This started as a oneshot I wrote for a friend, but after enough peer pressure, it's turned into a multichapter fic. Enjoy the Destiel goodness. ;)

It had been a rough couple of months for Dean Winchester. The freckled face mechanic has decided to start his own business, opening up his own mechanic shop downtown. Dean thought it would be awesome to be his own boss for a change, to work the hours he wanted to work, and on the cars he wanted to work on. However, he soon found out that it's not as easy as it looks and that he was working more hours now than he used to and was working on whatever car that came in the shop. He felt like he'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

He needed a break.

He needed to get laid.

Dean told his crew that he would be "out of town" for the weekend, that if they needed him, to not need him. He turned off his work phone and hid it in his kitchen cabinet so he wouldn't be tempted to check in at work. He called up his baby brother to see if he wanted to go out. He knew Sam would tell him he couldn't go. Ever since Sam and Jessica got together, Sam's bar days came to a screeching halt, but you can't blame an older brother for trying. So Dean sucked it up and went out on the town alone.

He went to Harvelle's Roadhouse first. He knew if there weren't any good looking women – or men – there then he'd at least be able to snag Jo, but the place was a bust. Nothing was tickling his fancy and Jo told him she was dating some guy named Garth. He didn't stay long, just the appropriate amount of time to make it look like he wasn't trying to booty call Jo.

Dean drove around until he found a little bar called The Crossroads. It looked hopeful. He walked in and found a pretty brunette behind the bar. He sat down and turned on his charming smile. "What can I get you, stranger?" she asked him in a slow drawl.

"I'll take a beer, a shot of whiskey… and your name."

The bartender tried to hide her eye roll, but Dean noticed. "The name's Meg," she told him before walking off to get his drinks.

Dean knew he'd get nowhere with her, so he started looking around the bar. For as many cars as there were in the parking lot, there weren't that many people in the place. He saw another pretty brunette over by the pool tables, playing a game with a smoking hot redhead. Dean smiled to himself. One of them was bound to fall for his charms, right?

Meg set his drinks down, bringing him out of his fantasies of a possible threesome. He smiled at her, set a twenty on the counter, and told her to keep the change. He downed his shot and grabbed his beer. He sauntered over to the girls, smiling when the redhead nudged her brunette friend and motioned to Dean.

"And how are you two lovely ladies doing tonight?"

The brunette scoffed and walked over to the pool table, lining up her cue to take a shot. The redhead smiled at him and moved closer to Dean. "You'll have to excuse my girlfriend," she said. "When Ruby gets drunk, she always gets offended when men hit on her."

"Girlfriend, huh?" Dean hoped for bisexual lesbians, if that's even considered a sexual orientation. Why was he feeling like a fish out of water? "Well, you can tell her I promise I won't hit on her. I mean, I would, because she's hot, but I don't want to upset her… or you…" Dean frowned, trying to figure out why his mouth wouldn't shut up.

The redhead smiled. "I'm Anna," she told him, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

"Dean," he told her as he shook her offered hand.

"Are you going fucking shoot?" Ruby hollered from the other end of the pool table.

Anna gave Ruby a stiff smile before walking over to take her shot. Ruby walked over to Dean slowly, sizing him up and making him feel very uncomfortable in the process. He had a strange feeling that the five foot tall girl standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest could hurt him, and that's in a fair fight where he fought back.

"I saw you checking out my girlfriend," she accused with a slight bite to her words.

"No, well, yeah, but I mean, no," Dean stumbled over his tongue.

"It's okay. She's hot." She looked him up and down again. "I tell you what: you're cute. You have soft features, kinda like a girl." Dean was too shocked to make any kind of retort. "I'll make you a bet: if you can win in a game against me, I'll let you have a night with her. However, if I win, you give me a hundred bucks."

"You're betting a night with your girlfriend and if you win, all you get is a hundred bucks?"

"You're right. Make it three hundred."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, anything about how batshit crazy this chick was, but he happened to look up and see Anna standing at the end of the pool table, slowly stroking her hand up and down the pool stick. "You got it," were the words that came out of his mouth even though he was positive that's not what he meant to say.

His mouth was going to get him into a lot of trouble tonight, he just knew it.

And a pool game and three hundred dollars later, he was right.

Ruby tried to get him to play again, only for two hundred this time, but Dean kept his mouth shut, shook his head, and walked out. He quickly got into his Impala and peeled out of the parking lot. After checking his phone, he realized it was late and he knew the only people that would come home with him were probably also going to puke in the floor board of his car. He wanted to get fucked, but not like that.

As he pulled up into the garage of his small two bedroom house, he promised himself that tomorrow night he would do better, he wouldn't be stupid, and he would get laid.


Twenty-four hours later, Dean was sitting back in his garage after having another horrible night out. He tried hitting up a couple of gay bars in hopes of maybe having better luck with the guys than he did with the girls the night before. However, he struck out again. He sat there staring at the far wall of his garage, not really looking at all the tools he had hanging there, but more past them, hoping he could find the answer to where his life went wrong in the empty peg holes.

He found nothing, but the fact that his neighbor still hadn't returned his hedge trimmer.

Dean got out of his car and went inside. He contemplated rubbing one out in the shower, but even that had lost the fulfillment it once brought. Once he was clean and in a pair of boxers, he opened a beer and sat down on the couch, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels. The only thing he found was late night TV's penchant for phone sex commercials. He felt his dick twitch and shook his head.

"We are not going to fucking call a phone sex operator. What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his lap.

He changed the channel only to find the same commercial playing, advertising its discretion and not having to wait long for a representative to take your call. His dick twitches again at the sight of the sexy silhouettes on the screen.

"The fuck did I just say?"

He turned off the TV and got up, going into his bedroom and getting on his laptop. There was bound to be something online that could occupy his time until he finished his beer.

"You've got to be shitting me…"

The stupid site Dean always goes to in order to waste time had an ad for the phone sex service on the side of the page. With his dick getting hard now, Dean knew he had to do something. He calmly set his laptop down, walked over to his dresser, grabbed his wallet, and walked back over to his bed. He looked at his phone and decided that if he had enough battery power to have a decent phone conversation, then he'd call.

His phone was fully charged.

"Well, if that ain't a sign, I don't know what is…"

He looked at the screen and found the number. He dialed it and scooted down in his bed, turning the speaker on and setting it on his chest. He rested his hands on his stomach, twirling his thumbs as the phone rang. An answering service picked up, telling him in a voice so sultry that it made him laugh, "Press one if you'd like to talk to a naughty, horny girl. Press two if you'd like to talk to a dirty, sexy hunk. Press three if you'd like to be surprised."

Dean smirked, pressing three. He figured if he was already living on the edge, might as well go the whole nine, right?

"Before we surprise you with the best time of your life, we're going to need your credit card. Please enter your sixteen digit credit card number right now."

"I knew you only wanted me for my money…" Dean mumbles as he puts in his credit card number.

"Thank you, baby," the voice told him once he was done. Dean sighed, shaking his head. What was he doing?

"Hey, you sexy beast," a rough voice greeted him.

Dean waited a beat. "Oh, this isn't a recording?"

The man chuckled. "No, I'm the real deal, baby."

"Dean," he told him. One thing Dean didn't like was to be called 'baby'. Baby was his car, and he wasn't a car… though he did thoroughly enjoy bring rode... Of course, thinking about it now, he probably shouldn't have used his real name. "athan."

"I'm sorry?" the guys asked, clearly confused.

"My name is Deanathan," Dean tried to say convincingly, but who in the hell would be named Deanathan?

Dean could tell that the guy was trying to hold back his laughter. "Alright… Deanathan. You can call me, Jimmy. How are you tonight?"

Dean opened his mouth to give some kind of overly sexy smart ass comment, but he decided that if he was going to waste his money on something like this, he might as well get his money's worth. "I can't seem to relax. I was hoping you could help me with that," Dean said, waiting for the guy's response.

"Oh, I would love to help you with that."

Dean's body was reacting to the man's voice. His dick was getting hard listening to the gravelly sound coming from his phone. "How would you help me relax?"

Jimmy groans. "I'd start by stripping you of your clothes… slowly… very slowly. Then I'd get you to lay face down on the bed and give you a full body massage. I'd straddle the backs of your thighs, rubbing my hard cock against your ass, while I rubbed you down with some warm oil, working all the kinks and knots out of your shoulders and back."

Dean started rubbing himself through his boxers. He realized what he was doing and where he was and quickly got out of the poly-cotton blend that was restraining him from standing at full attention. "Oh yeah?"

"Oh, yeah… I'd massage those hot thighs… down your legs. Then I'd make you roll over onto your back." Dean was liking where these images in his head were going. "I'd straddle those thighs again, rubbing my cock against your big cock as I massaged that amazing chest of yours."

Dean pictured a very attractive dark haired man straddling him, rubbing on him, rutting against him. Dean pictured himself rubbing on his chest, getting his hand all oiled up before grabbing the dark haired man's dick. He would grab Dean's dick, stroking it in the same rhythm Dean had. It would get to be too much for the man sitting on top of him and soon his head would fall back and he would lean back, bracing himself on Dean's slick thighs. Dean would reach up and dig his fingers into the man's taught skin of his stomach, loving how smooth he felt under his rough hands.

The man would eventually push Dean's hand away, moving down Dean's body so that he can take him into his mouth, sucking him hard and taking him deep. Dean would run his hands through the man's hair, gripping it hard at the back to stop him from moving so he could fuck his mouth. The man would moan deep in the back of his throat and it would almost send Dean spiraling into orgasmic oblivion, but Dean would pull him away. He wasn't finished with the man just yet. Dean would get the man on his back, throwing his legs over his shoulders as he returned the favor, taking the man's dick into his mouth and taking him as far as he could go all while finger his ass. Dean wanted him ready because he was going to pound him into the mattress before the night was through.

Dean finally couldn't take any more. He needed to be inside of him and he needed to be inside of him now. As he slide in, he tried to be gentle at first, letting him get acclimated to the size of his dick, but the man was so tight and warm around him that he couldn't help but thrust into him with wanton abandon. The man cried out Dean's name in pleasure, clawing at his chest, gasping, moaning. Dean grabbed the man's dick in his hand, stroking him as fast as he could without losing his own rhythm. He needed him to come before he did. It's just a courtesy Dean bestowed upon all his sex partners.

It wasn't long before the man was coming, squirting come all over his own chest. Dean tried to hold out as long as he could, but the man tightened around him and Dean shoved himself as far as he could inside of the dark haired man spread before him before coming so hard he saw stars.

It was at that moment, when Dean came, that he realized he'd verbalized everything he'd just pictured. The man on the other end of the phone, Jimmy, was panting hard against the speaker. "That… that was… you're good," Jimmy managed lamely.

Dean chuckled. "Thanks," he said, looking down at his phone and realized he came on it. He scrunched up his nose as he grabbed his phone, but it slipped out of his hand. In a flailing attempt to grab his phone before it hit the floor, Dean ended up ending the call. He shook his head with a sigh. "Probably for the best," he said, thinking about how awkward that 'goodbye' would've been.

He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself, and his phone, up before getting in bed and getting the best night's sleep he'd had in the past few months.


When Dean woke up the next morning, he had a little extra pep in his step. Phone sex wasn't as great as real sex, but it did the trick. He decided to spend his day driving the back roads of town, something he hadn't done in a really long time. It had been far too long since him and Baby had spent time together. After making this decision, he knew he needed coffee. Even with the extra pep, Dean was still not a morning person. He went into the kitchen to make some coffee and saw that he was out. He didn't really like the idea of going all the way to the grocery store just for coffee just so he could come back home and make him a cup. By then he wouldn't need any. Of course, he also detested coffee shops. He found they were all full of pretentious douchbags with laptops and Instagram; though the coffee shop on the corner down the street from his shop made some damn good blueberry muffins.

He figured the coffee shop was the lesser of the two evils and drove down to it, avoiding his shop altogether. Dean walked in and got in line. He figured out what he wanted and how to tell them since they were like Starbucks and used a bunch of stupid words to describe sizes. However, when he got up to the counter, he told the dark haired barista that he wanted a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin.

"What's the name?" the man asked him.

Dean chuckled, looking down at his wallet as he pulled out his credit card from last night. "Deanathan," Dean told him.

Dean didn't notice the man blush a bright read and hurry off. He was too busy paying for his overpriced breakfast. After he was given his receipt, Dean walked over to the window, looking out at his black beauty gleaming in the sun.

"Deanathan," the dark haired man called out.

Dean walked over and got his order, smirking and winking at the cute dark haired, blue-eyed man, immediately replacing him with the faceless man in his fantasy from last night. "Thanks," he said, with a cocky little smirk on his face.

Dean contemplated asking him out, but he already had a date with the beautiful beast sitting out front. Maybe another time, Dean thought. As he walked out of the coffee shop, he brought the coffee cup up to take a sip and noticed writing on the side. Dean waited until he got to his car before he took a good look at what it said. He didn't feel like getting run over today.

Call me for a great time…

Dean dropped his blueberry muffin on the ground as he stared at the little coffee shop on the corner with a mixture of shock, horror, and arousal… most definitely arousal.

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