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Castiel doesn’t know much about the man his husband fucks, and really, he’d like to keep it that way.
Now for starters, he does at least know of the man; it’s not like Dean is having an affair or anything. Actually, Dean sleeping with another guy on the regular had actually been Cas’ idea in the first place.
Not too long into their relationship, Castiel had finally pieced together that he’s asexual. It took awhile to get him here -- sexuality repression caused by a hyper-religious upbringing will do that to a guy -- and he had been so worried about telling Dean, afraid that it might jeopardize their relationship and cost him the most important thing in his life. But much to his surprise and delight, Dean had accepted it and Cas wholeheartedly.
And here they are now, three years later, happily married, and with a pretty active sex life, too, as Castiel is not sex-repulsed. He’ll partake in it for Dean’s sake, and he’ll always find pleasure in seeing his husband happy, knowing it was because of him. That makes the physical discomfort worth it, every single time.
But as things progressed, Castiel started to realize that, even though Dean hadn’t said anything, he wasn’t fully satisfied sexually. They were having sex, yeah, but Cas knew it was not as much as Dean likely wanted or needed, nor was it any of that ‘kinky’ stuff that Cas couldn’t (and still can’t) bring himself to try. No matter how much he loves Dean.
So to Cas, the obvious solution was finding someone who could do all that he couldn’t for Dean. And after a great deal of convincing, assuring, and insisting on Cas’ part, Dean went and found himself his very own, bonafide ‘fuck buddy’, as Dean so eloquently refers to him as.
Cas prefers to just call him ‘Dean’s Guy’, although he does have an actual name: Crowley. A strange name, but to be fair, who is ‘Castiel’ to judge? They met via one of those many dating apps several months back. He’s older than Dean by about ten, maybe fifteen years, and he’s British (or is he Scottish? Irish? It’s somewhere in that part of Europe).
That’s all Cas knows, and honestly, he doesn’t even need to know as much as he does. The only thing Cas needs to know is that this guy, Crowley, is that he’s fulfilling Dean’s sexual desires and making him happy. And whenever Cas asks Dean about it -- about ‘him’ -- the answer is always, ‘Yeah, things are great with Crowley!’. Perfect.
Considering that Cas doesn’t want to know a damn thing about him, he most definitely has no desire whatsoever to meet him.
And yet, when the doorbell rings late in the morning on a rainy Saturday, who is standing there when Cas opens the door but him. Dean’s Guy.
The universe really is cruel sometimes.
“Good morning, Mr. Winchester,” Crowley says, his voice chipper and his smile wide -- a little too wide for Cas’ liking. Immediately, he doesn’t trust it.
“It’s Doctor Winchester,” Castiel corrects, which normally, he wouldn’t do. But he just got off of an eleven hour overnight shift in the ER, and he’s more than a little cranky. That, along with the fact that he doesn’t want to be having this encounter whatsoever, of course.
“Doctor Winchester?” Crowley parrots, his interest piqued. “Well! Dean never mentioned that he was married to a doctor! ‘Suppose that explains the digs.” He looks around the porch and then past Castiel, into the house. "How domestic. You’ve even got the white picket fence and everything.”
“Dean’s not here,” Cas says, bluntly. “He’s at the shop on Saturdays. I can give you an address, if you need it.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Crowley reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket (who the hell wears a suit to meet their fuck buddy?) and pulls out his cell phone. “He finished up early, told me to come by and meet him here.” He shows Cas a text conversation between him and Dean, revealing exactly that.
Cas’ clenches his jaw. “Well. He’s not back yet.”
“But he’ll be back soon?” Crowley takes a step closer and looks into the house again. “So, I might as well just wait here. Might I come inside?”
Cas wants to ask why Crowley can’t wait for Dean in his car -- which he’s going to assume is the sleek, black Bentley parked in front of the house and blocking the fire hydrant -- but that would be rude. And good manners were (unfortunately) something heavily instilled in him throughout his entire childhood, especially when it came to being hospitable. Love thy neighbor as yourself and all that.
Damn evangelicals.
“Alright,” Castiel agrees, begrudgingly, gesturing for Crowley to come inside. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Crowley says, smugly, much like that smile, or rather, smirk that seems to be permanently plastered on his face. He steps inside, letting out a low whistle as he looks around, glancing back over his shoulder at Cas. “Nice, very nice.”
It’s clearly not Cas’ more than slightly mismatched home decor that Crowley is complimenting.
Cas forces a stiff, half-hearted smile as he shuts the front door. “Thank you.”
Crowley then saunters down the hall toward the living room, and Castiel reluctantly follows behind, watching as Crowley takes a seat on the couch.
Crowley gestures to the vacant couch across from him and eyes Castiel expectantly. “Please, heed your own advice, doctor. Make yourself comfortable.”
Oh no. Crowley wants to talk to him.
Cas had been hoping he could slip back up to bed and leave Crowley to just watch TV or play on his phone until Dean got back. But once again, the universe is truly testing him today.
Heaving out a sigh, Cas takes a seat on the couch opposite Crowley. He sits stiffly, despite it being his own home, and it’s a stark contrast to the way Crowley’s already sprawled out on the couch in a manner riddled with depravity.
“I must say, this is quite the fortuitous situation,” Crowley begins. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time now.”
Castiel’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t like where this is heading. “And why’s that?”
“Well, with the way Dean speaks of you, like you’re some sort of angel who hung the moon and everything in between? Who wouldn’t want to meet you?” Crowley laughs, and it’s entirely devoid of any warmth. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so in love. What a lucky man.”
Cas nods. “Indeed I am.”
“Oh no, you misunderstood. Dean’s the lucky one here,” Crowley clarifies. “Having such a beautiful home that he gets to share with a handsome doctor? A handsome doctor who lets him fool around with trouble like me? He certainly hit the jackpot with you, darling. You more than exceed all that hype.”
“Thank you.” Castiel shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “So, did you also just come from work?”
Really, he doesn’t care to know more about Crowley or his work, but he also doesn’t want the conversation to go any further in the direction that Crowley’s trying to veer it toward.
Crowley raises a brow. “What makes you ask that?”
“You’re wearing a three-piece suit.”
“What, not allowed to be fashionable when I meet my man?” That smirk comes right back on Crowley’s face. “Oh, my apologies, our man.”
Cas winces inwardly (and probably a little bit outwardly, too). “Um, right. So what do you do for work, then?” He asks, even though, again, he doesn’t care. But it’s a topic change, something he sorely needs right now.
Crowley’s brow arches slightly higher. “Does it really matter?”
By dodging the question, Crowley is pretty much answering it and telling Castiel that whatever he does, it’s probably not entirely legal. But Crowley is right -- it doesn’t matter.
And Castiel can’t argue with logic like that.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Cas agrees.
“But if it’s work you want to talk about so much--” Crowley gestures to the scrub pants that Cas still has on. “--you just got off, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And earlier than expected.”
“Yes, clearly.”
“So that’s it? No more work? No more miracle-working and life saving on today’s agenda?”
“No, that’s all.” Castiel eyes Crowley dubiously. “What makes you ask that?”
“Well! I meant it when I said this is a fortuitous situation, because truly, it is,” Crowley begins. “What’s say you join me and dear Dean today? It’ll be a grand old time. You know what they say, right?” He leans a bit more forward, a lewd look in his eye as he meets Castiel’s gaze. “Three’s company?”
“...actually, no, I’m pretty sure it’s ‘three’s a crowd’.” Castiel says, incredulous, as he just...stares at Crowley, because wow, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Or how to begin.
Sitting more upright, he folds his arms against his chest and hardens his expression to something more solemn. “You do understand what the purpose of this arrangement is, Mr. Crowley?”
“‘Course I do, we’ve been at this for ages now,” Crowley says. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t spice it up a bit, right?”
“No, actually, that’s exactly what it means,” Castiel refutes, quickly. “The point of this arrangement is for you to have sex with my husband and satisfy his seemingly insatiable libido so I don’t have to -- nothing more, nothing less. I’m asexual; surely that’s had to have come up at some point.”
“Oh, you’re right on the money about the insatiable part, darling.” Crowley says, chuckling. “And I know all about that whole ‘not keen on sex’ bit of yours--” Cas only just barely resists the urge to correct that severe understatement of his sexuality. “--But I also know that you two do fool around a decent amount. So I just figured that, if you were to fancy, we could all--”
“Mr. Crowley,” Cas interrupts, pinching his brow and inhaling deeply. “I was just in extensive surgery for five hours straight. I haven’t slept in twenty-five hours. I smell of brain abscess. Are you really going to make me explain the difference between having sex for the sake of my husband, the man I love more than anything in this life, versus having sex with him and his fuck buddy that I pointedly want nothing to do with whatsoever?”
“Alright, alright, simmer down now,” Crowley mumbles with a huff. “A fiery one, aren’t you?” That perpetual smirk creeps right back on his face, like it was never even gone in the first place. “You know, you could’ve just said no. There’s no need to be so testy about it.”
Castiel opens his mouth, but before he can even get a word of that rage-induced tirade out, he’s cut off by the sound of the front door opening.
“Cas?” He hears Dean say, followed by the sound of fervent footsteps shuffling inside the house.
“Back here!” Cas calls out.
Dean appears in the doorway of the living room a few seconds later, his breathing heavy as he comes to a halt. He looks to Cas, then across to Crowley, before returning back to Cas, his eyes wide. “I, uh, hey!” He says, with an uneasy smile. “I...I thought you’d be at the hospital still?”
“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who finished up early today.” Cas says, standing up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and sleep for the next twelve hours and pretend all of this was just some very unfortunate nightmare.”
“Nightmare?” Dean whips his head around to face Crowley, his brows furrowing together. “What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing!” Crowley raises his hands defensively. “I merely tried to be courteous toward your lovely husband and see if he’d be interested in spending some time with us this afternoon.”
“Oh my god, please tell me you did not. Please tell me that you’re joking.” Dean turns back to Cas. “Please tell me he’s joking.”
Castiel sighs and shakes his head. “Believe me, I wish I could.”
Dean groans and pinches his brow. “Crowley, what did you honestly think was going to happen here?”
“In my defense, I never explicitly mentioned it had to be sex,” Crowley insists. “McDreamy over here made that bold assumption all on his own.”
“Of course he’s going to make that assumption, that’s all you and I do, that’s the purpose of all of this!” Dean exclaims, shaking his head as he turns back to Cas. “I’m sorry, this is probably the last thing you needed today.”
“Or ever,” Cas corrects, stubbornly, before reaching over to peck Dean on the lips. “I’ll see you at some point twelve hours from now. And don’t even think about waking me even a minute prior to that, unless you have a very violent deathwish.”
“Right, yeah, point taken. Don’t worry we’re gonna get outta here. Way, waaaaay outta here.” Dean kisses Cas again before he pulls back and turns to Crowley. “Alright, get your ass up, you’ve done more than enough damage here.”
“I was being friendly, suddenly that’s a crime?” Crowley complains, standing up and smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his suit.
Dean puts a hand on Crowley’s back, all but shoving him out of the room. “When it comes to you? Yes, yes it is.”
Yawning, Cas trails behind Dean and Crowley before he turns in the opposite direction and heads toward the bedroom. “Seriously, I can’t believe you thought this would work. That any of this would work.” He can hear Dean say as he begins his trudge up the stairs. “Thought you had a real ace up your sleeve, didn’t you?”
“Actually, you’re the one with the ‘ace’ up your sleeve,” Crowley replies. “Me? Why, I just wanted to show off my little three card trick.”
There’s a silence that follows before Dean starts chuckling, and Crowley quickly joins in, laughing along with him. And Cas, he stops at the top of the stairs and stands there, bewildered as he gazes down at the two of them as they cackle at their equally awful and unfunny puns.
After spending not even twenty minutes with Crowley, Cas cannot even begin to fathom what on earth his husband sees in such an obnoxious man. Yes, Cas might not get the appeal of sex, especially not casual sex, but he really has his doubts that Crowley is that good in the bedroom that it makes up for literally everything else about him.
But clearly, there’s chemistry between the two of them. Castiel doesn’t know how or why, and he doesn’t need to know, nor does he want to know.
The only thing he does know -- and the only thing Cas ever wants and needs to know-- is that Dean is happy and satisfied.
And as Dean looks up at him and meets his gaze one last time before leaving, Cas sees that warm, beautiful smile on his husband's face, and it's all the assurance that he needs.