#BUT it and everything else I have seen of this man is so crushingly earnest I can't help but root for him

[horsegirlhob]

Developing a deep parasocial relationship with Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh.

[magickmoons]

famous!Dean part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Dean looked up at the sound of the bell -- as he had every time someone had walked in during the half-hour he'd been waiting. He kept reminding himself that he'd gotten there insanely early, but with the arrival of each person who wasn't Cas, he became more and more discouraged. Why had Cas agreed to meet with him? The overly dramatic part of his mind wondered if Cas was planning to stand him up and alert the press -- get some nice pics of jilted Dean Winchester.

But it was Cas -- alone -- this time. Dean's heart pounded double-time as Cas walked over. Holy hell, the picture on the University website came nowhere close to capturing how drop-dead sexy adult Cas was. Dean had worked with some of the best looking Hollywood had to offer -- including at least 2 winners of the Sexiest Man Alive award -- and they didn't hold a candle to Cas, who was now taking his seat, staring at Dean intently.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas ... tiel," he stammered, unsure if the familiar nickname would still be welcome. He nodded at the cup in front of Cas's seat. "I hope you still take it black."

"Thank you," Cas replied stiffly, lifting the cup and taking an experimental sip, fingers playing with the lid when he put it back down.

They sat in silence. Damn it, why had he thought this would be a good idea? Some misguided notion of giving Cas closure wrapped around the selfish hope of forgiveness.

The silence was getting to him and if one of them didn't speak soon, it was going to become fairly insurmountable.

"Cas, um ... Castiel, I --"

"Cas is fine, Dean."

"Okay, cool, yeah ... So, Cas ..."

Cas looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah, that's all I got so far." Dean grimaced sheepishly as Cas laughed.

"Well, we have at least established that we remember each other's names."

Dean tapped his temple. "Like a steel trap."

"Well," Cas started with a deep breath. "How are you?"

"How am I?' Dean repeated incredulously.

Cas shrugged. "I'm really not sure what we're supposed to talk about, Dean."

"Yeah, me neither. I thought this would flow a little better."

Cas frowned at him. "How so?"

"Well, I figured you would come in and just start yelling, we'd get everything out on the table, and go from there."

Cas shook his head. "Yelling is not on the agenda. I don't --"

"You're Dean Winchester!"

They both jumped slightly as a twenty-ish woman appeared next to the table, nearly vibrating with excitement. Dean reluctantly slid in P.R. mode (heaving a dramatic internal sigh at the interruption), wondering if he'd get the chance to figure out what Cas was going to say -- he didn't care? He didn't yell in public? Didn't -- what?

"I sure am!" She flushed scarlet he answered with a bright smile.

"Oh god. I'm so stupid. Of course you know that. It's just... I'm such a big fan. I've seen all your movies."

He chuckled. "I'm sorry about that. There are some real stinkers in that list."

"Oh no. They're always worth it to see you."

"Well, thank you." She was already opening her mouth to say something else, but he really wanted 1) to get back to Cas and 2) to get her away before she recognized Cas. "Hey, you got a phone with you? Want a selfie?"

Cas winced noticeably at her squeal of delight. The photo was quick and done and Dean squeezed her shoulder in farewell. "It was great meeting you."

She looked somewhat disappointed, but took the dismissal gracefully.

"That happen a lot?" Cas asked once the girl was back at her own table, fingers flying over her phone's screen.

Dean shrugged. "Define 'a lot.'" He winced inwardly and tried to tell from Cas's face if that had come off as humble or asshole. Unfortunately, Cas had had years to perfect his stoic expression.

"Is it worth it?"

"Wow, so just skipping right over the small talk, huh?"

Cas raised an eyebrow. "We were failing dismally at "small talk." So... fame -- is it worth it? Everything you thought it would be?"

"It has its good and bad, like anything, I guess. The past few weeks have actually turned out to be pretty awesome. Charlie keeps forwarding me messages from kids thanking me for coming out -- or not hiding from it, I guess really, since coming out wasn't exactly my idea."

A warm smile lit Cas's face. "That's great though. That this whole situation is having a positive impact."

It really was. Dean had expected much more negative fallout -- and of course there was plenty of that -- but for all the studio had worried, the paying public seemed to have very little problem with recent revelations. And the emails and posts from people -- both in the biz and not -- were enough to make Dean wish he had done this years before.

"But generally, I try to keep my life pretty quiet," Dean continued, wincing as Cas's barely restrained look of disbelief.

"Listen, man, what you saw -- that whole thing -- the, the drugs, the parties, the ..."

"Random sex with multiple people?" Cas filled in drily.

"Yeah. That's not part of the package for me anymore."

Cas took a slow breath; his eyes were filled with hurt when he spoke. "I didn't know it was ever supposed to be -- when you talked about going to California, that was never ... it was always about the acting."

Dean wished this were one of his movies so they could skip over the exposition part and just get to Cas either storming out or forgiving him. But no, this was how life had to happen.

"I barely even know where to start. It wasn't like that at first, not until after I signed with Alastair."

"Alastair Halling?" Cas interrupted.

A chill settled over Dean. "How do you know that name, Cas? He didn't .... You didn't ..." Alastair's threats echoed in Dean's head.

Cas spoke slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "He was the one who made the final arrangements for my trip out there. He contacted me and said you need to see a friendly face from home."

Cas's words didn't make any sense at first. Alastair hadn't given a shit if anyone was happy or comfortable or anything that wasn't of direct use to him.

"Son of a bitch! He set us up."

He felt sick as the entirety of Alastair's plan settled over him, just another in the string of twisted mind games he had played back then.

Cas just looked confused when Dean made himself look at him. "I don't understand. What do you mean 'set us up'?"

Dean nodded to show Cas he'd heard him, trying to sort out his thoughts. He hadn't thought they'd be getting into this territory today. Alastair was a rough subject anytime, but to share it with Cas -- especially now that he knew Alastair's machinations had affected Cas even more directly that he had thought ...

Dean hadn't even realized he was shaking until Cas's hand covered his on the table. He leaned forward with an earnest look. "Dean, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"No, Cas. No. You deserve to know this."

Cas studied him for a minute then sat back with a nod. Dean's hand felt cold and he wrapped it around the now lukewarm cup.

"So, up front -- what I'm going to tell you is not an excuse. No matter what was going on around me, I'm responsible for my own choices -- and I made a whole buncha bad ones those first years. This is just .... explanation, I guess."

"I understand," Cas replied with a soft, encouraging smile.

"When I first went out there -- California -- I was just a kid from Nowheresville, USA, a fact that was driven home pretty quickly. I thought I was ready, but -- this business is really rough. And I wasn't doing as well as I think I kind of let everyone back home believe." He rubbed a hand over his face. "It's silly, but I felt like I'd be letting everyone down if I didn't make it big.

"On top of that, it was so much more expensive than I had anticipated. I blew through my savings almost right away, even living in some little fleabag shithole and working two restaurant jobs. After a couple of months, I was just about ready to head home."

It had been crushingly disappointing to even consider that, but Dean wasn't about to ask his parents for more money and he wasn't going to get involved with any of the fast-money options that abounded in the area (and that all seemed to end with someone naked or bloody).

"I --" Cas started to speak, then quieted.

"What, Cas?"

"I wish I'd known, Dean. I feel like I could've been more supportive."

"Yeah, sometimes I wonder I wonder what would've happened if I'd told you, anyone ... I guess I was just too embarrassed. But you did help, man. I felt so much better every time we talked -- you believed in me so much, and to hear that after another shitty day of not being good enough ...

"Anyway, one of the guys I workshopped with told me about Alastair. He said the guy was like a miracle worker, almost guaranteed to get you a job -- if he liked you. He had a reputation for being really picky. I almost didn't even try; I mean, what was I going to have that he didn't already see dozens of times a week?"

Alastair had been his last attempt. He'd sent off a headshot, requesting a meeting. He had been so convinced that it was another dead end that he'd done zero research on the guy, didn't even ask what happened to Alastair's clients after the initial burst of success.

"I heard back from him almost immediately. We met, and he said he'd take me on -- teach me, 'mold' me." Dean still felt nauseous whenever he remembered the dark look in Alastair's eyes, the raspy sound of his voice. "Nobody else was interested in repping me, so I signed with him. Alastair was effective, yeah, and things just started happening. I got a couple of high profile guest spots, a movie role, every talk show wanted to have me on. It was like someone flipped a switch, and I went from struggling nobody to ultra-hot commodity overnight. None of it was really challenging acting, or even that interesting; I was pretty much just the new 'pretty face.'

"Knowing what I know now, I figure Alastair must've had dirt on at least a third of the casting agents -- not to mention the rest of Hollywood. They hired who he told them to. And those days, he wanted them to hire me."

He looked down to see that he'd bent the little plastic coffee stirrer into an accordion, and tossed it on the table.

"So I was running around non-stop day after day. It started wearing on me, and Alastair was there. He started slowly -- a pick-me-up here or there, something to help me sleep the night before an interview, something to pep me up for a shoot. Then there were a couple of strongly worded requests to show my face at this or that party."

He fell silent. Cas waited, his eyes tight, jaw tense. Dean sipped his coffee while he gathered his thoughts.

"He liked power. He had a whole little harem or entourage or whatever of wannabes that followed him around, did whatever he said, but he needed the guys like me -- success stories -- to keep them hopeful."

The coffee soured in his stomach at the memory of some of the things he'd seen. He'd spent years of therapy dealing with his own actions and how Alastair had impacted him, but the memories of those kids debasing themselves so willingly, so eagerly, while he sat and did nothing -- or worse, enjoyed the results -- still made him physically sick.

"A con man needs to be able to present some results," Cas murmured, "to keep his marks interested and pliable."

"Yeah, but even my success wasn't real. Or at least I hadn't earned it on merit. But none of us knew that then. I'm honestly not sure how many of them would have cared, either." He huffed a dispirited laugh.

"I knew something was wrong -- none of it felt like I'd always imagined, y'know? And the drugs and the sex and the parties, they were so easy to lose myself in, to push back that feeling of wrongness.

"I tried to fight it at first -- putting in appearances and heading out early. After the third time I did that, Alastair called and told me I'd been dropped from consideration for a lead in a series. They'd as much as told me I had the role in the room. But if I wasn't playing his game, I wasn't gonna get the prize. He didn't say it in so many words, but I'm sure he turned them down.

"So I just ... I played ball. And I took the pills he handed me and I threw the parties when he told me to ..."

Dean's throat ached. He looked at Cas, sitting with concern and compassion on his face. "I cheated on you, Cas. It was only ever just sex. I never, ever felt about anyone like I feel about you, but -- God that's even worse. To throw away what we had for something so empty, so superficial. And after that day, I never dreamed I'd get the change to apologize, so..."

He licked suddenly dry lips and and took a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry, Cas. You deserved so much better. I would never ask you to forgive me, but please know that I hated that you got hurt. That I was the one who hurt you."

He trailed off, unable to truly express the regret that he felt. Cas's face was nearly blank, his eyes trained on Dean's as he processed his words. Dean bit back the urge to keep explaining, to force Cas to understand. It wasn't enough, Dean knew that; some paltry words could never fix what he had broken, but they were the truth. And if it wasn't enough for Cas, Dean would just find a way to live with it.

Cas drew in a deep breath and leaned forward, taking one of Dean's hands in his own. He shook his head.

"Thank you for the apology. I admit that everything being brought up again after all this time threw me for a loop, but I forgave you a long time ago, Dean."

Dean stared at him, flummoxed. He had betrayed the one person who had meant more to him than anyone outside his family; there had never been anyone since who had been as close to Dean as Cas had been. How was that forgivable?

"We were kids, Dean." Cas smiled gently. "I know we felt so damn grown-up, but I see it every day in my classes. They're 18, 19, even in their twenties, and they think they know everything, that they have it all figured out. But they don't. Nowhere near. And neither did we."

His face hardened as he continued, in contrast to his thumb softly stroking along Dean's wrist. "Add to that what you endured with that Alastair person .... "

"I could've walked away, Cas. I --"

"And we're back to 'you were just a kid.' Yes, you made some bad decisions, things got out of hand," he swallowed, "and people got hurt. But you got out, Dean." Cas smiled widely at him. "Look at you -- even with all that, look at the successes you've had. How did that happen anyway?"

Dean sighed. "It was Sam, actually. He was the real catalyst," he said slowly. It was weird, but even after what he'd done to Cas, what Cas had seen in person, he felt reticent to share the rest of the story with him.

Cas just waited patiently.

"After what happened, what I did ... well, after that night, I kind of threw myself into that whole scene. I just wanted to forget, to not think about it, to prove to myself what an awesome time I was having, that I didn't need you."

It had been a hollow attempt at best, but at least with other people around, he looked like he was having fun.

"It was, I don't know, maybe a year, year and a half later, that Sammy came out for a visit. Nobody had come out before that, except you. I was actually kind of surprised you hadn't told anyone about everything."

"I ... it didn't feel right. Your folks didn't even know I was going then. So, I just told everyone we'd broken up and left it at that. Then I chose a school out of town and ran."

A stab of regret at what could've been left Dean aching to soothe Cas, but he had forfeited that right a long time ago.

"Anyway, Sam came out and well, to put it bluntly, it was a disaster. It all came to a head when I took him to set with me. I was actually stone-cold sober -- he'd been so disapproving of the partying the first couple of days -- I couldn't even get through the scene. Two-eighths of a page and I was ..."

He scoffed, remembering how he'd stumbled over the simple lines, kept missing his mark. Everything had felt so wrong.

"We took five and I found a corner, popped some pills to get my mind straight, and looked up to see Sammy just staring at me. That look in his eyes -- almost the same as yours, and I just..." He blew out a harsh breath. No matter how far he'd come since then, it still crushed him to think how he'd let his little brother down.

"I got through the scene, took Sam out to some shitty diner, and the whole thing just spilled out. I promised him I would stop. I could see in his eyes that he didn't believe me, but that was the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"With Alastair -- getting out from under his thumb, I had to move carefully. It wasn't even what he could do to me or my career; he'd threatened to hurt you, or Sammy. By that point, he wasn't even pretending to be doing anything for me. I started looking for another agent, real quietly; started trying to see if I could get enough dirt on him to, I dunno, blackmail him, or have him arrested.

"I met this guy, another agent, named Crowley. Almost as devious as Alastair, but more upfront about it. He was none too happy about Alastair's schemes and already had enough on him to put him away for a long time. He just needed someone to stand up."

"You?" Cas looked equal parts concerned and impressed.

"Yeah," Dean acknowledged. "I figured it was the least I could do. Screw my career, whatever. I'd go back to Lawrence and work as a mechanic if I had to, but this guy needed taking down and no one else was gonna do it."

"That's amazing, Dean. But I never heard about any of this." He flushed as he continued. "And I kind of followed your career kinda closely."

"Yeah, well, you didn't hear about it 'cause the guy had dirt on everyone and no one wanted him talking in open court. He was arrested, indicted, released on bail... and murdered."

Cas opened his mouth, closed it, almost literally biting back the question.

"It wasn't me, Cas. I don't know who it was; the list of people who wanted him dead is a mile long, at least. But that was that.

"With Crowley's help, I got in a very private rehab, got my career back in a direction that I wanted to go. Haven't touched any non-medically prescribed drugs since.

"I thought about reaching out to you to apologize, but I thought it would just be more painful for you. Or maybe I was just too scared."

Cas squeezed his hand.

"So, that's the whole sordid story."

"Thank you for telling me."

Dean shook his head to clear away the baggage and looked around, trying to escape the raw emotion in Cas's eyes. His fan was still sitting at her table, still tapping vigorously at her phone. A friend had joined her -- a friend whose phone was angled suspiciously in their direction.

He kept his gaze moving, finished looking around the small shop and then back to Cas.

"So, not a big deal, but I think that girl is filming us. Don't look!" he added a Cas inevitably started to turn his head.

"Okay, and ... ?" He followed Dean's lead and started tidying up.

"Well, best case, she and her friend just want some candid footage of me for their personal use. Less great would be if they're planning to share it out publicly."

"Is there a worst case here?"

"If they recognized you and are attaching your name to a livestream video."

"Why would they --?"

Dean almost laughed at the confusion on Cas's face. He stood up as he said, "You're news now, Cas. Just another way for me to screw your life up, I guess. We'd better get going any which way."

Cas stood as well and halted Dean with a hand to his shoulder. Dean turned, stepping to the side to make sure he was between the camera and Cas.

"Dean, the past few weeks have been interesting, and sometimes inconvenient, but it hasn't 'screwed up' anything for me."

"If it gets out that we've seen each other again, it's a whole new ballgame, Cas. Let's go."

He let Cas lead the way to the door, trying to keep him as hidden as possible, and wishing he was a big enough man not to be mentally drooling over Cas's ass.

The bell rang as Cas opened the door and stepped through. Dean was close enough on his heels that he nearly slammed his nose into Cas's skull when he stopped abruptly. Dean looked around as Cas murmured, "I guess it was a live feed after all."

"Well, well, if it isn't Dr. Castiel Novak. And who's he with? Oh, it's the famous Dean Winchester."

From the small crowd of fans and photographers stepped the last person Dean wanted to see at that moment.

"Bela."

(now concluded in Part 6)

Author’s Note: So there was a version where this was the last part -- they met, talked, came to some kind of agreement, and end happily ever after. Then the fan had a friend who had a phone, and Bela just couldn’t stay away, and now I’m not entirely sure where it goes next, so.... fingers crossed that inspiration strikes! Also, I need to work on the next part of my AO3 WIP -- that’s been sitting for months :(