deancasbigbang:

Title: I Will Always Love You
Author: whiskygalore
Artist: miggles-scribbles
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas (minor Sam/Jessica, past Dean/Gordon)
Wordcount: 35000
Warnings/Tags: Alternate universe, actor Dean, bodyguard Cas, mention of past dubcon, Dean’s self-worth issues, potty mouthed boys, a few homophobic slurs, hurt/comfort, Dean likes to snuggle, Cas is happy to oblige.
Posting: 10/24/2018

Summary:

With his manager/constant sidekick/P.A./ginormous little brother finally marrying his pregnant fiancée and whisking her away on a well-deserved honeymoon, Dean is headed to Scotland all on his own for a two month location shoot. Sam, never a man not to micromanage, has arranged for a P.A. to keep Dean organised in his absence and, thanks to a little emotional blackmail, a security consultant to watch Dean’s back.

Cas, the bodyguard, may be hot, but he’s also grumpy and thinks, probably rightly, that Dean’s a complete idiot. Plus, the poor guy’s got his hands full with Dean’s jealous cast-mates, asshole reporters, over-enthusiastic fangirls, and crazy internet stalkers, so, really, it’s a good job Dean’s not Whitney Houston because falling for his bodyguard is too cliched even for him. Right?

---

“Yeah…no, Sammy.”

“Dean, this isn’t up for debate.”

Dean’s response freezes on his tongue as the waiter places their breakfast plates down on the table, first Sam’s and then Dean’s. Figures he’d want to feed Dean’s giant little brother first. No one wants to anger a hungry Sasquatch.

“I’m not sure what makes you think you’re the boss of me,” Dean grumbles, once the waiter has walked away. He picks up his spoon, and scoops up an unappealing glob of oatmeal, scowling at it with the kind of venom he usually reserves for paparazzo.

Sam rolls his eyes and picks up a piece of bacon, deliberately waggling it in Dean’s direction as he speaks. The delicious bacon-y scent wafts across the table distracting Dean from Sam’s first few words. The end of the sentence is enough for him to guess the gist though. “—insurance for the studio, and with the crap on social media, and—“

“Social Media?” Dean snorts. “Fuck, you don’t seriously believe any of those twitter trolls are capable of dragging themselves away from their computers long enough to actually act on their crazy, do you?”

Sam crunches his perfectly crisped rasher of bacon, obnoxiously and unnecessarily loudly, and gives Dean a long hard look before replying, “They usually tweet from their cellphones, Dean, which y’know…are mobile. And—“ he carries on, ignoring Dean’s attempt to interrupt, “some of the messages you’ve received since Gordon outed you are even freakier than normal.”

Dean sighs and jabs his spoon sullenly at his oatmeal, his appetite all but deserting him. Pamela still hasn’t forgiven him for the Gordon Walker clusterfuck. Personally, he’d rather forget about the whole affair. For more than one reason. “Freakier than the account dedicated to my freckles?” he asks, trying to deflect.

“Freakier than the one dedicated to your bowlegs,” Sam shoots back, but any hope that his brother would be steered off subject quickly dissipates with his next words. “I called in a couple of favors, got an FBI agent who works at the BAU to take a look, and she thinks we have cause to worry.”

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean says, dropping his spoon into his bowl, and scrubbing his hand across his scruffy beard. “You didn’t have to do that. This crap is nothing new. I’ve had wacko fans before.”

“Dean, I’m not talking about fans that want to marry you and have your green eyed babies. These are threats. Serious, specific, threats. Peel-your-skin-off-and-carve-your-heart-from-your-chest threats.”