I really wish I had the time and writing skills to do a full tdp pirate au fic 🥺 I have so so many ideas but all i can do is draw 🥺 this au deserves moreee
"Watermelon, watermelon, pineapple," Dean mumbled under his breath. "Pineapple, watermelon, anchovies."
The man sitting across from him gave him a look somewhere between appalled and murderous.
Dean ignored him. When the pair had been seated at the small round table on the sidewalk outside the fake Parisian cafe, Dean had thought it had been great luck. Of all the other extras on Sammy's movie, Dean had been partnered with the hottest. Seriously. Dean didn't consider himself a shallow person, but the guy had dark, messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed sex hair and the deepest, most intense pair of eyes Dean had ever seen (in a color he was starting to think of as "fuck me blue").
He was also, Dean was quickly discovering, the biggest dick on set. (Metaphorically. Dean was in no way qualified to judge such a literal competition, no matter what Lisa and Pamela in make-up kept gossiping about.)
"What are you doing," the man stated in a deep voice, speaking slow enough to separate each word into its own zip code of barely concealed frustration.
Dean shot a glance over at Sam, but they must be in between takes, because he and his co-star Jessica were talking to the short director with the sugar addiction.
"There's a word you can mouth that makes it look like actual speech," Dean explained defensively. "...I just don't remember what it is," he added.
"Oh my god," the man said, staring upward beseechingly. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Dean decisively. "No. Just have a normal conversation with me like an actual, real-live person."
"And ACTION!" the director yelled.
Dean forced himself not to glance over at Sam. "Fine," he mouthed. "What do you--"
"Aloud," the man insisted, sounding annoyed. "This isn't a stage play; this is a movie. The actors are being mic'd. You can actually talk."
Dean bristled. "Fine," he repeated. 'What do you want to talk about?" They were still on camera, so no matter how much Dean wanted to scowl and cross his arms, he tried to keep his expression friendly and his body language open.
The man almost looked uncomfortable at this point. "I'm rather certain that since you and--" He paused. "This conversation might be less awkward if I knew your name."
"Dean." He wasn't getting murderous vibes off the guy anymore, but that wasn't a good reason to relax his guard too much. He was at least pretending to want to make the scene work, so Dean unbent enough to add, "Sam's my brother."
"He's the lead isn't he?"
"Yeah," Dean said, the smile on his face no longer fake.
The other man cleared his throat gently. "I'm Castiel. Gabriel is my brother."
It sounded like Dean was supposed to recognize the name, so he shuffled through his mental rolodex of names attached to Sam's movie and came up with "The director?"
Dean didn't mean to wrinkle his nose at the name, but Castiel didn't seem to mind. He chuckled. "Yeah. He was short on extras so he coerced me into coming in to help."
Dean snorted. "Same, man. Sammy's got some wicked puppy dog eyes."
"CUT!" The voice cut through the milling din of the half-dozen tables outside the faux cafe. When Dean looked over at the table where Sam and Jess were sitting, he saw Jess with her head on the table, snickering loudly while Sam stretched and ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously.
Jiminy Christmas, Sam was obvious when he was head-over-heels. Dean scoffed. "He's got it bad."
Gabriel was already shouting something about continuity and method acting as he stalked across the floor toward the actors.
"Hmm?" Cas hummed, turning far enough in his chair that he could see the pair. "Ahh. If it's any consolation, I heard a rumor from Meg Masters that she likes him, too," Cas offered.
"Meg?" Dean asked, distracted.
"Jess," Cas clarified. "Meg told me that Jess likes Sam as well."
"Okay, cool," Dean said, relaxing back into his chair. "I'd just hate for him to go for it and miss, you know?"
Before Cas could answer, Gabriel cut back in with "ACTION!" Apparently whatever instruction he'd decided Sam and Jess needed had been dutifully delivered.
Dean fought the urge to straightened abruptly. Instead, he attempted to casually lean in, as if focusing on something Cas had said.
"So," Dean said into the silence between them. "We should probably actually attempt some acting, wouldn't you say?"
Cas rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "If you insist. As I was saying before, since we're supposedly at a Parisian cafe, we should be on a date."
"What?" Dean wasn't quite sure how that computed.
Cas actually looked a little uncomfortable as he tried to explain his reasoning. "I mean, this is a rather terrible spot for a business meeting. And you're not really dressed for it anyway."
Dean had to admit he had a small point. Instead of his comfortable flannels, the heathens in wardrobe had stuffed him into a dark button-up and worn jeans. Dean wasn't quite sure why he couldn't just wear his own jeans, but Becky had insisted.
"Okay," Dean agreed slowly. "A date then. First date?"
"Sure," Cas agreed.
"I'll go first then," Dean said, and slid on his flirtiest grin. "Hi there. My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius, and I like long walks on the beach and frisky partners, men or women."
Cas smiled in return and Dean was surprised at the extra half-step of his heartbeat when he saw it. Dammit. "My name is Castiel Novak. I don't know my zodiac sign. I do enjoy beaches somewhat, but I'd rather spend time with my bees." He paused. "I am utterly indifferent toward sexual orientation."
It sounded a bit like something one of Charlie's girlfriends had talked about. "Is that a fancy way of saying you're asexual?" Dean ventured.
"Demi," Cas corrected, looking surprised that Dean knew anything about it. "Biromantic demisexual, to be precise."
"Okay, cool," Dean said, bobbing his head and attempting to ignore the part of him that was filing that information away. "I'm just a plain, old-fashioned bisexual myself," he told Cas, figuring turnabout was fair play.
"'Bisexual' I believe," Cas told him contemplatively. "I'm going to shelve 'old-fashioned' for now, pending further inquiry. As for 'plain'..." He paused, then his mouth curled up in a wicked grin. "I'm pretty sure plain people don't try to add anchovies to their watermelon and pineapple."
For a split second, Dean thought about being offended. But Cas's good humor was so contagious that a sharp bark of laughter had escaped him before he could stop it. Cas's smile widened and softened at the sound, which made Dean grin and his stomach tie itself into all sorts of interesting knots, because biromantic demisexual did not mean uninterested, it meant take it slow, and his brain had apparently already internalized the difference.
"CUT!" Gabriel's shout startled Dean. He'd completely forgotten that he was technically supposed to be acting right now. "What the hell are you two doing over there?"
Dean looked over to see what Sam had done this time, but instead of berating the two leads, Gabriel was staring at him and Cas. Oh.
Dean knew he was probably doing a pretty good impression of a deer in headlights, but that didn't stop Gabriel from ranting, "We're supposed to be watching these two fall in love," he shouted, gesturing at Sam and Jess. "Not a couple of extras!"
Dean very carefully did not look at Cas. He could feel his ears burning, but chanced a glance at Sam. His little brother was slumped, half-turned in his chair with his face buried in his hands and his shoulders shaking with laughter. Jess patted him on the shoulder and raised one eyebrow in amusement when she caught Dean looking her way. His face flushed further and he looked away again.
He still didn't look at Cas.
"Get off my set," Gabriel said at last. "Both of you." Then he turned and ignored them completely, directing some of the other extras to move to fill the gap left by their absence.
Dean knew when he was dismissed. Ears still burning, he got up from the table and tried not to trip over his chair or any cords as he made his way off the set. He could hear Cas following behind him.
The mortification didn't completely set in until he saw the crew, though. Once he was out of the glare of the lights, he could see the cameramen and the sound guys and the assistant director and all the other people that just seemed to accumulate on the edges of sets. They were all, to a one, laughing at him. Some were outright giggling, others were just grinning, but Dean would have shut his eyes against the sight if he could have guaranteed that he wouldn't trip over a light and compound his complete and utter humiliation.
Dean took the first opportunity he had to slip out the doors of the sound stage into the bright afternoon sunlight, leaving the dark cavern with its fake Parisian cafe behind him. As he blinked in the sunlight, he could feel Cas walk up to stand next to him. Dean didn't know what to say.
"Well," Cas said finally. "That was awkward."
Dean snorted and just like that it was alright again. "Oh, man," he said, ruffling his hair and taking deep breaths, trying to will the flush off his face. "I don't think I've been that embarrassed since Rhonda Hurley spilled my deepest secrets at Prom."
He chanced a glance at Cas. The lighting was different off-set, but the ruffled sex hair was the same, and when he met Dean's eyes they were that same shade of fuck-me blue. But he was also surprisingly funny and he kept bees and when he smiled Dean felt like he'd swallowed a circus.
"Have coffee with me?" Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.
Cas looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled wide and said, "I'd love to."
Dean's cheeks hurt so much from grinning widely that he didn't even care when his stomach started doing the macarena. "Awesome."
So m-my brother and I, we, um... no. You know what.... I called you here because people, um, our people are being slaughtered. And we're next. The British Men of Letters, they came here because they thought they could do our job better than we could. They hooked us with their flashy gear and their tech- most of you had the good sense to turn them down. I didn't. They said they wanted the same thing we wanted, you know, a world free of monsters. That's not what they really wanted. They want control. They want to live in a world where they get to sit in some office and decide who gets to live and who gets to die. And they've killed people. They've killed innocent people just because they got in the way. They think the ends justifies the means, but we know better.
