Dean hadn’t been prepared for Fright Night. Granted, he wasn’t a novice to acting in movies but this was his first really big break. Before he had played small side roles and last year he was even the best friend character. If this movie was a success though, Dean’s name would be out there as a successful lead actor. The roles he would be offered would only get better and better.
He had the lines memorized and knew his character’s motivation. The scenes they shot over the last couple of weeks had gone off without a hitch.
This week was creature week though and Dean was out of his element. His character was poisoned by the big bad and he had transformed into a monster. He spent hours in makeup getting prosthetics and heavy makeup applied to get the right monstrous effect.
Fighting the urge to wipe the goop off of his face, Dean made his way to the set. The first few minutes went swimmingly. Dean was nailing everything. As filming continued, his body felt like it was getting heavier. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear the cloudiness from them.
“Wait,” he called out. “Callie, it’s…” A wave of dizziness swept over him and he collapsed.
Opening his eyes, Dean was confused by his surroundings. Rich, warm light played across light wood walls. He could tell he was laying on a bed but it wasn’t the one in his trailer or hotel room. Pushing himself to his elbows, Dean gathered the strength to sit up the rest of the way.
“You should really rest,” a rough voice said from beside the bed.
Dean whipped his head around and immediately regretted it as he fought the urge to throw up.
“The doctor said you were suffered from slight heat stroke, probably due to the lights and heavy costuming. He also said it seemed like you hadn’t been getting proper nutrition. That seemed odd to me since I know we provided both catered meals and craft services. Unless someone was purposefully not eating, which I wouldn’t recommend with this type of role.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “So I haven’t been eating three square meals a day. Who are you to tell me what to do?”
“My apologies, I hadn’t introduced myself. Castiel Novak, executive producer.” The man smiled.
Dean’s jaw dropped. “And head of Novak Studios.”
Castiel laughed and shook his head. “I’m co-chairman with my brother. Junior co-chairman at that.” The smile faded from his face. “But this is concerning, even to a junior co-chairman, Dean. Is there a reason you aren’t eating? You might consider it a personal question but it’s imperative to me that all of my employees from the directors to the actors to the boom mic operators are healthy and happy.”
“Dude, I’m fine.” Dean refused to look Cas in the eye. “I just stay busy and sometimes forget to eat. I’ve never been in costuming like that for a role and didn’t realize how hot it would be.”
“Liar,” Castiel interjected. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not purposefully skipping meals.”
“That’s acting,” Dean said, deflecting from the question. “Just like modeling. Have to be in good shape. It’s life.”
“No,” Castiel flatly said. “You work on my sets, you take care of yourself. Simple as that. And I’m sure if you have your lawyer look over your contract, they’ll point out that little detail. I believe it’s in section 5, subsection F.”
Dean froze and mentally noted that he needed to read his contract a little more closely.
“Plus,” Castiel continued, “I think well-built, realistic men are better looking than the super-sculpted men. Who wants a statue in their bed anyways?” He stared off into space for a moment before laughing to himself.
“And what if I don’t take care of myself? Are you going to fire me?” Dean shot back.
Castiel lifted one of his eyebrows, leveling Dean with his even stare. “No, Dean, I don’t subscribe to the method of throwing away people so quickly. I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on you.”
A shiver traveled down Dean’s spine. Without thinking he blurted out, “What if I’d like that?”
Castiel chucked, eyes darkening. “Dean, you don’t need to pass out to get my attention. Trust me, you already had it.”
A flush stained Dean’s cheeks. “Uh, I...I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Be honest with me,” Castiel said, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning into Dean’s space. “That’s all I will ever truly ask from you. If you don’t like something, tell me. If you need something, tell me. Clear and open communication is the number one thing I value in any relationship, whether it’s business, platonic, romantic or sexual.” He reached out, hand hovering a few inches from Dean’s face.
Impulsively, Dean pushed his face into Cas’ hand. “I can work with that.”
A gummy smile broke across Cas’ face before he surged forward and kissed Dean. Leaning back slightly, his eyes searched Dean’s. “Also, I should mention that, if we decide to pursue something, any decision about your work future will be out of my hands and will be decided by the board of governors of the studio. I need you to know that you will not be punished for any decisions in your private life.”
“Enough talking Cas,” Dean murmured. “You’re not an asshole. Noted. Now more kissing.”
Laughing, Cas leaned back in. “You’re the boss.”