“Come on, come on, come on.” Dean frantically pushed the button of the elevator. He looked at the illuminated numbers above it. Damn thing was still stuck on the third floor with no indication it would come down any time soon.
Finally, it moved. The red three seemed to mock him when it became a four and then a five.
Dean rolled his eyes with a sigh. It was going further up. That’s just great. He should have known this would happen on top of everything else that went wrong this morning, and the day had only just begun.
The first sign this day would go down in history as one of the worst in his life, was when he overslept. No wonder really, considering he had been up half of the night, drooling all over his computer screen, watching the latest concert of his favorite rock band ‘The Angels’. The lead singer, Castiel Novak, was one hot dude with dark unruly sex hair and a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes, not to mention a nice piece of ass. Dean needed more hands to count on his fingers the number of times he jerked off with the guy’s image behind his closed eyelids.
In his hurry to get into the shower, he slipped on the wet tiles and hurt his ankle. The tender flesh was ripped off, leaving a nasty wound that stung like a bitch. At this point, he considered himself lucky he didn’t break it.
Next on his list of fucking disasters was spilling scalding hot coffee on his crispy white shirt, the last clean one he had in his closet, of course. He searched for the cleanest one in his laundry, sniffed it and changed. It would have to do for now, and he made a mental note to buy some new ones. He had been recently promoted to the head of the IT department. With this new job came a bigger salary, an office of his own, a hell of a lot more responsibility, but also a dress code. From now on it was mandatory to wear a navy blue suit, a white button down shirt and a tie. Dean hated ties. They often made him feel like he was going to choke.
The mechanical ping of the elevator arriving startled him out of his thoughts. He hurried inside and pushed the button to the sixth floor, hoping there wouldn’t be a power failure on his way up. It wouldn’t surprise him.
Dean tumbled out of the elevator an hour late and almost bumped into his boss.
“Mister Winchester. How nice of you to show up,” he said, a sarcastic tone to his voice.
Fergus Crowley, mister Crowley to him and sir to the rest of what he called ‘his plebs’, was a short, round guy with a British accent. He was a zealot who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. It’s what had taken him this far up the hierarchical ladder of this company. At least, it was according to him, and Dean didn’t doubt it for one second. He really was the type of guy who would kill anyone who stood in his way to success.
“Don’t make me regret I gave you this job.” Crowley brushed past him and stepped into the waiting elevator.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I, ehm, won’t,” he said as the doors slid closed. Of all the days, this was the day he just had to run into Crowley, didn’t he. Fucking hell.
Dean hid in his office. The less reason he had to leave it, the less could go wrong. He was glad it was a slow day. No one really needed him and he actually got some work done.
At lunchtime, a knock on his door sounded and Charlie entered with two coffee cups and some paper bags.
“Tell me you have a turkey sandwich on whole meal bread in one of them,” Dean said with a hopeful glint in his eyes, nearly gasping for air.
“Of course I do.” Cheerful as always, Charlie put their lunch on his desk.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Charlie was a fiery lesbian and his best friend. They spent hours in his home or her apartment, watching old Star Trek episodes or playing video games. Star Wars marathons was also something that was high on their list of favorite things to do.
“So, why were you late this morning?” Charlie reached into the bag and took out a salad. “Drooling over Novak again?”
Dean shyly shook his head. She knew him way too well. He shrugged.
“Oh, you did.” A smile formed on Charlie’s lips.
“So what?” Dean took a bite from his sandwich, savoring the taste of it. “The latest concert of ‘The Angels’ was online and I watched it.”
“You do know they will be in town in a few weeks, right?”
“So. I’m surprised you haven’t bought tickets to watch them. Come on, Dean. What’s wrong with you? This was your chance to see them live on stage.”
“You know how I feel about crowds, Charlie. I don’t like them.” He took another bite from his sandwich. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, it was sold out in minutes.” He darted out his tongue to lick up some mayo that got stuck on his upper lip.
Charlie stabbed the salad in front of her with the plastic fork. “You can still buy VIP tickets. That’s even better when you think about it. It saves you from standing in line to enter, or to camp at the doors 24 hours before they open to have a good spot near the stage.”
Dean almost choked on his food. He coughed. “Do you know what they cost?” He pushed his glasses a bit further up his nose.
“Yes, I do know that. But it’s not like you can’t afford it. I know you have savings, you told me.”
“They’re for making my attic into a home office.”
“You’ve been telling me that for the past two years now.”
“Well…” Dean waved his arm. “I have to find the time.”
Charlie sighed deeply. She put her fork down. “VIP tickets would also give you the chance to meet them privately. Come on, live a little. What’re you afraid of?”
What was he so afraid of? With his anxiety? Was she kidding? He put the last piece of sandwich in his mouth and rubbed the breadcrumbs from his fingers.
“I’d rather admire him from afar, Charlie. Maybe he’s an asshole, you know? And if he is, I don’t wanna know. It would ruin the fantasies I have about him.”
“Oh, Dean.” Charlie closed the plastic container that held the salad. “I doubt he’s gonna act like a jerk to his fans even if he is an asshole in real life.” She put the leftover food back in the bag.
“Well, I don’t want to find out.” Dean wiped the corners of his mouth with the paper napkin. He crumpled it into a ball and with a wide curve, threw it into the trash bin. “I’d probably make a complete fool of myself, stuttering like an idiot and blushing like a school girl with a crush. No thanks, Charlie.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know myself well enough.” He pointed his finger at his best friend. “And you do too. What are you trying to accomplish here? It’s not like I’m actually gonna have a chance with the guy.”
“Don’t even go there. Jesus, Charlie. You’re worse than me.” He ran a hand through the short strands of his hair. “He’s a world famous rock star with a bad attitude who likes blondes with endless legs and big tits, not nerdy IT guys like me.” He took a sip from his paper coffee cup.
“It’s just an image, Dean. He’s gay.”
Dean almost spit out his coffee. He blinked in surprise.
“Now I know you’re joking.”
“I’m not.” Charlie sounded offended. “My gaydar is 100% accurate. Castiel Novak may be many things, but there’s one thing that he’s not and that is straight. The dude’s into dudes, trust me.”
Dean pursed his lips with a frown. He should know better than to question Charlie’s so called gaydar. It had been proven in the past to be pretty spot on. Yet he had a hard time wrapping his head around this little fact she had thrown before his feet. There was no way Castiel was gay, not with his attitude. And even if he were, the man was still a world famous rock star and he was still a nerdy IT guy.
He looked up at Charlie when he felt her hands covering his.
“I just want you to be happy, Dean. And I want you to find someone to be happy with.”
“Thanks, Charlie. But I doubt that’s gonna be Castiel Novak.” He chuckled. “Besides, I am happy. I have you, and I have a very successful little brother, a nice sister-in-law and two adorable nephews. What more do I need, right?” He tried to be lighthearted about it, but he heard how the words he spoke had a sad edge to them.
“Talking about Sam. How is he?”
Dean was glad Charlie changed the subject. “He’s fine. Eileen is due in three months, and this time, it’s a girl.” He smiled.
“Ohhh.” Charlie clapped her hands in excitement. “That’s so great. He really is living the American dream, isn’t he?”
Dean leaned back in his chair. “Yes he is.” The grin on his lips grew wider. “He sure is.”
Entering a cold, dark house at night after work was never pleasant. It was at times like this he wished there was someone waiting for him besides Dory, his goldfish. Maybe he should get a dog.
No. He immediately decided against it. It wouldn’t be fair to the animal to be left alone all day just because he needed company at night.
Dean threw his keys in the glass bowl on the small table next to the door. He shrugged off his jacket and turned on the heat to chase away the chill hanging in the air.
Searching his way through the semi darkness, he went over to the stereo and put in the CD of his favorite rock band.
He turned on some lamps that shrouded the room in an atmospheric glow, pulled out his phone and ordered Chinese for dinner while making a beeline for the fridge to get himself a beer.
He left his phone on the kitchen counter and padded back to the living room where he let himself fall onto the couch. Burying himself into the soft cushions, he took a sip from the bottle and closed his eyes with a sigh.
The haunting voice of Castiel Novak that always sounded like it came from deep inside a tomb, rippled through Dean’s body and soothed his troubled soul. It was amazing how the gruff voice had such a healing effect on him.
Dean let his mind drift back to the conversation he had with Charlie. If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit he was dying to meet Castiel in person. If only he wasn’t so fucking afraid. He was sure he would turn into a babbling lunatic in the singer’s presence.
Was Charlie right? Was the lead of ‘The Angels’ gay? Dean honestly couldn’t tell. He was bisexual himself, something he discovered at a pretty young age and had a rough time coming to terms with.
Dean swallowed around a lump in his throat thinking about those days and the things he had to do to keep himself and his brother from starving when his dad turned into a raving drunk after they lost their mom. Mary had lost her battle with an aggressive brain tumor, leaving John devastated. More often than not, he drank himself into oblivion in an effort to forget, not caring he still had two sons who needed him.
Washing glasses at the sleazy bar in town was not something Dean saw himself doing for the rest of his life, but for now, it was all he had. At 17 he was lucky to even get this job.
It’d been three years now since his mom died and sent his dad spiraling out of control. They lost the house because John didn’t make the payments anymore and they had to move into a cheap two bedroom apartment in the more impoverished part of town.
Money was tight, it always was. John would rather spend whatever he earned on booze instead of food. Somehow though, they managed, until his dad disappeared to God knows where four months ago without leaving them any money.
At first, Dean didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go to the police to report his dad missing. If he did that, child protective services would come to take him and Sam away. They would be separated. He couldn’t let that happen.
For the first time since they moved into that dump of an apartment, he was glad they lived there. The people in this building didn’t mind each other’s business. They also didn’t want anything to do with law enforcement, so he didn’t have to be afraid one of them would report two minors living alone. It was pretty strange how the law worked. He was 17 and had reached the age of consent in the state of New York, but he wasn’t considered an adult until he was 18.
Dean urged Sam not to speak to anyone about their situation. He told his younger brother he would find an after school job and take care of both of them. They didn’t need their father.
He also made Sam swear to do his best at school. He was a bright kid and if his grades suddenly fell, it would raise suspicion. Besides, he wanted to be a lawyer, right? Dean promised him he would make that happen or die trying.
After days of endless searching, he found this job. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough to get by.
The scrutinizing gaze of a man at the other end of the counter gave Dean the creeps. He’d been watching him for over an hour now and sent shivers down Dean’s spine. Finally, the man with the full beard and an obvious beer belly, moved to sit right in front of where he was cleaning the glasses.
“You wanna make some extra bucks?” he asked without so much as an introduction.
Dean’s interest was immediately piqued. Of course he wanted to make extra money. He didn’t want to seem too eager though.
“Sure.” He casually shrugged his shoulders. “What’re you offering?”
“I’ll give you five if you suck my dick. Ten if you let me fuck you.”
Dean audibly gasped for air. Just like that, out of the blue, this guy asked him for a blow job for five bucks. This was a joke, right? The look in the guy’s eyes told him he was dead serious.
“Oh please.” The man rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you haven’t noticed yourself. Good looking kid like you? I can point out at least three men in this bar who would love to see your pretty little lips wrapped around their cock. You could easily make twenty a night. More if you let them fuck your tight ass.”
Dean was at a loss for words. He still couldn’t believe this shit.
“Think about it,” the man said. He took his beer bottle and went to sit back at his place at the other end of the counter.
It was a lot for Dean to process what just happened. Once he had done that, he carefully allowed himself to consider it. Twenty a night was a lot of money for him. More even if he believed that guy.
It was just sex, right? And it wasn’t like he hadn’t given a blow job before, because he had. He had sucked the dick of the captain of the soccer team for one, and he had told Dean he was good at it.
He swallowed as he made his way over to the bearded guy. “I’ll do it.”
The man took a swig from his beer. “Good. When do you get off?”
Dean glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. “In five minutes.”
The man with the beard emptied his bottle. “Great. Meet me in the alley at the back.” He put some money on the counter that would cover his tab and went out the door.
Dean sighed deeply. What the hell was he doing?
The ringing of the doorbell indicating dinner had arrived pulled Dean from the painful memories of his past. He shrugged them off and got up with a groan to answer the door.
Five minutes later the whole kitchen area was filled with the delicious smell of Chinese food that still lingered when he went to bed early.
He put on his headphones to listen some more to the gravelly voice of Castiel as he sang about love and trust and promises.
Dean’s hand moved under the covers and cupped his dick through the fabric of his boxers. He gasped at the pleasure that went through him from rubbing it.
The image of Castiel with his cobalt blue eyes and sexy bed hair danced before his eyes as his fingers crawled behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. He pushed the garment further down to free his hardened cock. The foreskin was already retracted, leaving the sensitive head exposed and wet with precome.
Dean threw off the covers. He didn’t want to mess them up. Goosebumps appeared on his body as soon as the cold air hit his overheated skin.
Another gasp left his lips as he smeared his thumb through the prerelease pulsing from the tip of his cock. He started stroking in rhythm with the song booming in his ears, and tipped over the edge with a loud cry at the crescendo. His heavy breathing slowly returned to normal as he spiraled down from his height, carried by the last notes of the song.
He reveled during another song in post orgasmic bliss before reaching towards the night stand for the wet wipes he kept there. He cleaned up the mess he made on his stomach, pulled his boxers back up, took the headphones off and snuggled under the blankets, drifting off to sleep to the fantasies about meeting Castiel Novak and what it would be like.