I wanted to write porn without plot and then it ended up being plot without porn. oops.

Still added some smut in the end. It's what I do. Also, I've written way more graphic stuff so I don't think it's that scarring or anything. But it IS guy on guy Destiel action.

disclaimer: don't own Supernatural.

Like Watching Porn For The Plot

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Dean walked along the street, past the blur of shops and apartment buildings obscured by the persistent fog. He didn't mind the weather. In fact, he even preferred the damp autumn air to the sticky heat that hung in the city during the summer months. Dean wasn't a summer kind of guy, it just wasn't his thing. When it got too hot, there were only so many layers of clothing you could take off before it became indecent while you could always add another jacket or sweater to keep yourself warm. He had practically invented the layer-look, never wearing just a t-shirt, even when the temperature rose to a degree that had rednecks build swimming pools on the back of their pick-up trucks. No, Dean always wore a shirt more than most people considered necessary and then added a leather jacket or something similar for good measure.

Not many others seemed to share his fondness for lingering fog, judging by the fact that he was mostly alone in the quickly cooling air that already held a slight tease of winter. It was pleasant, walking in peace, he thought to himself, though it was this lonesome kind of quiet that had him leave his apartment in the first place. He wasn't lonely, not really, but ever since his brother moved states to be with his gorgeous soon-to-be wife Dean didn't have much contact with the outside world. Most of his work he could do from home, being the editor of a handful of small calibre magazines for motor-enthusiasts, and it was a job that made him happy. He could read through articles about all the things he loved, could practically feel the motor grease on his fingers, the leather beneath his ass and the road air in his nose while he was still perfectly oil-stain-less in the safety of his own apartment.

He himself owned a 1967 built Chevrolet Impala, which he secretly called baby, but as much as he wanted to take her for a ride on the open road she still rested peacefully under a protective blanket in his parents' old garage. The house as well as the car had been written over to him on his twenty-first birthday, the year after both of his parents had died in a car crash in which said Impala had collided with a truck. Since both his dad and the truck driver had been driving under the influence of alcohol it was never determined who had been at fault because, well, no one lived to tell the story.

Dean had taken care of his younger brother after the accident and he liked to think that he'd done a pretty decent job at that, seeing as Sam was now on the best way to being part of California's lawyer elite. While Sammy had gone to school, Dean had rebuilt the ruined Impala, feeling like he owed that to his old man. The car had never run more smoothly than it had once he'd been finished. Now it was part of a series of memorabilia in his childhood home that he had never had the heart to sell. Moving on wasn't necessarily a thing he did well.

By now he had all but reached his destination, a small kiosk near the crossing to the local dog walking park. It was where he had taken to getting his coffee seeing as contrary to its shabby appearance, the small hut contained a fancy Italian espresso machine that produced beverages finer than any of that sugary crap they sold at Starbucks.

Another big plus was Castiel, the guy behind the counter.

They were on friendly terms, since Dean came by several times a week whenever a new issue of one of his magazines came out. Sure, he got a free copy fresh from the printer but he still liked to buy another one… at this particular location. He felt himself smiling even before he stepped around to the front of the kiosk, knowing a pair of mesmerising blue eyes that always seemed just a little bit too serious would greet him. It was a familiar reaction by now, that shy smile. The dark-haired man seemed to have that effect on him.

"Hello, Dean," he said in that rough voice that made Dean's breath hitch although it really shouldn't, and set a steaming cup of black coffee on the counter. Dean reached for it. Once their eyes met the greeting he had planned to return got stuck in his throat because, damnit, Castiel looked different. His complexion was usually tanned as if he'd spent all day sunbathing but now it showed a pink shimmer that almost looked like a blush but was obviously caused by the brisk air and every time he exhaled a small puff of white filled the air. Of course that happened to Dean as well but usually Castiel's hut was kept at a cosy temperature to keep the guy comfortable during his shift- even though he still never seemed to take off his trench coat. Much like Dean he appeared to be a fan of the layer-look.

"Dude, are you cold?" Dean asked, cringing inwardly at how concerned he sounded for a man who was practically a stranger. He didn't even know his last name, for Christ's sake. When Castiel merely shrugged, implying a yeah maybe but never mind, Dean took the opportunity to avert his gaze and skimmed through the load of magazines on display, suddenly realizing that he couldn't remember which one he was supposed to buy.

"Road Trip," Castiel suddenly said. He had no idea what the other men meant until he elaborated. "It's Wednesday. On Wednesday you usually buy the Road Trip magazine." And then Castiel did actually blush and smiled a tiny apologetic smile as if remembering these details was a crime. Dean desperately searched his vocabulary for a manlier word than adorable to describe the kiosk owner but to no avail. Adorable it was.

"Uh, thanks," he muttered dumbly, taking the magazine off one of the stands and pretending to read the headlining. Something about cars, a new biking track blah blah blah. November wasn't a great month for road trips to the magazine lacked quality, a fact which he had pointed out to his superiors multiple times.

A sneeze pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Castiel holding a crumpled tissue under his nose, sniffling pathetically. "Gngh," he complained.

"Bless you," said Dean.

"Thanks."

"Is there something wrong with your heater?" He looked past Castiel to where he knew a little radiator stood, usually enough to keep the blue-eyed man's cramped work space warm.

Castiel sighed. "You could say that. It stopped working yesterday just as I was closing up. I haven't yet gotten around to purchasing a new one."

Again that sneaky bastard feeling of concern crept into Dean's voice as he set his coffee and the issue of Road Trip back down and narrowed his eyes. "Want me to have a look at it?" It wasn't exactly a car but come on, how hard could it be for someone who restored a 1967 Impala engine to fix a freaking radiator.

Castiel's eyes… turned even bluer? That's stupid. Dean shook his head at the dumb words swirling in his mind, unable to become coherent under the deep stare of the man on the opposite side of the counter. Instead of answering Castiel motioned for Dean to come around and join him inside to take a look at the problem. His hand gesture was oddly graceful and Dean had to remind himself that it was weird to stare at another dude's hands.

Inside you had about two square metres of space, which wasn't all that much for two men of fair height and all the stuff you apparently needed to run a kiosk. (A book on angel lore, though? Really Cas?) Dean mentally stumbled at the nickname, no idea where it had come from. "So, let me see…" he mumbled, kneeling down next to the heater while Cas…-tiel!- helped an elderly lady to find her crossword puzzles. Yeah. Turned out a room heater really was different from a car heating system. Dean might as well have tried to teach a cow to milk itself because he had no idea how he should start. Castiel seemed to sense his helplessness because he crouched down as well once the lady had her crosswords- and boy did the guy need a lesson in personal space. Dean wanted to inch away slightly but stayed where he was as he made the mistake of looking up and actually seeing how close the other man was. "It's fine if you can't fix it, I needed to buy a new model before winter anyway," he said. If Cas decided to record himself reading out recipes or poetry or whatever Dean thought he'd definitely buy that shit because that voice was so calming and yet gruff, constantly seeming an notch too deep.

"Sorry, Cas," he said in defeat and moved to get up but froze mid-motion when he realized he had used the name his mind had made up. "Shit, do you mind if I call you that? Your name's, uh," – beautiful, magnificent, extraordi- shut up, brain!

"Don't worry about it. You may call me Cas, if you'd like."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

And shit just like that they were having a moment, soul-staring contest and all.

"The good thing is I can now store those boxes I keep tripping over on top of it," Cas broke the silence nodding toward the broken radiator with a pout. Dean scoffed.

"Dude, seriously. Having a heater and using it as a friggin' shelf? That's like, I don't know, watching porn for the plot. It defeats the purpose."

And when Cas regarded him with a quirked eyebrow he realized too late that he really shouldn't have mentioned porn. Not when all they'd been doing for months was flirt- no use denying it now- without ever actually acknowledging it, not when they were trapped in such a confined area and Cas was still all the way in his personal space.

"Is the story of, say, a pizza man and the baby sitter not to your satisfaction, then?" Cas asked, his voice almost sultry. God, Dean desperately tried to remember that he liked curves and furthermore boobs. He loved boobs, damnit! He loved cars and beer and sex with women. And yeah sure he did enjoy the occasional episode of that show with the hot doctor that just so happened to be male but that didn't make him-

The next instant a pair of lips was on his, effectively stopping what felt like every function of his body. Thinking was impossible, his heart stopped, he couldn't breathe… and he found himself praying that the moment wouldn't end as he kissed back- instinctively. Cas' lips were cool from standing in the unheated air for too long and Dean couldn't get enough of them. Kissing a guy wasn't as weird as he'd thought it would be, not that he'd given it much thought at all until Castiel. A little voice in the back of his head warned that they were in public-Two men. Kissing. In plain sight.- but all other voices told it to shut up and he much rather listened to them because at that moment Cas moaned softly against his lips. One of his icy hands came up to cup Dean's cheek like he was some freaking girl- and he melted under the touch instead of shrinking away.

"I'm not gay," he said with all the determination he could muster when they pulled apart and Cas chuckled, eyes hooded. "No, really," Dean insisted even as he leaned in and brushed his lips against the other man's, unable to resist. This time Cas didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, teasingly licking along Dean's bottom lip until he gasped and allowed the tongue into his mouth. It was glorious, to say the least. Tentatively Dean tried what he usually did with girls to gauge Cas' reaction. Teasing the other man's tongue with his own earned him a bite while he let himself touch for the first time, one hand resting on Castiel's hip while the other moved into his thick black hair. Dean fully intended to never stop touching said hair ever again once he felt its fine texture. In between sloppy kisses he still insisted on listing reasons why he certainly wasn't gay. "I jerked off to Asian chicks with huge racks just this morning," he said breathily.

Castiel merely granted him a lazy 'mhm' before his impatience got the better of him and he hooked his fingers through Dean's belt loops, pulling him close enough so their clothed crotches came into direct contact. They were both hard and Dean groaned at the unfamiliar feeling of dick on dick, head falling back in pleasure.

Holy shit, I'm so gay, he thought as he involuntarily bucked his hips forward in search for friction. Only when Castiel laughed did he realize that he had spoken the words out loud.

"I promise you that's not a bad thing," he said against his throat and Dean believed him. Mostly because the slightly shorter man was sucking at the skin and expertly rolling his hips, both actions driving him insane.

Suddenly it all stopped.

Castiel quickly closed the door and locked it before doing the same thing with the window through which he spoke to his costumers, making the room significantly darker and the situation a lot more real. Dean was a bit scared of how very un-scared he was. He didn't have much time to ponder over that, however, because as abruptly as the contact had disappeared Castiel attacked him again, assaulting him with kisses that could only be described as filthy.

Dean decided that even though it still wasn't warm they were both way too dressed.

The trench coat was the first item to drop to the floor, closely followed by Dean's windbreaker and over-shirt. Soon his olive colored tee and Cas' white dress-shirt joined and for the first time Dean was intimately pressed up skin on skin with another man. It was indescribable. Sure, he still loved boobs, how couldn't he, but this… this seemed so much more intimate, so much closer than anything he'd experienced before. He whimpered as Cas lightly flicked one of his nipples and greedily let his hands roam the skin available to him. The cold didn't bother them anymore, too lost in the heat of the moment, and Cas was quick to undo Dean's jeans and pull them down so they rested around his ankles.

Castiel himself was still in his slacks, though, and through only the thin fabric of his boxers Dean felt the friction intensify while simultaneously wishing Cas would just take off his stupid pants as well. When the other man instead just kept kissing him and bucked his hips every once in a while not to satisfy but to tease, Dean lost it.

With a growl he pushed down both Castiel's pants and his own boxers down and grabbed the shorter man's hips to bring their leaking cocks together. He wasn't prepared for the mind-numbing jolt of ecstasy at the contact. Sure, he'd touched his own dick but feeling another man's erection was something he'd never believed could bring him pleasure. He wanted Castiel to moan and cry out his name and yeah, also kinda to spill all over his hand.

"Dean," Cas rasped, rutting against his dick like a horny dog- Dean couldn't blame him because he was rutting right back.

"I- I don't know what to- gnah- God." He wasn't lying. With women he was skilled and experienced enough but now, although he wanted more more more, he had no idea how to proceed.

Thankfully, Castiel did. In a smooth movement he sunk onto his knees, kissing a trail down Dean's torso as he did so, and stopped an inch short of his throbbing dick which was already desperate for some real attention. Dean threaded his fingers through Castiel's thick hair in encouragement. At least this wasn't entirely unknown territory.

"Fuck," he wanted to scream but it came out as a whisper when Cas first licked just below his tip, swirling his tongue in a practiced circled before taking him into his mouth. Dean wasn't completely sheathed in the hot opening but Cas made it up to him by pumping the base with just the right amount of pressure. Faster, he wanted to say, harder- but in the end all that managed to come out was a moaned version of Cas' name.

Within moments he was ready to blow his load and as gently as he could at that moment tugged at Castiel's hair to signal for him to pull off. Which Cas didn't do. Instead he snaked one hand around to slide along the cleft of Dean's ass until one finger was gingerly pushing at his tight opening without actually penetrating it. Still it was enough pressure to make him come harder than ever before. Almost gratefully Cas swallowed all of the sticky fluid, cleaning Dean off with his tongue in a way that almost made him hard again.

Unthinkingly Dean pulled the other man up and kissed him hard, realizing that he was tasting himself on the other's lips and that he really didn't mind one bit. At about the same time he noticed the velvety hardness pressing against his thigh and opened his eyes to find Cas needily staring back at him. Of course it was common courtesy- kind of- to reciprocate sexual acts if they were this satisfactory but Dean couldn't suck off another dude. He wasn't that gay. Yet.

What he could do, of course, was grab Castiel's dick firmly in his hand and do what he usually did to himself. From the noises coming out of those lips Dean guessed he wasn't doing half bad and, encouraged by this, started to pump harder. Cas was leaning against his chest and Dean was glad for the counter behind himself because even though the other man was shorter he thrust into his hand with force. Teasingly Dean brushed his thumb over the tip of Cas' dick, smearing the pre-come gathered there all over the shaft and his fingers to slicken the party up. As suspected it was what made Cas come undone and he spilled his seed all over Dean's thigh and hand. It should have been disgusting but Dean enjoyed the other man's dreamy grunt as he let go and if it was accompanied by some harmless jizz then so be it.

They both sunk down onto their clothes, exhausted. As if it was the most normal thing to do Dean pulled Cas into his side, so his head rested on his chest high enough that the soft black hair tickled his neck. "I needed that," said Cas, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Dean's bare torso. He seemed content.

"Ditto," Dean murmured, not yet having regained his full capability of speaking.

"I'm sorry for seducing you, by the way. But you were practically wearing a neon sign with a locked closet on it."

At that Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You knew I was gay? –hell, I didn't even know I was gay! And I'm not really all that gay!"

Castiel shrugged in a silent whatever. "So I'm just that irresistible then?"

"Yeah," Dean said while what he meant actually went somewhere along the lines of You and your blue friggin' eyes and your damn cute pout and that stupid head-tilty thing but that would turn this into chick-flick moment and Dean despised those. Castiel seemed to understand the hidden meaning behind that one syllable anyway and leaned up for a soft kiss.

And yeah, fine, Dean was already planning a second round, and a third, and a fourth… though maybe not right there in the kiosk.

Because doing it on the cold floor when his warm and inviting bed was not three blocks away?

Kinda like watching porn for the plot.