Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An ethereal instrumental piece of music, similar to the theme on The X-Files, played over the airwaves as a pre-recorded voice declared, “We’re here because we believe in the strange… the unknown… the unthinkable. We’re here because we want to know the real story.”

The music faded out and the same voice spoke again. “Good evening. I am Dr Jacob Glaser and you are listening to The Real Story.”

At home, Dean Winchester groaned. This show had to be the biggest pile of shit on air, but at the same time it was the only thing bearable at this time of night. Mainly because Dean liked the guy’s deep, rough-around-the-edges voice that always sounded like he’d just woken up, but he’d never admit it.

"If you’ve got clear skies where you are tonight you can clearly see the constellation Orion high in the sky. The three brightest stars form what is commonly known as Orion’s Belt, and tonight I want to talk to you about the possibility of the Pyramids of Giza being built by early Egyptian astronomers."

Dean rolled his eyes. It sounded half interesting, but Dean would bet money on the Jacob mentioning aliens somewhere in the next two minutes.

"It’s not just the pyramids," Jacob was continuing, "for their location next to the River Nile resembles that of Orion’s Belt to the Milky Way. Just how did this ancient civilisation manage to build the pyramids? Did they make contact with an alien species?"

And there it was. Even though it was rubbish, Dean found himself listening. The whole pyramids and stars thing was interesting, but aliens? No way. He listened (and laughed) as Jacob discussed the pyramids being two thousand years older than many believe, and that there was a very good chance that aliens helped the Egyptians build them. When he asked for callers, Dean wasn’t exactly sure what made him pick up the phone and dial.

"What’s on your mind, caller?"

"I’m wondering exactly what a guy with a PhD in Religion and Science is doing running a late-night radio talk show on conspiracy theories revolving around the existence of aliens," Dean asked.

"We can’t just accept the facts that are presented to us by those in charge of deciding what is right and what is wrong – we need to question everything and find the answers that we believe to be true," Jacob told him. "I’m being open-minded."

"Yeah, sure," Dean laughed mockingly. "This coming from the guy who thinks the government found aliens on the moon."

The familiar sigh that Dean had gotten surprisingly used to hearing over the past few weeks every time someone brought that up followed, before, “I never said they found aliens on the moon – it was a robot head.”

"Yeah, like one of those Transformers? 'Cause you know, I think I've seen that movie, and it wasn't that good. Who was it, Sentinel Prime?”

Click.

Dean laughed. The guy had hung up on him. Actually hung up on him.

"Hello? Hello, are you still there?" he heard on the radio. "Sorry, folks – it looks like we’ve lost out caller."

Dean hit redial.

He sat on hold throughout two phone calls from people who wanted to share their opinions on other ancient sites around the world being built by aliens – the crazies – including Stonehenge, of all things.

Eventually, after Gary - a regular caller - had called in asking when he was going to do an episode on the mandroid invasion, Jacob's gravelly tones travelled down the telephone line.

“Hello, there. Do you have an opinion you’d like to share?”

"How about my opinion on radio talk show hosts hanging up on their callers?" Dean smirked.

"Uh…"

Dean could almost hear the guy blushing.

"O-kay…"

"It’s rather rude, actually."

"I’m sorry, perhaps I accidentally hit a button…" Jacob trailed off awkwardly.

Dean laughed. “Pathetic, dude. Pathetic.”

"How about you let me make it up to you?"

"What, you mean like dinner?" Dean asked, slapping a hand over his mouth as soon as the words had left his mouth.

"What?" Jacob exclaimed. "I was thinking more along the lines of you choosing the topic for discussion on our next show, or… Um…"

Dean was still staring at the radio, struck dumb by his own idiocy. Just because he liked the guy’s voice didn’t mean he’d like the guy. He was conspiracy nutcase, for God’s sake! He closed his eyes, praying Jacob was straight, or spoken for, or uninterested.

"Are you actually asking me out, or…"

Dean’s mouth opened and closed his mouth as he tried to say words that his brain hadn’t quite formed yet. “Yes,” he said eventually, squeezing his eyes tightly closed as if that was going to hide him from an embarrassing public rejection (even if there couldn’t be that many listeners out there).

"Well, alright," Jacob started slowly, "but you have to answer one question first."

"Fair enough," Dean said.

"Tell me your name."

Dean swallowed. “Sam,” he said.

"Alright, then, Sam. You’ve got yourself a date. Call back on this number when we’re off the air."

Click.

Dean groaned, letting the handset slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

* * *

As soon as the show ended Dean rang back before he could change his mind.

"Sam!" The voice on the other end was clearly surprised. "I didn’t think you’d actually— Hello."

"You thought I was going to stand you up?"

A muffled, embarrassed laugh on the other end made Dean smirk.

"I, uh… Thought you were just some drunk, crank caller," Jacob admitted.

"Drunk? Usually, but not tonight. Crank caller? I’ll admit, I was going to be."

"So what made you change your mind?"

"You hung up on me."

Jacob laughed. “So, uh, when do you want to do dinner? Assuming you’re still interested, that is.”

"If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have called back."

"True," Jacob conceded.

"How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "Why not?"

"Alright."

"Do you like pizza?"

"I do, yes."

"Because there’s this little pizza place just opened across from Sunnyside Park—"

"Yes, I know the place."

"Seven o’clock?"

"Yes."

"I’ll see you there, then?"

"Yes."

"You’re pretty easy, you now that?" Dean grinned.

"I don’t have much of a social life, I’m afraid, and I always work the late shift!" There was a burst of awkward laughter, and then Jacob said, "I’m sorry. That came across badly."

"No, dude, I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes. Wait!"

"What?"

"How will I know it’s you?"

Dean thought about it for a moment, and then smirked. “You’ll know,” he said, and hung up.

Chapter Text

The next evening Jacob hovered outside the restaurant nervously. The last date he’d been on had been arranged by his elder brother, and that had been a disaster. He’d learned his lesson to never allow himself to be set up on a date again. And what if this was just a big joke? Sam did all but admit to thinking he was a conspiracy nut, after all. He shook his head. It was no wonder he was still single at his age, when he avoided any form of social interaction. He’d go in, and if it all blew up in his face then he’d hide himself away for the next ten years. If not, however… Maybe Sam would turn out to be a really nice guy. Maybe something in his life was about to go right, for once. Maybe… He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

"Can I help you?" a waitress asked him as he stood, looking rather lost, and looked around.

You’ll know, Sam had told him. But how would he know?

"Sir?"

"I’m supposed to be meeting someone here," he said.

"Oh. Do you have a table booked?"

"No. I mean, I don’t think so."

"What does your friend look like?"

"I have no idea."

He could see the wheels turn in her head. “What is it – some kind of blind date?”

"You could say that."

"So how do you know it’s her?"

"Him," Jacob corrected her quietly.

Her eyes widened but she didn’t look disgusted - in fact, she looked rather excited. ”Does he have a rose, or is that too girly?”

Jacob cast a glance at her name badge. “Becky, while I appreciate your help, all I have to go on is that I’ll know him when I see him. I just don’t know how.”

She linked her arm through his and grinned. “Let’s go and find him then, shall we?”

They walked through the restaurant together, while Jacob looked at everyone who was sitting alone. Nothing screamed I’m Sam at him, but then he didn’t know what he was looking for.

"Maybe he isn’t here yet?" he said to Becky.

"Maybe he’s at a quieter table through the back." When Jacob looked doubtful, she told him, "There’s no harm in looking!"

He nodded his agreement, and they moved past the doors leading to the toilets to the more secluded dining area. There were only three occupied tables out of the seven, and two of them were couples. The single man sitting on his own had his back to them, so he stepped forward. On the table in front of him was a Cyberman head from Doctor Who.

"I suppose that’s near enough a robot head," he smiled nervously.

The man turned around.

"Sam?" he asked, suddenly doubtful. There was a flicker of something in the man’s eyes, and he thought he’d gotten it wrong. "I’m sorry—"

"Jacob?" he grinned, looking him up and down, and there was now no trace of whatever it was he’d seen – doubt, maybe – for his eyes now held only a flirtatious twinkle.

He nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Well take a seat, man. Unless I don’t quite live up to your expectations," he said jokingly, but Jacob could detect the genuine worry beneath his words.

"I assure you I had no expectations of you, Sam," he informed him. "But if I had, you would have exceeded them." He didn’t add that Sam was by far the most beautiful man he’d ever been on a date with – his people skills weren’t that rusty.

Sam blushed. “Yeah, whatever man,” he said, stuttering slightly over his words.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Becky asked Jacob, and he nodded.

"Can I just have some water, please?"

"Of course!" she grinned, and turned to Sam. "And do you want another beer?"

"Yeah, thanks," he answered, leaning back in his seat as she picked up his empty glass.

Jacob eyed his date, thinking that they were dressed almost identically; jeans and a t-shirt, over which they wore an unbuttoned shirt, and they both wore necklaces round their necks – though while Sam’s was a proper pendant, Jacob’s was a ring on a piece of black cord.

"I wouldn’t have pegged you for the sci-fi type," Jacob said.

"Huh? Oh. No, I borrowed this from a friend. Charlie."

"An ex-boyfriend?" Jacob asked hesitantly.

"No!" Sam laughed. "Though Charlie is gay, she is very much into chicks.”

"Oh!" Jacob blushed. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t sweat it. It’s an easy enough mistake to make."

Jacob fingered his cutlery absently, desperate not to let the silence become awkward, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

"I’m glad you said you liked pizza," Sam said abruptly.

"Is there anyone who doesn’t?" Jacob smiled

"Yeah. My brother, Sam. He’s one of those health freaks. He’d come into a place like this and order two side salads as a main."

Jacob froze. “Your brother’s name is Sam?”

"Yeah, I just…" He trailed off, and Jacob could pinpoint the exact moment that he realised he’d been caught out. "Look, man, it’s not what you think, okay? You’ve got to let me explain."

Jacob nodded, and ‘Sam’ was clearly surprised at how willing he was to hear him out.

"You caught me out. We were on air, and people were listening, and I just panicked, I guess. My real name’s Dean. I was going to tell you, but then I figured if this turned out to be a disaster maybe it was better that you didn’t know my real name, and now you’re here and your gorgeous as hell and… Aw, fuck," he groaned, covering his face with his hand. "Now you’re going to think I’m a total freak and walk away. No, yeah, I get it. I’m a liar, how can you trust me after this? Just go."

"Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean said through his hand.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean dropped his hand and looked at him, and Jacob could see the self-loathing in his face that he could have fucked everything up so soon. The fact that this dinner was clearly important to the other man made him feel more confident about agreeing to this date.

"I’m not going to get mad at you, because that would be rather hypocritical of me. My name isn’t Jacob."

Dean frowned at him.

"Everyone knows me as Jacob. You’re now the only person who knows it’s not my real name."

"Then what…" Dean trailed off when Jacob held up a hand to silence him.

"My family would disown me if they knew how I am making my living, and I do not wish to be connected to them for our beliefs differ greatly. For those reasons I chose another, less conspicuous name for myself. You’ll forgive me if I don’t tell you my real name now."

Dean nodded. “So,” he said, aiming for and missing casual, “are we okay?”

"I don’t know, Dean. Is there anything else you’ve lied to me about?"

"What? No, I just—"

Jacob smirked.

"Don’t fuck with me, dude," Dean sighed.

Jacob chuckled. “We’re okay, Dean.”

"Good."

They both fell silent as Becky brought their drinks over.

"Are you guys ready to order?"

"My apologies, Becky," Jacob said. "We haven’t even looked at the menus yet."

"That’s okay. I’ll pop back over in a couple of minutes."

They both considered their menus in silence for a few minutes, before Jacob leaned forward. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” he said. “If you don’t believe, or aren’t prepared to at least question these things, why do you listen to my show?”

"The truth?" Dean grinned.

"That would be nice," Jacob smiled back.

"I like listening to you. Even though I think half of what you say is a steaming pile of shit, there’s just something nice about your voice."

"Thank you, Dean. You’ve successfully managed to both insult and compliment me in the same sentence."

Dean’s eyes widened. “Shit, I’m sorry! Sometimes I just don’t think before I speak.”

"No, I appreciate your honesty. If everyone shared the same opinions dinner conversation would be very limited. Though I do wish you had worded it more eloquently than ‘steaming pile of shit’."

Dean grimaced. “Sorry.”

"Have you had a chance to decide yet?" Becky asked, having reappeared at their table.

Dean looked at Jacob, who nodded. “Can I get the meat feast with extra pepperoni?” he asked. “And don’t bother with the salad.”

"Sure. And for you?"

"I believe I would like the Hawaiian."

"Oh, dude," Dean shook his head. "You can’t put fruit on a pizza, man. It’s just wrong."

Becky giggled as she walked away.

"So, I ask you for your name and the first one that pops into your head is that of your brother. Do I take it this means you are close?"

"Yeah. He’s a lawyer, so he’s often really busy, but we make a point of seeing each other as often as we can. And we always have lunch together one day a week."

"And what do you do?"

"Nothing that well-paid, unfortunately."

"Dean, you’re talking to someone who runs a radio talk show with a few hundred listeners."

"Fair point," Dean conceded. "I’m a mechanic." He shrugged. "It’s dirty and low-class but it’s enough to pay the bills."

"I’ve never been very good with my hands. I always wanted to be a carpenter, but I was dreadful at it." He laughed. "I had this dream that I would one day be able to design and build my own home. It’s ridiculous, I know."

But Dean was shaking his head. “You could still design it, though.”

"Maybe. But it’s just me, so I’m happy in my apartment for now. It’s tiny, but I can afford it."

"Dude, I know all about living in small apartments," Dean said. "When Sam was at uni we both shared this little one-bedroom place where I slept on the couch, because we needed the extra money we saved from not renting a two-bedroom apartment. I was working three jobs and Sam was studying all the time, so someone needed to pay all the bills, and the tuition costs, and—"

"You put your brother through university?" Jacob interrupted in surprise.

"Yeah. He got a scholarship, but it didn’t pay for everything."

"What about your parents?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realised he’d put his foot in it, for Dean’s face hardened. "I’m so sorry."

"Mum died a long time ago. House fire. Dad died in a car crash coming home from work when we were still in high school. I’m lucky they let me become Sam’s guardian, otherwise we’d have gotten split up. And they were good people. What about your family? You said you didn’t get on?"

"No. They are…" He sighed, trying to find the right words. "Very religious, overbearing bordering on oppressive, arrogant, greedy and manipulative," he said finally.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Damn.”

Jacob hummed. “I have a lot of brothers and sisters, but only a few of us escaped our Father’s clutches.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Jacob never did find out what because Becky brought their pizzas over at that point, and their conversation turned to lighter topics for the rest of the evening.

They stayed and chatted long after they’d finished eating, until Becky came over once again with the bill, shuffling uncomfortably as she’d been asked by her boss to request they leave so that other customers could be seated.

"Do you want a ride home?" Dean asked as they approached his car.

"No, thank you. I’m heading in early to the radio station to do some research."

"I can drop you there if you want?"

"Thank you, but no. I’d rather like to walk."

"Okay, if you’re sure."

"I had a really nice time tonight, Dean."

Dean visibly relaxed, and grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

The looked at each other, both unwilling to make the first move. Finally Jacob leaned for ward and kissed Dean but with too much force that he wound up head butting him slightly, though it didn’t matter for Dean’s hands were gripping his hips and pulling him even closer. When they parted, they were both slightly flushed.

"Right, well," Dean cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

"Castiel."

"Bless you."

Jacob laughed. “No, my real name – it’s Castiel.” He waited for the penny to drop.

"Milton?" Dean exclaimed after a moment.

Jacob nodded.

"Fuck… I'm sorry, dude."

"Does that change things?" he asked hesitantly.

"No. But now I get why you changed your name. I wouldn't want to be associated with a bunch of conservative televangelists either, even if they were my family."

"I’m glad. I should hate for this to be the end of… Well. Whatever this is."

"You don’t have to worry, Jacob. Your secret’s safe with me."

"If it’s just the two of us," Jacob said, "I wouldn’t mind if you called me Castiel."

"Is Cas okay?"

Jacob smiled. "Cas is fine."

"You know, your family painted you as the devil child."

Jacob laughed. “I know. And all because I hold more liberal beliefs - which ironically happen to be more closely aligned with the book they claim to follow - don't align with theirs, and I believe in aliens rather than some omnipotent being. If they knew I was gay they'd probably try to paint me as the anti-Christ.”

Their laughter faded away and they were left looking at each other, neither wanting to leave. Instead Jacob took Dean’s hand in his, and hesitantly rubbed his thumb across the back of his hand. Dean kissed him again.

"If I don’t go now, you’re not going to have a show because I’m going to tuck you into the back seat of my car and have my evil way with you," Dean warned.

"I wouldn’t be opposed to that idea."

"Neither would I usually, because I’m usually more of a one night stand kind of guy. But this isn’t just a one night stand."

"So we’re having a second date?"

"I don't know, Cas... Do you promise not to tell me stories of alien abductions?" Dean asked teasingly.

"Yes."

"Then yes, you do," Dean grinned.

"Do you like old sci-fi movies?" Jacob asked him.

Dean laughed. “What, you mean like The Creature from the Black Lagoon and It Came From Outer Space?”

Jacob knew his disappointment was written all over his face even though he tried to mask it. “It’s okay, I should have known you wouldn’t—”

"I love them."

Jacob stared at him. “You do?”

"You don’t ever tell my brother," Dean told him seriously.

"It’s a deal."

"I’ll call you after your show tonight, okay?"

Jacob nodded. “Okay.”

Dean gave him one last kiss before he climbed into his car, and Jacob started to walk. Dean honked at him as he drove past, and Jacob waved until the black car was out of sight. He smiled to himself, glad that he hadn’t let his bad experiences of Gabriel setting him up on dates with complete strangers stop him from following this one through.