Chapter Text
“Why didn't you wanna, ya know, go all the way?” Dean certainly thought he was going to get plowed when Castiel had him show hole.
Castiel tilts his head and regards Dean. “You indicated in your questionnaire that you do not enjoy anal sex. I was being respectful.”
“Uuhhh, what questionnaire?”
“The one from the service?” Castiel taps on his phone.
“Like an escort service? You clocked me for being a hooker!?”
Castiel shoves his phone into Dean's hands. Dean looks down at the phone because he's so lost, and he's hoping for a crumb of context.
The document on Castiel's phone indicates that a blond-haired, green-eyed, 6’1” man should have arrived here last night for Private Adult Entertainment at approximately the same time Dean was leaving. He doesn't read the whole thing.
“Am I blond?” Dean asks, even though he knows that's not the most pertinent concern.
“It was close enough for me,” Castle says.
Before Dean can respond, Castiel interrupts him. “I take it you're the actual carpenter?” Castiel looks pained.
“Yeah, I'm an actual carpenter. You knew I was working on the other apartment.” Dean says that he can string together a useful thought. He looks up at Castiel and finds him pink-cheeked and flustered.
Castiel reaches over Dean to scroll on the phone to the part of the document labeled: Scenario. Castiel starts talking before Dean can read it, though.
“I could hear you working these last few days, and I sort of… let my thoughts wander. I got myself all worked up.” Castiel shifts his gaze away from Dean's. “So, I put in a request for a fake handyman type at Madam MacLeod’s. I was a little surprised to see you because of the snow, but I thought perhaps you lived nearby.”
“It didn't occur to you that I could be the real hidden handyman?” Dean finds himself holding in a laugh. “Why didn't they send a picture so this doesn't happen?”
“You're usually gone by five. It was eight!” Castiel argues. “You weren't as loud yesterday, so I didn't hear you. I assumed you’d left on time.” Castiel looks like he's debating answering the second question. “And they usually do send a picture with the info packet, but I like the surprise, so I avoid as much as I can.”
“What about the call you overheard with Sammy? Or, hell, the fact that I brought him up in the hall?” Dean is having fun going back through the events of the night. He feels like a detective. Like Batman!
“Several of my previous guests have had a flair for the dramatics - a fake phone call is not particularly elaborate. It was interesting to me that you were willing to share your real name, but I had other things on my mind at the time.”
“You even kept up the bit at breakfast.”
“You seemed very committed,” Castiel grumbles.
Dean can't hold it anymore; he laughs. Then, he laughs some more. Castiel's dedication to the adult entertainer’s story is adorable and hilarious. When Dean finally calms himself down, he looks over to see a very serious expression on Castiel's face.
“Hey, what's up?” Dean asks, concerned and confused.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?” He sounds miserable.
“What? No! It was fucking hot!”
“You thought I was a strange man who hand-fed you without permission and…” Castiel gets cut off.
“I said what I said. And you told me I could say no.” Dean remembers something. “Why did you tell me I'd still get to sleep on the couch if you, like, paid for my services?”
“As per the contract, entertainers are allowed to walk out at any time. That's a little more difficult when there's that much snow outside.” Castiel gestures to the window. “I was providing an additional option where you could stop the activities without immediately plunging yourself into a snowstorm.”
Something about all that makes Dean want to suck Castiel's dick, but he doesn't analyze it. He's got another question burning a hole through him now that he's thought it.
“Do you put in requests for Madam MacLeod's a lot?”
“Define ‘a lot’?”
“...What if you called me instead?” Dean asks with a grin because, God help him, he can't leave here without at least trying to shoot his shot.
“Then you'd get tired of me, and it would hurt my feelings,” Castiel answers matter-of-factly.
Oof, that made Dean's heart hurt. “What makes you say that?”
“I have certain proclivities, and social norms escape me.”
“So… you're weird? I like weird.”
“You just like kinky sex.” Castiel rolls his eyes.
“It was very good kinky sex,” Dean says seriously. “But I mean it. I've had to do a lot of shit the non-traditional way. I like when stuff isn't all cookie-cutter. And I'd really like to try for something more with you.”
“One night in my knockoff Edgar Allan Poe apartment, engaging in questionable BDSM practices, and you're ready to commit?” Castiel deadpans.
“See? Somebody this weird definitely likes weird.” Dean fires back.
Castiel laughs. Dean thinks he's beautiful when he laughs.
“I'm going to correct you if you're wrong about something,” Castiel says after a few moments.
“Same. Doubly so if it's about music.”
“It will dysregulate me to change my schedule. You will have to adapt.”
“I'm great at adapting,” Dean assures with a smile. He knows Castiel is trying to scare him away. He also knows it isn't going to work.
“We need to actually discuss parameters when it comes to the power play.”
“Mmmm… do we though?” Dean asks, then purses his lips in pretend thought.
“Dean.”
Dean gets an idea from his pursed lips. He leans in and kisses Castiel on the mouth for the first time.
“Who'd you shack up with?” Sam asks later while Dean makes dinner. Dean has seemed different since he got back, and Sam intends to get to the bottom of it.
“Your theology professor,” Dean sounds delighted to deliver the news.
“What? Dude! Professor Novak?!”
“Don't worry, he's already assured me that there would be no nepotism. He was very clear on that.” Dean smiles big at the memory. “You're a self-made man, Sammy. You don't need any handouts.”
Sam Winchester knows that he is not a self-made man. He owes a lot to Dean, and it's good to see him happy.
Actually happy.