Chapter Text
They pulled into the crowded parking lot of the Roadhouse for what they’d been told was a Channel 8 all-staff party to celebrate Dick’s decision not to pull out of Uranus. It was the right place, Gabe’s van was proudly parked out front. How the hell he’d lived in Uranus for so long and hadn’t spotted it right away was a mystery he’d never solve. The damn thing stuck out like a sore thumb.
Crowley’s car was parked next to it. Now that the weather had turned mild with spring, the station manager had brought his pimento red Triumph convertible out. It was a damn shame to see it parked next to the abomination that was Gabe’s shaggin’ wagon, but what could you do?
Curiously, he’d seen the vehicles around town, always parked side by side more than once over the past number of weeks since he and Cas got together. The one time he’d asked Cas if he thought there was something going on between the two of them was a mistake he secretly wanted to repeat. Cas had slapped his hand over Dean’s mouth so hard and so fast that it gave him a new kink. “We have rules in this house, Dean. And one of them is that we will NEVER, EVER discuss Gabe’s sex life, ESPECIALLY when it pertains to my employer.”
Dean had been so taken aback by Cas’ sudden channeling of some kind of badass mother fucking celestial warrior that he didn’t notice the fact that he’d been backed up against the wall at the same time. But he did notice when Cas’ pupils blew wide and his voice dropped an octave, turning into a deep growl that curled Dean’s toes and sent the rest of his blood shooting straight to his dick when he said “And if you ever break that rule again, there will be consequences.”
Embarrassingly, he whimpered, and then Cas ground his hips against his to let him know that maybe he’d found a new kink too.
If Dean had felt compelled to drop to his knees and give Cas what he hoped was the best blow job of his life right there in the living room, well, he’d just chalk it up to consequences. He hadn’t mentioned Gabe and Crowley in the same sentence again, but oh how he wanted to. Just to see what Cas would do.
They passed the van to get to the restaurant entrance and Dean felt a lick of shame when his dick twitched like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Fucking Gabe and his fucking need to blatantly celebrate his lovestyle with the world. But also, Dean made a mental note to bring it up again when they got home.
“What the fuck is Gabe up to now?” Cas wasn’t paying attention to Dean, or Gabe’s desecration on wheels. He was staring at Becky and Alfie, standing sentry at the door to the restaurant with clipboards and a stack of papers.
“Mr. Novak, Mr. Winchester, you are the last two guests to arrive.” Becky smiled cheerfully and enthusiastically handed them each a clipboard with a document and pen attached. “Please read these over and sign them. Alfie will collect them before you go in.”
They were non-disclosure agreements. Why on earth would they need a non-disclosure agreement for a staff party?
“What’s going on here, Becky?” Cas asked the station administrator.
“I’m not at liberty to say anything until you sign the forms.”
“No recording, no photos, no social media posts, no discussing anything that we see, hear, or experience during the event .”
“And if we don’t sign?” Dean asked. If he had learned anything about the leadership at Channel 8, it was that they couldn’t be completely trusted. His tattoo of Steve being exhibit A.
Becky’s eyes grew wide with panic. “But you have to sign, you’re the guests of honor!” As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth she lifted her hand to cover her mouth and somehow opened her eyes wider. “Mr. Crowley will fire me, please don’t tell him I said that.”
Alfie looked just as uncomfortable. His acne covered complexion suddenly flushed and beads of sweat started forming at the teenager’s temples.
“You really do have to sign them.” The boy was pleading more than he was asking. Whatever, Dean thought. It couldn’t be any worse than the shit Gabe had already pulled. Or could it?
Turns out, it could.
They signed the forms and handed them over, more than anything, to keep Becky from fainting after she asked Dean if he knew mouth-to-mouth. No way, no how, he thought. Anything would be better than what he assumed would happen if the overzealous administrator actually did pass out from stress, require resuscitation, and woke up to Dean administering it. His life would be over. She’d never leave him alone.
Alfie took the forms and reached into the messenger bag at his feet which they hadn’t seen before. He pulled out two lanyards with “VIP” in huge letters written on each card and made them put them on. “Mr. Winchester, the, uh, other Mr. Novak said it was necessary.”
Overkill much?
“Fine, whatever,” Dean grumbled but took his lanyard and put it on. Cas did the same. They eyed each other warily.
“Do you get the feeling—,” Dean started to ask.
“That something bad is about to happen? Oh yeah. This reeks like a humiliating disaster at our expense.”
Cas opened the door and let Dean enter first. He could hear the low hum of people talking, a lot of people. Certainly more than the entire staff of Channel 8. Gabe intercepted them by the hostess station before they got too far into the restaurant.
“Hey, baby bro, Dean-o. Last to arrive but definitely the most important. How’re my favoritest brother and his true love doing tonight?” It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Gabe was blocking their entry and view to wherever all of the people were in the back. “Did you, ah, sign that little form Becky was handing out?”
“Cut the shit, Gabe. What did you do?” Cas was not interested in beating around the bush, it seemed.
“Moi? Au contraire, I didn’t do anything. You however have put this little town that could on the map. We’re just here to…celebrate your achievements.” Even Dean could tell that Gabe was completely full of shit. Becky came up and handed Gabe the stack of forms before he could keep talking. Alfie lurked at the back, the kid definitely felt out of place.
“Here you go, Mr. Novak. Everyone signed.”
“Everyone?” Gabe asked. “Even these two?” He waved his hand in their direction.
Becky nodded.
“And the guests that needed additional waivers signed, you got those too?”
“Yessir. And I’ve sorted them all alphabetically by last name, and in the case of you and the other Mr. Novak, by first name too.” Her chest puffed out, obviously proud of herself.
“Nice work, Becky.” Gabe grinned, “Now why don’t you and Alfie go in and get seated? The show’s about to begin.”
Becky nodded, grabbed Alfie’s arm, and led him off into the section of the restaurant that Dean and Cas still couldn’t see.
“Show?” Cas’ voice definitely had a suspicious tone. Clearly, he didn't trust his brother.
“Just a little movie we put together.” For the first time, Gabe looked a little nervous.
“What do you mean, ‘we’?”
Crowley and Bal came around the partitioned corner. “Ah, there you are. We haven’t got all day, you know. Dick will be joining us via zoom in about two minutes and I don’t want to keep him waiting.” The perpetually crusty general manager looked at them and smiled. If Gabe’s behavior hadn’t been enough to trigger alarm bells, Crowley’s definitely was. He nodded his head their way in greeting. “Gentlemen, did you sign the NDAs?”
“Is this some kind of weird sex party because I am not interested.” Dean was pretty sure it wasn’t—although after taking a ride in Gabe's van, nothing would surprise him when it came to Cas’ brother. Or Crowley. The dude could dress in all of the expensive suits he wanted, but there was still something…misprincipled about the way he approved things. He definitely had his likable moments once you waded through the crap, but something like this? No way, Dean didn’t trust him.
“No, Dean, it’s definitely not that. The Feds made Gabe promise it wouldn’t happen again.” Cas gave him a look that was dead serious.
“What kind of sex party gets the Feds involved?” He had to know, but Crowley, apparently, was running interference. As the other General Manager started to speak, Cas looked at Dean and mouthed “later” as a promise he’d tell everything.
“Now that’s a lovely idea but we’ll have to put a pin in it for now. I’m afraid this time it’s an extension of the standard business agreement you two have already signed.” Crowley made a show of opening a folder that he’d weirdly been keeping inside his suit jacket. Dean immediately recognized his signature on some of the papers inside.
“Let’s have a little refresher before we go in, shall we?” He placed the papers in front of them. A pile for Dean and Cas each. “These are copies of the originals you signed back in January. Everything, and I do mean everything, that you are about to see has been collected and consolidated with your express permission. Take a look, I’ve highlighted some of the important bits to save us questions later on.”
Crowley’s smile was smarmy at best and any alarm bells that hadn’t already been ringing in Dean’s head were now clanging like he was being called to a five-alarm fire. He refused to pick up the papers and chose to watch Cas instead.
“Gabe, I’m going to ask you again. What did you do?” Cas’ tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to put up with his brother’s standard bullshit.
“Nothing that didn’t need to be done for the greater good, Cassie, and nothing that is going to hurt anyone in the long run.”
“For the greater good?” Cas ran his finger over the highlighted lines while Dean read more or less over his shoulder. “And how exactly does ‘footage gathered using station equipment or otherwise’ work for the greater good?”
Dean was wondering that himself but already decided that he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“You’re my baby bro. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Name one time.”
“Telling me to lick the metal fencepost in the schoolyard in the middle of winter.”
“Okay, that’s one time. Name another.”
“When we went camping and you told me to go to the bathroom in the patch of poison ivy instead of walking to the comfort station.”
“I didn’t know it was poison ivy, so it doesn’t count.”
“I still have scars on my ass, Gabe. It counts.”
“Fine, but we were kids. I’m talking as adults. When have I steered you wrong since we’ve grown up?”
“You made me go on a double date with April so you could ‘score’ with her sister.”
“We had a nice time!”
“I’m gay and you told me my date’s name was Mick.”
Gabe opened his mouth to respond but Cas cut him off.
“You tricked me into moving to a town named after an asshole and make me announce it on live TV every damn day.”
Silence hung in the air between the two brothers. Cas looked pissed and Gabe looked like he’d been caught and was trying to find an easy out. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders.
“Okay, you’re right. I wouldn’t trust me either. But this time, I promise, only the best of intentions for you, for the town…” Gabe looked at Dean with a hopeful smile, “and for Dean. And, Balthazar helped. You may not trust me, and you’d be smart not to trust Crowley—”
“Hey! I resent that.” Crowley griped from the background.
“But Bal is your best friend and you must know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
The way Dean saw it, the three men had orchestrated a hell of a lot behind the scenes while he and Cas were doing the segments. But as annoying, insulting, and sometimes embarrassing as it all was, their meddling had brought him and Cas together. He was more than a little grateful—not that he’d say it out loud. But he could, at least, give their latest scheme—and he was pretty sure it was a scheme—a listen.
“You know what, Cas?” Dean tried to redirect things before the brothers could get back to sniping at each other. “He’s right. Bal probably wouldn’t do anything to embarrass you more than he already has with your day job. Let’s just hear whatever it is they are so intent on saying, and if we don’t like it we can leave.”
“That’s very magnanimous, Dean,” Crowley answered before Gabe or Cas could, he clearly wanted to move whatever this was along too. “I would like to remind you that we have signed contracts and NDAs. You may leave but the outcome is a foregone conclusion. With that in mind, please do shut up and take a seat, would you?”
“You’re all heart, Crowley.” Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and pulled him around the partition where everyone else was waiting.
And it really was everyone else. Dean recognized a number of people he and Cas had worked with for the series of segments. Donna from the coffee shop, Kaia from the animal shelter, Pamela from the winery, Abaddon, Chuck, Noah, and Adam from the Valentine’s Day segment, and even Adam’s boyfriend who was also the mayor. At some tables in the back corner, he saw Bobby, Benny, Garth, and a number of the town’s first responders.
“This ain’t a Channel 8 staff party.”
“No, Dean. It’s not.” Cas was in full agreement. “I think our seats are over here.” Charlie and Meg were waving them over to where they sat at one of two large tables right in front of the karaoke stage. Dean blushed at what little memory he had of that particular night but didn’t say anything. There was a large screen set up on the stage along with the standard microphone and speakers. Apparently, they were here to watch movies. For two seconds Dean had a real fear that Gabe was going to be showing pornos he made in his van. He’d bet money those existed.
They sat. The sense of dread never fully left, especially when Crowley stepped up to the microphone. For the first time in Dean’s recollection, he wasn’t holding a drink.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming to our little soiree. I’m Fergus Crowley, General Manager at Channel 8 Uranus. Our official host, Mr. Dick Roman, head of Roman Enterprises is joining us via live feed for part of the festivities and will be sharing a few words in a couple of minutes. First things are first, though, I’d like to welcome our guests of honor, Castiel and Dean. Welcome boys.” There was a polite clapping in the room that died down quickly. It seemed clear that no one else knew exactly why they were there either. “Second, a friendly little reminder that every single one of you in attendance has signed the non-disclosure agreement, and where applicable, release waiver. Nothing, and I do mean nothing you see, hear, or experience tonight can be shared outside of this room. I was a lawyer before I got into television. If any of you violates their NDA, I will find out, and I will find you. Understood?”
There was a strained silence that made Crowley smile and nod. “Excellent. Now that that is done, I will let Gabriel do the rest.” He abruptly walked off and down the steps at the side of the stage leaving Gabriel to scramble to get there.
“Alright, without much further ado. Let me tell you what you already know. Last January, Dean-o over here saved my feline nephew Steve from a tree and swept my baby bro off his feet at the same time. Cassie, not to be outdone, captured loverboy’s attention so thoroughly that neither of them could think straight around the other. Yours truly knew a viral hit in the making and together with Crowley and our cameraman, Bal, we put these two maddeningly adorable yet completely inept lovebirds front and center and on your TV until they got over themselves. You all know this. You watched it happen, am I right?”
Dean stole a glance at Cas as murmurs of agreement and low chuckles spread throughout the room. He looked as embarrassed as Dean felt. But none of it was malicious so far, so he held Cas’ hand under the table and stayed silent.
“Now, what you don’t know is that in addition to our standard working agreement at Channel 8, we had our genetically blessed lovers sign a special agreement that included permission for us to use any sound and video collected outside of work.” Gabe looked their way almost apologetically. “And, uh, we collected quite a bit. Balthazar here has a master’s degree in cinematography. He worked some magic and put together a little documentary that we are going to show you all in a few minutes. The NDA part is because we’ve already submitted it for Sundance next fall, and, uh, maybe a few other places that I can’t talk about right yet.”
Gabe fidgeted in place while he watched Cas. Dean guessed that if Cas was going to walk out, it’d be right now. Dean stole a glance his boyfriend’s way and he did look incredibly pissed. His back was ramrod straight and sparks were practically shooting from his eyes. If he had to guess, he figured he didn’t want to make a scene in front of what was basically the entire town. Dean was pissed too, but this was Cas’ world and he wasn’t going to do or say anything other than support his boyfriend. For now. He squeezed Cas’ hand again.
“Now food will be coming out of the kitchen in a few minutes and the drinks are at the bar all night, courtesy of Roman Enterprises.” As if on cue, servers came through the double doors to the kitchen carrying plates of food. They started placing them before the guests while Gabe kept talking. “Mayor Milton, would you be so kind as to say a few words before we get started?”
The mayor had at some point left his seat and moved to the side of the stage where he’d been waiting. He quickly took his place behind the microphone. Dean thought it was interesting to note that while the mayor was definitely older than his boyfriend, Adam, the two bore an uncanny resemblance to each other. Weird.
“Thanks, Gabe. Hello everyone. I’m not going to keep you long since my dinner just arrived and it looks great and you don’t want to hear from me anyway.” There were quiet chuckles at the lame political joke. “I’m only here to extend an official thank you to Castiel and Dean for making Uranus shine.” This time the mayor chuckled at his own joke. “Oh, I know some say that Uranus isn’t much to look at,” more laughter from the audience. “But you two have not only made the most of it, but you’ve also let all of America know just how wonderful it is to be in Uranus.”
Everyone was laughing now, even Dean who took it as good natured ribbing not completely at their expense. The mayor kept going. “But seriously, while it is true that record amounts of fudge are being regularly packed, no one can discount the impact on Uranus as a whole.”
Double entendre for the win. It was apparently amateur comedy hour and Mayor Milligan was killing it. Once the laughter died down he went on to talk about the financial impact of their series and offered an open mic to anyone who had benefitted from the segments.
Kaia stood up and said that the shelter had never received as many donations—or volunteer applications as they have since their segment ran. Donna spoke again about quitting her part time job with the force to concentrate on the coffee shop. Benny mentioned how Matilda the horse had been booked for weddings all summer, as did Adam for his party planning, and Chuck with his band.
The mild mannered librarian even mentioned that the band’s YouTube channel had taken off with subscribers. The biggest surprise though was when an older gentleman that Dean didn’t remember, took the time to walk on stage and take the microphone. He was holding what looked like a couple of t-shirts in his fist.
“My name’s Rufus Turner. Most of you don’t know me, my farm’s up by Clemens Creek. Anyway, I watched the segments but that’s not exactly why I’m here. I own a dairy farm and Betsy is one of my cows. I rent her out for cow chip bingo. Anyway, last bingo she had a starring role in your big kiss and somehow the internet found out. Long story short, the wife and I have been selling these like hotcakes.” Rufus held up one of the shirts. It was, embarrassingly, a close up of Dean and Cas kissing while Betsy was placing her cow chip in the background. It was framed above and below with the slogan Udder Chaos…in Uranus. Again, everyone had a good laugh and there were a few shouts of “I want one” from the crowd. Rufus tossed the two in his hand to Dean and Cas in the front. “Made enough to take our first vacation in years. Thank you.”
The old farmer left with the mayor following. Crowley stepped up once more.
“Finally, Mr. Roman has a few words.”
The oversize head of a slick looking businessman appeared on the screen. Dean didn’t like him on sight, but he was Cas’ boss’ boss so he kept it to himself.
“Good evening everyone. I’m Dick Roman, head of Roman Enterprise. As many of you know, television is an expensive business and we were looking to close down Channel 8 if the viewership and ad revenue didn’t come up. I know most of you are already aware, but thanks to Mr. Crowley’s management and the hard work put in by the entire Channel 8 team, as well as our star reporter and Mr. Winchester, the station is safe…for now.”
Dick smiled a greasy car salesman smile and Dean thought he looked very punchable. Dick was the perfect name for him.
“I can’t stay any longer, but I do want to congratulate Mr. Roché on a job well done. I’ve seen the documentary already and have no doubt that his mantle—and my office—will be sporting some awards by the time we are through. Good luck.” And with that, he shut off his zoom feed, but not before everyone could hear him muttering “Who the fuck wants to live in a town named after an asshole?”
There was dead silence while the room adjusted to the last statement until Bobby broke the tension. “I’m pretty sure I know an asshole when I see one.”
Everyone chuckled again, and the mood lightened everywhere except at their table. Both Dean and Cas were staring at Gabe and Bal. Crowley was eyeing things from the stage.
“I’ve already asked this twice tonight, but I’m asking again.” Cas had taken on that pissy tone again, this time with a bit more edge to it. “Gabe. What did you do? What did he mean by documentary?” Cas used his hands to make air quotes around the word, as though everybody didn’t already know what that meant.
“Well, not so much me. Bal is the one you need to talk to.”
“Throw me under the bus, why don’t you?” Bal huffed and threw Gabe a dirty look. “It was his idea. But, I have to admit, it was a good one.”
The cameraman reached across the table and placed a hand on Cas’ forearm. “Cassie, you must know that I’d never do anything to hurt you. At least not more than you hurt me by bringing me here. This is repayment for the favor. With interest. But I swear there’s nothing too terrible, and in the end, you and Dean are together. That has to be worth it.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. What has to be worth it?”
Bal took a side glance at Gabe who, for once, was looking impassive and staring at his plate. He shot a glance at Crowley, who was clearly watching and waiting for Bal’s cue. Cas’ best friend and cameraman shot them both a weak smile that almost seemed like an apology, looked back at Crowley, and nodded.
“And that’s the official signal, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of Dick Roman Enterprises, Channel 8 Uranus, and the extremely talented and about-to-be-discovered Bal Roché, we offer you the world premiere of his very first feature-length documentary, First Response to Love.”
Before anyone could say another word, the house lights went dark and the large screen that had just recently shown them all Dick Roman was playing the opening credits to a movie. Bal’s documentary, apparently. About them.
“What the fuck?” Dean said loud enough for everyone at the Channel 8 table to hear when cell phone footage of Dean approaching a distraught Cas on the day of the 911 call played larger than life on the stage in front of them. As soon as the partial clip was done, it cut away to a segment that talked about Uranus, Cas’ job at Channel 8, Mr. July, and the social media circus that led to Dean moving here for peace and quiet.
When the giant image of the calendar shot was posted on the screen, someone using the anonymity of the dark theater setting, possibly Bobby’s wife, said “I’d climb that like a tree.” There were chuckles throughout the audience and Dean was glad it was dark because he felt his cheeks redden.
“Dean,” Cas whispered in his ear. “No matter how bad this goes, I’m going to climb you like a tree when we get home because you’re mine.”
He didn’t worry so much about the documentary after that.
Bal had taken all of their segments, and apparently, an awful lot of hidden video and spliced it all together into one compelling story that made him want to visit Uranus—and he already lived there. He wasn’t completely thrilled with the idea that he’d been filmed without his knowledge. Nor was Cas, judging by the firm set of his jaw. Gabe, he noted, spent half of the time watching the screen and half of the time watching his brother. Despite his cockiness, the man had to be concerned about his brother’s response. Deservedly, Gabe, Bal, and Crowley had pulled a fast one over both him and Cas.
The only time Dean got really upset was when he realized that the goddamned fucking clown doll was a nanny cam. A nanny cam that had spent weeks angled at his couch recording every minute of every lonely evening he’d spent watching Channel 8 re-runs on video with a box of kleenex and a bottle of lube. Bal played a single rapid timelapse video of it all with a voiceover narration of his confession to Cas that he watched them. Thankfully, or kindly, Bal edited out all of his “happy endings” and the prelude leading up to them. He was pretty sure the very presence of tissues was incriminating enough even without what Dean knew had been edited out.
“Tell me you erased everything.” He channeled some anger and used it to growl at Bal so the man knew he was serious.
“I’m not going for a career as a porn director. I pre-screened everything before Gabe or Crowley saw the raw footage and deleted anything of a… personal nature.”
“Did I hear the words porn and raw?”
“Shut up, Gabe,” both Dean and Bal answered in unison.
“As I said, you have nothing to worry about. But you should know that the clown kept working even after you sent it to your brother. Impressive regifting, by the way. He hid the damn thing in his bedroom closet but doesn’t always close the door. You really need to have a talk with him about whether he’s going to pick Eileen or Jess. It’s not going to end well if he gets caught.”
“What!?” Sam never gave him info on his dating life. Now he knew why. The dog.
“It’s disabled now, don’t worry. Once all of the footage was collected, I shut everything down.”
Cas shushed them. “You can talk later.”
The only other surprise in the documentary was, again, captured on the clown cam. It was Cas taking care of him when he was sick after the septic truck accident. There was a clip of a frantic Cas calling Gabe for advice on how to take care of sick people. It would have made Dean’s heart go all gooey with affection except for the off-camera sounds of him alternating retching noises and complaining that he was dying in the bathroom. After that was another timelapse clip of Cas running back and forth between the kitchen and the bedroom with glasses of ginger ale and bowls of soup one way, and piles of laundry to be washed, the other.
He realized just how much effort Cas had put into taking care of him when he was so sick. He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand and leaned in for a kiss. “Love you, Sweetheart.”
“Love you too, Dean.”
“Awwwww.” Charlie broke the moment. She had her chin in her hands, both elbows on the table, watching them intently. “I’d still watch your sex tape.”
“Me too,” Abbadon purred on her way past the table, heading toward the bathroom. She was still decked out head to toe in black leather with stiletto boots. “Just let me know.”
“Wow,” was all Dean could say to that. “She’s kinda scary.”
“Mmmmm, in all the right ways,” Charlie’s attention was redirected to the tattoo artist walking away.
“I hate to interrupt this little lovefest, but it’s literally your movie. Do be so kind as to shut it so everyone else can watch.”
“Sorry.” Dean turned back to the screen and paid attention.
The rest of the documentary was compelling, if not predictable, but only because he and Cas had already lived it. There were interviews by Gabe and some of the locals too. It ended with Betsy and cow chip bingo, and Dean knew for certain it was Rufus who said “Hot damn! We’re gonna sell a hell of a lot more t-shirts,” when the final credit started to roll.
When the house lights went back on, it was Bal who climbed on stage and went to the microphone.
“Hello, I’m Balthazar Roché. I hope you enjoyed my documentary. I wanted the world to see that sometimes, despite the fact that we can be our own worst enemies, true love can be found in the most unusual places.” He stopped and grimaced like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Like Uranus.” Bal made a little groaning noise in the mic and dropped his shoulders a little bit in defeat. “I am serious about my art and did my very best to present the town as a dignified example of vibrant small town America. Unfortunately, Roman Enterprises has declared that ‘True love can be found in the most unusual places, like Uranus,’ is the official tagline for the documentary and you are going to be seeing it everywhere for the next number of months.”
“Now, now, don’t be so glum.” Crowley placed his hand on the mic and gently moved Bal off to the side. “Mr. Roché is being humble. We’ve all just seen the masterpiece he has put together. Trust me when I say that the judges at Sundance are going to be impressed.” There was a low murmur of excitement, the audience was clearly excited about the possibility that their town was on the cusp of getting some pretty big publicity.
“Think of what this will mean for the town. Tourist dollars for local business, ad revenue for the station, and online sales for the small businesses and entrepreneurs like Rufus and Betsy.”
“Damn straight!” Rufus called out his enthusiastic support from the back.
“And, may I offer the piece de resistance with one more teeny reminder about those non-disclosure forms? Just today I received word from a friend who owed me a bit of a favor, as it were. I am happy to tell you all that Mr. Roché has successfully secured membership and a submission to the Academy. With any luck, he may be in possession of a certain gold statue by this time next year.”
Bal gasped and raised his hand to his mouth, eyes wide with shock. Gabe cheered loudly and got up, almost tackling the taller man to the ground with the force of his hug.
The energy in the room was tangible after that, people were talking openly about what it could potentially mean for the town that up until a few months ago, had been experiencing a slump. Even Charlie said that it meant the station would be open for a number of years yet. Everyone’s jobs were secure for a long time to come.
Dean watched as people started to get up from their seats, one by one, and make their way to the stage. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to shake hands with, and congratulate the newest local celebrity. Rufus, was even in queue holding one of his t-shirts. Dean had to laugh at that. Knowing Bal, it would never see the light of day—unless Gabe stole it.
In all of the excitement, not a single person looked their way.
Just the way Dean liked it.
“Hey, Cas, Sweetheart.” Dean tried to keep it low so no one could hear.
“Yes, Dean?”
“Let’s get outta here.”
Cas smiled one of those wide bright smiles that took Dean’s breath away every time he saw it. He squeezed the hand he’d been holding and nodded.
“Quickly and quietly. I thought you’d never ask.”
Castiel was a man of his word. As soon as Dean closed and locked the front door of their house Castiel grabbed Dean by the jacket and slammed him unceremoniously against the door.
“Fuck yeah,” Dean muttered under his breath, green eyes dilating, as Castiel ground his hips against Dean’s.
Castiel threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair and pulled his head to the side much more gently, exposing his neck, and licked from his collarbone to his earlobe with one long drag of his tongue.
Dean whined desperately and grabbed Castiel’s hips to pull him impossibly closer.
“Don’t think for a second that it escaped my notice what the documentary implied you were doing on your couch while you watched me on the news,” Castiel murmured, switching between licks and nips of his neck and ear.
Castiel felt the heat from the man’s blush more than he could see it as he changed course and kissed along the bolt of Dean’s jaw.
“Cas, I couldn’t help myself, you’re just so fucking hot. The way you hold yourself, your voice… fuck, your voice,” Dean moaned while Castiel unbuttoned his jeans and snaked his hand down Dean’s underwear to get to his engorged cock. “I could come from your voice alone,” Dean basically panted as Castiel jacked his smooth, hard, cock with intent. “I need you, Cas. I need you in me.”
Castiel shivered from arousal and kissed Dean hard on the mouth.
“First, I think it’s time for us to recreate that little couch scene, my love,” Castiel said after pulling away from Dean’s swollen lips. “Strip, and get on the couch.”
Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Castiel watched with delight as his boyfriend shed his many layers and threw them on the ground in a rush to do what he’d been asked, revealing his muscular body. Dean shimmed his hips provocatively and winked, the brat.
Dean stopped to give Castiel a sweet, soft kiss on his way to the couch. “I love you, Dean,” Castiel said with reverence.
“I love you too, sweetheart.” Dean kissed him one more time and then got himself comfortable on the couch.
Castiel smiled, he was so lucky he got to have this. It was hard to stay mad at the three stooges (Gabriel, Balthazar, and Crowley) when Castiel knew that one of the reasons he was lucky enough to have Dean was partly because of them. Not that he would let them know he wasn’t pissed, they could, and should sweat it out for a while. He and Dean might get a guilt vacation or something out of it if he gave them the cold shoulder for a week or two.
Castiel grabbed their living room lube from the drawer of the side table. The very fact that he now owned such a thing as living room lube was evidence of just how much his life had improved with Dean in it. He popped the cap open with a click while dropping to his knees between his boyfriend’s spread legs.
Ignoring the fully erect cock in front of him, he kissed and left marks on Dean’s inner thighs while he lubed his fingers. The higher he traveled with his mouth, the needier his boyfriend became.
“Cas, please,” Dean begged after Castiel licked a stripe from his hole to his balls and played with them with his other hand.
Never able to deny his boyfriend anything, Castiel swallowed Dean down fully in one motion without gagging (an impressive feat, if he did say so himself), and started to tease Dean’s rim until finally inserting a finger.
It only took a couple of minutes of the double onslaught of pleasure to turn Dean into a sweaty, desperate, mess. Castiel was the only one who got to see his boyfriend in his current state and he was so aroused by the fact that his still clothed erection could hammer nails.
A soft tap on his foot made him pop off the delicious cock, add a second finger into Dean and press on his prostrate to distract him, so Castiel could glance behind him.
Steve was sitting behind him, a little toy blue mouse lay between the cat and Castiel’s foot. Steve must have dropped it on him.
“Cas stop teasing me,” Dean whined, eyes still closed when Castiel turned back around to check.
Castiel quickly grabbed the mouse with the hand not pleasuring Dean and threw it to the side, making the cat run after it, effectively giving them their privacy back.
After another minute, Steve jumped onto the empty couch cushion next to Dean with a small trill and dropped the blue toy mouse from his mouth. Then he sat down and looked expectantly at Castiel.
Castiel frowned (as well as he could with cock in his mouth) and glanced up to Dean, who appeared none the wiser to their little interruption.
He added a third finger, making Dean groan beautifully. The sound of it made his own cock twitch in protest over being ignored.
Steve tilted his head and pawed the little mouse closer to Dean.
Castiel growled in warning around the cock and swallowed around his boyfriend. While Dean was distracted by the vibration and wet heat, he grabbed the mouse and threw it over the couch into the kitchen; an excited Steve pursued the target.
“Yeah Cas, just like that. Fuck, your mouth,” Dean moaned while tangling his fingers in Castiel’s hair. Castiel hummed and continued to open Dean up expertly.
Maybe 15 seconds later, he heard the little mouse toy drop to the couch, glancing up he saw Steve sitting proudly on the headrest a couple of inches from Dean’s head.
“Cas, if you throw that fucking mouse one more time I swear I’ll bring up Gabe and Crowley while you’re pounding into me,” Dean said menacingly, looking down at him with one eyebrow raised.
Castiel almost choked on Dean’s cock. He sat up, wiped his mouth, and slowly pulled out his fingers from Dean’s prepped hole. “Dean, that’s crossing a line. We’ve discussed this.”
Dean chuckled and stood up. “Okay, my new fantasy is for reporter Castiel Novak to fuck me in our bedroom making special use of one of his ties—so nothing else accidentally slips from my mouth.”
Castiel watched as Dean gave Steve a head scratch on his way to the bedroom.
He moved to catch up, already taking a mental inventory of his ties and deciding which one would be best as a gag. How could he deny a request like that? Anything to make Dean fall apart.
It had taken a lot longer than expected to get everyone out of the Roadhouse after the viewing. It was a good thing, the locals were happy with the documentary and excited about what it could mean for the town. They’d taken a gamble and it looked like it was going to pay off.
Crowley hadn’t been in the mood to end the festivities and invited both him and Bal back to his place to celebrate. Enigma that Crowley was, no one outside of Gabe and Bal had ever seen the inside of his home. The first and only other time they’d visited, Gabe had expected some kind of throwback to English gentlemen's clubs and an episode of Masterpiece Theatre with shelves filled with leatherbound books, mahogany stained wood, and crystal decanters of expensive scotch. Curiously, none of it had been true.
The Brit lived in a sparsely decorated and cheerless modern monstrosity devoid of any kind of warmth or soul. If Gabe had been harboring any kind of secret opinions into whether or not Crowley was loved as a child, the utter lack of cheer in the man’s home spoke volumes. It made him feel a spark of something toward his friend. He didn’t feel like poking at whatever that something was too closely. Having feelings of any kind was unsettling enough.
“What would you gents like to drink?” Crowley led them into his kitchen and went for the fridge. “I’m, uh, out of alcohol at the moment. But I do have some sparkling water from France which is quite nice with a wedge of fresh lime?”
Gabe looked at Bal who looked as shocked as he felt. Maybe his talk with Crowley a few months ago had made a difference after all. Gabe had just assumed that the manager’s coffees and cocktail glasses all still contained alcohol, but maybe they didn’t.
“Sound’s great, I’d love one.” As soon as Gabe said it, Bal’s head whipped around to stare at him. Bal knew he hated sparkling water of any kind by virtue of the fact that Gabe teased him relentlessly about the case the cameraman kept in the fridge. On more than one occasion Gabe had told his roommate that sparkling water tasted like TV static. Not wanting to cause a scene, Gabe kicked Bal in the shin to shut him up while Crowley was busy in the fridge.
“Me too.” Bal shot him a pissed off look and rubbed his shin.
A few short minutes later the three of them were seated on Crowley’s decidedly uncomfortable couch with their decidedly non-alcoholic drinks, feeling decidedly awkward.
“Do you think they’re mad?” Crowley asked.
“More like, ‘How mad do you think they are?’” Bal cut to the chase. “We did them dirty and we all know it.”
“But the station will stay open, the town will thrive for a little while, and the fudge factory will keep giving me free swag. Look!” Gabe stood up and unzipped the hoodie he had stopped at home to change into on the way. Under it, he was wearing a blue t-shirt that said I’d rather be in Uranus, with a picture of a plate of fudge. “They gave me a box of toffee fudge too.”
“That’s all well and good for you, Gabe. But how long do you think it will be before Cassie speaks to any of us again outside of work?”
“Knowing my brother, a week. Maybe two. But he always forgives. He’s got too much heart.”
“And if my house catches on fire with me inside, will Dean save me?” That was a strange question for Crowley to ask, but what about any of their lives was normal?
“I’m pretty sure he’d save you, but he might let your house burn down.”
“No loss, I hate it. I feel like I’m living in a tomb.” Crowley sipped his water.
“Oh?” Gabe was surprised to hear Crowley echo his own thoughts. “So why do you stay?”
“I have to live somewhere, and it’s just me. It doesn’t really matter.”
Gabe really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s depressing as fuck. Do you rent or own?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Honestly, no.” Gabe looked around. “I’m gonna help you fix this. We can make…,” Gabe waved his arm around, “this better. Or, we'll find you something you like more.”
“Better? Define better.” Crowley eyed him suspiciously, which, Gabe respected as wise on his friend’s part, really.
Something that feels like comfort and home, Gabe thought but didn’t say. That was a conversation for another day.
“Let’s get through film promotion and then we’ll talk. Bal will probably quit by then and I’ll need a new roomie.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down for comedic effect, just in case Crowley rejected him outright. It hurt less when everyone thinks you’re joking.
“Whatever,” Crowley sipped his water right after he said it. Not a rejection, Gabe noted.
“Who said I was going anywhere?” Bal rejoined the conversation. “I never said I was leaving.”
“Oh. My. God. Mr. ‘I’m going to jump ship as soon as I can,’ you are gonna leave all of us in the dust as soon as the first critic gives you a five star review. We all know that this documentary was always going to be your express ticket out of Uranus.”
“Well,” Bal spoke sullenly, “that’s technically true. But….”
“But?” Gabe straightened up on the couch, this felt like an important announcement was coming.
“But, I hate myself for saying it, and I hate you for making me say it, but the town has grown on me. I’d like to keep it as my home base.”
“Say it.” As far as Gabe was concerned, this was Christmas morning.
“Say what?”
“You know what. Say it, Balthazar.”
“No.” Bal crossed his arms across his chest, reminding Gabe of a sulking child.
“Say it, and I’ll drive to St. Louis and get you dry rub ribs from Pappy’s Smokehouse.”
“Pappy’s?” Bal’s eyes lit up as he thought about it for a moment. “With a side of beans and the slaw?” Gabe thought for sure Bal would give in but then he seemed to catch himself and shook his head. “My dignity requires me to still say no.”
Gabe was not going to be deterred. He put his drink on the glass and chrome table and straddled Bal’s lap to increase the annoyance factor. “Say it.” He used his best sing-song voice.
“Fine.” Bal huffed and pushed at Gabe. “Just get off me.”
He waited, his cheeks almost hurt from what he knew was a shit eating grin. “I’m waiting.”
Miserable, Bal rolled his eyes and groaned before finally giving in. “I like it here. The people are nice.”
“Keep going. You know what I want. I left sticky notes all over our apartment for just this moment.” He’d been teasing Bal for months that this moment was going to come, and he was going to enjoy all of it. He’d left notes on the fridge, on the bathroom mirror, and in Bal’s lunch. Once, he even slipped it into his actual sandwich so he’d bite it. All some version of the same four mantra like phrases he was now waiting expectantly to hear.
“Uranus is a special place. I’ve never been as happy as when I’m in Uranus. I want to be in Uranus all the time.”
Gabe gave a small whoop and pumped his fist in victory. “Last one, c’mon, Bal you can do it.” This was the best day of Gabe’s life, at least until he talked to his brother later and got disowned.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life happily settled in Uranus. Now get off of me.” Bal glared at him as he returned to his seat, but there was the tiniest of pulls at one corner of his mouth.
“See now, was that so hard?” Gabe was happy thinking that his friend was going to be around for a while. He knew he could grate on people; good friends had always been hard to find and keep. Even though Bal was technically Castiel’s friend. He liked to think that he could consider them friends now too. “Nobody can resist the lure of Uranus.”
“That was most touching, but before you two miscreants get pulled too far into your shared love of ass jokes, we do have one tiny item of official business to attend to before we can put this tawdry business behind us.” Crowley always knew when and how to ruin a good party.
“And what might that be?”
“After tonight, the final expense report for everything connected to the documentary is due. I need to know what happened to the third nanny camera.”
Bal looked at Crowley like he was speaking another language. “Third camera? We only had two.”
“Sorry, the invoice clearly says three. I need an explanation or a refund from your salaries. Company policy, nothing personal.”
“Bullshit. You got them to pay for your Margaritaville blender and those are expensive.”
“Nonsense, they paid for a renovation to the staff lunch room. It went under the company morale budget.”
“The blender is in your office.” Bal wasn’t going to let it go. Probably because the rest of the staff shared an old pod machine for coffee that leaked everywhere.
“Well, it greatly improved my morale. But that’s beside the point. Where is the third camera? I know I saw the shipment on your desk, Gabriel.”
Bal answered before Gabe could speak. “We only used two. There was the stuffed rabbit at Gabe’s and my place, and the clown doll at Dean’s. What was the third one supposed to be?”
“A stuffed cat, I believe.”
That sparked an idea for Gabe. “A stuffed cat? We are missing a stuffed cat?”
“Say it a third time, Gabe, and Beetlejuice will appear,” Crowley said dryly and waited for Gabe to finish.
“I think…I probably know what, or more likely who might have it.” He turned to Bal, if his hunch was right, the mystery would solve itself quickly. “They record by motion and upload onto a cloud, right?”
“Right….” Bal seemed skeptical.
“Crowley, get me a laptop. Bal, I want you to log in and check the platform that stores the files.”
It wasn’t long before the three of them were sitting side by side on the couch. Bal sat in the middle, fingers rapidly running over the keyboard while he checked out the dedicated cloud. Sure enough, there was a drop down menu he said he’d missed. From there he could access recordings from a third nanny cam.
“The green dot means it’s actively recording, right?” According to what he saw, Gabe saw a link that looked like it was live. He pointed it out on the screen. “There. Click it.”
Bal did as asked and the three of them were rewarded with a full screen view of Castiel’s bare ass. He knew it was Cassie because of his giant wing tattoos, flexed and on full display. Even if Gabe had not been a self-professed porn aficionado, he’d know by the way his brother’s muscles were rippling that Cas was definitely taking Dean to Pound Town. Of course, the volume was on full blast and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin and Dean’s muffled groans made it just as obvious. A flash of blue caught Gabe’s eye and he tilted his head to see if he could make out whether those were actual ties around the bedposts—
Bal forcefully slammed the laptop closed, but it took a few more seconds for the sound to stop.
“Gabe,” Bal pinched the bridge of his nose. He inhaled deeply, looking for all the world like he was trying to hold onto his sanity. “There are some things that a person can’t unsee, and my best friend’s accidental porn tape is one of them. Why did you put a camera in his bedroom?”
“I didn’t, I swear. It was just a hunch. You said it was a stuffed cat; Castiel’s second biggest obsession after Mr. July is his cat. I guessed that he saw it on my desk at the station and took it home. I was right. There is nothing to feel guilty about because he chose to steal and these are the natural consequences.”
“Gabe, this is a gross violation of privacy. It’s illegal.”
“They signed a waiver, no one is going to jail.” Not that he ever would share it, but he liked getting Bal riled up. “Charlie said she wanted to watch their sex tape. How much do you think she’d pay?”
“Gabe, no.”
“$500? You need a new suit for Sundance. $1000, I bet she’d pay that.”
“Gabe!”
“Fine,” he chortled. “It was just an idea. You never let me have any fun.”
“You have enough fun for all three of us. Besides, we’ll need to pace ourselves. It’s going to be a busy year.” Crowley once again pulled them back to the task at hand. “I’ll write the camera off as irreparably damaged during filming.” He grabbed his laptop and placed it on the coffee table. After handing both Bal and Gabe their drinks, he turned to face the men.
“It’s not champagne, but I’d like to offer a toast.” He lifted his glass their way. “To your brother and Dean, they might be complete morons when it comes to relationships, but they do deserve to be happy—and their video seems to infer that they are.” They clinked their glasses and sipped. “And to us, may we do a better job of recognizing a good thing when we see it…like our friendship.”
Again, Gabe got that soft little feeling in his chest as they drank the sparkling water that tasted like a single skittle was dissolved in the fizzy liquid. Bal would be around, at least peripherally, and his unexpected friendship with Crowley had become surprisingly genuine.
He really did get lucky in Uranus.
As great as the sex was with Cas—and it was awesome—the cuddles in bed after the fact were his favorite part. Maybe he didn’t get enough hugs as a kid, who knew, but it didn’t change the fact that he could lay here with Cas for days and be happy. Cas had his arm flung over Dean’s torso and was resting his head on his chest.
“I can hear your heartbeat.”
“Good to know I’m not dead,” Dean kissed the top of Cas’ sweaty head and chuckled. ”Pretty sure you made me black out there for a minute, Sweetheart.”
Cas lifted his head up enough to look at Dean. He could see the self-satisfaction written all over his face. “That good, was it?”
“Stop fishin’ for compliments, you know it was. It always is.” Dean tilted his face down for a kiss. “Love you.”
Cas sighed contentedly and squeezed closer. “Love you too. Let’s stay here forever. Or at least until my brother drops dead.” There was absolutely zero malice in Cas’ words, but Dean had to ask.
“You’re not mad?”
“Oh, I’m furious. But also? That’s Gabe. I know Bal and what I do know of Crowley tells me that all of it was Gabe’s brainchild. He’s always been a schemer. This is just his biggest one to date, and unfortunately, we were the targets.”
“So you are upset.”
Cas rolled off of Dean and laid on his back beside him. He focused his attention on the ceiling. “It’s complicated. I got more attention and care from Gabe growing up than I did from my parents or anyone else in my family. As twisted as the whole thing is, I can see where Gabe orchestrated the whole thing for love. He loves this town and wants it to thrive, he loves the staff at the station and wants to keep everyone together, he feels guilty that Bal is over-talented and got tricked into a contract and this is his way to fix it.”
“Yeah?” What Dean had learned about Gabe made him agree. He was shit at respecting boundaries and his methods sucked ass, but his heart was in the right place. “What about you?”
“He loves me and wants me to be happy.” Cas rolled onto his side to face Dean who did the same. “And you, make me very happy.”
“Mmmm, good to know.” They leaned in again for a sweet kiss. All promise, no heat. It had been a long day. “So we won't kill him, then?”
“No. But we’ll let him stew on it for a week or two.”
“I gotta say, Cas—” Dean was about to roll over onto his back when something caught his eye. He’d seen it a hundred times and hadn’t thought twice—chalking it up to Cas being Cas—but now, after tonight, he had to ask.
“Uh, Cas? Where’d you get the stuffed cat?” Dean sat up and glared at the innocuous looking stuffed kitty that was sitting directly across from their bed. Its eyes had the same creepy feel that damn clown doll had.
“The one on the dresser? He looks just like Steve, doesn’t he? I saw it and couldn’t resist.”
“Yeah, but where did you get it?”
Cas chuckled a little nervously. “I know it’s wrong to steal, but it was on Gabe’s desk and he’s so disorganized I knew he wouldn’t miss it. I don’t even know why he had—” Cas’ eyes blew wide, “oh my God, it’s a fucking nanny cam isn’t it?”
Cas threw back the covers, completely disregarding his nakedness, and grabbed the stuffed cat from the dresser. He turned it around in his hands a few times until he found a seam at the bottom that was held together by velcro. With a rip, the toy opened and a small recording device fell out onto the bed.
“That fucker.” Dean had seen Cas mad, but never like this. “I’m gonna kill him.” He looked at Dean. “That’s been here the whole time. Every time, Dean.” Cas threw the empty plushie aside and grabbed his jeans off the floor in search of his cell phone. “Where’s my phone? Assbutt fucking shithead asshole brother. I’m gonna kick his ass across the next three states.” When every pocket turned up empty he threw the pants down, “God fucking damn it, where’s my phone?”
So much for post-coital bliss. Cas looked mad enough to smite someone and it was probably for the best that he couldn’t find it just now. “Hey, Sweetheart,” he reached for Cas and pulled him back into bed. “Hey, s’okay. I know you’re mad, we’ll kill him and hide the body later. Just c’mere.” Cas huffed and buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.
“He lied to me, Dean.”
“Well, he lied to both of us about a lot of things, but technically, this one’s on you.”
“How so?” Cas sat up and eyed him suspiciously. Dean figured he better be careful so he didn’t get smited. Or worse, kicked out of bed.
“You stole a camera from work and took it home. Who’s at fault for what gets recorded on it?”
Cas pursed his adorably kissable lips in a pout. “Stop making sense, Dean.”
“And didn’t you just give me a big speech about how Gabe was a pain in the ass but he meant well? Do you really think he’d use those videos?”
“This is Gabe we’re talking about. He’d sell them to pay for a new disco ball in his van.”
Yeah, Cas was right about that. “Okay, how about this, then? Bal is the one who edits all of the footage. Would your best friend from college who’s trying to make a name for himself as a serious filmmaker sell your sex tapes?”
The corner of Cas’ mouth turned up in a half smile. “No. He thinks he’s too refined for something like that.”
“Exactly. Plus he already told me tonight that he’d erased all of the x-rated videos of me watching you on TV. Despite working with Gabe and Crowley, he’s still got morals.”
And that, apparently, was all it took to distract Channel 8’s best reporter.
“Dean, exactly how many times did you jerk off while watching me on TV?” There was a little bit of suggestive heat in the way Cas asked the question.
“What’s the date today?”
“June third.”
Dean pretended to look like he was doing large mental math calculations. “Hmmm, let's see. I moved here in September, that’s thirty times nine months, plus doubles on Friday, but Sundays off because my grandma had a thing about it being a day of rest….” He gave Cas a smartass grin, “I’d say three or four, you don't really do it for me. It’s always been Betsy.”
“Fuck you!” Cas grabbed a pillow and tried to smother him with it until they were tangled up and laughing. Laughing that turned into sloppy kisses, and then into an unhurried makeout session.
Later, Dean found himself in the very same place he’d started out in: laying in bed with Cas snuggled up close. Sated, content, happy.
“Hey, Cas.”
“Yes, Dean?”
“Uranus is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I love you, but don’t ever say that again.”
