheet to wipe them both up and settles down next to Dean. Pressed close against his side, Cas curls up again him, his head resting against Dean's chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat calm and his breathing slow. Dean snakes his arm around Cas and pulls him in even closer, dropping a kiss in to the damp hair at the top of his head. He sighs in contentment, relaxed, while Cas idly traces circles and other patterns against his chest with his fingertips, the movement slowing and then stopping after a few moments, and Dean joins Cas in quiet slumber.
*****
Charlie can’t help but whistle as she walks up the sidewalk to Dean and Cas’ house. When she gets to the front door she knocks twice and waits for a few moments. “Alright, same song, comin’ up.” And she picks up her whistling again, rocking back on her heels. Tired of waiting, she fishes around in her messenger bag for her spare key and unlocks the front door.
The house is still quiet and dark, the blinds still pulled closed to fresh sunlight. Charlie drops her bag on the couch and follows the trail of clothes up the stairs, sure that she would find the boys up in their room being lazy still.
“You two aren’t up yet? Quit being lazy, we have.. oh holy shit -“ As Charlie opens the door to the master bedroom, she gets an eyeful of Dean’s ass in the air and his head bobbing up and down. “For fucks sake, do you have freckles everywhere?”
Cas laughs quietly from the bed and Dean scrambles to cover himself and Cas. “Damnit Charlie, don’t you knock?”
“I did, now get up - we have work to do, work that doesn’t involve what you’re doing now.”
*****
“Coming up next we have two very special guests that are finally breaking their silence on what has been happening with them over the past few months. Please welcome Dean and Cas from the wildly popular group Garrison!”
Hand in hand, the pair walk onto the stage, waving to the crowd, some clapping and others gasping.
“Now, now, sit, gentlemen, tell us where you both have been and,” the host waves her hand over their clasped fingers, “do dish the dirt on all of this!”
Dean smiles over at Cas and squeezes his fingers and at Cas’ return squeeze and reassuring nod, he takes a deep breath.
“Well, Cas and I have been together for a long time.” Dean clears his throat. “A really long time, actually. Since we started making music together.”
“And you’ve kept it secret?”
“We have, because the record label we had signed with was very concerned over what it’d look like if we were out. Cas wanted to come out, we were tired of hiding and the record label was going to let us go, but I was tricked-“
“And after these commercial messages, we’ll find out from Cas what happened! We’ll be right back!”
*****
And so the next hour went, a back and forth recant of what the past few years had been like for Dean and Cas. They tell the world their love story - the one that only their closest friends and family knew, and they talk about the photograph on their wall, and their plans for the future.
“That’s all the time we have for today, folks, I hope you enjoyed the tell-all we had for you today, and as a parting gift, please give it up for the duo Garrison - they have written a new song and they will debut it for us here today.”
The studio’s house lights dim and a spotlight shines over the grand piano. Dean and Cas sit side by side. Cas’ fingers languish over the keys and Dean’s sultry voice rings out, rich and strong.
“When the hour is upon us
And our beauty surely gone
No you will not be forgotten
No you will not be alone
And when the day has all but ended
And our echo starts to fade
No you will not be alone then
And you will not be afraid
No you will not be afraid”
Dean smiles over at Cas, he smiles at the sweet expression on his face, his eyes closed and head moving ever so slightly to the music, lost to his art.
“When the fog has finally lifted
From my cold and tired brow
No I will not leave you crying
And I will not let you down
No I will not let you down
I will not let you down”
And in that moment, Dean knew more than he had ever known in the past. This is the man he was meant to spent the rest of his life with, the entire reason for his being.
“Now comes the night
Feel it fading away
And the soul underneath
Is it all that remains
So just slide over here
Leave your fear in the fray
Let us hold to each other
Till the end of our days”
Still singing, Dean gets up from the piano bench and drops to one knee. When the ending notes fade away and Cas opens his eyes, he grins down at Dean and Dean opens the small box he had hidden away in his pocket.
“Marry me, Cas?”
And Cas throws his arms around Dean’s shoulders, places the sweetest kiss upon his lips, “Of course, Dean.”
The studio lights dim on their embrace and the audience’s cheers, and both Dean and Cas are surrounded by their friends giving them congratulations and claps on the back. Despite that, Dean still only has eyes for Cas.