"This town is not suffering from some love-gone-wrong effect. It's suffering from hunger. Starvation, to be exact-Specifically...famine."
"Great. That's freaking great. I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food."
"Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something-Sex, attention, drugs, love..."
"Well, that explains the puppy-lovers that Cupid shot up."
"Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it."
"Okay, but what about you?" Castiel shifted awkwardly, his eyes dropped to the floor and he took a step back from Dean. "Cas?"
"Dean I-" Castiel shook his head and when he looked at Dean again his eyes were cloudy and dark. He surged forward and Dean stumbled back into the table, barely having enough time to shove his hand between them and stop the other man from kissing him.
"Whoa, whoa, what the hell Misha?"
"Jensen, you're ruining the scene!" Misha wined beneath Dean's hand. "We're supposed to kiss, I'm hungry for you."
"Bullshit." Dean shoved Misha back and the actor rolled his eyes at Dean's unprofessionalism. "That wasn't in the script I read."
Misha pulled a stack of papers from the inside of Castiel's trench coat, his eyes scanned the lines and as he flipped through the pages. "Castiel looked at Dean seductively. Unable to deny his desire, the angel succumbed, he gave himself to the hunter and they sank into the throes of fiery passion."
"Give me that!" Dean snapped and ripped the script out of Misha's hands and read the horrifying words himself. "And then Castiel caressed Dean's clavicle. "This is wrong," said Dean.
"Then I don't want to be right," replied Castiel, in a husky voice."
"I told you." Misha said smugly.
"What the hell is this? This is wrong on so many levels," Dean shivered and tossed the script into the trash much to Misha's grievance. "What were you thinking, Chuck?"
The writer shrunk back in his chair and held the master script up to hid behind. "I didn't know what else to get Becky for Christmas…So we co-wrote the script."
"This is disgusting."
"You should have seen the first draft," Misha said absently, picking the script of the garbage. "It was much more full of uh- brotherly love."
Dean glared at Becky and gave a nervous smile. "There's something wrong with you."
"Well," Misha coughed and patted Dean on the back, "sorry Jensen but you have a contract."
"There is no way I'm-" but Misha already planted his lips on top of Dean's, wrapping his arm around his waist and forcing him to dip down against the kiss.
"There, that wasn't so bad," Misha smiled smugly and wiped his lips on his shirt sleeve. Then as if nothing had just happened, he walked away; apparently he was done with script reading and was off to probably write another stalker letter to his make believe wife.
"I just…" Dean trailed off. "I just hate this place so much."