CONTENDER, the Heavyweight Prequel
a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0)
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SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1924. During their rise to fame, two professional boxers at the beginning of their careers meet and begin a turbulent affair. Set to the backdrop of opulent parties, dark-lit speakeasies, and the bright spotlight of the championship ring, Dean and Cas get caught up in boxing's seedy underworld.
CHAPTER PREVIEW:
At first, he thought he was imagining hearing his name being called. Then it echoed through the room as more people started shouting it. Charlie stopped talking, frowning. She said, “Umm. Why… are they calling you?”
“Castiel Novak!”
He looked up at the stairs, spotting a man whom he’d never seen before in his life leaning over the railing. “Is there a Castiel Novak here?”
Castiel blinked down at his drink, wondering if he’d imbibed more than he’d thought and he was hallucinating.
“Here!” Charlie called, waving her hand at him. “He’s here!”
The man on the stairs gestured for him to come up. “Your name was called.”
“My what?” he asked, but the chatter around him drowned out his voice and the man was already gone.
“Did you put your name in for the ring?” Charlie said. Castiel shook his head. He was even more confused when a look of realization overcame Charlie’s face. She said, “Uh-oh.” Quickly, she turned away and elbowed toward the stairs.
“I… What? Charlie?” Castiel followed after her. On his way, he put his glass on the stairs along with the discarded remains of other people’s drinkware. He hastened his footsteps to catch up with her, and nearly knocked into her back when she unexpectedly halted at the top of the flight.
He looked where she was staring: at the ring. Dean was inside, his suit jacket, shirt, and tie shed to reveal his chest. He was bouncing from dress shoe to dress shoe, grinning down at people in the crowd as they cheered for him.
Castiel now understood what Charlie’s uh-oh had been about. Dean had put their names in. At once, sobriety washed away the alcohol, bringing with it a searing anger. Dean had been avoiding him all night, and now this? Castiel should have left when he had the chance.
He spotted Jo walking up to them, Dean’s clothes hanging over her arm. “I couldn’t stop him,” he said, expression culpable. Castiel didn’t blame her.
“I’m sure you couldn’t,” he said curtly, his eyes still on the ring.
Fine. If this is what Dean wanted, Castiel would do it. With any luck, it would break Dean’s temper—and possibly his nose.
Tugging at the knot of his tie, he started forward. While he walked toward the ring, he thought he heard someone say the word Angel. A few other people whooped, knowing more bloodshed was imminent.
When he reached the ring, he was handed a pair of gloves. He set them down, grabbed the ropes, hauled himself up, and ducked underneath. Dean, at last realizing he was present, turned around with a sharp smile fixed on his face. His eyes were swimming with inebriation.
“Fighters, to your corners!” someone shouted while Castiel slipped into the faded pair of brown leather gloves. The tops were slick with blood, and the insides were hot and wet from other men’s perspiration. He raised them to his face and stepped backward into the corner, eyeing Dean the entire time.
Dean licked his lips, swung his gloves behind him and then forward to clap them together, and raised his fists. Castiel took in the curvature of his shoulders and the flex of his arms, like Roman marble in the contrapposto of his boxer stance. It was a shame Dean ruined the image when his expression slipped into the same cocky, over-zealous mask he wore each time he was in the ring.
A bell chimed.
Castiel met Dean in the center of the ring and swung for his jaw, his knuckles slamming against flesh and bone. It knocked the expression from Dean’s face. Dean must have not seen it coming in his drunken state. He stumbled to the side, clutching his face, slightly bent over. For a moment, Castiel relished in the thought that he was going to tumble down to the canvas.
However, when Dean righted himself, his wide eyes latched onto Castiel. His mouth was open in shock, blood staining his plump bottom lip. He blinked rapidly, looking as if he was seeing Castiel for the very first time, and he’d been caught totally unawares. It was almost enough for guilt to spike in Castiel’s heart, but he reminded himself that Dean had asked for this.
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#armand de lingerer armand de watcher armand de observer
@yurarcher
#consensus: daniel is some kind of boat
@domarmand
#Armand putting in his 40 hours every week for free just stalking Daniel#How many Rashids/roleplay characters do we think Armand played in 52 years of following Daniel?#And is it greater or less than the number of times Armand wiped Daniel’s mind?
@beleaguered-ringmaster
#he's literally lingering#loitering in the lives of others
@ilyapasta
#do you have to let it linger...#so true armand. there is joy to be found in lingering in spaces.
@bidanielmolloy
#'hours of observation' daniel is in a little cage and armand has a pair of pliers and a magnifying glass
@celestialbuddy
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I really really really autistically love vintage fashion, I just knew I had to do a little something inspired by some of the Sears catalogue spreads from a few fashion books I own (I’m aware that at the time these would have been in colour but the scans in the books are in black and white and I think the monochrome looks cooler anyway) — Castiel is first up but I’ll be doing one for Dean and Sam as well!
