![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rockstarpeach) wrote2009-05-21 03:55 pm
Ficlet: First Time For Everything (Castiel/Wesley - SPN/AtS) 1/2
Title: First Time For Everything
Pairing: Castiel/Wesley, some one sided Castiel/Dean
Rating: Part 1 PG, Part 2 Adult
Summary: Wesley meets a fascinating stranger. Castiel decides to get to know someone besides Dean and Sam, and learns that life as a human can be pretty good. Early S5 Angel, early S4 SPN.
Part 1 – Reads fine on its own, so if you don’t want the porny bits you can stop at the end of this part.
***
Wesley opened his fridge and sighed. Left-over Chinese from a week ago, a nearly empty carton of orange juice, and a jar of jam. He closed the fridge and opened up the cupboard next to it, but nothing in there seemed very appealing either. Not that there was much. He was sick to death of pot noodles, and the half loaf of bread looked entirely too suspicious. He idly thought of bringing it to Fred’s lab, seeing if she might possibly be able to identify some sort of new life form.
He’d never been very good at stocking his kitchen, for one reason or another. Mostly, especially these days, he was too busy. He worked long hours, a lot of nights didn’t even come home at all, and most of the food he did buy only went to waste, so he lived mostly on take-away and tea.
His stomach rumbled, letting him know that tea would not suffice tonight, and he gave the cupboard door a gentle push with the tips of his fingers, hearing the soft *thud* of it closing behind him as he walked to the door and grabbed his jacket. There was a diner on the corner that was open late.
***
Castiel watched.
The Winchesters were on a case, a random haunting, that had taken them to
He shouldn’t be there, but he was.
He knew that others would tell him again that he had become too attached to his charge, that his judgement was clouded by his growing affection. He reasoned to himself that this was necessary. That even when they weren’t actively working together, he needed to keep an eye on him, needed to watch over him. They were in the greatest fight the earth or heaven had ever known, and it was wise to always be aware of their most important soldier.
Dean and Sam ate, sitting across from each other on cheap, vinyl-covered chairs, pile of food on the wobbly table between them nearly indistinguishable as they both plucked from it indiscriminately, picking up French fries, and pickles, and sandwiches at random.
Dean and Sam ate, and Castiel watched.
***
Wesley rounded the corner and headed down the side street that would lead him to Mickey’s, almost deciding to turn around and go back, make due with his tea, and questionable leftovers. It was late, and he was tired, and he wasn’t too thrilled with how Sue, a particularly busty, and undeniably beautiful, waitress was always coming on to him. He was starting to run out of plausible excuses to turn her down.
His polite ‘Thank you, I’m not interested’ had been met with a dismissive laugh and pat on the arse.
Still he was hungry, and he was almost there, and this wasn’t normally Sue’s night to work. And… there was a man just ahead. Which wasn’t unusual, as there were men most everywhere, including street-corners outside of diners at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night, but for some reason, this one caught his interest, drew him in.
He was standing in the shadows, the lights from inside the diner lighting up only so much of the sidewalk outside, and as he was on the side street, around the corner from the front door, there were no streetlights. Wesley couldn’t see him very well, couldn’t make out many details of his features, but there was just… something. Something about the way he stood, the way he looked inside, intense, almost frightening.
Naturally, Wesley walked closer. A few more steps, only a half dozen feet away now, and he was able to see the man better, the darker side of his face lit up slightly as the angle of his head changed, and he was… beautiful. Wesley’s breath caught for a moment, actually caught, which never happened, no matter how beautiful he found someone, and he got the unshakable feeling that this man was special.
He was also staring, Wesley realised as he followed the man’s gaze through the window, to a table sitting two younger men, one obviously enjoying his meal with much more vigour than the other. And he knew, almost instinctively, that that was the one the man in front of him was staring at.
He wasn’t as captivating as the man on the sidewalk, but even after only a brief look, Wesley could admit that if the one shovelling food into his mouth like it was his last supper was nearby, he probably wouldn’t be looking at anyone else either.
How was it possible that men such as these existed in this city, and Wesley hadn’t known, he wondered.
He took another few steps and stopped.
“He’s pretty, I’ll give you that,” Wesley said, conversational, almost friendly. He wasn’t lying. The guy inside was pretty. As ice breakers went, Wesley knew there were better lines, but it was the first thing he thought of, and it was the truth, and there was something about this man, this stranger, that made him want to be honest.
Castiel didn’t jump or start, he’d heard the man coming, seen him, but hadn’t thought to pay him any attention until he spoke. He wasn’t a threat, and was therefore completely uninteresting, and Castiel considered ignoring him, even as he stood there, looking in through the same window he was, looking at Dean, and obviously expecting some sort of social intercourse.
He turned, calmly, and looked at the man. Regarded his face, strong, symmetrical features, unshaven, handsome, he supposed. Castiel looked back inside the diner and tilted his head, considering. Was Dean… pretty? It wasn’t a word that he would have thought to associate with him, though he knew his looks were appealing. And Casitel knew that he liked him, even if he couldn’t afford to.
“I am…” he started, voice level and unaffected, even as he struggled for the right words. He searched through his vessel’s memories, his own store of knowledge, before he settled on the best approximation of what he might be experiencing. “I am attracted. To him.”
Attracted. Yes, that was it. Attracted, in the purest sense of the word. He wanted to be around him, all the time, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Perhaps the others were right. He’d been too long in human form, and the desires, and promises of pleasures, of living as one of them were starting to take their toll.
“I can see why,” Wesley agreed with a smile, and even though there was something about this man that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, he liked him. He was unusual, sure, but strong looking, and sexy. Charismatic. Wesley almost couldn’t look away. “Though stalking isn’t generally considered good from,” he teased. “You should go in, introduce yourself.”
“We’re acquainted,” Castiel answered, still looking at Dean. He wondered if that was all, if the man would be satisfied now, and leave. Apparently not.
“In that case,” Wesley said, shifting so that he was right next to the other man, shoulders nearly touching as they both stood in the shadow of the building and looked through the glass at the pretty man inside. He assumed the pretty one didn’t want anything to do with the one next to him, or he would have gone in already. “You really shouldn’t be watching him like this.”
Castiel snapped his head to the side, looked at the man next to him, but he didn’t look back. Still watched through the window, not just Dean now, but Sam as well, and Castiel could tell that watching, for this man, wasn’t anything new.
“No,” he said, voice louder than before. No, he shouldn’t be watching Dean like this. He shouldn’t be here at all. It made him weak, compromised his objectivity. “I shouldn’t.”
Neither of them said anything for several seconds, and finally Wesley turned to face the other man. “And yet, I don’t see you going anywhere.” Wesley wasn’t either, and he knew that was weird. He should have just continued inside, gotten some food, perhaps tried to chat up the pretty one for a while, take his mind off Fred and Knox, but instead he was standing outside in the dark, next to a slightly creepy stalker.
“His name is Dean,” Castiel offered, looking back inside, as if the man had asked, and still made no move to leave.
Wesley nodded. Dean. It was a nice name. And Wesley understood obsession.
“Mine’s Wesley.”
“Wesley,” Castiel said out loud, testing the name on his tongue. The word was new, not one he’d ever used before, but it was nice. This man was nice. Intrusive and assuming, but he seemed… kind. “I’m Castiel.”
Wesley’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he watched Dean laugh and take a piece of sandwich from the other man’s plate, getting smacked on the hand for his effort. Dean wasn’t deterred though, just stuck his tongue out playfully, and Wesley wanted to nibble on it. He could only imagine what Castiel was thinking.
“That’s an unusual name,” Wesley said, wrenching his eyes away from the sight of Dean stuffing food into his face at record speed, a sight which shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as it was. He half wondered if he were dealing with some sort of demon, with a name like Castiel, and such odd mannerisms.
“I’m an unusual man,” Castiel answered, cracking the tiniest of smiles despite the awkwardness he felt at the action. It felt right somehow as well, and that worried him.
“I have been rather getting that impression,” Wesley smiled back, and they looked at each other again, and for just a fraction of a second, Wesley felt more attracted to this strange man, perhaps demon, than he ever had to anyone before. The feeling was gone almost before he was aware that it existed in the first place, but it had existed all the same, and the fact he was a very striking man, remained.
And though he could count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of times in his entire life he’d asked a complete stranger home, he took a step to the side and cocked his head down the street he’d walked down, in the direction of his apartment.
“Well, Castiel,” he said, trying not to feel so nervous, so… eaten alive… by the look he was receiving as he spoke, one of curiosity, and definite interest. “Would you like to come back to my apartment and join me in a drink?” The need for something to eat had diminished significantly in the past few minutes, and he was starting to feel pretty good about having nothing but whiskey, and possibly this fascinating stranger, inside him for the rest of the night.
“I’m not thirsty,” Castiel answered. This body hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in months, not since he’d possessed it, and it didn’t need to. Not as long as he was inside. He could drink if he wanted to, could do a lot of things humans did, he’d just never bothered. Lately he was starting to have a difficult time remembering why that was.
Wesley laughed softly. “You do realise that the ‘drink’ part of that invitation was optional?”
“Then why…” Castiel began to ask, but then closed his mouth, and thought, tried to answer the question for himself. And it didn’t matter to him why Wesley had invited him to his apartment, he decided. Wesley was intriguing, and Castiel found that he wanted to accept the invitation for company, if not sustenance. He’d watched his charge more than enough for today, anyway, and his existence between assignments was lonely. Especially compared to what he’d known until now. To heaven.
Wesley didn’t press, didn’t speak, just waited for Castiel to make up his mind. It was odd that he hadn’t known what Wesley had meant straight away, because it wasn’t a particularly subtle pick-up line. Wesley didn’t think he could have been more obvious if he’d asked if Castiel would like to go back to his place and fuck, but Castiel was obviously working it out.
Castiel looked back at Dean once more, scowling now, and saying something to Sam, before turning back to Wesley, regarding him coolly. “I’m not busy,” he said, steady and gruff, and Wesley’s answering smile made him happy.
***
no subject
Wes/Cas what a pair.