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‘It’s part of Project Angel, it’s part of Project Angel.’
That seemed to be Dean’s mantra of the day.
‘It’s for science or some shit, right? Yeah, you like science, right? So yeah, all you gotta do is make out with a stranger for science.’
Dean pulled into the parking lot already filled with other cars. He shut off the engine and took a moment to sort out his thoughts.
‘Yeah, that’s it. Science. You can do this, it’s not like you haven’t done anything like this before. You’re Dean freaking Winchester, you can do anything.‘
Dean climbed out of the car and stared up at the intimidatingly professional building.
Project Angel was a project based on the idea that people loved first, and all other negative emotions came second, or third even. You would sign up, choose either to be a ‘human’ or an ‘angel’, and on the day of the project, a human would get paired up with an angel and be sent into a room for ten minutes. And at the end of those ten minutes, the angel and the human would have to stand in front of a camera and kiss.
So when Dean was approached by a pretty business associate with dark, flowing hair who happened to say the word ‘kiss’, how could he refuse?
Now that he was at the giant white building, looming over like some sort of deity that wasn’t too fond of impulsive decisions, refusing seemed like a very likely option. Unfortunately, the agreement he signed refused to let him ditch this.
Through the parking lot and into the building, he saw the faces of others, of all genders, not just male, and was glad that he didn’t seem to be the only one with an impulsive streak.
He led himself through the corridors and followed the signs that were made for this project.
He came to the sign that lead the ‘angels’ one way, and the ‘humans’ the other. He really didn’t understand why the crowd had to be divided, but he shrugged. Not like he’d ever choose to be an angel, even if the weird personality test he had to take said he was a ‘human’.
Even before you opened the door to the waiting room, you could feel the tension radiating from behind the door.
I mean, having to kiss a stranger in front of a camera wasn’t the exactly the easiest thing to do in the world.
The inside of the waiting room was worse. It was filled with people nervously tapping on phones, or trying to make idle chatter, or even twiddling fingers. I mean who past the age of 70 even does that anymore?
Dean signed in at a counter, and took a place on one of the chilling plastic chairs. Suddenly, Dean had one of those ‘moments of clarity moments’.
What the fuck was he doing?
I mean, seriously, what the fuck was he doing?
He was in a white-ass room filled with chairs so blue they made the sky want to punch them out, like some sort of build-up in a horror movie, waiting to do what exactly in a room with a complete stranger for ten minutes, and then make out with said stranger on camera and only God knows what the project was going to do with those tapes.
Dean so desperately wished he’d read those terms and conditions now. Find a loophole or something.
He was clawing at the strained fabric of his jeans when he heard the intercom implanted somewhere into the walls above him call his name.
‘Dean Winchester? Please proceed to the main room.’
Dean let out a breath in the form of a forced laugh and stood. Another business associate directed Dean to an elevator attached immediately to the waiting room. She explained that once up the elevator, there would be a corridor and the only room at the end of it would be the main room. Dean gave her a polite smile before turning to the people left in the waiting room. He gave them a mock salute and a grin spread across his face when he found some returned the gesture.
Maybe some people didn’t completely suck after all.
~ - ~ - ~
The room itself was… Well, really, it wasn’t much. Bare, white, matched the rest of the building. In the center of it was a plain white table, shocker, and two clone chairs of the ones in the waiting room.
The door behind him shut, and Dean was reminded of every cheap horror movie he’d ever seen.
He took a seat at the table and waited. Not that he had to wait long.
A moment later, the door on the other side of the room swung open and, with an entrance Dean thought was a little more pretentious than necessary, another man walked through the door.
Dean raised his eyebrows as the other man in the room shut the door and sat across from him.
“What’s with the trench coat?” He couldn’t help but blurt out.
The dark-haired man glanced down at himself and picked at the edges of his coat as if seeing it for the first time. “I like it, and my job doesn’t allow much time for changes, so I tend to wear it out.”
Dean leaned back in his chair and planted an elbow on the not uncomfortable at all arm rest of his chair. “So, what are you, tax accountant or something? Figures I’d be paired up with someone like that.”
The stranger frowned, placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward into Dean’s space, sparks of anger evident in azure eyes. “And what exactly would ‘someone like that’ be?”
Dean just rolled his eyes, completely unintimidated at all. “Oh, you know, boring? Uninteresting? Stuff along that line,” Dean watched the other man lean back into his chair and fold his arms into his lap. If possible, Dean rolled his eyes further. “Look, Columbo, don’t be depressed and all, you’re…” Dean made a vague waving gesture and rolled his hand, “pretty and all, it’s just you don’t seem to be all that… Get what I mean?”
If looks could kill, Dean would be dead three times over already.
“You don’t think I’m interesting? Well, I have to say you’re quite the opposite of uninteresting yourself,” the trench coated man said, buckets of heat behind his words despite his almost scarily calm demeanor.
Dean smirked and let out a huff of laugh. “Damn straight I’m interesting, I mean have you seen me? Hands down, the-“
“Yes, I have seen you. I’ve heard you, too,” the man said, deep voice reverberating against the walls. “You’re just a sad little ball of lonely, aren’t you? And is that a dash of insecurity I hear, too? So even though you may not find me interesting, you are the most complex mix of abandonment and tragedy I have ever seen, so don’t test me, Dean Winchester.”
Dean sat back in his chair for a moment, overwhelmed by the raw truth that was thrown at him. He attempted to keep a poker face, but had a feeling he wasn’t quite achieving it.
“Who in the hell are you? How do you even know my name?”
The man sat across him smirked, the first true indicator of any emotions to come out of him. “Psychiatrist. And are you really as so stupid as so not to even listen to the intercom?”
Dean leaned onto the table and frowned. “Oh, so now I’m the stupid one? You look at people and talking about emotions for a living, I mean how stupid is that? You’re angry. And probably because of me. Look I just did your job and I didn’t have to pay God knows how much for whatever dumb school you went to.”
The man rolled his eyes. “My job is much more complex than you can even comprehend, which isn’t saying much, considering you couldn’t even listen to the name before yours on the intercom.”
Dean just glared into the other man’s eyes with semi-lidded eyes, giving him his best glare, and found it a little harder than necessary to pull away.
The rest of the ten minutes were spent through the use of glares and rough body language, but never with words.
Until, an eternity too late, the overhead speaker in the room told them to proceed into an adjoining room.
Room was plain white, again, and the only difference between this room and the others was that instead of chairs or tables in the centers, on a tripod stood a large, unmanned camera that was, apparently, filming the entire room.
“The faster we get this over with, the less time we have to spend with each,” the man was standing in the middle of the room, center of the camera. “Oh, or are you a coward as well as an idiot?”
Dean raised his eyebrows. He shut the door and walked over to the other man in the room. “Nobody calls Marty McFly chicken.”
Mr. Trench Coat just rolled his eyes and took a step forward into Dean’s personal space. “Stop stalling and let’s get this over with, coward.”
‘Show you who’s a coward,’ Dean thought and before he could really predict the outcome of what he was about to do, he leaned forward and kissed the stranger, a kiss with a certain heat behind it. Before the other man could pull away, Dean cupped the back of his neck to prevent that and forced himself further into the other man’s mouth, turning it into an open-mouthed kiss.
A few moments later, Dean pulled away and saw the stranger with a pink flush, a strange mixture of disbelieve and something he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) name, and grinned when he noticed the stranger was breathing just a touch harder than usual.
“So, angel,” Dean spat out that word with a certain venom, “wanna reconsider that whole ‘coward’ thing?”
Something in the man’s face changed, a twitch in his lips, a flicker in his eyes, and Dean found himself being pushed backwards and up against the wall. There were hands on his shoulders and though he could still theoretically move if he wanted to, well, that was the thing. He didn’t know if he wanted to.
“Well, human,” the stranger mimicked Dean’s earlier tone, “if you’re not a coward, then what are you?”
The stranger pressed his mouth against Dean’s before Dean had time to respond. Dean’s senses were overwhelmed by the stranger, lips on lips, a hand pressing his shoulder into the wall, another hand pinning the one not still wrapped around the stranger’s neck to the blank wall behind him and a torso pressed up against his.
“Aren’t you a psychiatrist or something?” Dean said when they parted, panting ever so slightly. But he wasn’t going down without a fight. Dean used that one free hand of his to grab onto the maybe-not-so-stranger’s trench coat and used that as leverage to flip them and have the other man be the one pinned onto the wall.
“You’re not answering my question, Dean,” the man said as he was pushed against the wall. “What are y-“
Dean shut the man up with another kiss, but it wasn’t as angry, or as forced as the other two. If anything, it was actually a little… sweet.
Not that Dean Winchester would ever use the word ‘sweet’ to describe the kiss. I mean, Dean Winchester doesn’t do ‘sweet’, never has, never will. Not even if he was kissing six feet of ‘hot’ personified into the man he currently had pinned against a wall. Not even if he currently was sucking face with the guy with the softest hair he’d ever had the pleasure of tangling his hands into, with the bluest eyes in quite possibly the entire universe, and with the best feeling stubble rubbed up against his cheek. Not even if-
Dean had to pull away from the other man, both of them panting and red in the face. He found that both his and the stranger’s hands had moved, one of his placed on the other’s hip, the other braced against the wall, and one of the stranger’s arms was wrapped all the way around Dean’s waist and back, while his other hand cupped Dean’s jaw.
It wasn’t enough, Dean was suddenly too close, too hot, and this was not the right place.
Dean pushed away from the wall, and the stranger, in a flurry of arms and clothing.
“We should leave before they, um,” Dean cleared his throat and pointed to the room where they met.
The stranger seemed to realize exactly where he was as well and straightened himself as best he could. “Yes, we should.”
The two men rushed out into the door on the other side of the room, the exit door, and found themselves in a hallway leading down to an elevator. They spent the ride down in awkward, heated, silence. When the doors opened once again, they were presented with a cross in the road. A ‘human’, ‘angel’ split in the corridors.
“So, I guess this is…” Dean turned to the stranger, who seemed to turn back to his usual demeanor. “Goodbye?”
The other man turned towards Dean. His broken voice betrayed his body. “I suppose it is. If… if you want it to be?”
Dean felt a small smile twitch at the edge of his mouth. “Alright then, let’s get this done properly. Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Dean,” he held out his hand in an offering.
The stranger smiled at Dean, took his hand and shook it. “I’m Castiel, pleasant to meet you, too, Dean,” Castiel tugged at Dean’s arm, bringing him in for another kiss much like an abbreviated version of their latest kiss.
Dean pulled away a few moments later, slightly dizzy and grinning like an idiot at the man. “Castiel, huh? I could get used to you.”
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Let’s hope not,” and pulled Dean in for another short kiss.
And for once, Dean wasn’t afraid to call the kiss ‘sweet’.