Chapter Text
It certainly wasn’t the most dignified way for her to find out.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything Castiel could do about it now, as he lay in the bed, panting. His eyes wide and horrified he stared at his wife, Daphne, standing in the doorway, a look of shock on her face. Apparently, the school where Daphne taught, had an early release. Castiel wished he had known that when he had taken the personal day.
The obscene sounds of the porno he was watching seemed to dominate the room, heavy breaths and guttural grunting from the two men going bareback bent over the arm of a sofa. Castiel was frozen, come-covered fist still wrapped around his rapidly softening cock.
It was the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut firmly that started Castiel into action, quickly cleaning his hands and his dick with the wet wipes he had placed next to himself on the bed. As he hurried to throw his jeans back on and turn off the DVD, he braced himself for what he was about to face. Truth be told, it was a long time coming. Castiel sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out on a whoosh, and left the room.
He found Daphne at the kitchen table, delicate hands wrapped around a mug of tea. Her short cinnamon hair bounced as she lifted her gaze towards him. Castiel leaned against the door jam, arms folded across his chest.
“Cas, are you gay?” the question came out calm and even as if Daphne were merely just inquiring about what he’d like for dinner. The lack of screaming and yelling seemed almost sad. What did it say about their marriage that she wasn't that upset or surprised? Castiel sighed heavily, before taking a seat across from her at the table.
Castiel propped his chin on his fist as he observed her. “I think so,” he said, resigned and he heard Daphne’s soft intake of breath at having her suspicions confirmed out loud.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Castiel flinched at the hurt tone to her voice and he struggled with what to say. Their relationship was at best, complicated. Both of them coming from hugely religious families, Daphne and Castiel had been high school sweethearts, in the most innocent of terms. Chaste kisses and hand-holding. They attended the same local college, Daphne for teaching and Castiel for finance. Even when they had both moved out of their parent's homes and into their own apartments, their physical relationship remained pure. Daphne did not believe in sex before marriage, and as much affection as Castiel had for her, he’d never felt the desire to go further than the over the clothes petting they sometimes indulged in.
Perhaps it should have been a clue.
When they had graduated college and Daphne began teaching at the Elementary school and Castiel began his work at Sandover Accounting firm, it had been a natural progression to get engaged. His mother, Hester, had been so proud to have a son marrying the pastor’s daughter and spent two years planning the perfect wedding. For her part, Daphne was thrilled that their marriage would release the substantial trust fund set up for her by her grandmother that required nuptials for the entirety of five years.
It had been ten.
There had been problems in the sexual department from the beginning. Their wedding night, for example, had been a disaster. Daphne and Castiel had chalked that up to first times and performance anxiety. Daphne’s discomfort, the effort Castiel had had to take just to maintain an erection, constantly stroking himself to keep from flagging, had been abysmal. Luckily, they had laughed about it, years of friendship making the embarrassing act more bearable.
The sex had gotten better over the years. Nothing as spectacular as what he’d read about in the romance novels his brother Gabriel liked to tease him about. There was no earth-shattering climax, no blacking out from pleasure. Just the gentle pop and fizz of release that an orgasm could bring. The truth was, Castiel often achieved much higher bliss from jerking himself off than he did buried in Daphne’s petite body. For years, he ignored the way his thoughts drifted in his solo sessions to hard, firm bodies, the gentle rasp of a scruffy face, and instead focused on pleasing Daphne as much as possible, even going as far as to get a prescription for Viagra.
It wasn’t until his friend Cesar married his husband Jesse (and wasn’t that a friendship his mother hated him retaining) that Castiel considered there was more to his ambivalence towards sex; that it wasn’t the act itself that he didn’t particularly care for, but the fact that it was with a woman. Seeing his friends dancing on their special day, the way their eyes had shined with love and their constant need to touch each other, made Castiel ache. The beauty of the two men, the way they fit together, even just swaying on the dance floor, it had sparked something in him. Castiel wanted that connection with somebody, and no matter how much he and Daphne loved each other, it wasn’t like that between the two of them.
Castiel had begun to let his fantasies have a little more detail after that day; he no longer shied from the fact that when he tugged his cock under the hot spray of the shower, it was to the thought of muscular thighs and thick arms. Images of calloused fingers splaying across his body, deep grunts echoing in his ears, had him coming harder than any time he had sex with his wife. He knew his marriage was a sham, and he would need to face it sooner rather than later.
Now Castiel was thirty-four years old and he had been caught fucking into his fist, watching his very first deliberately purchased male on male porno, in front of his wife. He should be ashamed or guilty, but all he could honestly feel was relief that he no longer had to hide. Castiel’s only regret was any pain he had inadvertently caused Daphne.
“I think I always knew,” Daphne’s soft words brought him back from his musings and he cocked his head in question. “You’re not as subtle as you think,” she said with a small smile gracing her face. “Your eyes tend to linger on the same men I find attractive,” Daphne gave a little laugh as Castiel’s brows rose in surprise. Did he do that? How had he not been aware?
“How come you never said anything? if you suspected it?"
"I was afraid," she said. "accepting it meant change and I like things the way they are. You're my best friend. The sex stuff, it didn't really matter to me."
"Is… is that why you never broached the subject of children? Because you suspected?” it was a question Castiel had to ask.
Daphne took a sip of her tea before answering, placing the mug back down on the table. “I think,” she said with a thoughtful nod, “ subconsciously at least. You know both of our mothers have been harping on it, but something has been holding me back. It’s not the right time, we need to save more money, ” Daphne ticked off excuses on her fingers, “but… I guess I just knew that eventually, something like this would happen.”
“Really?” Castiel deadpanned, " Something like this?" and this time when Daphne laughed, it was richer, warm.
“Well, maybe not exactly like this,” she conceded with a blush. “But something in the back of my mind kept saying wait. Just wait. And honestly, thank God we did. Can you imagine how much harder this would be if we had a child?”
He could. It was the reason Castiel breathed a sigh of relief whenever Hester or Naomi pestered them about children and Daphne would just calmly respond, when we’re ready.
“You know I love you, right? That if I could, if it would be enough, I-”
“I know, Cas,” Daphne said, hands reaching out to grip his and still the restless movement of his fingers. “I know you didn’t intend for this,” tears glimmered in his wife’s eyes and he felt a surge of affection for her that had Castiel pulling her up from the table into a hard hug. "You deserve more. We both do."
They stood, embracing, each offering the other comfort, and if a few tears of his own leaked out, Castiel wasn’t ashamed. Regardless of how it all ended, this woman was his best friend and hurting her was the only concern he had.
“Our families are going to be pissed,” Castiel said into the softness of Daphne’s sweater and he felt her shoulders shake with laughter.
“Yes, well. Have fun telling them.”
The fallout from the demise of Castiel and Daphne’s marriage was remarkably minimal. Minimal in the fact that Castiel’s parents no longer wanted to see him, end-of-story. Castiel had not heard from either of them since the night he and Daphne set their parents down to dinner and explained their situation. They'd left before the first course. His father had written him off as an embarrassment to the family, and his mother, a disappointment to God.
Castiel highly doubted God cared who he fucked or fell in love with.
Daphne’s father had passed three years prior, but her mother, Naomi, was infinitely kinder than his own, and for that, Castiel was grateful. Naomi was one who appeared stern and often was, but she loved her daughter and Castiel by extension, and she recognized that there was no ill intent on Castiel’s part.
After putting their house on the market, Castiel had moved into the guestroom, which should have been weird, but somehow wasn’t. Not much had actually changed between him and Daphne. In fact, things were lighter with no expectations from each other, but living together after the divorce was finalized was not something either of them wanted to do. When the house sold, Castiel moved into an apartment close to his accounting firm. It was a short term lease with the option to extend, but Castiel was feeling conflicted.
it's been a year since the divorce, it's been a year and he still found himself fodder for gossip, and that hadn’t helped things at work. His small, conservative town didn’t quite know what to make of the town’s beloved former pastor’s son in law being gay, but he knew they didn’t like it. Castiel learned that the hard way when his boss Zachariah, who used to praise Castiel’s gift for numbers and organization, suddenly found fault with everything he did.
When he complained to his cousin Gabriel about it, he told him to quit.
“You don’t need that shit, Cassie. What you need is a fresh start,” Gabriel said, voice muffled by what Castiel was sure was a confection of some kind. His cousin Gabriel was the black sheep of the family-or was, before Castiel’s big gay bombshell. He ran a specialty cafe in Coastal Massachusetts called The Herbal-tea Cafe.
“That’s easier said than done,” Castiel grumbled as he flipped to an episode of Top Chef, with a microwaved burrito in his lap. “Everyone here looks at me like I’m a pariah and those who don’t keep trying to set me up with the token gays in their family.”
Gabriel snorted, “Yeah, well, no one says your fresh start has to be in Pleasantville over there. Move here.”
“What?” Castiel sputtered, nearly asperating his mouthful of cheesy-beany goodness.
“Move here. There’s nothing holding you back there, Cassie,” Gabriel pointed out.
“Except my job,” Castiel said, taking a swallow of his bottled water.
“The job that you called me up to complain about? Come on, Castiel, you can be an accountant anywhere. Or don’t. You have money from the house, now. You finally have time to think about what you want to do,” Gabriel implored. “Come to Angel’s Bend, you can move into my spare room. Work in the cafe until you find a job you really want. It’s gorgeous here, Cassie, you could start taking pictures again.”
The thought tugged at his heart. Photography had always been a passionate hobby of his, something he knew his parents never would have approved of. Hester and Ishim expected him to be practical in his life choices, and art school certainly didn’t fit that theme. So a pastime it had remained. There was nothing quite like capturing the majestic shot of a perfect sunrise, or a gentle fog rolling over a grassy field. The idea of photographing crashing waves against a lighthouse had Castiel’s blood humming.
It wasn’t a totally crazy idea, was it? Moving to the East Coast and starting over? Castiel let out a shuddering breath as excitement began to swell. He was nearly thirty-five and for the first time, he felt like he was about to start really living.
“Gabriel,” Castiel said with a laugh of disbelief. “Are you truly serious, right now?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I miss you, Cassie,” there was no mistaking the sincere tone. Gabriel had always been his favorite cousin. He was a smart, kindhearted man hidden behind sarcasm and a mischievous smile. When he refused to follow in the family footsteps and take over the town law practice, Gabriel was practically shunned by his parents. Rachel and Bartholemew Milton didn’t consider the foodservice industry a worthy profession for their family. Gabriel had fucked off to the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts and never came back.
“I just wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable with my new… lifestyle,” Castiel said trepidatiously and let out a relieved breath when Gabriel scoffed.
“You better not be hinting at what I think you’re hinting at, Cassie. You know me better than that.”
“I know,” Castiel said sheepishly. “Just habit to be leery.”
“Get the hell outta Pontiac, Cousin. Come see how the Liberals live,” Gabriel teased.
Castiel looked around his sparse apartment. The space was fully furnished. He’d left the furniture to Daphne; seemed only fair as she had picked out most of it. Castiel hadn’t taken much with him. There were his books, photo albums of his own work, and his music collection. Castiel also took a handful of documentaries, his Nikon and the flatscreen he’d won in a pie baking contest- a recipe he’d gotten from Gabriel, and a set of hand-painted bumblebee coffee mugs and dishes. The truth was, his whole life could all be jampacked into his Lincoln Continental.
“Alright, Gabriel,” Castiel said with a euphoric bubble of laughter. “You’ve got yourself a roommate.”