Chapter Text
Ryder doesn’t dare kiss him—he doesn’t want to wake him, and he’s taken too much advantage already—so, with one last, long look, he opens the door to the hall and slips through, tucking an envelope near the door for Killian to find before leaving him behind.
“No! No, what are you doing?” Dean shouts, sitting straight up on his bed. “You fucking idiot!” He clutches his phone as he stares at it, bug-eyed and frustrated. Why would Ryder leave Killian? Yes, Killian was a jackass, but he was turning things around! He was falling for him! How did Ryder not see that?
Dean’s bedroom door swings open. “Dean? What’s wrong?” Cas asks, wide eyes darting all over the room.
“Um,” Dean stammers. He didn’t mean to be so loud. “Nothin’.”
“Nothing? Then why were you yelling?” Cas’ eyes drop to his phone, then back to Dean.
“It was…um...” Dean looks to his phone, then back to his concerned best friend. He’s already keeping one huge secret from him, and it’s taking up so much space that he doesn’t have room for others in his brain anymore. “Fuck it. You know everything else about me, anyway.”
And that’s how Castiel Novak finds out that Dean Winchester reads fanfiction.
***
Dean is startled out of his reading of the adventures of Killian Montgomery and Ryder Hartwood, characters in the TV show Deja Vu. The men—well, technically, an angel (Ryder, who got his only-used-in-fic last name from his vessel and his first from a moving van, his angelic name unpronounceable) and a self-proclaimed “time cowboy” (Killian, a reckless human with a tarnished reputation but a “bright soul,” per his angelic friend)—along with Killian’s brother, Cameron, are on a mission to fix the past in order to make the future that is supposed to happen (as told to Ryder by Carwyn, the Lifeforce). The angel and the cowboy are also completely, absolutely in love. They just don’t know it—although the thousands of people who read Ryllian (Ryder and Killian) fanfic about them certainly do. Dean is one of them. He usually reads AU fics, where the characters are put into different situations outside of the TV show. This one he’s reading now is based on canon, though divergent. It’s just a one-shot, in which Killian tells Ryder he will never have to be alone, even in death, because Killian will find him no matter what. Because of course he will. Killian’s so in love with Ryder, it’s heartbreaking.
Cas bends over Dean’s shoulder as Dean quickly closes out of Archive of Our Own before Cas sees. “And how are Killian and Ryder this evening?” he smirks.
Dean rolls his eyes. No sense denying it. “They’re good. Hot, as always.” He doesn’t tell him that the sex is only one of the reasons why he reads fanfic, and not even the most important reason.
Cas laughs. “You should read me some. I could use a little action in my life.”
“Read it yourself,” he shoots back.
“Maybe I will. But not tonight. We need groceries, and we need to be back in time for your show.” Cas winks at him. It makes his heart pound, and not just because his friend is teasing him.
“Stop,” he says, blushing.
“It’s okay. I know how much you looooove astrophysics.”
“It’s interesting!”
“Mmm. So it’s not because the host of the show is hot.”
“I like his hair,” he mumbles.
“Uh huh.”
Dean stands. “Shut up.”
Cas snickers as he rips the grocery list from the fridge.
It’s near Thanksgiving, so the store is packed. Cas and Dean wind their way slowly through the aisles, bumping into each other more often than not as they maneuver around the throngs. Most people look miserable—Dean feels especially bad for the two (hot) guys at the seafood counter, who are holding squirming twin boys in their arms and seem to be fighting silently. Some people, though, look pretty damn happy—kids jumping in delight when their mom picks up a pumpkin pie, friends buying beer, and in the cleaning aisle, two dudes having an actual joust with mops (and laughing their asses off). Even the guy buying what looks like copious amounts of feminine hygiene products looks like life isn’t treating him too badly (but that could be because the guy with him is totally fucking hot and rocking that suit he’s wearing).
At the register, a guy is gushing about the guy next to him, something about a date. It’s adorable, and Dean finds himself feeling jealous. He glances at Cas, who’s already looking at him. Dean licks his lips and turns to stare at the racks of chewing gum until the guys in front of them leave, the one guy looking at the other as if he’s already in love. Maybe he is. Dean gets that.
Back at home, Cas makes salsa chicken, one of Dean’s favorite dinners, then they settle in to watch TV for a while (and yeah, that astrophysicist is hot, sue him). Cas sits close to him, as he always does, and Dean sweats, as he always does. It’s getting worse as time wears on. He glances at Cas’ hands. They’re so fucking sexy, and Cas doesn’t even realize how much he turns Dean on when he rubs his hands along his thighs absently. He does it a lot. Cas is a fidgeter. Those hands have featured in many of his fantasies...on his legs, his chest, in his hair, on his cock...on Dean’s legs, his chest, in his hair, on his cock...
“Are you okay?” Cas asks.
“Huh?”
“The show is over, and you haven’t moved.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. I’m gonna, um, go read.”
“Say hi to Ryder and Killian for me.”
“Ass.” He shoves his friend, who laughs. “It’s good stuff.”
“Oh, I'm sure. Very highbrow.”
“Come on, now, a lot of it is really good.”
“I bet.”
“You’d be surprised. Don’t criticize what you don’t know. And hey, it’s not like you could write a fanfic, Mr. Guy-Who-Stares-At-Numbers-All-Day-And-Reads-Tax-Code-At-Night.”
“Ouch,” Cas says, clutching his heart. “I’ll have you know, I could. And very well.” He sticks his tongue out. Dean knows where he’d like that tongue.
“Sure you could. I’m going to my room to read porn now.”
“Enjoy your smut. I’m going to my room, too.”
“Enjoy your soul-withering code.”
***
Cas closes the door to his bedroom and blows a hard breath through pursed lips. He’s dying to know. Dying. But he’s not going to ask.
Dean doesn’t know that Cas writes fanfic, and that he is, in fact, good at it—or at least his subscribers and the comments on his stories would suggest so. It’s something that’s become a passion, something that he may turn into another career—if he ever gets brave enough to send anything out to publishers, which is harder than it sounds. There’s deciding whether to self-publish, whether to get an agent, whether to turn his fanfic into something to send out or come up with something new. There’s figuring out what audience he wants. There’s all the time it takes. There are rejections. Lots of rejections.
In the fanfic world, though, there’s lots of acceptance and support, and he loves that. He’s fairly well-known in the Deja Vu fandom, he’s told (it always surprises him to hear that), so he’s curious to know if Dean’s read his work. Yet he’s scared to ask, scared to even tell him. What if Dean doesn’t like his work? It would hurt so much more than some anonymous person online. And frankly, he’s probably put way more of himself and his feelings into his work than the average writer. His feelings about a certain roommate.
Cas is Ryder. Dean is Killian. And in every fic, Ryder is in love with Killian. Of course, he always makes Killian fall in love with Ryder, too. Wishful thinking, but they’re his stories, so he’ll do what he wants.
He takes a few deep breaths and flips open his computer. The screen lights up. He smiles. His background is a selfie of the two of them from their trip to Bermuda. They’d had a great time, Cas remembers—he hasn’t forgotten those massages they got, nor the bed-sharing they had to do because there was only one bed (Cas snickers at the common fanfic trope). He shakes himself out of his dazed drooling over his best friend and opens Google Docs.
Hmm. There are so many things he could work on. He could wrap up his current WIP, an AU about Ryder and Killian fighting over a car. He could work on his story for the Bang he’s in, another AU about Killian as a caregiver, his wheelchair-bound uncle, and Ryder, his uncle’s nurse. He could play with the twenty stories he’s started and never finished, or he could attack the folder labeled “Story Ideas.” He could be so productive.
He stands up and stretches. He goes to get tea. He looks at his docs again. He lays his head on his desk. He makes incoherent noises of frustration. “Come on, Cas,” he mutters.
He grabs his phone and opens his Spotify app, chuckling as he opens his MTC playlist. He and Dean each have a favorite in the band, and they’re pretty passionate about their opinions. Not that it matters—it’s not like they’d ever meet them, and the co-singers are engaged anyway—but it’s fun to tease each other. The heavy bassline of “Don’t Tell Me” begins, and he hums as he cracks his knuckles and gets into writing mode.
He decides on fluff. Christmas is on its way, and he wants to have something to post around that time. He thinks about Dean’s mention of the Secret Santa exchange he’s planning for his Kindergarten students, and an idea blooms in his mind. He writes.
Three hours later, he’s exhausted, but he’s made progress and he’s happy with it. It’s short enough so he won’t need a beta on this one. He rolls his shoulders and decides to take a quick look at his email.
Ooh, comments. He doesn’t need comments—he appreciates his readers whether they comment or not—but man, he loves them. Comments are one of his favorite parts of fanfic, because he gets to chat with others about a mutual passion. Some comments are fervid, some are keysmash gibberish, some are thoughtful. Some people make predictions about what will happen next, some analyze what’s happened so far, some talk directly to the characters. Some comment sporadically, some only at the end of a story, some in every chapter. He loves it all. He clicks into the comments on his latest WIP to respond.
People were mad last time, and though he doesn’t want to upset people, he admits he gets a little evil glee out of it, too. Their reactions mean that they’re invested, and he loves that. This chapter, people are worried. He prepares himself to sympathize (because he does) without giving away too much plot (it’s so tempting sometimes).
He responds to all of his comments, saving his favorite commenter for last. He shouldn’t have favorites, he knows, but this one commenter has read everything he’s written, comments on every chapter, and, well, they’ve connected over their love of Killian and Ryder—he, of course, Killian, and his commenter, Ryder. Or, to be more accurate, they’ve connected over their love of Killian and Ryder’s real-life counterparts.
Their relationship went to the next level when Rydhis_Hardwood (Cas still laughs about that username; it sounds like something Dean would say) mentioned how he identified with Killian in one of his comments. It led to a long thread, in which Rydhis confessed his feelings for his friend and Cas confessed his feelings for Dean (without naming him, of course). Since then, they’ve been pretty tight, chatting through comments. He doesn’t know a lot about him—he’s a cisgender, bisexual male who enjoys fluff and sex about equally and loves a good, hearty plot, and his roommate is male—but he feels for Rydhis.
Smiling, he opens the email with Rydhis’ comment and clicks on the link to bring him to said comment in AO3.
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 11: Dude, that was crazy. Ryder’s letter broke my cold, dead heart, man. Here I was, prepared to hate him (and you), and then he leaves this letter that flays him open and shows us how lovesick he is. Ack. Wish I was brave enough. Then again, he didn’t think he was gonna see Killian again, so he could do that. Not me. I’d be stuck. Anyway, loved it, and I'm glad that Killian’s going after him. Not that I had any doubt. :)
Cas smiles.
Comment as KilliansHusband: You know me so well. ;) Of course Killian wasn’t going to just let him go. Killian loves him, just as Ryder loves Killian (so much so that he sacrificed everything, including his own happiness, which broke my heart writing it because it just killed him to leave). I’m glad you don’t hate me. And hey, FWIW, I think your Ryder would be lucky to have your heart. If you shared your feelings with him, at least it would be out in the open.
Unsurprisingly, Rydhis comments almost immediately, as he often does, and they start a conversation:
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 11: He already has my heart, man. And it would probably be okay, I guess, cause he’s so easygoing, but I don’t wanna make things awkward between us. We live together. Don’t want him to think he can’t date anyone because it’ll upset me. I mean, it would, obvs, but still. Not like he’s dating anyone, though. Doesn’t even talk about it. Just, I dunno. Nervous.
KilliansHusband on Chapter 11: I know he has your heart. I can tell. And I will confess to you that I’m better at giving others advice than following it myself. Obvs. :D
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 11: Yeah, what’s up with that? Still pining, huh?
KilliansHusband on Chapter 11: Like a tree-shaped air freshener.
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 11: That was bad.
KilliansHusband on Chapter 11: I know. XD Yes, still pining. It sucks, but it makes for good fanfic fodder, I suppose.
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 11: Better if you got it resolved, though. You’d feel better. And your BFF would be damn lucky to have a nice guy like you.
KilliansHusband on Chapter 11: Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black?
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 11: Maybe
KilliansHusband on Chapter 11: ;P
It’s nice to have someone who understands what he’s going through, Cas muses as he finishes their conversation.
In the morning, Cas drinks strong coffee with cinnamon and looks out the window while he waits for his gluten-free bagel to pop up. The sanitation truck is just arriving, and Cas watches with interest as the sandy-haired worker and his co-worker, a burly guy, muscle the cans up to dispose of the waste contained within.
“Watchin’ Hottie McClean?” Dean teases as he pads into the kitchen. Cas turns. Dean is pouring coffee into his travel mug, fully dressed for his last day of work before the Thanksgiving holiday. There are no students today, so he’s gone casual in jeans and a green t-shirt that brings out his eyes.
“Indeed,” Cas purrs, though he won’t tell Dean that he’s the Hottie in question. Noting Dean’s bloodshot eyes, he says, “You look tired. Didn’t sleep well?”
“Not great.”
“Oh? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just, um...just talking to a fandom friend.”
“Oh.” Cas raises his brows in surprise. “I didn’t know you were that into it.”
Dean seems to close in on himself. “Yeah, well, I talk to a few people. I don’t go crazy or anything—”
“No, I'm sure. It’s perfectly fine, Dean.”
“No, no, I know. I just don’t want you to think I'm obsessed or immature or something.”
Cas furrows his brows. “I don’t think you’re obsessed or immature at all. It’s something you enjoy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Okay.” He blows out a hard breath. “Okay, good.”
“Okay.” Cas smiles at him, placing a hand on his shoulder and hoping it’s enough to calm Dean. He understands his feelings. He has similar feelings about people in his real life finding out he writes fanfic. Even though several of their friends are fans of the show, no one knows he writes about it.
Licking his lips (a nervous tell, Cas knows), Dean asks, “So, uh, we’ll bake tonight? For tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
They stand at the counter, staring at each other. Cas realizes his hand is still on Dean and drops it, clearing his throat. “Uh, well, bagel popped, so.” He tips his head toward the toaster.
“Right, right. Sorry. Uh, have a good day, man.”
“You t—” Cas starts, but his words are muffled by Dean’s shoulder as he pulls him into a hug. They’re rare, these hugs, but definitely not unwelcome. In fact, Cas thinks skipping a day at the office to do this all day sounds like an excellent plan. But as quickly as it started, the hug ends and Dean races out the door.
***
Shit. What the hell is wrong with you?
When they were staring at each other in the kitchen, the words almost tumbled out of his mouth. So instead, he hugged his best friend within an inch of his life. For being so desperate for Cas to not think he’s crazy, he sure acted like it just now.
Dean sighs and heads to work.
By the end of the day, he feels better. He works with a great group of people, and they had an awesome time despite it being a work day (pre-holiday potlucks are the best). Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and they’re hosting his brother Sam, his girlfriend Eileen, and a couple of friends this year. And tonight, he gets to hang out with Cas and make pies (all gluten-free, because Cas isn’t going to miss out on pie, damn it). Yup, life is good.
When he arrives home, Cas has already started prepping—there are ingredients spread out along the table and counters, there are beers in chilled glasses (gluten-free, of course, for Cas), and classic rock is pouring from the speakers. The man himself is in sweatpants and a t-shirt that says Love is like pi: real, irrational, & never ending. It’s gorgeously domestic, and it makes him want to cry and tell Cas everything, just for a chance to have this forever. From all the fanfic he’s read, it seems like all he’d have to do is confess his love and boom, they’d be together and clearing the table for sexy times...but in reality, they have pie to make and a friendship not to ruin. Plus, table sex doesn’t sound all that fun. It’s a hard surface, and theirs is sort of wobbly, shimmed by a wadded-up piece of notebook paper.
Still, he’d try it if Cas wanted to. Hell, he’d try anything Cas wanted to.
“Hello, Dean. How are you?”
I’d be better if you were kissing me right now. “Uh, good. Ate like a pig at the potluck.” Oh, well, doesn’t that make you more attractive. Dean glances at his belly self-consciously.
Cas chuckles, not seeming to notice Dean’s discomfort. “Good. I figured you probably wouldn't be too hungry, so I didn’t make supper. I’ve been eating pie filling and cranberry sauce instead. It’s entirely possible I will die from my blood turning to sugar. Bury me with Kit-Kats.”
“Those have gluten. You can’t eat those.”
“I can if I’m dead.”
“You can’t eat if you’re dead.”
“I am taking them with me to the afterlife, Dean.”
“Won’t get to keep ‘em. Charon is gonna take them as payment for ferrying you across the river Styx.”
Cas smirks. “And you make fun of me for being a nerd.”
“I gotta use my Mythology minor somehow.”
“Mmmhmm.” He shakes his head with that softly fond look Dean’s such a sucker for and beckons him with a finger. “Come.”
Damn, that’s the start of so many of his Dom Cas fantasies. And, like his fantasies, he follows dutifully. Cas leads him to his bedroom, and yeah, so far so good.
“Take off your shirt and close your eyes.”
Hell yes. Dean does as he’s told.
“Open.”
He does, and instead of seeing Cas standing in front of him naked, or in leather, or even just presenting him with handcuffs or pretty underwear, he’s staring at...a t-shirt, a funny one that says I’m into fitness—fit’ness apple pie in my mouth. It’s so thoughtful of Cas, and yet...he swallows down the disappointment he never should have had to begin with because he shouldn’t have let his mind wander.
Cas lowers the shirt, which he’d been holding in front of his face. “Dean?”
“Love it, man,” he smiles, feeling self-conscious at getting caught daydreaming. It’s cool in the room; his nipples pebble. He fights the chill and slips the shirt on. “What do you think?”
There’s a weird, airless heaviness in the room as Cas’ eyes roam his chest and eventually land on his face. “Nice,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, let’s get to it.” He breezes by Dean, and Dean looks after him, feeling terrible that he’s made things so awkward.
They settle in after a while, their usual ease returning with time, routine, and several beers. Cas is always fun to cook and bake with; he’s gotten better over the years, and has even taught Dean a few things. They joke around and throw whipped cream at each other. Dean tries to keep his mind out of the gutter as Cas licks it off his own arm with a moan and an exaggerated swipe of his tongue.
“Do Ryder and Killian ever lick whipped cream off each other?”
Dean blushes. “Stop.”
“I bet they do. I bet it’s all, ‘Oh, Killian, you have a little right...there…’”
“Stop it!” Dean laughs.
“And Killian says, ‘Mmm, baby, you want my cherry?’ and Ryder says, ‘Oh, I’m gonna take your cherry, baby. I'm gonna take your cherry, and swallow allllll that cream, and I’m gonna plunge my spoon into your dish over and over and over…’” Cas thrusts his hips, making high, breathy sounds as he wipes a spot of whipped cream from Dean’s arm and takes it into his mouth. Dean is convinced he’s about to die of either embarrassment or arousal. “‘Oh, fuck, Killian, let me dip into your sundae, baby.’”
Dean shoves him before his arousal becomes too obvious. “You suck.”
“See? I told you I could write this stuff.”
“That’s trash.” Dean shakes his head. “Good fanfic involves feelings and plot, not just fucking and stupid euphemisms.”
Cas looks thoughtful. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, smut’s fun and I like it, but you get burned out on two guys fucking constantly.”
“Do you? I think it sounds delightful.”
“Oh my God.” Dean slides a hand down his face. “What is this conversation?”
“Foolishness,” Cas grins. Dean grins back, powerless against that smile. The timer beeps.
Dean leans into the oven and pulls out three beautiful pies. “Man, look at these.” He turns to find Cas looking at him, not the pies. “What?”
“I just…” Cas’ eyes dart toward the floor, then back at him. “I just really...um...yeah. Um, I just...was noticing you have whipped cream in your hair, and I wanted to make sure to tell you.”
“Oh. Uh, thanks?” The alcohol and his arousal must be messing with his head. He could’ve sworn that felt like a Look, like a Moment. But it was just Cas being Cas.
“Sure. Better get cleaned up. Big day tomorrow.”
“Right.”
“Plus, you’ll want time to read before bed.”
“Fuck you.”
Cas snickers, and Dean smiles, and they leave it at that.
Dean does retire to his room to read, but tonight he’s looking for something simple, something easy and fluffy with little to no angst. One of the things he loves about fanfic is that there’s so much variety. He can find just about anything he needs to match his mood or his hankering that day. Action? Sure. Heavy angst? Plenty. Tooth-rotting fluff? More than Willy Wonka’s factory could make. Friends to lovers? Soooo much. A/B/O. Crack. Roommates (They were roommates!). Pining. Slow burn. PWP. Wing kink. Humor. Established relationship. First kiss. Kids. Complicated worldbuilding. Straightforward smut. Canon. AU. 1K. 100K. On and on and on.
He goes to his favorite writer’s works and skims them until he sees one that would fit the bill.
Ah, a simple high school AU. He doesn’t usually read high school, and KilliansHusband doesn’t usually write high school, but this one was a gift, apparently. It’s soft and sweet and reminds him of simpler times. Not that high school was simple, but his relationship with Cas was. Mostly. He didn’t realize his feelings for his friend weren’t strictly platonic until their senior year of college (didn’t even realize he was bisexual until his junior year of college). As he reads, he thinks back to all of those crazy times he and Cas spent together. Like the friends in this story, they were very close. Unlike these guys, though, they never thought about petitioning to be class couple. The conservative area where they used to live wouldn’t have tolerated that. He sort of wishes he’d found fanfic sooner. Maybe he would’ve come out sooner, realizing that he wasn’t some sort of freak.
Cas, of course, was nothing but understanding—in part, sure, because he’s bisexual, too, but mostly just because he’s Cas. Cas had come out the year before him, but he never belittled Dean for taking longer, or not telling him sooner. He just supported him. It helped him as he went through the scary process of coming out to his parents, brother, and friends.
When he gets to the bottom of the fic, he comments:
Comment as Rydhis_Hardwood: Reread this. Needed something sweet and simple tonight. Still loved it. Thank you for writing it.
Shortly after, KilliansHusband responds:
KilliansHusband on Chapter 1: You’re welcome. Sometimes sweet and simple is nice, isn’t it? Are you okay?
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 1: Yeah. Just the usual. Pining, lol
KilliansHusband on Chapter 1: Ah. I’m sorry.
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 1: It’s okay. It’s my fault for getting all hopeful.
KilliansHusband on Chapter 1: Hope isn’t a bad thing. Love isn’t, either. There’s no shame in loving someone.
Rydhis_Hardwood on Chapter 1: Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate it. I’m in the US and it’s tomorrow.
KilliansHusband on Chapter 1: I do. I'm in the US too. And thank you. Happy Thanksgiving to you.
Dean puts his phone away and closes his eyes, trying desperately not to think of Cas and failing.
Thanksgiving is, as usual, a rowdy, chaotic affair. Their parents live too far to join them this time, but they’re all coming for Christmas. Dean can’t wait for that. In the meantime, he’s enjoying the company of Sam and Eileen as well as their friends Charlie and Jo. They eat too much, drink too much, and generally give each other a hard time, and it’s almost perfect. Perfect would be if he and Cas were together. But he’ll take this, for now.
“Time for my dessert!” Charlie announces with a grin.
“After three pies, you want more dessert?” Dean asks.
“These cookies are special. Plus, we’re not gonna eat here. Come on. We’re going out. Eileen and I planned something.”
The six pile into an Uber van and head to a bar that Eileen knows. They’re hosting a “Sick of Your Family?” karaoke night. It seems lots of people are, given the crowd. Drinks are ordered all around, and Charlie gives Cas a separate tin before she hands out her special cookies around the table—sexually suggestive Pilgrims. Cas has the same, in gluten free form. They’re irreverent and hilarious, just like Charlie. “Practicing for my Christmas cookies I’m doing this year,” the baker explains with a laugh. She shares with some of the other tables, and the mood is even more buoyant than before.
Dean soon sees why Eileen chose this place—there’s a man translating the songs into ASL, and he is wow —gorgeous, guileless, and has the best hands, just like Cas does. In between appreciating the eye candy and ignoring the swirl of heat every time Cas, who’s next to him, brushes a hand or leg against him accidentally, Dean enjoys the conversation. Sam and Eileen tell the story of their first date and how Eileen kicked his ass at mini golf. Jo and Charlie talk about their strange first date at the Roadhouse (where Jo’s mom, Ellen, interrogated Charlie) and their weekly video game showdowns with friends of theirs, who are “idiots in love”. Cas relates a couple of his own dating disasters, then laughs in embarrassment as he tells the story of how he and Dean once went out for dinner and Cas got sick with food poisoning. The others laugh, but Dean remembers how horrible it was. Cas even went to the Emergency Department that night. Dean had never been so scared in his life. It took Cas a while to recover from it, and Dean was relieved when he finally got him to eat some of his mom’s homemade soup (the harassment and teasing he got from his parents was worth it) and he started to show some color again.
“I’m loving the new season of Deja Vu,” Charlie says, changing the topic. “I love Killian shedding the toxicity in his life, dealing with the shit with his father. And rumor is that Ryllian is finally gonna happen!” The redhead squeals with delight and claps her hands.
“At least Cameron wouldn’t have to deal with all their sexual tension anymore,” Sam grouses.
“Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Jo mutters.
“Me too,” Dean mutters along with her.
“Well, I can always fall back on fanfic if they don’t,” Charlie shrugs.
Several pairs of eyes turn to her. Shortly, words fly—
“You like fanfic?”
“What’s fanfic?”
“I read it, too!”
—and Charlie quiets the table with another squeal. “Ahh, I'm not the only one! You guys, that’s awesome! How many of you read fic?”
Eileen, Jo, and Dean raise their hands. Dean’s pleasantly surprised and, honestly, relieved. The most important people in his life all know now, and some of them even share his hobby.
“What’s fanfic?” Sam asks, brows knitted. He looks at Eileen, signing.
Charlie slaps him on the arm. “Oh. Oh, Sam, do we have an education for you,” she grins. Dean grins, too. His poor brother.
Sam is a gaping, confused mess after they explain the basics of fanfic, followed by interesting details such as the biology of Alphas and Omegas, why tentacles are a thing, animal fics, BDSM depictions, slash, and the cultural importance of fanfic, particularly in the expression for and representation of marginalized populations. Eileen, Jo, and Charlie are laughing at him, and Cas is quiet but seems engaged. Not put off by the topic, anyway. He’s listening. Dean can tell because he has that “listening face” on—intense stare, slight scowl that isn’t really a scowl. Dean feels for his brother—he was just as overwhelmed when he got into it—so he figures he’ll engage the ladies while Sam’s brain recalibrates. Plus, he kind of wants to nerd out.
“So, who do you guys like to read?”
This starts a lively, impassioned gushing about their favorite authors, many of whom Dean’s read. When the question is turned to him, the answer is easy.
“The best writer of Ryllian, for sure, has to be KilliansHusband.”
***
Cas nearly falls out of his chair as their friends chirp about their enjoyment of fanfic writer KilliansHusband.
They read my work and like it. He reads my work and likes it. He reads my work and he likes it.
Clutching his glass so hard he’s certain he could shatter it, he listens as Dean describes the stories he writes just one bedroom away from where Dean reads them. “I mean, I can feel everything he describes like I'm there. He creates these amazing versions of Ryder and Killian, and every one of them is a little different but all so cool, you know? I mean, this guy makes me laugh one chapter and cry the next. It’s crazy.”
“I love that about fanfic,” Eileen agrees.
“Right? And this is dumb, but it…” Dean directs his gaze away from him and his brother. “It brings me joy, you know?”
Cas might die of pure happiness. That’s what drives him, the joy it brings him and the joy he hopes to bring others. It’s all he ever wants his readers to feel, and all he ever wants Dean to feel. To know he reads his work and feels that...it’s overwhelming in the best way possible. “That’s not dumb, Dean,” he says quietly, unable to keep the words in.
Dean turns to him. “You don’t think so?”
“Anything that gives us joy should be celebrated, not belittled or hidden.” Oh, how he wishes he could follow his own advice.
A soft smile spreads across Dean’s face, making him that much more beautiful. “Thanks, Cas.”
“Exactly!” Jo declares loudly. She’s clearly had a couple too many. “Plus, the way KH writes Ryllian is so hot. Ugh, makes my panties wet.”
Cas wrinkles his nose. “Jo.”
Charlie laughs. “There’s my bi baby,” she says, laying a sweet kiss on her hair. “I read his work for the romance, but the sex is good, even if I don’t like boy parts.”
“The sex is awesome,” Dean gushes. Cas swallows, praying that his face isn’t flaming as he recalls just how he conceptualized those sex scenes...using himself and Dean.
“So, where do you guys read this stuff? And who writes it? Can anyone write one, or do you have to be part of some...club, or something?” Sam interjects, his mind seemingly finished with his data computations and coming back online and into their conversation. Cas is relieved they don’t have to spend more time describing Ryder and Killian’s hot yet heartfelt sex.
“Anyone can read it, Sam,” Charlie explains. “You go to a website like AO3 and type in the search terms you want to use, and you can use filters. For example, if you want to find Ryllian fics, you can search by TV show, then by relationships. Ryllian fics aren’t hard to find. They’re one of the most popular pairings.”
“Not surprising. There’s definitely something between them.”
Dean scoffs. “Of course there is. It’s painfully obvious to everyone but them. For crying out loud, Carwyn’s trying to push them together. She’s, like, God, practically.”
“Anyone can write one, too,” Charlie continues. “Obvs. And if they wanna post it for others to read, all they need is an account.”
“Yeah, almost anyone can. Maybe not Mr. Tax Code here,” Dean adds, shooting Cas a wink and a smirk.
Cas scowls. He’d like to refute him—oh, would he—but he won’t. Not right now, anyway. Enjoying fanfic is one thing, but if Dean knew who he was and read into his fiction too much…
He zones out for a little while, drinking his Dark & Stormy and feeling the same. Why does real life have to be so hard? In fiction, the characters’ actions and feelings, as well as the consequences of them, are controlled by the authors (though sometimes it feels like the characters do whatever the hell they want and he’s helpless but to follow). In real life, there are so many variables. So many complications. So many—
“RedQueen,” he hears Charlie say, and it snaps him out of his thoughts. He knows that name. That person comments on his fics, often with keysmash and lots of heart-eye emojis.
“I’m KnifeWife,” Jo says. Another name he recognizes, though only through kudos. No comments.
“IrishEyesAreSmiling,” Eileen shares, making everyone chuckle fondly. He recognizes her name, too. She leaves very kind comments at the end of his stories.
“Okay, Dean, what’s your name?” Sam asks with the teasing grin of a little brother, though the man is anything but little.
“I picked something funny,” Dean says, and Cas isn’t surprised at all. Neither is anyone else, by the looks he’s getting. “Get this: Rydhis_Hardwood. Because he wants to ride him, meaning Ryder, and not her, like the last syllable of his name sounds, okay, and he wants to ride his hard wood…”
Cas doesn’t hear the rest, the roar of the familiar name filling his headspace. Rydhis_Hardwood. Dean is Rydhis. Rydhis, who’s in love with his roommate. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh—
“Cas? You okay?”
He stares at Dean. “Huh? Uh. I...drunk.”
Dean snickers and ruffles his hair. “So eloquent. That’s why you couldn’t write fanfic.” He stands. “I’m gonna settle the tab and get us a ride home. Everyone else is going out to do Black Friday shopping, but you’re clearly not up for it.” With a soft smile, he turns and heads toward the bar.
Cas watches him go. He’s Killian, who’s in love with Ryder. He’s Rydhis_Hardwood, who’s in love with his roommate. He’s Dean, who’s in love with me.
Fuck.
Cas doesn’t smile just yet. He has some thinking to do.
For the next week or so, he studies Dean—every word, every action, every touch. He goes back and reads comment threads. He quietly consults Eileen, the only one in their friend and family circle he knows can keep a secret, who tells him that of course Dean is in love with him. He finally smiles.
And he plans.
“I’m going to write a fanfic,” Cas declares to Dean over burgers at their favorite diner, freshly decorated for Christmas now that Thanksgiving is a week behind them. Dean looks at him, wide-eyed.
“Seriously? Why?”
“To prove I can.”
Dean snorts. “Oh, this oughta be good.”
“Oh, it will be. I might need your help, though.”
“With what?”
Cas shrugs. “Starting an account, figuring out how to maneuver the site I have to post on, that sort of thing.”
“Whatever you want, man,” he laughs. “I can’t wait to read it.”
“Will you give me cheers?”
“Cheers?”
“The things you guys were talking about when you like a story.”
“Kudos, Cas.”
“Oh. Yes. Kudos.”
“Sure.”
Dean shakes his head and smiles at Cas, and it’s all Cas can do not to throw himself into Dean’s arms right now, because now he understands those fond looks he always thought were platonic. “Thank you, Dean. I’ll try to write a memorable story.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll remember it.”
Hearing the teasing in his tone, Cas kicks his foot under the table. “Fuck you.”
Dean takes a bite of his burger, and Cas’ gears turn. Oh, will Dean remember.
Their tired-looking but cheerful server, Nora, comes to check on them. “Planning on dessert tonight?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m gonna have what that guy’s having,” Dean says, nudging his head toward where their usual server is chatting with a guy in an expensive suit and handing him a slice of pie a la mode. Said guy in expensive suit is giving the server heart eyes.
“The pie or the server?” Cas asks innocently. “Because I think the server’s taken.”
Nora glances over her shoulder and chuckles. “They’ve been dancing around that attraction for a while now. So, pie?”
“Please,” Dean says, flustered. Cas loves seeing the blush on his face.
“Two forks,” Cas says sweetly. “We’ll share your gluten-free apple.” They always share whatever the gluten-free pie is that day, something their usual server knows but Cas thought he should clarify for Nora. Still, Dean scowls at him as Nora leaves.
“Get your own,” he mumbles, then, almost to himself, adds, “Don’t want the damn server. Pain in my ass.”
“I think that would make a great story, don’t you? A handsome businessman named Killian comes into a diner just to see the hot waiter, Ryder, and they do it on the counter. Maybe Ryder gives him the ‘daily special’, or maybe Killian’s into hot pie filling, you know, like candle wax or something?”
“You’re a menace.”
Cas shrugs and waits for Nora to set their pie down on the table. When she leaves, Cas continues, “How would I spell out the moaning and grunting, though? And can I say ‘hot come shot from Killian’s dick onto Ryder’s lips’ or do I have to say ‘the warm evidence of Killian’s passion burst from his member and sealed Ryder’s mouth in the most intimate of ways’ or something? I mean, how explicit—”
“You suck, your fic sucks, eat your pie and shut up.”
Cas stifles a laugh and does as he’s told. For now.
***
Dean isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.
After he helped Cas set up his AO3 account and explained ratings, warnings, and tags (Cas’ comments—“There’s a tag called ‘Team Killian’s Red Ass’? Interesting, I’ll remember that” and “Is there a tag for Ryder deep-throating Killian on his knees and then taking it up the ass or do I have to just make one up?”—nearly killed him), he thought that would be the end of it. But no. Cas has questions. And he insists that Dean stay nearby to answer them.
So while Cas, the guy he’s in love with, is sitting next to him writing something completely pornographic, Dean has to pretend he’s totally not affected by any of it.
Some of it is kind of funny...
“What is that word I want, Dean? You know, the word! For the thing!”
“What are those dots called? Oh, yeah, ellipses. Do I use ellipses or dashes? When do I use them? What the hell is an em dash?”
“Maybe if I write my summary now, it’ll help me focus. But summaries are haaaaaarrrrd.”
...until it’s not funny, because it leaves Dean squirming and wanting.
“Dean, why aren’t there more synonyms for the word ‘smile’? It’s so frustrating to use the same word over and over.”
“I dunno, buddy. Try ‘grin’ or ‘smirk’. I see those a lot.”
“Hmm. I don’t suppose Killian would grin upon seeing Ryder’s red, dripping cock. Would he smirk? I feel like that’s too...I don’t know. Jaunty? Cavalier?”
Dean pictures Cas’ red, dripping cock in place of Ryder’s, and Jesus. “Uh, dunno, man. It’s your story. Told you this shit was harder than it sounds.” He adjusts himself in his seat.
“Hmm. Maybe he’ll just look at it hungrily. Yeah. I feel like I use a lot of adverbs, but…in this instance, I think it works. ‘Killian lustily tears Ryder’s boxers from his body, the last barrier between them shredded. He stares at Ryder’s red, dripping cock, looking at it hungrily as it throbs, quivering with need for him, practically calling to him.’ Does that work, Dean?”
Oh dear Lord in Heaven, what did I do to earn such torture? The writing’s just this side of cheesy, but the visual is... fuck.
And it doesn’t help that KilliansHusband seems to be on a sex bender himself. He’s put out a couple of sexy one-shots in the last week, in his signature sex-and-feels style. He wants what KilliansHusband describes: the fun, steamy, yet deeply emotional sex and the relationship to go with it. In his response to one of Dean’s comments, KilliansHusband said that things are starting to look up for him, and he’s been feeling particularly hopeful and inspired. Must be nice. He’s happy for him, of course, but it makes him feel even more alone. He has a big story coming out soon, though, and he told his readers that it’s the most personal and most important story of his fanfic writing career or whatever. So that’ll be cool. He can’t imagine how he’s possibly going to top himself.
And speaking of…
“I think Ryder would top first, but I also think Killian would be a bossy bottom. His whole ‘time cowboy’ thing. Oh, I could use a lot of cowboy analogies, couldn’t I?”
Dear Lord, I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please help me survive this.
His prayers go unanswered when Cas asks for his help again the next night.
“Could you help me? I’ve never had a partner who’s taller, and I need help visualizing this.”
Dean squints. “Visualizing what?”
Cas stands him from his Secret Santa project for his students. “Just...we’re probably the same size or so as Ryder and Killian, right?”
“Yeah, about.”
“Okay, so if they’re kissing...c’mere.” Cas tugs him close, much too close for his brain’s liking (his dick, however, loves it). “Would Ryder have to stand on his toes? No, I don’t think so. They seem close enough in height so that if Ryder just tilted his head up a little and Killian tilted his down a smidge…” Cas moves their heads until they’re in just the right position. There’s only a sliver of space between them, and Dean wants to close the gap so badly he can feel himself salivating. “Yes, that would work,” Cas finishes, his breath skating across Dean’s lips.
Cas backs off, just enough for Dean to start breathing again—at least until he grabs his hips. “Okay, and so if they’re making out, then their dicks are pretty well lined up…” He yanks Dean close, though doesn’t let said dicks touch. He studies their groins. Dean feels his face catch fire. “Right. Okay. And if they’re in the shower and Ryder comes up from behind…”
Dean finds himself turned and pushed against the wall, and he feels like crying from all of the pent-up love and lust straining against his ribcage. Cas doesn’t seem to notice his pain, because he’s muttering about how Ryder would be at the “perfect height and angle” to “drill” Killian “with special lube for the shower, of course.” This can’t possibly get any worse, Dean thinks.
“Raise your hands above your head. I want to see if Ryder could restrain him.”
Okay, it can get worse.
Dean does as he’s asked, and Cas hums, an octave lower than his usual voice. He holds Dean’s wrists with one large, strong hand.
“Do you think this would work?”
“Uh huh,” Dean manages to squeak.
“Okay.” He lets go and steps away, nodding. “Okay, I think I have it. Thanks for helping, Dean.” He gives him a warm smile as he goes back to the couch.
No doubt about it, Dean was a horrible person in a previous life, and oh, is he paying for it now.
He gets a small reprieve when Cas says he has “writer’s block” and they go out shopping for Christmas. They watch and listen as people try to find the perfect gifts (one guy lamenting about gift cards cracks Cas up, and a boy who’s clutching a stuffed duck from one of those build-it-yourself toy stores looks like he already has what he wants and it melts Dean’s heart). Cas meanders, as is his norm, and ends up in the intimates section, holding up a pair of pink cotton panties that say “Angel” in black script across the ass. “Think Ryder would look good in these?” he asks.
Dean wants to sink into a hole and bury himself.
So, of course, Cas keeps it up.
At Williams-Sonoma, a fancy kitchen store, he picks up a whisk and says, in a low, growly voice like Ryder’s, “Hey, Killian, I feel like whipping something.”
At Hot Topic, he makes the stuffed versions of Killian and Ryder kiss.
At Lush, a bath and body store, he picks up a hunk of soap and pretends to rub it all over his ass, whispering, “Killian made me so dirty.” The name of the soap? Outback Mate.
Dean glares as Cas smiles, scrunching his nose, and adds a bar of Good Day Sunshine to his hands, then saunters to the register.
Fuck my life.
Despite Cas’ constant teasing that does nothing to dampen his attraction to the guy, they have a good time, and even manage to get some shopping done. When they get home, they down some breakfast for dinner and watch some TV. Cas doesn’t do any writing, and Dean doesn’t do any reading. It’s nice.
Cas settles a heavy blanket around them and leans in, resting on him. That’s nice, too. They haven’t done this sort of casual intimacy in a long time. Dean has missed it. He knows it’s on him, because he’s shied away from it, the longing it brings up too difficult to bear sometimes. But tonight, he bears it, because as much as it hurts to be close to him like this, it also feels damn good.
And for a little while, just like fic, he can lose himself in it and pretend it’s his.
***
Tonight’s the night.
Of course, he’s been saying that for several nights now. But this time, he means it.
It’s a good night, just a couple of nights before Christmas. It’s snowing. The tree is lit. Presents are wrapped. They’re both done work for the rest of December. Dean’s in a great mood, his belly full of one of his favorite meals (Cas has made dinner every night for the past several nights, and if Dean suspects anything, he hasn’t said). Cas read it through, and the story won’t take long to read. Even less time if Dean doesn’t read it all the way through.
He’s worried, though. What if Dean doesn’t respond favorably? What if he’s downright pissed about the whole thing, thinking Cas knew the entire time rather than just recently and was playing him? What if…
No. Just do it. You’ll survive, he’ll survive, and God willing, your friendship will survive. And hopefully, this will be the start of something incredible.
While Dean puts the leftovers away, Cas posts the story that he hopes changes everything for the better.
They start watching a made-for-TV movie about a mechanic who gets her grumpy boss and her best friend together through deception and mistaken identity. It’s cute, and usually Dean’s sort of thing, but he keeps glancing at his phone and the red notification number on his email icon. It’s probably a notification for his story. He notices (now that he knows to notice) that Dean usually reads them pretty soon after they’re posted.
“I’m going to head to my room,” Cas says, trying to be casual. “I need to get my smut on tonight.” Wouldn’t that be nice, he adds to himself, side-eyeing his friend.
Dean snorts, but looks quite happy to have an excuse to go. “Yeah, I’ve seen this movie before. They trick her into thinking they never met, but they did, and he proposes to her friend in the end.”
“Aww. That’s nice. You like those happy endings.”
“Shut up.” Dean jostles him as they go into the bathroom to brush their teeth.
Cas was going to leave it at that, but Dean’s been his best friend for years, so he can’t resist teasing him by adding “I’m gonna give Killian a happy ending with Ryder’s ass” when both of their mouths are filled with toothpaste. Dean spews minty foam all over the mirror and sink, and toothpaste squirts between Cas’ teeth and drools down his chin as he laughs.
“You’re such an ass,” Dean chokes out between giggles and swishes of water.
“I have a nice ass? Thank you.”
He didn’t think Dean could get any redder, but he was wrong. “Shut up. Good night, you menace.”
“Good night, Dean,” he says, watching him fondly and adding a silent I love you as he leaves. He hopes that, soon, he’ll be watching him fondly as he returns and saying the words aloud.
***
Dean’s so excited.
The most personal, most important one, KilliansHusband called it. It’s gonna be good.
The notification stared at him, taunted him. He didn’t want to run out on their movie, and certainly not on Cas, but he was pumped to read the latest KilliansHusband story and, hell, if he couldn’t be lucky in love, at least he wanted to read about it.
Once he’s safely enclosed in his room, he breathes a sigh. Friggin’ Cas and his friggin’ teasing. The sex stuff he’s used to now, but the happy endings thing...yeah, he is a sucker for those. He wants one (and not that sort of happy ending, though he’s not opposed to having that also). He hears Cas‘ bedroom door close, so he feels fairly confident that he won’t be barging in here to ask him questions about sex positions or synonyms for semen. He changes into his rattiest t-shirt and sweatpants and opens his e-mail, seeing the familiar red Archive of Our Own banner.
[AO3] KilliansHusband posted A Million Words
Oh, yeah. New fic.
Dean reads fic for all sorts of reasons—because he loves reading, because he loves seeing his favorite characters in all sorts of situations that The Powers That Be won’t put them in, because he likes to escape real life sometimes, and because he likes to interact with the authors. He also reads it because it’s healing, and it gives him hope.
He could use a little healing and hope right about now. And if his favorite author says this is gonna be good, he trusts him.
So Dean settles against his pillow, bottle of water by his side, and starts:
A Million Words
KilliansHusband
Summary: Ryder Hartwood has a few secrets: He drinks orange juice straight from the container. He writes heartfelt fan fiction. And he’s in love with his best friend, Killian Montgomery.
He’s not sure how to tell him, but he figures fanfic might be a good place to start.
Dean sits back and laughs. Wow. He’s read other fics that involved fanfic, but none quite like this. He wonders if this is the author’s attempt to show his friend that he’s in love with him. It’s a great way to do it. Confessing his love like this, with his writing talent? Dean would swoon. Not that Dean has ever swooned. But in this case, he thinks he would.
Ah, KilliansHusband, my friend, we’re gonna have a good chat in the comments. If you’re not too busy fucking your best friend to answer, that is.
He tries not to think about it as he starts reading:
Ryder found out about Killian’s fanfic obsession quite by accident.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t because he discovered him on Tumblr, Twitter, or Discord. It wasn’t because he found an open tab on his computer. It was, simply, because he screamed.
“No! Oh my God, no! Nooooo!”
Ryder skidded across the wooden floor of their rented house and threw the door to Killian’s bedroom open. Without a thought, he ran to his side, frantically scanning him over. “Kils? What’s wrong?”
And Killian confessed.
And now he knows.
And now he has a decision to make.
Does he tell his best friend—the love of his life—that he writes fanfic? And that every single fic he’s ever written have all been about him? About them?
Dean cocks his head. Huh. That’s crazy. It’s sort of like how Cas found out about his fanfic reading. So weird. Did he tell KilliansHusband about it? He doesn’t remember. It would be kind of cool if something that he said made it into one of KilliansHusband’s fics.
He continues:
Killian seems more relaxed around the house since confessing to Ryder. He doesn’t go sneaking off into his room anymore, or hit the home button on his phone when he passes by. Instead, Killian sits on the couch and reads openly, laughing or scowling or pulling his face into a worried frown. It’s wonderful to see. Ryder understands the feeling from both sides—as a reader, he loves feeling the emotions right with the characters, and as a writer, he loves creating that twist, or using that turn of phrase, or foreshadowing that thing just right, eliciting the emotions of his readers. He loves making them FEEL. And as he watches Killian, he gets to see how it happens from the outside—how the emotions look as they flit across his face. He wonders what he’s reading.
He wonders if he reads any of his work.
There’s no way in hell he’ll ask. What if Killian has never heard of him and looks him up? Or worse, what if he HAS and doesn’t like his work? He understands that not everyone likes everything, but he’s pretty sure it would kill him to know that Killian doesn’t like his work, especially since he’s poured his heart and soul into it, all the things he’s ever wanted to say to his best friend. How many times has he said “I love you” to Killian in his fics? How many times has Killian said it back to him? How many times has he proposed, recited wedding vows, made love to him? He’s written over a million words about his love for Killian. If Kils thought his work was trash, he’d be heartbroken.
And worse, if he figured out the underlying meaning and didn’t feel the same, he’d be...well. Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to describe it.
He can’t ask. He won’t.
He’ll write, and he’ll pine, as he has for years, because having some of Kils is better than none of him.
Dean stops and takes a breath. How awful for KilliansHusband to feel this way. He hopes this guy he loves understands just how awesome KilliansHusband is and how much he loves him. He hopes the guy isn’t leading him on, and that he, in fact, feels the same way. What a story that would be—the fanfic writer and the fanfic reader, best friends who finally get their real-life happy ending.
Dean reads on for a while, as Ryder describes his work and his process. The plot moves into their typical relationship banter and tension—they’re always so oblivious, Dean thinks. And yet, no matter how many times he reads about their obliviousness, he loves it every time. Idiots in love is one of his favorite tags. Ryder and Killian need to use their words is another. Misunderstandings make for great fic.
The plot thickens when Ryder finds out that Kils does read his work, and not only does he read his work, but he’s one of Killian’s favorite authors and they actually talk in the comments about their love lives, including the fact that Killian is in love with his best friend.
“Holy shit, I wonder if that’s true?” Dean murmurs. “If KilliansHusband has been talking to his friend in comments this entire time? That would be wild.” He knows that KilliansHusband talks to a lot of his readers in the comments, so it’s definitely not impossible. Dean decides he’s going to go back and read some of the comments to see if he can figure out which reader might be his friend.
Not yet, though. After he’s finished the story.
“Killian is in love with me,” Ryder murmurs to himself all week, whenever he thinks about it (which is often). He can hardly believe it. How did he get so lucky? God, they’ve wasted so much time by not talking about it. Well, he’s going to fix that, and soon. But he can wait just a little longer, because an amazing guy like Kils deserves an amazing love confession, one he’ll appreciate and remember for the rest of his life. And that’s just what he’s going to give him.
“Any idiot can write fanfic,” Ryder scoffs at dinner one night. “Hell, I can write fanfic.” Of course, he doesn’t really think that idiots write fanfic—that’s just to goad his friend. He may be in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean he can’t poke at him. (Oh, would he like to poke at him. And maybe, soon, he can.)
“If any idiot can write fanfic, then you certainly qualify,” Killian replies, a teasing grin on his face. There’s a fondness to it, too, that Ryder’s always seen, but now he knows exactly what to call it. Butterflies erupt into flight in his gut as he puts on a serious face.
“Ha ha. I’ll prove it.”
“Pfft. Can’t wait to see this.”
Ryder shoots his friend a challenging, put-out glare, but inside he’s both giddy and nervous as hell.
Dean stares at his screen. This all feels...familiar. But it can’t be.
He really doesn’t remember telling KilliansHusband all this. But he must have, somewhere along the way, because it’s so similar to what Cas is doing. If, of course, Cas was an actual fanfic writer who was in love with him.
But that’s definitely not true. He’s good at so many things, bless him, but Dean has a feeling that fanfic isn’t going to be one of them. He asked Dean for synonyms for “said,” for crying out loud, and was getting confused about how to differentiate between two men without overusing pronouns or names. Not that Dean himself knows a lot about that, of course, but he does know better than to call one of the characters “the Montgomery.” And from what Cas has read him so far, it sounds like there’s a lot of clothes-ripping and sex in unlikely places with little plot to carry it.
Has to be coincidence.
Now that Ryder is secure in the knowledge that Killian loves him, he figures he can have a little fun. So he plays up his “ignorance” to the hilt, pretending he doesn’t know the basics of writing and hitting him with scene after scene of explicit sex he pitches as “ideas,” just to make him squirm.
“How’s this, Kils?” Ryder asks. He then proceeds to read him “excerpts” from what he’s “written” for his fictitious fic:
“Oh, Devon, take me right here in the back of your classic car! I wanna put new tears in the upholstery...with my teeth.”
“Devon, oh Devon, oh oh ohhhhh!” Cassidy shouts, jacking off in front of him as Devon watches helplessly, hog-tied with the silk ties Cassidy wears to work every day.
“Fuck, Devon, you make me so dirty,” Cassidy moans, cleaning his ass of come and whipped cream. “You’re my dirty, dirty man.”
And Ryder doesn’t stop with reading sex scenes. No. He also makes him act a few out. For “perspective.”
“Now, I don’t know how this would go, given height difference, so could you help me figure out if Cassidy would need to stand on tiptoes to kiss Devon?” Ryder asks, pulling his best friend close.
Dean nearly flings his phone across the room in surprise. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.
God, how he’d love to kiss him right now.
Dean gulps.
But he has a plan.
Dean licks his lips and keeps on reading, sipping small, shallow breaths through the fingers covering his mouth. It’s KilliansHusband’s usual brand of feels, sexual tension, and humor, but the scenes feel more and more like real life. His real life. With Cas.
“I’m going to head to my room. Are you going to read all about the adventures of Devon and Cassidy?”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Killian snorts, though there’s a telltale shine in his eyes that says he’s going to do just that.
“Good night, then,” Ryder calls, adding a silent “I love you” as he always does.
“Night,” Killian calls with a little wave.
Ryder watches him disappear through the door. He goes to his room and sits in nervous silence, hoping for the best.
The chapter ends. Dean’s eyes float down to the end note.
Notes: A cliffhanger! I know, I do it all the time. You can all come scream at me if you want, but honestly, I don’t know what happens next.
I’ve written you a million words, Rydhis_Hardwood. So you tell me: what happens next? <3