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Mornings at the Winchester-Bradbury-Tran house are always messy.
“Adam! You’re gonna be late!” Dean shouts from the kitchen, cooking some French toasts. He turns and curses when he finds Charlie in an oversized shirt and a messy bun, with a bottle of orange juice close to her chest. She smiles at him, and slips under his arm to get to the round table in front of the kitchen.
“Breakfast is almost ready.” Dean announces, Sam and Kevin are bent over the table, finishing up their homework, Adam comes running from upstairs, almost tripping over a basket of laundry that needed to be done like a week ago. Charlie gets plates for everybody, and Dean starts serving the food.
He gets himself a bottle of beer and the orange juice for the others, while he listens to the chats of his siblings. He basically engulfs his breakfast, throwing the plates in the sink. He’ll wash them later.
“Let’s go! You are all fucking late!” Charlie laughs, lifting her feet to rest them on the table, sipping her coffee calmly.
“It’s so nice to work from home.”
“Wow, rude.” Adam throws his napkin at her. Dean flips her off, and then hurries his siblings out of the door, before they all miss the school bus.
“Wash the dishes! And clean the house!”
“Just because I’m the only girl it doesn’t mean you get to boss me around!” Dean doesn’t reply because he shuts the door close, and almost fall on the ground when he trips over Kevin’s backpack.
“Jesus Christ, what did you put in here? Rocks?”
“Books. You should try them sometimes.”
“Sorry, I like other things.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Girls. And boys.”
“Gross.” Dean laughs, patting him on the back.
“Move your ass, Kevin.” Dean makes sure he gets on the bus after Sam and Adam, and then gets in the Impala. The drive to Bobby’s garage isn’t long, but he’s already late. Old news, really. Thanks God, Bobby likes him, or he would have been fired a long time ago, because apparently he can’t get at work in time to save his life.
Honestly, mornings are such a mess.


Bobby’s garage is Dean’s favorite place.

He might not be smart like Sam or Kevin, but he’s good with his hands, and cars speak to him. He’s got a gift.
“You’re late, brother. Why am I not surprised?” Benny throws an arm around Dean’s shoulders.
“Give me a break, you know what kind of Hell mornings are where I live.” Benny’s blue eyes light up while he smiles. Benny’s Dean best friend since highschool, they used to pull pranks on the teachers and students, had the reputations of clowns. Good times.
“Ya idjits, better get to work before I fire both of your lazy asses.” Bobby spins his wheelchair in the room, glaring at both of them from under his baseball cap.
“Come on, Bobby, you know you’d miss us.” Dean teases, but gets to work anyway. He has an old Mercedes 600 from 1979 that needs some major fixing and he’s been working on it for a while now, but he’s pretty far from being done. And Bobby’s going to bust his ass if he doesn’t get this done soon. 
By lunchtime he’s covered in sweat and grease and oil. But most of all, he’s starving. He and Benny sit around the table with Bobby, eating sandwiches and drinking cold beers.
Dean checks his phone to make sure that nothing exploded while he was working, and notices he has a new message. It’s from a private number, which can mean only a thing. Alastair. He shivers at the thought, but opens the text anyway.
Apparently, he will spend tomorrow night with him. Dean tries to take comfort from the fact that he won’t have to walk up and down the streets all night looking for clients while he freezes his ass off, but it doesn’t really work out. He’d much rather walk all night than meet up with Alastair.
He grunts, and finishes his beer, putting away his phone.
“Everything’s alright?” Dean turns to Benny. He smiles.
“Yeah, all good.”


If Dean had to pick an adjective to describe his life he would pick something like frenetic. Or maybe complicated. Not easy. A big mess. And shitty, sometimes.
Times like this one.
Thing is, Dean has been doing this for a while, even if he’s only twenty-two. He has been turning tricks long enough that he has now a solid base of regulars, including Alastair ‘asshole’ Sharp. Anyway, he makes enough to get by. Meg, another co-worker, says it’s his face. Dean agrees. He knows he’s pretty, with full lips, bright green eyes and a jaw you could cut your finger on. But he still looks young, the fact that he’s a little too much on the skinny side helps.
Men like him.
Dean leans over the open window of a car parked on the side of the street, a man in his fifties with a nasty-looking beard is staring at him with a hungry face. Dean puts up a grin.
“Hey sweetheart, looking for a date?” the man eyes him, considering, evaluating. It always makes Dean feel like a piece of meat. But when you’re selling your own body, he guesses there isn’t much difference.  
“How much?”
“Fifty for head, hundred for the funniest stuff. Money up front and you wear a rubber. No kissing.”
“Get in.” Dean does as he’s told, and the man puts a hundred bill in his hand.
“There’s an empty parking down the street.” Dean says. The man starts to drive.
“My name is Bill.” It’s probably fake, and he didn’t ask nor he cares, but Dean decides he could be a Bill, he looks like one.
“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Bill. Turn right there.” Bill parks in the parking lot behind an old building nobody uses anymore. Dean thinks it could have been a theater or something, before this all side of Lawrence went to shit.
Dean gets out of the car, followed by the guy. He fishes a condom and a bottle of lube in his pocket before unbuttoning his jeans and letting them down with his boxer down to his ankles. He puts the items in Bill’s hand and smiles.
“No marks.”
“Got it.”
Soon enough a finger coated in lube is pressing at his entrance, Dean forces his body to relax, and moans. Johns like it more when Dean moans and pretends to have fun, and if they like it more, there are more chances that they’ll come back. He’s such a good businessman.
Another finger is added to the first one too soon, and Dean rocks back on Bill’s hand, ignoring the burning stretch. He just wants to get over this quickly.
“You ready?”
 “Always ready for you, baby.” Dean hears the pop of the lube cap, and soon enough a dick is pressing at his entrance. Bill fucks him fast and dirty, grabbing his hips so hard that he’s probably leaving bruises. Dean rolls his eyes and moans and rocks back and he just puts up a show, because that’s what he does.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Dean closes his eyes, arches his back, and hopes it’s not going to last any longer.
When he was younger and at the beginning he used to try and zone out. Think about something else, anything really. He used to tell himself it was the last time, but he was on the street the next night too, and the one after that, again and again. He doesn’t do that anymore, he resigned to the fact that it’s his life, that he doesn’t have a choice. He does it because what he makes at Bobby’s garage isn’t enough, he does it because he wants his siblings to have a better life than his own, he wants them to have a future.
And if getting fucked by random strangers is what he has to do, then he’ll do it.
Thanks God, Bill comes fast, filling up the condom. He takes a deep breath, withdrawing from Dean and tossing the condom on the ground. Dean turns over and grins at Bill.
“You were amazing.”
“Yeah.” Bill looks up. “Thank you. See you.”
“You know where to find me.” he throws him a wink just because he can, and then Bill is walking back to his car and Dean will have to walk back to the main street. Great. He cleans himself up as best as he can with a tissue -he’s learned to always keep a packet inside his pockets. Honestly, he keeps everything inside his pockets. He would be literally so lost without his leather jacket.
He walks back to the main street, where the lights are bright, and music from the night clubs is loud.
“Hello, sugar.” He smirks, seeing Meg walking toward him in a leather skirt so short that it barely covers her butt, and a black top with no shoulder and a very generous neckline.
“Meg, dear, how you doin’?”
“All good, baby, all good. You?”
“Just made myself some cash.” She nods, leaning against the wall of a pub and lighting up a cigarette. She offers one to Dean, who accepts. He tends to accepts everything people give him, to be honest.
“How’s Ruby?” Ruby is Meg’s girlfriend, and both of them turn tricks for a living like Dean does. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”
“She’s fine, just caught a bad cold. I had to tie her to the bed to force her to rest.”
“Yeah I bet she rested a lot once you tied her.” She grins, blowing the smoke exactly in his face. “Rude.”
“You started it, pretty boy. And how’s the family?”
“A little chaotic, but it’s good.” They chat some more while the smoke their way through the cigarettes, until Meg perks up.
“Oh look at that.” Dean turns toward the street, watching a crappy Prius pulling over near the sidewalk. “You go get that, I’m not in the mood.”
“I never thought I’d hear you saying you weren’t in the mood for sex.”
“I live to shock.” She pushes him toward the car. “Go get that. I’ll see you later, honey.” Dean sighs but walks to the car anyway. He taps to the window, that promptly rolls down.
“Hey gorgeous, looking for a date?” Dean smiles while he says his usual line. He looks at the man inside the car. He’s young. Actually, he can’t be much older than Dean, in his late twenties.
And damn, he’s hot as fuck. The guy has piercing blue eyes that seems to look straight in Dean’s dirty soul, a mouth to die for, and dark-brown messy hair made to run fingers through.
Suddenly, Dean hopes he’s looking for a date.
“I- how- uhm- how much?” Dean smirks, licking his lips.
“Fifty for head, and a hundred for full service, a special price just for you, baby.” The guy looks like he’s about to pass out. His first time, Dean guesses. It’s kind of cute, the way the guy blushes when Dean licks his lips. But he still nods at Dean offer, so he gets in the car. If not anything, it’ll probably be an easy ride. “Money up front and you wear a condom. No kissing.” The guy nods taking out his wallet and giving Dean a hundred dollars. Good. Very good.
“Is there a place where we can go?”
And boy, his voice his deeper than anything else Dean has ever heard. And it does things to him.
“There’s a motel up the street. It’s called the Ocean Blue, you can book a room if you want.” The guy nods, looking straight ahead. Dean grins, relaxing in the seat. He changes station on the car’s radio until he finds a classic rock song that he likes. The guy looks at him with a weird expression on his face, like he can’t believe this is actually happening. Dean wants to laugh, tell him that yes, he’s paying for sex.
Which is weird, because now that Dean looks at him, he seems pretty fit, under that horrible trenchcoat and a white shirt. Dean licks his lips, wondering if he’ll get to strip him out of his bad-fitting clothes.
“What’s your name?” a useless, stupid question. But he expected it, the guy is definitely a beginner.
“Whatever you want it to be.” He steals the line from Pretty Woman, but it’s one of his favorite. Yes, he watched the movie, more than once, sue him. “What’s yours, sweetheart?”
“Castiel.” that is definitely fake, there is no way someone is actually called Castiel.
“Nice to meet you, Castiel. Let’s see if we can get to know each other more intimately.” Castiel nothing but glares at him. “The motel is right there.” Cas turns right and parks in of the empty lots in front of the building.
The Ocean Blue is a shitty motel that smells like smoke, with nasty floors and even dirtier beds. The lady at the reception knows him, or knows his face at least, because he goes there like almost every night. He thinks she’s called Missouri, she’s has always been nice to him. Tonight is no different, Castiel books a room for about an hour, and Missouri smiles at him.
When they get to their room, Dean locks the door, and turns to Castiel. He barely has time to do that before the guy grabs his hips and shoves him towards the mattress. Alright then, maybe not a beginner. Dean grins at him, spreading his legs and taking off his jacket and tee.
“Your pants too.” his voice is hoarser than before, Dean is fast to take them off. He takes out lube and a condom from his pocket and tosses them at him.
He undoes Castiel’s shirt and slides it off his arms along with his trenchcoat. Then he sees them. Wings. Black, giant wings tattooed on Castiel’s skins. He can only see a small part, that covers his arms, but he guess they’re all over his back too.
His curiosity must be painted on his face, because Castiel chuckles. He turns without saying a word.
They’re amazing. They’re not simple wings, they have some sort of mechanical structure inserted on the top, to which all the feathers are attached. They cover most of his back and shoulders, down to his elbows. And Dean is just completely amazed.
“Didn’t take your for the tattooed type.” Castiel turns again.
“And for what type did you take me?”
“The boring one.” Dean smirks. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Hands and knees.” Castiel says curtly, and Dean nods, getting in position. He arches his back, closing his eyes.
Castiel runs his fingers on Dean’s back, down to the curve of his ass, they’re cold on his warm skin. Then Castiel kisses his neck. Dean sighs, his lips are soft and gentle, and he wasn’t expecting that.  
“You’re too tense.” Dean takes a deep breath and forces his body to relax in Castiel’s hands. “Good boy.” Dean rolls his eyes, and pretends the praise didn’t make him feel warm inside – the gentle touches a pleasant change to the roughness he’s used to.
He hears the cap of the lube pop open, and then Castiel is pressing a finger to his entrance. He’s still sort of loose from his earlier activities so it slips inside with almost no resistance. He hears Castiel sharply sucking in air, and Dean smirks, rocking back on his finger. Castiel adds a second one and a third one, he scissors Dean open, making him moan and sigh. And he’s caring, careful to not hurt him.
And Dean is really not used to it, not used to warm and delicate touches. Yes, a john or two managed to make his come once or twice, but usually it’s never about him. It’s always about the client, making them come, letting them use him.
“Castiel.” the name slips past his lips without his permission, but his dick is hard on the job for the first time in a while, and he wants Castiel.
Castiel growls, pulling the fingers out of Dean’s body so fast that Dean whimpers at the loss –actual fucking whimpers. Castiel runs his fingers on Dean’s back again, pressing right above his ass and Dean arches under his touch.
“So responsive.” Castiel seems to talk to himself, and Dean can’t help but blush a bit. “Turn over, I want to see you while I fuck you.”
“God fucking dammit.” Dean’s fast to oblige, while he lands on his back not exactly gracefully, but he’s eager to get Castiel’s dick in his ass –and if he’s honest, he likes being bossed around. As soon as he’s settled Castiel starts kissing and licking his neck, and Dean wishes he didn’t have a rule about marks.
Castiel starts making his way down to his chest, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses to his clavicle, down to his nipples. He takes one of them between his teeth and pulls slightly, enough to make Dean squirm. He claws at Castiel’s back, pulling him down, closer.
“Jesus, Cas-
“Cas?” he looks up with a smug smile on his face, and Dean swallows hard when his eyes meet the bluest blue to ever blue.
“Do you mind, baby?” He smirks, running a hand over Cas’ arm, brushing his fingers over the tattoo. He shakes his head, resuming his work of licking and biting at Dean’s nipples.
“Say it again.” Dean tilts his head back on the pillows, biting his lip.
“Cas.” he bites a little harder. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Fuck, I want your cock, Cas, I want you to fuck me so hard that I’ll feel it for a week.” that’s the shit Dean usually says and doesn’t mean, so he’s definitely surprised when he finds out he actually means it. And Cas shivers above him, spreading Dean’s leg wide.
“Got a dirty mouth there.” Cas runs his thumb on Dean’s bottom lip, and Dean parts them to suck in Cas’ finger. His eyes go almost completely black, shining with lust and want, and Dean knows he’s not the only one affected by their activities.
Then Cas lines up and thrust in Dean’s body without warnings. Dean moans so loud that probably the whole motel heard him.
Cas doesn’t give him much time to recover before he bottoms out and thrust in, then again, and again and again, picking up a fast and rough pace, that has Dean moaning whimpering under Cas. He wraps his thighs around his waist, locking his ankles behind his back, and the new position makes Cas’ dick slide even deeper in Dean’s body, touching that spots that makes Dean scream.
And then Cas grabs both of his wrists and hold them pinned to the mattress with one hand, using the other one for leverage. The fact that he can’t move only turns him on even more, and he cries out, gasping for air, body slick with sweat. And Cas’ face is so close, his mouth is so close. His eyes keep darting to Dean’s lips while he fucks him mercilessly.
Dean thinks that maybe Cas’ll kiss him –he also thinks he would like that.
He doesn’t get to overthink it because Cas lets go of his wrists in favor of closing a hand around Dean’s dick, a thrill of pleasure running down his spine. Cas strokes him quickly, in time with his thrust. Dean feels the familiar warmth pooling up in his abdomen, Cas bites his earlobe, then his neck, not hard enough to make it hurt, but it will leave a mark, and it’s the last push Dean needs to go over the edge.
He comes harder than he has done in a long time, splashing on both they’re stomachs and Cas’ hands. The blue-eyed man follows him quickly after that, filling the condom, a moan falling from his lips.
They don’t move for a few seconds, staring at each other while they come down from their orgasms.
“That was fucking amazing, man.” Dean smirks, and actually means it. Cas grins too, withdrawing from Dean’s body. He tosses the condom on the floor, standing up and starting to get dressed again. Dean watches his moving around, eyes lingering on his toned body and sun-kissed skin.
He only gets up when Cas is almost ready, picking up his pants from the floors along  with his tee and leather jacket.
“You didn’t tell me your name.” Dean turns at the statement. He grins, running a finger on Castiel’s chest.
“It doesn’t matter.” Castiel holds him by the hips, their bodies flushed together.
“For me it does.” Dean moves closer, taking Cas’s chin between two fingers. Then, before he can change his mind, he kisses him. He can feel his body going stiff for a second, before catching up with what’s happening and kissing Dean back.
It’s slow, but passionate and intense, and it sends sparks down Dean’s spine. He lets Cas take control of it, lets him explore his mouth and play with his tongue.
They kiss until they have to breathe, and Cas just stares at him with wide, blue eyes.
“I thought you said-” Dean presses his finger on Cas’s soft lips to shut him up.
“I know what I said, baby.” He steps back, putting on his jacket. “See you around, hot stuff.”
“Wait, I- when can I see you again?” Dean doesn’t answer immediately, he likes watching Cas squirming. In the end he takes pity on the guy.
“Do you know the Roadhouse?”
“I’ll find it.”
“Great, I’ll be there Saturday.”
“See you then.” He winks, and finally leaves the room with a dumb smile on his face.


Castiel comes home to an empty apartment.
It’s late, or maybe early in the morning, and he’s feeling both euphoric and guilty.
Why he’s euphoric it’s obvious. The time he’s spend with the beautiful man it’s forever committed to his memory. He can’t stop thinking about those bright green eyes, and plump, pink lips. And all those little sounds he made, the moans and the whimpers, and how he was so responsive to even the smallest touch.
And the freckles. He was covered in billions of freckles, on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, down to his shoulders and chest and back.
And that ass. Castiel has never seen a more perfect ass in his twenty-seven years of life.
But then there’s the other half of him. The one that thinks about he’s family. His super religious and conservative family, that despise everything that’s even remotely different from their archaic vision of the world. His family, that would kick his ass on the street if they were to ever find out about the activities he was up to not even half an hour ago. The family that ruled his life since he can remember. He would lose everything.
Castiel sighs, his shoulders heavy with dark thoughts. He moves in the kitchen, opens the fridge and gets a bottle of beer, hoping that the alcohol will help him sleep. Not that he has much time to rest, he has to be at work in less the five hours.
Castiel doesn’t really like his life.