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kissing strangers

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“I’m Bela. Exotic dancer.”

“Meg, working on a doctorate in comparative religion.”

“Gabe, and I own an erotic bakery.”

“I’m Becky and I’m so excited to be here! Oh, I run a popular fan site for a tv show called Family Business.”

“Stiles Stilinski, FBI. I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Hello. My name is Castiel, and I’m a project manager at a tech company.”

Dean and the other kissers are listening out of sight of the kissees as they do their introduction interviews. A lot of the kissers are shifting restlessly, nervously, next to Dean, but he does his best to play it cool, even when that voice — my name is Castiel — punches him in the gut. He’s always had a thing for voices, men’s voices in particular, and he’d willingly put a blindfold on and go to bed with this guy sight unseen. For science.

“You’re going to be kissing six different strangers, blindfolded, and you’re going to be rating them on a scale from one to ten. Do you mind if I ask your sexual orientation?”

“I’m a lesbian.”

“Mostly straight.”

“Flexible. Very.”

“Straight!”

“Bi.”

“Heterosexual.”

“So you know you’re not going to know the gender of everyone. Is that ok?”

“If I have to.”

“Never kissed a girl sober, but sure.”  

“Bring it on.”

“Ummm, ok.”

“Dude, this is awesome.”

“That’s fine.”

All the kissees except for one are led out of the room. When the producer calls for the kissers to line up in front of the first blindfolded kissee, Dean ends up second to last. There’s nervous giggling that the kissers try to cover up with their hands to not give themselves away. The kissee — Bela, Dean assumes, if they’re going in the same order they introduced themselves — is really beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way, well dressed, almost as tall as Dean in heels. She looks like money.

The first four kisses are fine, according to Bela, who scores brutally, from “not impressive; three” to “I would try that again; six.” She guesses the gender of the kissers correctly every time. Dean just watches. He likes to think of himself as a giving lover, likes the game of finding out what his partner likes best, but he’s not sure how well that will translate to learning just by watching her with someone else.

Her mouth is soft — which is not to say that Dean can’t still feel the hum of danger under her skin — and Dean scores a seven, which feels like an insult but is better than anyone else so far. The guy after him in line scores a five.

Meg is next. She’s short and unassuming, but her kisses are aggressive and remind Dean of the violent storm of fucking certain types of men, getting shoved into walls and devoured. Dean doesn’t usually get that from women and he’s into it. She smirks when she’s done with Dean and gives him an eight.

Gabe and Dean’s kissing styles don’t match in a way that’s not fixable, and Gabe regretfully gives Dean a six.

Enthusiasm is pretty important in a lover, and Dean’s never met someone he would call too enthusiastic until Becky. It’s wet in a way Dean doesn’t like, at least not until mid-fuck when things start to get sloppy and desperate. She gives Dean a nine.

Stiles is really beautiful in a way Dean thinks probably makes it hard for people to take him seriously on the job. Dean can imagine lovely wide eyes behind the blindfold to go along with his mouth, swollen from kisses by the time Dean gets to him. It’s good — really good — and Dean would give it a 9.5 if he were the one rating. Dean regrets it when the producer says their time is up and Stiles is slow to drop his hand from Dean’s chest. Dean gets another nine. “Sorry,” Stiles says. “I’d feel bad if I gave anyone but my partner a ten.”

Dean spent the last five kisses pretending he wasn’t waiting for Castiel to walk out. He reminds himself more than once that Castiel could be anything, might not be Dean’s type at all. He could be a terrible kisser, which might be worse. Dean can get over a lot in the looks department if the chemistry is right.

There’s nothing to worry about. Stiles is beautiful, but Castiel is fucking gorgeous, the kind of man that would fuck Dean so good he’d feel the echo of it for days. Dean wonders what color his eyes are and what he looks like underneath his clothes. Dean wants.

Castiel considers his scores seriously but is generous with them. When Dean makes it to the front of the line, he focuses on Castiel’s lips until the producer gives them the go-ahead. Dean cradles Cas’s face in his hands and the first time their mouths touch is more of a butterfly kiss than anything, the barest contact, and Castiel lets a slow breath out when their mouths press together more fully.

Dean didn’t hear any instructions to the kissees about whether or not they can touch, but it seems like everyone has mostly assumed they shouldn’t, including Castiel, up until he fists his hand in Dean’s shirt to pull him closer.

Dean is a talker and wants to murmur something sweet or filthy or both in the space between them, but he keeps quiet, and when the producer calls for them to stop, Castiel is too busy with his tongue sliding against Dean’s to notice. They’re closer together now than anyone else was, close enough that Castiel can shift his hips just the smallest bit to be flush with Dean’s.

The producer tells them to stop again and Castiel hears it this time, letting go of Dean’s shirt and taking a step back. His cheeks are flushed, mouth red and alluring, and he takes a shaky breath.

“That was a man,” Castiel says, “but that was also a ten.”

Dean isn’t smug the way he was to get Bela’s high score. He just wants to show Castiel all the other tens Dean can give him — people generally say Dean is good with his mouth in a variety of ways, and he’ll take and have lovers just about any way he can, and Castiel didn’t kiss anyone else like that. Maybe there are other things he would try with Dean.

The kissers rearrange the order of their lines and the blindfolds come off all of the kissees. Castiel’s eyes — startlingly blue —  flicker over all the kissers but his eyes seem to linger a bit on Dean. The producer reveals the high scores to each kissee. Dean’s was the high score for Bela, Stiles, and Castiel. Stiles laughs when Dean steps out of the line-up and says, “Ok, Derek would understand if I gave you a ten.”

Castiel is quiet when Dean steps forward, but he meets Dean’s eyes without flinching.

“Was today the first time you kissed a guy?” Stiles says, glancing between them.

“Yes,” Castiel says.

Castiel doesn’t engage after that, even though Dean keeps sneaking looks at him. Instead, Dean’s not complaining about flirting with Stiles, who does have big scotch-colored eyes and asks outright if Dean would be interested in a threesome with him and his boyfriend. “Sorry, not really my thing,” Dean says, which is mostly a lie, but he wants to catch up to Castiel on the way out.

Stiles glances over at Castiel and gives Dean a knowing smile. “You know that’s hopeless.”

“I was straight and hopeless once,” Dean says.

“Good luck, dude,” Stiles says, giving Dean’s arm a squeeze before taking his fifty bucks from the producer.

Castiel hurries out of the building but Dean is fast, too, and catches up to him. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Castiel says, looking over at him like they hadn’t shared an incredibly hot kiss less than an hour ago. “You and Stiles are getting along.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, he’s pretty likeable. But you’re who I really wanted to talk to.”

“Why?”

Dean shrugs again and ducks his head. “That was a good kiss.”

“I believe you know that I’m straight.”

“So what? You acted like you thought it was good, too.”

There’s a sleek black car waiting on the curb for Stiles, but Dean hardly notices. Castiel’s eyes are brighter in the midday sun and Dean’s brain provides him a couple of choice vivid fantasies of what Castiel would look like as Dean swallowed around his cock, how dark his eyes would get. How hard he would pull Dean’s hair. The noise he would make when he comes.

“Yes, I liked it.”

“Where are you parked?” Dean says. “I’ll walk with you.”

Cas squints. “A couple blocks up on ninth.”

They walk together, companionably silent for half a block. Dean looks over and Cas is looking at him already. “I’d like to see you again,” Dean says, offering a smile.

Cas breaks eye contact to push the button at the crosswalk. “I — need to think. We can exchange numbers and I’ll be in touch.”

“Ok,” Dean says. “I promise I won’t turn into one of those crazies texting you constantly while you ignore me. I can take a hint.”

“I don’t doubt your ability to find someone else willing to share a kiss or two with you.”

Dean laughs. “I do ok, but casual isn’t really what I’m interested in right now. I mean, other than kissing strangers for cash.”

Castiel stops in front of a car that he should be embarrassed about driving. Dean stares and tries to keep the disdain out of his voice when he says, “What is this? Ninety-eight?”

“It’s very dependable.”

“Mine’s a sixty-seven and pretty dependable herself, but you have stooped to a new level of sacrificing aesthetics for a 300k odometer.”

“Do you think making fun of my car will make me more likely to contact you?”

“Aww, Cas. I’m just teasing. But you’ll understand when you see my lady.”

“If I see your lady,” Castiel says, like he’s not standing close enough to Dean to be a when, not an if.

Dean sends Castiel a text and watches when he immediately saves Dean’s contact like he really does plan on calling sometime.

“Thanks,” Cas says, awkwardly. “For the kiss.”

Dean gives a little salute and a grin. “Talk to you later.”

 

Three days later:

Castiel: I know having a queer sibling doesn’t mean I can’t be homophobic, but I’m not. I really never thought about whether or not I find men attractive. I suppose I should’ve considered that when Hannah came out.

Dean: Hey, i kind of assumed you weren’t going to text me
Dean: Are you saying you’re attracted to me?

Castiel: I believe that much was obvious.

Dean: I’m not trying to spiral you into a gay panic or anything but we could hang out. What kind of movies do you like?

Castiel: I’m probably too geeky for your tastes.

Dean: Try me

Castiel: A New Hope is my favorite.

Dean: You’re not wrong exactly but Empire was better

Castiel: Let’s have this argument in person.

Dean: This weekend? Dinner and SW marathon?

Castiel: Don’t expect anything.

Dean: I never do. Promise I’ll wait for you to make the first move. If you don’t that’s cool too

 

The second kiss is even better than the first.