Egg_Company

So I'm Lee, I'm 20, I write a lot of different fandoms and a lot of different stuff. I really like getting asks and chatting with people through those. I'm pretty chill about everything.

Minors are not welcome whatsoever here because I write and post a lot of smut and smut ideas. Any minor interactions make me wanna delete every single thing I've ever written in my life, and believe me I will because I get sick thinking about it.

Anyway

Send me asks if your curious about anything! The masterlists give me trouble sometimes and I'm slowly adding more!!

And finally here's my discord server! Join and find me!

Dean didn’t want to work construction. But there was such few options in the dinky Washington town he'd blown into. The bus only took him this far and he just needed to stick around, see what was what, before hopping on the next train and finding somewhere else to run to. Construction had been the easiest option. No one asked for his ID, no one knew him, and no one gave a shit as long as he knew how to work.

Twenty bucks to his name and a motel room, Dean could let himself get lost in the labor. They were building some new whatever across from a little convenience store, there was a bench out on the sidewalk too. Which was nice because Dean didn't want to go sit with the other guys and smoke and eat a sandwich. He wanted to sit right there and watch that little shop.

At first, he thought maybe there could be a way to sneak in, maybe steal some cash, maybe just find a way to weasel some food without paying. It had an ATM he could focus on but he never really liked those things.

But then he learned that he really rather liked what worked in that shop.

Tall, dark hair, stubble, and wore striped polo long sleeves and khakis under his work vest. Dean had started watching him not too soon after he started the job. The guy was beautiful to look at, all dark and square, thick arms hidden under the soft cotton fabric of those shirts, plush thighs and a nice round ass in his pressed khakis.

Dean liked that, liked how… metaphorically and physically square he was. He looked boring, had routines, focused on things, looked like someone Dean could probably swindle into getting a few nights on a couch, probably had something Dean wanted in whatever neat little house he lived in. Dean liked to watch him as he ate whatever he counted as lunch.

Dean watched him wipe down shelves, always putting on these tight latex gloves before touching a wet rag or a towel, watched him wear those gloves as he restocked cigarettes and sweep. Dean sometimes thought 'can't even clean without gloves, little pansy' meanly even though deep down he felt a little jealous that the guy got the grace of putting on protection from cleaning chemicals and stinky cigars. That the guy got to take of himself, let himself not have to endure, got to be… soft.

Dean sometimes caught this guys, this gentle boring man, switching shifts and leaving the store. He had a shitty old truck that he parked behind the store, it sounded horrible but it was always clean enough and Dean sometimes had to clench his jaw because damn this guy probably didn't even know how to change his own oil. Dean didn't know what it was about this… this man. But Dean never really denied himself much anymore, so he set about getting down to the core of this wimp.

He wanted to fuck with him a little, just wanted to bat at the feather for a bit.

Dean waited until work was put to a stop, paused until the city came and checked something with the water main, he knew he'd have a few hours at least. So he took his hardhat off and made his way across the street. Dean started with just watching through the front windows, staring openly at the man who was stocking the freezers, glancing at the only other person in the store, some lady who was looking through the booze.

Dean waited till she left, leaving him to slip into the door without letting the bell above ring again. He watched as the guy moved back to the freezer from where he'd slid behind the register moments before. Dean watched as he picked a box up and carefully stocked the frozen meals.

He was stockier than Dean had first thought. Bigger. Dean moved a little closer, stepping to be only a few feet away, thinking surely the man would notice him. He let his eyes wander over the guy's square jaw and his five o'clock shadow, his dark eyebrows, his messy hair, the structure of his face, his eyes were more blue, something about the color was so familiar but Dean couldn't place it. Dean knew he was standing there long enough the guy should have at least picked his head up or something…

Dean smiled and huffed out a breath, a little in awe of how oblivious this guy was. And then he was face to face with him. Dean let his eyebrows raise as he was getting started down, those too familiar blue eyes staring dead into his.

"Do you need to check out?" His voice was deeper than Dean would have ever guessed, rougher, coming from deep in his chest. Dean went from testing to surprised, he let his eyes fall down to that dumb vest with the store's logo, to the white tag there.

"Not yet, Castiel. I was just… browsing." Dean teased, the name rolling off his tongue as he made an obvious motion of looking the other man up and down, flirting a bit. But it went right over the worker's head as he turned back to his stocking. Dean blinked and watched as the guy's hands fixed a box, the corner staying straight on the cold racks, before turning and walking off towards the beer.

What a weirdo. Hot, of course, Dean would be lying to himself if he tried to tell himself he didn't like the freak. Maybe somethings wrong with him in the head, Dean wondered as he looked over the beers, moreso thinking than shopping. Castiel… who names their kid that. And how had he landed this job, he had the personality of cardboard. Dean shook his head and looked around a bit more, they did have his favorite little pies… and the apple ones… he grabbed one and hoped he had enough change in his pocket for it.

Dean whistled as he set up to the counter, looking over at the dark hair of the other man. They had to be the same age. What thirty year old was stuck as a convince store clerk? Dean watched as Castiel turned and walked towards the back doors before passing through them.

"Hey sweetheart." Dean said as he watched Castiel come out behind the counter, freely letting himself look over him. Green and yellow striped long sleeve polo under than cheap vest, name tag rubbed blank around the edges, skin pale, and his hands were bigger than Dean's… at least he thought they could be. They were broader, less veiny and muscular and just… broader.

"Ninety three cents." Castiel stated, sliding the pie back towards Dean, pulling him from his thoughts. Dean looked up and was caught because damnit those eyes were back on him, didn't this guy blink?

"We met before?" Dean asked as his hand went into his pocket, digging all the coins there up into his palm. He looked at those blue eyes, was it the color? Maybe he'd run into someone who looked like him before…?

"We went to the library at the same time for a week but then I was done needing the resource books I was borrowing and I did not go back." Castiel explained and it all fell together for Dean. He'd been loitering around the library the first few days after he arrived, looking at job listings and checking his email, just seeing if Sammy had sent him anything. He never did, but Dean still checked.

He'd not talked to anyone other than the librarian, but maybe he'd been at the computers when Castiel had been there, maybe he'd glanced over, glared at him when he got too close to Dean's bag. Maybe he saw the guy standing outside. Maybe he'd just seen those eyes and looked away.

Because those eyes were cutting through him, staying on his own eyes, like Castiel was trying to see into him, see into his soul.

"Yeah, sure." Dean said and put the change down on the counter, quickly counting out the exact amount before stuff the few coins left back in his pocket. Castiel kept looking at him for a long breath before looking down and putting the coins into the register. Dean huffed and leaned a hip against the counter.

"I'm Dean, by the way, I work over there with the CrossRoads Construction." Dean said and nodded towards the disaster project across the street. Castiel didn't look, only nodded and looked towards the freezer.

"Okay." Is all the man said before going back to his work, leaving Dean stood at the counter. Dean shook his head and headed back out. The ring of the doorbell only blew the spark in his chest into a flame. He was gonna get something out of that weirdo. Probably a nice bath, a bed for a night, and some cash.

Dean wasn't always so cold, used to beg and work hard for enough cash to keep moving, used to be nice and kind to pretty girls and playful men who would take him for a night. Used to look at people and smile, winking and laughing, hoping for a bath and some sleep. But after too many nights spent getting kicked out after a terrible fuck or getting called names or being pushed away or getting robbed himself, he turned winter wind, cold to the touch unless he could get something. He was always on the run anyway, might as well live well on the backs of people who, in their hearts, hated him anyway.

Castiel would be no different.

Dean wanted a real meal, which was understandable. He wanted real food somewhere and to be able to pay for another week in his shitty apartment. And to be able to get a couple beers and keep her hidden away in a back alley. Plus how many air compressors did one construction site really need? Five seemed like too many, at least to Dean. It would be weeks before they noticed one was gone, and by then, Dean would have already disappeared.

So he takes it, heavy as the damn thing is, and pawns it across town. He just wanted to have a bit of a breather. And he needed some cash to get a few necessary things. And do his laundry. Nothing felt better than fresh laundry.

He goes back to staring at Castiel through the window. But instead of sitting on his bench, Dean crosses the road and leans against the light pole and watches from there. He goes in and buys his pie, flirts, and is met with a stone cold brick wall. It was frustrating.

But the weeks were rolling on, he had enough for a new train ticket socked away and the build was almost done, Dean was almost done. He'd move on… but he needed to get a taste, needed to get under Castiel's skin. Just to solve his curiosity.

But then the boss noticed the missing air compressor. Who had it last and suddenly all the fingers were pointing at Dean. Dean said he'd never but people said he was cagey and did they really know him…

He came in to get his last check when someone was grabbing him up by the collar threatening to call the cops if he didn't cough up the money or give it back.

Instincts were something Dean could never fight back. Not when they told him to run, to beg, to fight.

That's how Dean ended up punching the foreman in the face and scrambling out, boots heavy as he ran into the alley. He looked for a split second for somewhere to hide, somewhere- somewhere- he jumped, one foot boosting him into the bed of that stupid brown truck that sounded like hell, and found himself a folded tarp that quickly covered him. Dean held his breath and didn't move. If this failed he'd end up back in jail before someone paid his bail and he disappeared again. After he got his ass beat.

Dean closed his eyes and hoped, come on idiots keep moving, keep walking, not here, not here-

"Should go in and ask Casper if he's seen that bastard in the store. I'll meet you up there." One voice rang out and Dean bit his tongue, they were right by the cab. Another one grunted, footsteps walking around before leaving the alley. Dean wanted to pop up and look around, maybe try to make it to the train station, that damn weirdo was about to rat him out, he knew it.

Then the backdoor opened. Dean got ready. Castiel was gonna pull the tarp back and he'd be fucking caught that son of a-

"Dean, I know you're there. Just… stay there. Still." Castiel's deep grumbly voice rang out, but he sounded less confident and little more… unsure. Nervous. Dean didn't make a sound, didn't make a move. He listened as steps made their way around the truck, the door opened, closed, and then that damn engine roared to life.

Dean stayed still, feeling as they rolled out of the alley and turned onto the street. Dean relaxed, he wasn't caught, but he wasn't in the clear yet either. Castiel, such a square, he'd crumble at the very idea of a cop's questions, he'd never stand up for some stranger like Dean.

Dean thought about how he could probably take the other man by surprise, push him down and run, get far enough to catch a bus, maybe try for the border… Dean was thick in his thought, how Canada would treat him, how far he could get with what he had on his back-