Fights, Camera, Action

Chapter Six

Dean had thought god damn wrong.

It had been three days since the first shoot, all of which had been spent working with Novak. And, to put it lightly, it was hell. He was bitchy, obnoxious, picky, and over all a fucking nightmare to work with. Dean had a headache just being near the prick. He couldn't imagine being forced to work for him and get him what he demanded.

So far, they had had to film a few scenes where Dean and Novak had been directly interacting, including the scene that morning. It was the dialogue scene before a fight scene, so they had to act pissed anyway, which was not helping the situation.

Consistently, they started the scene, angry and leading up to the fight, and would end up almost in an actual fight. At one point, Novak shoved him, and Dean nearly punched him. Luckily for him, someone intervened, because he had gotten damned close to actually doing it and Novak wasn't worth the sore hand.

Finally, they got the damn scene recorded, and it looked all the more real because of the anger they channeled for it. Dean had tried his best to remain professional, but Novak seemed determined to make him snap. That son of a bitch was trying to antagonize him and get him off this movie, but Dean wasn't letting that shit happen. Not this time, asshole.

They'd finished their shooting for the morning with that scene, so Dean had followed his immediately implemented routine of sprinting to his trailer to relax and try to enjoy some Novak-free time. Slamming the door behind him, he took a deep breath and sank onto the couch. It had barely been two minutes when the door slammed open, and of course, it was that asshole Novak.

Dean stood up immediately, feeling his blood boil as Novak shut the door behind him. Staring Dean down, he moved closer, speaking plainly.

"You've been avoiding me," he stated, and Dean couldn't help it. He laughed out loud, and it sounded cold even to his own ears.

"Of course I've been fucking avoiding you," he sneered, seeing the other's face darken but refusing to back down. "You know I can't stand your ass, and you've been nothing but a dick to everyone, including me, since you got on set."

Dean barely knew what happened before he felt his back slam against the wall, Novak's hand... on his god damn throat? What the fuck? Dean glared up at his captor, trying to wrestle free, to no avail. The grip only tightened, and Dean was forced to stop so he didn't black out.

"You are a whiny bitch who refuses to play nice with others, Winchester," Novak spat, leaning closer to Dean to glare directly into his eyes. "Maybe you need a lesson in humility."

Dean almost didn't notice when Castiel's eyes flicked down to his lips, but he did. However, he didn't have a chance to think about that, because that meant Novak was distracted and he could get him off of him.

Shoving his leg up to connect with Novak's crotch, he heard him yell and back away, and Dean went to shove him for getting in his space like that. However, Novak caught his hands, pinning them to his sides and staring him down. Christ, why were they always so close together? He glanced down again, and Dean didn't have a single second to understand what was happening before Castiel was slamming his lips on Dean's like he was trying to prove a point.

Fuck it, he wanted to play that game? Dean wasn't gonna just let him win.

Kissing him back hard, Dean got his hands on Novak and dug his nails in. Novak hissed, and Dean laughed into his mouth. Yeah, motherfucker, he didn't play nice.

Unfortunately for Dean, Castiel didn't seem to like playing nice either. As soon as Dean started kissing back, he grabbed Dean's hips, hard, and slammed him back against the wall. Dean let out a surprised noise, and Castiel used the opportunity to shove his tongue into Dean's mouth. It felt damn good, actually, and he almost didn't want to stop. But then he realized who he was doing this with, feeling his stomach drop, and hit Novak in the chest, shoving him back. Why did he always have moments of clarity at the worst god damn times?

It seemed that Novak was having realizations, too, because he threw himself off of Dean like he'd been burned. Neither of them said a word, just stared at each other, not understanding what had just happened or why. Without a single word between them, Novak walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

What the fuck had just happened?

Dean sat down again, confused as hell and even more pissed off than he'd been before. Was this some fucking mind game Novak was playing? No, it couldn't be; he'd looked just as shocked as Dean felt. Then why did he start it? And why did Dean go with it for a minute?

Shaking his head, Dean realized he needed to get some food in him before they went to shoot again. Grabbing something out of the fridge without looking, he ate quickly, staring off into space as he did. Soon enough, it was time to go back out there and film again, and Dean found himself dreading it. What the fuck would Novak say? What would he say?

Walking back to set slowly, he saw the director talking to Novak's agent. Shit, what the hell was he trying to pull here? Was this a deeper plan than Dean had thought, after all?

However, his suspicions were confirmed to be nonsense as he got closer, seeing the director frown and wave the agent off. Clearing his throat, Dean waited for the director to fill him in. Thomas looked annoyed as shit, and Dean couldn't blame him when he heard what he said afterward.

"Novak got pissed off, so he's done for the day. And we can't film a different scene, because we already got this one ready for filming. We'll just have to start again tomorrow," Thomas sighed, and Dean groaned, rolling his eyes.

"That asshole," he said, and Thomas just nodded, walking off. Dean supposed that meant everyone was done for the day, so he text his driver and headed outside to wait.

He couldn't believe that the big man on campus had fucking run away from what he started. It wasn't surprising, considering the kind of guy Dean knew him to be. Snorting, he grabbed his phone and scrolled online for a while before he heard a car and looked up, seeing his driver pull in. Thank god; he couldn't wait to get home.

Settling into the back of the car, he found that his thoughts were very much still occupied with whatever the fuck had happened barely an hour previously. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, he found himself drifting there again and again, and every time he only felt more confused. Consistently, the thought he had before trying to distract himself was what the hell happened and what do I do about that shit? Unfortunately, he didn't have the answer to either question, and they just served to piss him off.

As soon as he got home, he headed up to his room, deciding to lie down and take a nap, see if that cleared his head. Curling up in his bed and wrapping himself tightly in the covers, he shook his head and sighed, whispering to himself.

"What the fuck do I do now?"