Hey, so this is the story I have written for this year's DCBB. It was posted on the official release day on AO3 where the artwork for the story has also been uploaded. I have more or less the same screen name on there (I don't know if it will show if I posted it on here). I hope you enjoy it, it's my first foray into AU. Also, I haven't forgotten my other works-in-progress, I just haven't been able to work on them for a while. I will finish them all! Don't know when, but I will!

"And now we have the man who has broken all records in the literary world. His debut novel outsold the last record holder within a month of release and each book since has topped the charts for downloads and physical copies. His latest book due out next week is set to break all previous records. It's my pleasure to have him on the show. Ladies and gentlemen, Jimmy Novak!"

The camera panned from the host, who was in a chair behind a desk, wearing a blazer over a pullover, to the man sitting on the sofa opposite. He was a dark-haired man in a tailored suit who smiled and waved briefly as the studio audience applauded and cheered. The host - Dick Roman - waited until the noise had died down to begin talking.

"Jimmy! Welcome to the show!"

"Thanks, Dick. It's good to be back." Jimmy spoke gravely.

"So, tell us about this new book! I heard it's the closest you've gotten to being autobiographical?"

Jimmy finally cracked a smile.

"You could say that elements from my life have lent themselves to the basic structure of the storyline, yes."

"I've read an advanced copy, there's something about a cult in here? You were a member of a cult?!"

Jimmy laughed this time, though his shoulders were hunched slightly, giving the impression that he was tense.

"No, just raised in a very religious family. I suppose that's the same, for all intents and purposes."

"Is there a reference to your mysterious boyfriend in the books?"

"You know, it's a real shame that he's homosexual. He's such a catch, it's a total waste."

Dean's focus on the interview was gone. He stared at the screen, trying to get back into the interview, but it was hard with the chattering behind him.

"Mmm, can you imagine waking up to those big blue eyes every morning?"

"I bet there isn't a boyfriend. I bet it's some kind of way of avoiding attention. I heard writers don't like the limelight. Is that true, Dean?"

Dean cursed inwardly, and turned to the three teachers sitting at the table beside his. All their eyes were also glued to the screen, as Dick Roman encouraged Jimmy to participate in some game that was a regular feature on the show.

"That's what they say," he nodded.

"A lot of Dean's college classmates are published authors now," One woman nodded at the others, trying to seem impressive. Dean sighed, wishing that he hadn't shared any information whatsoever with her.

"You're exaggerating, Bela. If you count the self-published e-book authors and that one guy who churns out Brony fan fiction, there are six."

"That's a lot," Bela pointed out. She turned back to the other teachers. "If I ever met Jimmy Novak, he'd be in trouble."

Dean made sure to look away from the women before he rolled his eyes. He returned his attention to the television screen, where Jimmy and Dick were laughing together. Dean had enough time to note that Jimmy seemed markedly more relaxed before the women distracted him once more.

"Dean, you're married, aren't you?"

He gave a short nod, and gave up on watching the interview. He'd have to watch online later, when he wasn't distracted by his colleagues.

"When do we finally get to meet your Cas, hmmm? You never made it to the end of summer cook out."

"We had a last minute trip to the beach," Dean lied smoothly. "Visiting my brother in California."

The three women traded looks between themselves, and Dean regretted spending the lunch hour in the teacher's lounge. But the office in the English department didn't have a television, and he would have missed the Jimmy interview if he had driven home, even in his prized muscle car. The teachers' lounge had been the most promising place to watch, at least in theory.

"Zachariah's talking about doing a fundraiser soon, maybe we'll meet Cas then?"

Dean resisted the urge to shrug, and tried to remember the date that Zachariah had mentioned in the hallway earlier, and Castiel's crazy schedule.

"We'll see," he murmured, and looked at the screen again. Jimmy's segment was over, and Dean struggled to hide his disappointment. He should have just eaten his sandwich in the English office.

Dean had finally watched the interview, after work. He had driven home and cooked himself some pasta. He ate alone at the table in his kitchen, with the laptop in front of him, and the interview stuck on repeat. Each time, he noted Jimmy's initial awkward body language, and how it seemed to relax once the questions moved on from Jimmy's family and boyfriend. Dean's cell phone, which was beside his plate, began ringing halfway through his fourth viewing of the program. He paused the video, and tapped the phone, placing the call on loudspeaker.

"Hey, Cas."

"Did you watch?"

"Yep. About four times now."

"About four times? You can't be more specific than that?"

"You want me to be specific?"

"Always."

"Fine, I couldn't watch it properly when it was on because I was stupid enough to try to watch it at school, and I've been playing it non-stop on YouTube while I cooked and ate. About four times, Cas."

"What did you think?"

"I could tell you were tense."

"Do you blame me? He asked if I'd been in a cult. It misses the entire point of the story! I spent nine months just developing the concept, and that's his take away?"

Dean rubbed his forehead. Of course Castiel was going to be temperamental about people reading his work in 'the right way'.

"He's a heathen.'

"Read the advanced copy my ass. His researcher's fed him that line. And I fucking hated the way he introduced me. Whatever happened to the art? When did literature become about breaking records and smashing sales?"

"It's still a product you're trying to sell, Cas-"

"Nuh-uh, no. You can't sit there and tell me that it's okay to be a sell out when you won't write your ideas because you're too scared."

Clearly, Castiel was in a bad mood. Dean wished he was back home, instead of halfway across the country. Then he could calm his husband down through physical contact. Instead, they were miles apart, and Dean was going to have to pick his words carefully.

"I don't write because I have enough on my plate with lesson plans, homework assignments, detention, staff meetings, school activities … there's too much to do to write on top. If I did write, I'd have to cut something else out of my life. Like sleep, or my wonderful, sexy husband."

"I would definitely cut school out of the equation. School!" Castiel spat the word, like it was a cuss word. "You're wasting your potential. And trust me, I know your potential."

Dean could picture Castiel leering at the phone, and his chest ached for the scruffy-haired, stubbled whirlwind of a man.

"When are you coming home?" He muttered softly. Castiel chuckled, a low laugh that still carried a hint of promise in its timbre.

"I still have about three weeks of interviews, and the actual launch, and a schools tour which feels so fucking ironic. And then there's the convention circuit. My life is busy too.'

'I never said it wasn't, Cas.'

'I still fit writing in.'

Dean was about to argue back when Castiel's tone changed. "You could come to me. They keep giving me king size beds. Which is great and everything, but a single feels empty without you. I have too much bed."

"I don't know-"

"We'll order room service. I'll give the spare room key to Samandriel; he'll give it to you. No one has to know you're you, just please, please come fill my bed this weekend."

Dean could picture it, could imagine driving up to New York or Chicago or wherever Castiel had ended up, finding Samandriel and retrieving the key card while Castiel was out being Jimmy Novak. Could almost see Castiel's face in front of him, lighting up as he rushed across the room, pinning him to the bed, smothering him in kisses. He closed his eyes, knowing there was no chance of it.

"People know who Samandriel is. He has his own fan page on Facebook. I caught some freshmen talking about him in class before the summer. Samandriel gives some boring teacher a key card? They'll know, Cas."

Castiel sighed loudly down the line.

"I wish you didn't cling to this secrecy thing so much. Everyone's so much more liberal, these days."

"Not here, they're not. Some of the other teachers were saying it was such a shame you were gay when the interview was on."

"Should've told them you were too. And that I am big. Huge. Hard to handle."

"Like a total diva," Dean deadpanned. "Seriously, Cas-"

"I don't know why you live there, anyway. Why you insist that's home. We should move, to San Fran to be near Sam and Gabe, or New York. New York makes sense; it's where my publisher and my agent are. You could work in a prestigious school where the students give a rat's ass who Shakespeare was. We could have a cute apartment, and our marriage would actually be fucking legal."

"It is legal."

"You know what I mean."

"Cas, I can't just leave. These kids, they need me-"

"Bullshit. They won't remember who you are a couple of years down the line. And I'm your husband, Dean."

Dean had no more answers, and Castiel knew it. He buried his face in his hands, waiting for the next comment.

"What are you doing tonight?" Castiel's voice was softer.

"I don't know. Watching your interview again?"

"Don't. The guy was an ass. Watch a movie."

"Which one?"

"Wait a sec … go through to the TV."

Dean stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back, and he walked through the house until he reached their living room. He settled in the love seat and picked up the remote, listening all the while as Castiel channel surfed.

"Okay, I found something. She's The Man. Watch it with me."

Dean found the movie, and took the phone off speaker, putting it to his ear and listening more to Castiel's running commentary than the movie itself. He cast his eyes around their house, his parents' old house, and tried to fight the lonely feeling that threatened to take hold of him. It was always hard when Castiel had to go away. He just had to get through the next month, six weeks tops, and then they'd see each other again.