When Dean woke up, there was a busty brunette laying beside him, asleep. He chuckled to himself and applauded himself silently. He slid his arm out from under her and slipped out of bed quietly, pulling his clothes back on and writing a quick note.
'Thanks for the great night,' shit, what was her name? Oh well. He changed the comma to a period. 'I'll make sure to call you.' He shrugged, knowing he never would call, and left the note on the table as he slipped out of her apartment. He looked around the see where he was in the city and sighed softly, happy that he was only a block from the bar.
Dean rushed down the road and took five tries to start his Baby. Better than yesterday. He drove back to his apartment while tapping his fingers on the wheel and singing along with AC/DC happily. Once there he cut the engine and rushed upstairs, wanting a nice cold shower and more sleep before his next shift.
He heard more yelling. Always with the yelling, every spare moment.
Then a slam. Then a car engine starting. Dean looked out the window of his small place and saw the woman racing off in her car. "Asshole," Dean sighed to himself. "Probably running off to your mister, huh? Well, little do you know, your fucking husband is going off to- shit! It's a mess up here. I should clean up before he gets here..."
Dean vainly tried to clear off the bed a bit and hide the dirty clothes strewn across the floor, all while in his towel. He tucked the edge of it into the top as snugly as possible just as there was a knock on the door. A smirk slid across his lips and he started toward it, thinking about how damn lucky he was to get laid by a well-endowed woman the night before only to come home to be mercilessly fucked by a well-endowed man.
***
Castiel sat in front of his computer, staring at the email. Why had he agreed to this? The book was crap, and everyone knew it from the first line.
When he clicked send, he knew he had made a mistake.
What if Dean- that was his name, right?- hadn't spoken to his brother yet? Castiel would just be some guy sending him an email with an attached 300 page book, and a crappy one at that.
Cursing himself silently, he pushed his computer away from himself and slammed the top shut. Idiot. He was an idiot!
Read, Castiel, he thought. Reading always calms you down. Pick up a book and lose yourself.
Or pick up a bottle and dispose of your liver. Drink until you pass out. Drink until you die. Maybe then you'll get published. After all, the dead ones are the loudest, correct?
So Castiel drank. He drank, and drank, and drank, until he couldn't drink anymore and was laying on the couch with one arm hanging off, fingers clumsily trailing the underside of his cheap coffee table. A chuckle bubbled off of his lips as he sang a song by The Rolling Stones horribly off-key, eyes drooping closed.
"I'm so sick and tired, tryin' to turn the tide, yeah, so I'll say my goodbye. Laugh, laugh, I nearly died."
***
They were caught in the act. Dean's fingernails were running down Kieran's back and he groaned a soft "Harder," when the door opened and he heard a scream. Kieran pulled out of him with urgency, making Dean frown. "C'mon, baby, we can finish with her here. She could even join in." He purposefully made his voice sultry and snuck a sideways glance at Anna. "Want to make it a trio?"
"You son of a bitch," Anna growled, and suddenly Kieran was in front of Dean, hands up and pleading for her to stop. She kneed him where it counted and brought a wince out of Dean. Poor guy, and poor lower portion of the guy. It seemed like it would never work again.
Dean's eyes landed on the redhead coming at him and he felt his own eyes widen. He quickly scooped his clothes off of the floor and backed quickly into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door. It would buy him at least enough time to get his underwear and jeans on.
It did. As soon as he buttoned the fabric together, the door opened. "Look, Anna-"
"You're fucking leaving. And you're never coming back, you hear? You'll never show your face. If I even hear a mention of you-"
"Anna, we can talk this out!"
"No, we can't!"
"Who else would take in a bisexual bartender who barely makes enough for rent?" Dean whined, hands still raise din surrender.
"Exactly. You lost your last chance."
"Well, if it still counts," Dean started, attempting a smirk. He had to keep his cool. "You're pretty hot like this. All in contro-"
Her fist connected with his cheek and he felt himself going down. If he didn't think he had a concussion from a mere right hook, he probably would have yelled timber.
***
Castiel looked down at the bottle in his hand and shook his head before taking another swig. After draining the rest of the bottle he dropped it on the floor beside the couch and mumbled something about needing more without actually getting up and about hiring someone to work on the damn robot maids from The Jetsons.
He laughed and yelled, "Rosie!" as loud as he could, hoping it would work. However, no mechanic "Yes, sir?" greeted him. He groaned and sat up, hand landing on the table beside a white slip of thin paper... Castiel frowned and picked up the napkin, staring at the jumbled up mess written on it in what was not his handwriting.
After a minute he grinned at his stupidity and turned the napkin the other way, finally able to read it. He blinked a few times and leaned in closer to it. There was a name and a number at the bottom. Dean! The cute bartender.
Wait, Castiel frowned, taken aback. Had he just called Dean cute? In his mind? He shook his head. Insane. He'd never do that. He was as straight as Hitler.
"Bad analogy," he sighed. "Note to self: Nethe- Never compare anything to Hitler unless it's bad." He dialed the number sloppily and came up with a Chinese food place first, hitting end call after three tries of asking if Dean was there. Dialing more carefully this time, Castiel felt himself growing nervous.
No, no, nervous wasn't good. Castiel was only ever nervous about having an interview with a company. Companies were big and scary and could ruin you in a heartbeat. People weren't like that. People were mean, condescending, greedy, and pushy, but barely any of them could ruin you in a second. Castiel smiled as the phone started to ring, falling back down to lay on the couch and accidentally hitting his head on the arm of the couch.
***
Dean woke up on the floor, a note attached to his forehead. Groaning, he peeled it off and quickly skimmed over it.
It was basically telling him he was the evictee and had no chance of making up a way to stay, as he'd done when he didn't have rent. At the bottom, Kieran had written a small, sloppy 'Sorry, Dean.'
His phone started to ring on the floor next to him, a loud, annoying buzz and bell. He rubbed the back of his head as he picked it up, not bothering to look at the screen to see who it was. He hit answer.
"Dean Winchester," he greeted monotonously.
A laugh came from the other line. "Finally. I thought I got the Chinese place again!"
"Excuse me? Who is this?" Dean stood from the bathroom floor and shook his legs out. Somehow they had cramped up while he was out.
"It's Castiel. Uh, I mean... Shit, what was it you called me? Started with a C... Constan-something." This Castiel's words were hard to understand because he was slurring. The phone connection was already bad, as well.
"Constantine?" Dean remembered with a laugh. "Oh, man, are you drunk? You're slurring."
Castiel laughed, a loud, joyful, drunken sound, and confirmed Dean's suspicions. Dean shook his head and looked in the mirror, hissing in a breath through his teeth. Shit, his black eye was noticeable as hell. "I wanted to tell you something," Castiel slurred. "I wish I could remember it... Oh! Tell your brother not to open that email. The book isn't worth it."
Dean dropped down to sit on his bed after walking out of the bathroom, frowning. "Your book is worth reading if I'm right. Any book is worth reading. It gives you an experience."
"Mine isn't worth it."
"Castiel, right?" After an affirmation from Castiel, Dean continued. "Every book is worth reading. Vonnegut, Kerouac, Rowling, Blume, Seuss, yours, whatever. Every book is worth reading! So stop thinking they aren't. You probably won't even remember this when you wake up tomorrow or later or something, though, so I'll just remind you. Now, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, okay? I'll call in a few hours to check up on you."
