Fishbait Hoo Ha Ha by ImYourHoneyBee
Rating: General Audiences
Word count: 4k
Huddled at the small, untidy writing desk that sits square up against the landlord special widow ledge of his cramped fourth-floor apartment, Cas drops his gaze from the grey skies and sleepy, tree-lined street view to consider his hands.
Large and square, theyāre good hands most of the time. His fingers are longer than most peopleās, but he likes how they look with their chipped black polish. One of his palms is regular skin, smooth and slightly paler than the backs of his hands. Like roughly seventy percent of the population, his other palm is pitch black with the soulmark that shows where he will touch the person meant for him for the first time.
Most people with black palms have a stripe over their thumb, indicating that their colours will change with a handshake and leaving every introduction and business meeting subtly fraught with tension. Cas does not have a stripe over his thumb. Instead, his soulmark extends up over his fingertip, dying the very edges of his nails black on that hand. Heās taken that to mean that when he meets his soulmate, heāll grip them tight.
He really isnāt sure what that says about him as a person.Ā
When Cas and Dean meet because of a cat named Fishbait, you know it's about to be life-changing.
There's something about soulmate fics that draws me in and this meet-cute, short story is no different.
I love the use of the handprint as we know from the show and how the author uses that as the soulmark that ultimately binds Cas and Dean together for the rest of their lives.
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This is for @sternchencas who turned my whining into a fic prompt
Castiel is very annoyed. Itās not only that thereās constant noise and he canāt open the windows properly and he had to move all his plants from the balcony inside (and he has a lot of plants) and his cat is meowing all the time because heās used to chilling on the balcony. The worst thing is that thereās constantly a stranger somewhere behind the windows or at least there might be.
You only realize how the most important places in your apartment are situated near the windows when construction workers start walking behind those windows.
Castiel emerges from a dream and rolls to his side. Sweaty sheets are clinging to his body. He runs his hand down his belly and wraps his fingers around his cock to take care of his morning wood. He feels a pleasant rush of blood as he starts to stroke himself. Thatās exactly the moment when he hears heavy steps on the scaffolding behind the window. It feels like the man is walking right next to his bed. He is right next to his bed, the wall between them feels like nothing. Placing his bed next to the big window seemed like a good idea when he moved in but he hates himself for it right now. With a grunt, he climbs out of the bed and goes take a cold shower.
Castielās kitchen is so small that it feels like itās all windows. He has a radio playing on the windowsill while heās cooking and hears the worker humming along. He finds it amusing and exasperating at the same time.
He is writing on his computer, the scene heās working on is putting up some resistance. The characters run wild in the dialogues, taking another turn than he intended. It makes him realize some new details about the protagonists and their relationship, but heās having a hard time putting the plot back on track.
Heās writing and deleting one sentence for the fourth time with a slightly different wording when he jumps because thereās a man talking directly behind his back. With his hand on his chest, keeping his heart from jumping out of his ribcage, he makes sure thereās actually no one in his living room, itās just the workers on the scaffoldings.
"Hey, Samantha, give me a hand here," a deep voice says.
"Stop calling me that and I will," the other man replies. The first one chuckles.
"Hold this so I can-"
"Yeah, yeah I see it."
When he thinks about it, he finds the first voice very attractive. He turns on his chair to chance a look through the window. He doesnāt see his face, but what he sees is very nice. The jeans hug the tight ass perfectly and the toolbelt does interesting things to Casā imagination.
"Hey, Dean, careful!" the other voice says and the owner of the hot ass disappears from Castielās view. Castiel heaves a sigh and turns to his screen.
He has an interesting idea for his characters, something frisky.
He sees the man a few days later, this time from the outside of the building when heās coming home from a grocery store. He tries to be stealthy when heās watching him moving expertly over the scaffoldings, using tools Cas doesnāt know the names of, but he must fail because when the man turns around, he gives him a smile and a cheeky wink. Castiel almost runs inside.
Having strangers able to see inside your apartment means you canāt walk around half naked like you are used to. And Castiel loves not wearing much when heās home. His home is his safe space, where else should he feel free to do what he wants? Well, the restoration of the buildingās facade means an end to that. The problem is Cas forgets sometimes.
Heās making coffee in just his favorite old t-shirt and boxer-briefs when he hears an agitated: "Dean! Are you even paying attention?"
"Yes, yeah, of course."
"Well, it seems like youāre paying attention to something else than this."
"I have no idea what are you talking about."
With his cheeks burning, Cas grabs his mug and leaves the kitchen. He puts his pants on, his hands a little unsteady, but part of him is happy that heās not the only one who found a nice ass to look at thanks to the ongoing construction.
He meets Dean again inside the building. Heās accompanied by an older gruff man with a beard and a baseball cap. Heās probably Deanās superior judging by the way heās talking to him.
Dean shoots Cas an apologetic smile and hell, not only his ass is exquisite. Heās overall well built and his face is one of a movie star. He looks as if he stepped out of a page of the magazine Cas used to keep under his mattress as a teenager.
Cas almost says "Hello, Dean," but at the last moment realizes they are not supposed to know each other and heās definitely not supposed to know the manās name.
The works on the facade continue and Cas grows more and more annoyed. And heās bored too. Thereās a story idea lurking at the edge of his mind but he canāt get a grip on it. All he has is a feeling of something new, exciting, a little dangerous. Itās like a craving. It makes him restless.
He once again forgets to dress in the bathroom and walks through his living room in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He sees the familiar silhouette behind the window. And thereās an idea - exciting and dangerous and utterly crazy.
He turns his back to the window. Heās probably just imagining eyes on him. He leans forward to grab the glass on his coffee table and lets the towel slip from his fingers.
Thereās a loud metallic sound from the outside, like something heavy hitting the scaffolding.
"Fuck!" Dean cries out, alarmed.
His heart thudding with shock, Cas jumps to the window.
"Are you okay?" he calls.
"Yeah, yeah, Iām fine," Dean answers a little breathlessly.
"I thought you were falling off."
"Yeah, me too."
"Fuck, Iām so sorry, I didnāt realize... Iām sorry. Could I... make you tea or something? As compensation for the fright?"
Dean lets out a small sound, half amused and half surprised. "You make it sound like you did it on purpose."
"I...um... "
"Serves me right, I shouldnāt have been peeking."
Cas lets out a relieved chuckle and rubs the back of his neck that feels unusually hot.
"You should put your pants on before I come inside. Or I might get the wrong idea."
"Why do you think it would be wrong?"
"Oh my god."
"Please, donāt fall."
"Iām trying not to."
"So? The tea?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. I can take a break. I only have to...to tell Bobby... my supervisor."
"Of course. Iāll get the water boiling."
"Sure. Um. I was serious about the pants. Get dressed."
"Iāll see about it. Iām at my home after all."
"This job will be the death of mine," Dean mutters as he walks away.
It takes Dean ten minutes before he rings the doorbell. When Cas answers the door, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, Deanās expression is equal parts relieved and disappointed.
"Um. Hi? Iām Dean," he offers Cas his hand and Cas shakes it- Itās warm and calloused.
"I know," he answers and enjoys the way Deanās eyes widen. They are a very nice shade of green. "Iām Castiel, come in."
Dean toes off his shoes and steps in, closing the door.
"Do you really want tea or would you rather have something else?"
"Iām more of a coffee guy, to be honest." Castiel isnāt sure if Dean missed the innuendo or decided to ignore it.
"Coffee it is then. Milk? Sugar?"
"None. Thanks." Dean follows Cas to the kitchen where he leans against the counter.
"So, what do you do for a living, if I may ask? I um... I noticed you spend a lot of time here."
"Iām a freelance writer."
"Wow, cool," Dean grins. "What are you working on."
"A queer romance taking place in a dystopian universe."
Dean freezes a little. His lips part. They are pink and a little wet and so nicely curved that it physically hurts Cas to tear his eyes off them when Dean speaks.
"Queer romance, huh? Do you draw inspiration from personal experience?"
Cas tilts his head. "Well, I havenāt met any monster hunters recently, but I know about a hot construction worker Iād like to get to know better. I might base my next protagonist on him."
"Cas..." Dean breathes out as he takes a step closer. Cas turns to him, leaving the kettle on the counter, the mugs empty.
"Dean?" He grabs the toolbelt and uses it to pull Dean closer.
"This is very unprofessional," Dean says as he leans down, his lips just a breath away from Casā. "I might get into trouble."
"Oh boy, but you already are in trouble," Cas purrs and kisses him.
