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Dean Winchester knew of Castiel Novak. He was the head of the accounting department, and he had singlehandedly made his floor one of the most productive in the entire building. So yes, Dean had heard his name thrown around a time or two. Rumor had it that Mr. Novak was a machine of a man, dedicated to his job, and unforgiving of mistakes. Despite ruling the accounting department with an iron fist, Dean had never heard a bad work spoken about the man. He seemed to be loved by everyone who worked under him, and he easily made enough money that he could surely get rid of that god awful Lincoln Continental in the parking lot, but that was another issue altogether. If the worst thing Dean could say about the man was that his car sucked, then Dean figured that despite rarely interacting with the man, he was alright.
Other than the rare time someone brought his name into a conversation, Dean never really thought much about Mr. Novak. He had a lot of other things on his mind, namely running the marketing department. The flood of interns coming in and out every few months was almost a fulltime job by itself. So, the few memories that he had of the man were not exactly memorable…well, there was one time, almost a year ago, that Dean had told a particularly funny joke and Novak had just stared at him blankly until Dean had awkwardly cleared his throat and left. After that, Dean had never really gone out of his way to talk to Novak, and Novak had never really made an effort to talk to Dean.
All that changed one afternoon.
It all started when Dean was desperate for a cup of coffee. Meg Masters, his slightly prickly but altogether resourceful secretary, had just left on her lunch leaving him to fend for himself. He could have easily waited until she got back, but he wanted that sweet nectar of the gods right then, damnit. With a heavy sigh, Dean unburied himself from a stack of papers and began the long trek to the 7th floor break room. Could he have gotten his coffee faster if he would have just used the break room on his floor? Yes. But that coffee machine was unable to produce a cup that didn’t taste like burnt toast. The 7th floor, which just so happened to be on the accounting foor, recently went through a large renovation. The official story was that a wiring issue was what started the fire that led to the room being gutted, but Dean had a different idea. What better way to get management to fix the place than setting the whole thing on fire? During the dark times in his life, namely when he had to drink the black sludge from the evil coffee machine, Dean considered doing the same with his 5th floor break room. Unfortunately, the noise of the subsequent construction would make it not worth it. Almost.
Dean didn’t feel strange using the accounting floors break room, people jumped between floors all of the time so no one would look twice at seeing Dean in their midst. There was already a pot ready, bless these fine people, so he poured a generous helping into his mug and topped it off with a splash of cream. Mission completed, Dean made the winding trek to the nearest empty table and settled in for a quick break. No one gave him a second look, and for that he was grateful. Half of these people probably didn’t even know he was a department head.
Two ladies were at the table next to his, eating their lunch and relaxing. Between bites of their food, Dean listened to them gossip about their floor. Who was flirting with who, and who was goofing off at their desks. Just normal, boring stuff.
Until…
“Did you see Mr. Novak this morning?” one piped in from between sips of her bottled water. “God…He’s just so…” she groaned in frustration.
Deans ears perked up. Had he spilled something on himself? Ha he forgotten to zip up his pants? He leaned a little further in his seat so he could get a little closer.
He could see the other woman smiling out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, if you think I didn’t notice that his tie matched his eyes you’d be mistaken. God, how can someone look so…”
“Sexy in a trench coat?”
The other one laughed. “I’d never actually wished someone in a trench coat would flash me, but hot damn…I think I’d make an exception.”
They both broke out in giggles and Dean was left in a state of confusion.
With a frown, he leaned back in his chair and stopped paying attention to the two women. He was no stranger to getting hit on in the workplace, he was fully aware of his good looks and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. But Novak? He wasn’t exactly a sex god. Dean, being the young bisexual man that he was, would have surely noticed if Novak was hot. Dean tried to think back to all of the times they’d interacted. Sure, the guys voice was deep and raspy, and he had blue eyes, but there was absolutely nothing appealing about the guy, right? His suits were basic, a little too large on his frame, and his shoes were rarely the level of shiny that you’d expect of someone in his position. He came into work most days with his hair relatively tame, but somehow by the end of the day he looked like he had just woken up. Other than his work performance, there was nothing that stood out about the guy.
He left the break room a few minutes later. It wasn’t until that moment that Dean had even thought to give him a second look. Novak’s lips were just on the bad side of chapped, and if Dean was being honest, his eyebrows could do with a bit of extra grooming. After a week of staring critically at Novak, Dean was only able to determine two things. One, the man needed to go shopping desperately. His closet was probably full of 5 versions of the same black suit, and two ties: both blue, but one solid blue and the other striped. Second, his staff adored him. Practically worshiped the ground he walked on.
Novak’s secretary was a young man named Alfie, he was straight out of school and eager to do his job. The poor boy was constantly falling over himself to do whatever Novak asked of him. He was a stammering, blushing mess and Dean honestly would have fired him ages ago. One day, Dean was on his way out of the office for an early lunch, having decided that the salad he had packed just wasn’t going to do it that day, when the elevator opened at the next floor and in stepped Novak and his secretary. Dean smiled and gave Novak a nod, which was returned with a curt nod of Novak’s own, and then Alfie pulled the mans attention to his schedule and Dean was forgotten. He watched Novak discretely, trying desperately to see what those woman had found so mind blowingly attractive about the guy, but he just couldn’t see past the slumped posture and bed head.
And then something miraculous happened. Alfie made a comment about Novak’s schedule, Dean couldn’t recall what had been said for the life of him, and then Novak smiled at his young secretary. His whole face lit up and it was like a switch flipped in Deans mind and he just couldn’t not see Novak’s kind smile and the way his gums peeked out from behind his lips, and the way his skin crinkled around his kind eyes, and the deep chuckle that made its way out of Novak’s chest.
It was all downhill from there. Suddenly, Dean was noticing things he had never noticed before. His features were sharp and angled, his eyes clear and blue. After a frankly creepy amount of staring, Dean had finally been able to pull his attention away from Novak’s eyes and see that he had a small white scar that split the end of an eyebrow. That scar combined with the constant serious expression on his face made him look fucking dangerous and it did nothing to tamper down Deans interest. The lips that Dean had once considered too chapped, now called to him to put some moisture back into them with his own mouth. And god, one day Novak had skipped his morning shave and came into the office with a dark shadow of stubble on his cheeks and it was all Dean could focus on all day.
It was hard not to notice that he was also probably the nicest person Dean had ever met. Dean once watched him spend 10 minuets in the break room, on his hands and knees, helping a woman find an earing that had came out of her ear without even being asked. He saw her distress, got up and walked over to her to find out what had happened, and then got on all fours. After the earing was found and Novak had left, there was nothing anyone talked about other than how great the man was, and if he listened hard enough, he could hear the whispers of women gushing over the way his slacks had hugged his butt as he had looked under the break room couch. Dean had wholeheartedly agreed. On a scale of 1-10, Novak’s ass was a solid 13. If the guy would only wear clothes that fit him…
Novak didn’t really talk much. Especially not to Dean, which was understandable because the Accounting floor and the Marketing floor were on different levels, but still…there had been a few times where they were in the same meeting and Dean had smirked at Novak the same way he would smirk at some of the women that he met at bars, but Novak would just blink at him and turn away. He tried not to take it personally, since Alfie seemed to be the only one in the entire building that was able to get a smile and actual conversation out of the man, but it was a little hard not to. That smirk was usually a sure fire way to get anyone to talk to him, but Novak was apparently immune to it. Which was ok. Really. Dean didn’t mind one bit. After the meeting, Novak was up and out of his seat, leaving Alfie to scramble after him and Dean wondering if he had personally offended the man.
It wasn’t that he was rude. Everyone spoke of his good manners, his intelligence, of his proficiency, and how he expertly navigated his job. For those who had been blessed enough to be able to see past the generally ill-fitting suits, they spoke of his handsome face and broad shoulders.
A few brave souls had tried to talk to him, to bat their eyelashes and flirt, but they never seemed to get too far. He was just too serious, or perhaps they hadn’t flirted hard enough for the man to even realize what they were doing. That was one thing Dean had realized. The man was completely and utterly oblivious to anything subtle. If you wanted something from him, you couldn’t beat around the bush, you had to tell him exactly what you wanted. That was where the problem lied. Dean couldn’t just go up to someone and tell them that he was attracted to them. He just couldn’t. Charlie would start ranting about Deans father and how his hyper masculinity and Marine background somehow indoctrinated Dean out of being able to discuss his feelings, but Dean wasn’t sure about that. He just wasn’t the kind of guy who could open themselves up like that.
But back to Castiel Novak. Dean had always seen the appeal in the strong silent types, and Mr. Novak fit that description to a T. He hardly spoke unless it was important, he was polite to everyone but no one dared cross him, and he constantly gave out the vibe that he was unavailable. The man had even somehow got out of the company outings, which was strange because when Dean had skipped out on a few, Mr. Adler had scolded him for it. One such outing had been a pool party complete with a BBQ and tons of alcohol, but as much as Dean would have loved to see Mr. Novak there in a swimsuit, the man had never shown. Rumor had it that Novak had special permission to skip out on the outings, but Dean was sure that he was just so intimidating that no one dared try to force him to come. Not even Adler was that daring.
Dean would have been content to admire from afar, if it weren’t for two incidents that cemented Deans pathetic crush on Mr. Novak.
They had an interdepartmental meeting scheduled for 2pm, and Dean was just gathering up his papers when his secretary arrived to join him. It was a small mercy that he wasn’t the one doing a presentation that day. Dean hated standing up in front of those snobs and trying to tell them how much money he was going to make the company. By chance, he happened to be one of the last two to arrive to the meeting, and as he glanced around for a seat he saw that his options were Mr. Adler, or Mr. Novak. It was no contest. Dean slid into the seat next to Novak and gave him a friendly nod, which was returned, before clearing his throat and asking Novak about his day.
“I’ve been well, thank you for asking.” he had replied. “And yours?”
Dean smiled at the man, flashing his perfect teeth. “I’m doing great. You have any plans for the weekend?”
“No.” he replied shortly, eyes never leaving Deans.
Despite feeling like a specimen under examination, Dean hadn’t let his smile falter and even dared to throw Novak one of his patented winks. “Well, if you’re not doing anything, do you want to-”
A throat was cleared from the back of the room, and Novak’s attention was no longer on Dean. He let his breath go in a whoosh and internally cursed Chuck for not giving him just few more minutes to talk to Novak before he started the meeting. But Dean had no such luck. Chuck began his presentation immediately, going on and on about projections and numbers, and Dean’s interest was lost almost immediately. He was in the middle of spinning his ballpoint pen around his knuckle when Adler coughed loudly enough to startle Dean, sending the pen to the floor.
Dean sighed, and pushed his chair back to pick the damn thing up, but when his hand was less than a foot from the pen, Another hand appeared and beat him to it. As the tan hand of Mr. Novak gripped around the plastic, the white cuff of the sleeve slid up his wrist, revealing black ink. Tattoos. Novak had tattoos. Possibly a sleeve by the look of it. Dean had been too shocked to do anything other than sit back up and lock eyes with Novak. His incredibly blue, intense eyes. Dean had known that Novak had nice eyes, he’d seen the effect his gaze had on Alfie, and had even lost himself in that vivid blue before, but he hadn’t been ready to be so close to them. The harsh lighting of the conference room, and the short distance between their faces, made every single freckle of color in Novak's eyes stand out. Oh god, Novak was still holding his pen out to Dean and Dean still hadn’t taken it. Dean let out a rush of air, like he had been punched in the gut, and drew back sharply. With a quick thanks to Novak, Dean took his pen from he outstretched palm and did his best to avoid looking at Novak for the rest of the meeting.
He couldn’t stop thinking of the black lines he had seen on Novak’s wrist. Couldn’t stop imagining where the ink ended. Did he have one sleeve? Two? Did he have tattoos anywhere else? He had always had a fascination with ink, he had a tattoo on his chest to prove it, but to see a guy with Novak’s looks that had tattoos…it was almost too much for his brain to take. Novak, who was so buttoned up and proper, who never wore anything other than a suit (even on casual Friday), had tattoos. This man had a very possible wild side.
The second incident had done nothing but cement his pathetic crush on the man he had rarely spoken too.
Being the head of marketing, it was his often his duty to call and check up on the businesses that regularly imported Sandovers iron. It may not have been in his job description, and he could have easily delegated the task to one of his many employees, but he found that the personal touch had won him more than one mans loyalty. Most of the time, there wasn’t a language barrier. Someone overseas always knew English.
Until his conference call to a small Russian contracting company.
He was only given 15 minutes notice that their translator was out for the day, and no one else spoke English well enough to be able to hold a meeting with him. Dean sure as hell didn’t know Russian, but he had to make that call since they had canceled a shipment of iron already and Dean had to make sure they weren’t going with another company. He put out a frantic call to HR and begged for a translator. Sandover always had someone that knew a language, and they were paid extra just to be on hand to translate whenever something came up. He only hoped that Russian wasn’t the exception, but HR assured him that they would send someone down immediately.
Dean got the surprise of his life when exactly 4 minutes later, Mr. Novak had walked through the door. At first, he had thought Novak was lost. It wasn’t too common, but every once in a while someone wandered to the wrong floor in search of a certain department. This was not the case.
Novak reached out his hand. “Mr. Winchester. I’ve been told that you are in need of a translator.”
Dean swallowed thickly, caught off guard by the appearance of Novak in his office, and shook his hand with a firm grip. “Yes. Please come in, take a seat.”
He unbuttoned his suit coat before taking a seat. “Thank you.”
This was going to be an issue. There was no way he was going to be able to sit here and listen to Novak’s deep voice speaking in Russian for the next half hour. So what if he had a tiny, almost insignificant, language kink. Who didn’t? Dean would challenge anyone to listen to an attractive man or woman speaking French and not come out the other side a bit hot under the collar. And Russian, while not the most romantic, was still sexy as hell. Dean blamed that on his fascination with action movies that heavily featured the Russian mafia. Combine that with Novak’s deep voice and Dean was definitely going to have a problem. He had to clear his throat before he was able to relax his shoulders and lean back in a way that he hoped looked inviting. “I hope I’m not taking away from important work, Mr. Novak.”
His striking blue eyes met Dean. “Please call me Castiel. We are equals, are we not?”
Dean’ could feel his cheeks heat up and he prayed to whoever was listening that it wasn’t enough for Castiel to notice. “Yes. Call me Dean.”
“Dean.” He repeated with a nod and Deans insides were turning to liquid. “I am glad for any reason to get away from the desk. Please don’t think you are inconveniencing me. It is nice to be able to speak in my first language every once in a while.”
That surprised Dean. “Your first language?”
“Yes. I was born in Russia. My father was American and we made the move when I was young.”
Dean took a second to appreciate the idea of Castiel with a thick Russian accent. It was definitely an appealing image. He cleared his throat an leaned forward, smiling at Castiel. “I don’t know any Russian, but I do know some American Sign Language…” Thank god for Sammy’s wife Eileen. “Enough to hold a conversation at least.”
Was it just Deans imagination, or did Castiel look impressed? “I’ve always wanted to learn ASL.”
Dean licked his lips and met Castiel’s eyes. “I can teach you a few things.” He cleared his throat. “If you want.”
Castiel’s full lips tilted up in a small smile, and he opened his mouth to reply, but it was then that the ringing notification that warned them of an incoming call sounded from the conference phone.
Dean smiled at Castiel and cocked an eyebrow at Castiel. When Cas gave him a nod, he pressed the button and began the call. The whole thing passed in a blur, and it was way too soon that the call disconnected and Castiel was standing to leave. After he had thanked Castiel at least three times, Dean collapsed into his office chair and put his head into his hands. He had spent the entire call distracted by the fluent Russian tumbling out of Castiel’s mouth. He was sure that Castiel had reworded everything he said because if he hadn’t, he would have definitely lost the contract. There was no way that Castiel hadn't walked out of the office under the impression that Dean was a complete idiot who didn’t deserve his job.
When Dean went home that night and collapsed bonelessly into bed, it came to no surprise that his dreams were filled with the strong features of Castiel’s face, and a deep litany of Russian that Dean would never be able to comprehend.
Ever since then, Castiel had always been in the back of Deans mind. Whenever he walked into Sandover, he would wonder if he was going to see Castiel that day. He would always discretely look for Castiel every time he ventured out of his office, and any interdepartmental meeting had become something he actually looked forward to. Hell, he even started tracking how early Castiel showed up to meetings just so he could arrive at the same time and sit with him.
Thank god no one knew about Deans little crush. Pathetic as it was, he didn’t want to look like a teenage girl with a ridiculous obsession. How could he explain that the scar at the end of his eyebrow made him look like a badass, or that the way his slacks hugged his thighs gave Dean more than one inappropriate daydream? Well, Charlie knew, but that girl knew everything. It had only taken one Dr. Sexy marathon night and 3 shots of tequila for him to spill his guts to the woman. She responded by giving him a pat on the back and a smile. “Its ok Dean. Maybe you should just ask him out.”
“Uh, no.” he laughed. “Castiel is probably straight. He’s just so…”
“If you say manly, I’m going to hit you. Gender norms have no say in-”
“No!” he interrupted. “I wasn’t going to say that. I was gonna say he’s out of my league.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You’ll never know unless you try. How do you think I got Gilda? She was like, way out of my league…and that ass…”
Dean shook his head. “Seriously, he’s way too smart and he speaks Russian. Russian!”
“Yeah, and I speak Klingon. Big deal.”
“Big deal.” Dean mimicked in a high pitched voice. “It’s a big deal, Charlie. He’s a catch. A tall, sexy catch.”
She smacked him in the arm and narrowed her eyes. “You’re a catch too!”
She obviously didn’t get it so Dean gave up. Gilda was perfect for Charlie. Yes, it had taken Charlie a while to work up the courage to ask Gilda out, but at least Charlie had known that Gilda liked women. Dean knew absolutely nothing about Castiel’s sexuality. For all Dean knew, Cas was straight and would punch him in the face if Dean so much as gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
By the end of the next week, Dean was about to lose it. A deal had fallen through, he had to fire an intern, and to top it all off Dean had started a juice cleanse that left him irritable and snappish. Charlie strong-armed him into going out for drinks with her and Gilda. He only agreed because he needed to let loose a bit, and if he tried hard enough he could convince himself that alcohol was a liquid, therefore, it fit into his cleanse.
Dean showed up in an outfit consisting of jeans, a t-shirt, and his old workboats that only ever got worn while working on his car. They had the old oil and grease stains to prove it. Normally, Dean would have tried harder, maybe pulled on a nice button down and showered beforehand, maybe gel up his hair nicely and find himself someone to take home. Tonight, on the other hand, he wasn’t there looking to impress anyone. After the week he had, there was no way he wanted to deal with a hookup and its awkward aftermath.
The bar was crowded, as expected, so Dean sent Charlie and Gilda away to find a table and then went to get the first round of drinks. As he was waiting for the bartender, a body slid next to his. A tall, very male body. Dean glanced at the person out of the corner of his eye and saw strong hands and dark tattoos. Fuck. So much for not looking for some ass. As quickly as he could, he glanced at the man's face but it was turned towards a beautiful redhead that was chatting next to him. Probably his girlfriend. Dean rolled his eyes at himself. There, apparently, was his answer to whether or not the guy would be down for a roll in the sheets.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t look, though. The lighting in the bar was absolute shit, but from what he could see, the man had dark hair and a strong and deliciously stubbled jaw. He was wearing a dark t-shirt with a subtle V-neck that would have normally had him rolling his eyes, but for some reason, it worked really well on this guy. Maybe, Deans brain supplied, it was because the shallow dip of the V showed off a peak of ink on the guys well-muscled chest. He bit his bottom lip and sighed at himself. At 34 years of age, Dean was getting too old for getting ass at the bar. Which meant that Dean needed to order his drinks and get the hell out of Dodge before he changed his mind.
The bartender finally turned to him and he placed his order for a Sangria for Charlie, a Watermelon Vodka for Gilda, and a whiskey on ice for himself. Dean, who had forced himself to ignore the attractive guy next to him, didn’t notice when the man visibly stiffened as soon as Dean said his order out loud.
“Dean?”
He knew that voice, it was unmistakable in its rich gravely tone. For a second, and he thought of running for it, but he quickly reminded himself that Castiel was a co-worker and it wasn’t like he’d never met a co-worker out and about before. Instead, he took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and turned towards the man. “Castiel.” The blue eyes of Castiel Novak were staring back at him, darkened by the dim lights of the bar. His extra stubble from an additional day of not shaving, the black shirt and jeans combo which, combined with the messy hair, was the stuff of dreams…and then Dean remembered the ink on his arms and a flush started to creep up his neck. “I didn’t know you came here.”
He shrugged, his shirt short enough that the action revealed a peak of a sharp hip bone. “I don’t drink often. Free time is very hard to come by for me.”
Dean nodded in understanding. “I feel ya. My friends had to force me out tonight.”
He nodded, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. “It’s the Roman deal, isn’t it?”
Dean cringed. “Yes. Let's not talk about work though.”
Castiel smiled at Dean, flashing his teeth. “I agree. I’m here to…let loose.”
“Cassie?” A soft voice broke into their conversation from the other side of Castiel, and Dean finally remembered that he was here with someone. His girl. Fuck. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Castiel seemed as surprised as Dean was. “Oh, yes. Of course. This is Anael, she's my-”
“Anna, please.” She cut in. “No one calls me Anael unless were related. It's nice to meet you.”
He gave her a look. “This is Dean Winchester.”
Her eyes lit up and she immediately reached out her hand. “Oh! It's nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you!”
Dean took her hand and shook it gently, a little in surprise and a lot flattered that Castiel talked about him outside of work. “Really? All good, I hope.”
She smirked. “Of course. Cassie here never has anything bad to say about you.”
Cas turned to glare at her, and Dean didn’t know what to think. “Well, Castiel here is pretty great too.”
Cas’s date smiled at Dean and then turned to wink at Cas. “That’s what I keep telling him.”
He rolled his eyes at his girlfriend. “Please, call me Cas. No one outside of work calls me Castiel.”
Dean was thankful that the bar was dimly lit because surely his face had to be tomato red. “Sure, Cas.”
Dean cleared his throat and glanced over to see the bartender still making his friend's fancy drinks. He really wanted to see Cas’s tattoos, and in his experience, people with tattoo’s didn’t mind someone asking about them…but this was a coworker and they’ve never interacted outside of work before. And Cas was a coworker that Dean had a massive crush on so if this became awkward then Dean would have to start avoiding Cas at work. But then again, Dean would never forgive himself for not asking. Weighing the two options in his head, asking or never knowing, he made his decision. “I, uh, didn’t know you had any ink.”
Cas’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced down at himself like he had forgotten about the tattoos that were on display. “Oh, yes. I have many tattoos.” He held one of his arms to Dean, and he couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward eagerly to get a better look.
Dean was momentarily distracted by the line of muscle in Castiel’s bicep. How could a man who was at an office all day have muscles like that? One of the worlds modern marvels right in front of his freaking face. Once he drew his eyes away from the gun show, he was able to take in the tattoos. Below his sleeve peaked out a honeycomb pattern, and then those blended into a tattoo of two angles, robe flared behind them as if they were flying. They were embracing, one angles head tucked into a shoulder and the other gazing outward. Their wings curled towards each other, just barely grazing the other. The detail was immaculate and Dean could tell that a lot of time and money was spent on this piece. On his forearm, in a place of honor, was the face of a woman. Whoever it was, she was clearly very beautiful. It looked like the reference had been an old picture, and judging by the style of her hair, it was from the 20’s. The rest were fillers, that blended one tattoo into the other seamlessly. “Wow. They’re awesome.”
He twisted his arm a little further, allowing Dean to see even more of the detail. “I have some more, but…” he glanced at his chest and shrugged. “This is not an appropriate space.”
Anna nudged Cas and pointed to the angles. “Did you know Cas’s name is angelic?”
Dean forced himself to shake his head even though one of the first things that he had done after meeting the man a few years ago, was to look up his unique name and the meaning behind it.
She nodded happily. “Yeah, mom named all of her kids after angles.”
Dean forced a smile. Fuck. She was already calling Cas’s mother ‘mom’? They must have been together for a long time. The bartender took this moment to place Deans drinks in front of him. He grabbed them and gestured with his head, hoping that Cas would follow him off to the side so he could continue his perusal of the man's tattoos. The heavens must have been smiling down on Dean, because he did. “Are those bees?”
Cas opened his mouth to explain, but Anna cut in. “Oh, god. Don’t get him started about the bees.”
He frowned at his girlfriend. “Anael, you know how I feel about bees.” He glanced back at Dean. “I am very passionate about bee conservation. Our planet would simply not survive without them.”
Dean smirked. The man had passion, and that was a big fucking plus in his book. “Cool.”
Cas seemed pleased with his response and held out his other arm for Dean. “I believe I’ve told you before, but I was born in Russia. The tattoos on this arm represent a lot of the fairytales that I grew up with. Its how I honor my heritage.” On his bicep was a giant gray wolf, primed to pounce, a blurred forest surrounding him. Below was some Russian lettering, curved and sharp. There were more, a woman with ink black hair and an elaborate crown, a nesting doll, and a few creatures that Dean had never seen before, all combined into a full sleeve that Dean had a hard time looking away from. As if sensing that Dean had seen it all, he grabbed his sleeve and pulled it up, revealing a fierce bear covering his shoulder. “The bear was my first. I got it the day I turned 18.”
Dean had to drag his eyes from Cas’s skin. “I got mine at 18 as well.” Without waiting to be asked, he grabbed his neckline and pulled it down, revealing his anti-possession tattoo. “It’s a protection symbol. My brother has one in the same place.”
Cas leaned in to get a better look, and Dean was hit with the scent of Cas’s shampoo. He inhaled, careful not to make it too obvious. Something citrusy and absolutely addictive. “It's nicely done.” And then he was gone and Dean was able to breathe normally again. “It's nice that you have something connecting you and your brother.”
Dean nodded. “He’s very busy doing lawyer stuff, so I don’t get to see him often.”
Cas smiled at Anna. “Yes, well, my siblings are-”
Charlie’s voice cut into their conversation. “Dean!”
Dean flinched and turned around guiltily, still holding the drinks that were probably watered down by now. “Hey, Charlie.”
“What’s taking you?” She was at his side now, looking at Deans companions. “Who are your friends?”
Dean turned back to Cas and Anna. “This is my friend Charlie, she works in the tech department.” Dean watched as Charlie and Cas shook hands. “Castiel, here, is the head of the accounting department. This is Anna, she’s here with Cas.”
Charlie smiled at them both, her teeth gleaming like a wolf about to make a kill. “Nice to meet you, Castiel. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m sorry that I have to drag Dean away, but he promised us some drinks.”
Dean waved goodbye as Charlie looped an arm around his shoulder and dragged him away. She took two of the drinks and gave Gilda hers. “Look who I found. I thought he wandered off with someone, but he was apparently still working on it.”
“Oh, Dean!” Gilda laughed. “I thought you weren’t here for that!”
“I’m not!” He yelled indignantly. “I just ran into a coworker.”
“Yeah.” Charlie laughed. “A sexy one.”
Gilda laughed. “And you pulled him away from that?”
Charlie took a sip of her Sangria with a smile. “I had to see what was going on with our drinks. Dean…” she pulled him into a half hug. “Was over there smelling his hair.”
“I was not!” He blushed wildly, ashamed that he had been caught.
“So we need to help him, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Gilda repeated with a smile. “Where is he?”
Charlie stood on her toes and zeroed in on her target. She pulled Gilda up and pointed over to a group of tables that wasn’t too far off. Dean spared a glance and saw that he was sitting across from Anna, smiling at her as she talked and gestured around. The fond smile on his face made his heart ache.
“Oh!” Gilda laughed and turned to Dean. “He’s hot!”
“Dreamy.” She agreed. “That’s the one from work.”
Gilda’s eyebrows shot up. “The one you told me about?”
She nodded with a smirk. “So we're going to have a conference and figure out how Dean’s going to get his man.”
He shook his head. “Cas is taken.”
Charlie sat down and pulled Gilda down with her so the girl sat in Charlie’s lap. “How do you know?”
He cocked an eyebrow and gestured back to Cas. “Just look at them.”
Charlie was unimpressed. “How many times have people thought you and I were together?”
He shook his head. “Look, they’re so comfortable with each other. Obviously, they’re a couple.”
Gilda gave him a look. “Did he tell you he was with her? You talked to him, right? Did he introduce her? They are probably just good friends.”
“Yeah, he said she was…” he frowned. Had Cas said she was his girlfriend? Dean couldn’t remember, but they were obviously very close. “It doesn’t matter. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to shit where you eat?”
Charlie laughed. “Ok, but you were totally down until tonight. Besides, how often do you actually see him?”
Dean thought back to the last month. “Just a few times a week, and it's not usually enough time to talk.”
“So if you got together and then broke up later on, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal?”
Dean shrugged, not wanting to get into it. “Doesn’t matter.”
Charlie was about to continue but stopped when Gilda put her hand on her arm. “Honey, could you get me another Watermelon Vodka?”
Charlie lit up at the term of endearment. “Of course. Dean, you want another drink?”
He shook his head and held up his half-finished whiskey. “I’m driving home, it’ll be just the one tonight.”
She pouted at him. “I thought you wanted to let loose tonight!”
“Yeah, well. I have to work on baby tomorrow.” It was a pathetic excuse, but seeing Cas with Anna had thrown his whole night off. This whole thing with Cas...just knowing that he had absolutely no chance with him…
She groaned. “Lame!”
Gilda smiled at Charlie’s back when she left for the bar. When she finally looked back at Dean, her brown eyes were kind. She reached out and placed her hand over his with a smile. “Don’t worry too much about her. If you don’t want to ask him out, that’s fine.”
He returned the smile. “Thanks Gilda.”
When Charlie returned, she gave Gilda a peck on the lips and started a conversation about Moondoor. Dean sighed and glanced back to where Cas had been. The man had moved onto playing a game of pool with his girlfriend. Anna was a lucky woman, and by the smile on her face as she laughed, she knew it. Cas lined up his shot and bit on his lip as he hit the cue ball and sent it toward the red striped ball with a loud crack, sending it cleanly into the corner pocket. Anna smacked him on the shoulder and said something that made him laugh. It was a rare sight, to see Cas laugh like that since he was always so serious in the office. It was nice to see him relaxing so much, even if it was with someone else.
Dean watched as Cas’s full lips curled up in a smile and he said a few words to Anna. He easily cleared half of his balls before he finally missed one, and then shrugged at the look on Anna’s face. On her turn, she lined up her shot and missed by a longshot, and Cas responded by letting out a bark of laughter that even Dean could hear. She glared at him in return and said something that had him laughing louder. Could have been ‘asshole’ but Dean couldn’t read lips for shit, so she could have said anything. It looked like Cas wasn’t going easy on his girlfriend, and while Dean would typically play it a bit easier with his dates, if that was what their relationship was like, then that was none of Deans business.
He was just about to turn away from Cas and try to worm his way back into the conversation with Charlie and Gilda, but stopped when he saw a group of young men, all of which were ridiculously drunk. One of them, in particular, was staring at Anna while his friends laughed and pushed him to his feet. The young man swaggered over to her, his chest puffed and a smug smile on his lips. The kid slid up to Anna as Cas was taking a shot, and got close enough to whisper something in her ear. If the way she jerked back in surprise was anything to go by, he wasn’t saying anything nice. Dean stood up, unsure of what to do. Should he go over and say something? Help her out? Would Cas get mad at him if Dean rescued Anna? He stood there, indecision warring in his mind. Fuck…he should probably help.
It had only been seconds since the kid approached Anna, when Cas made his shot and looked up. A scowl immediately appeared on his face as he noticed their new guest. Dean watched Cas say something from across the table, his hand gripped tightly around the stick. Dean took a few steps towards Cas's table completely willing to get involved since there was no way he was going to let the guy get into a fight without backup, especially since the kid's friends would likely jump in. Dean was a few yards away from the unfolding scene when the kid reached down and grab a handful of Anna’s ass. What happened next, went so fast Dean could do nothing but stare in shock.
Anna yelped in surprise, scrambling away from the man. The look of pure fury that appeared on Cas face was enough that even Deans heart started racing. The poor guy didn’t see him coming, and if he did he would have to shit his pants. Dean had never been so turned on in his life as he watched Cas stalk over to his target like a fucking predator. Cas grabbed the kid's arm and pulled him smoothly into a choke hold. Whatever Cas said to the dude must not have been clear to the kid in his drunken state, because as soon as Cas released the kid, he spun around and aimed a punch at Cas’s head. Dean made a distressed sound as he watched, but Cas had been ready. He smoothly dodged the blow and aimed an uppercut at the poor soul's chin, connecting with an audible crack. The guy hit the floor like a brick. Cas put a hand on Anna’s shoulder and whispered something in her ear as they watched the kid roll on the floor, moaning loudly enough to draw the attention of everyone in the bar. She must have agreed because she immediately nodded and grabbed her purse.
All eyes were on them as Cas grabbed ahold of Anna’s arm and began to lead her away. It was then, that the kids two friends snapped out of their shock and came to his rescue. They yelled something that was unclear over the noise of the bar and approached Cas with fists ready.
Dean immediately jumped into action and ran over to grab Anna. If that uppercut was anything to go by, Dean didn’t need to worry too much about Cas, and his priority became getting Anna to safety. Anna went with Dean easily as she watched her boyfriend with wide eyes. The shorter of the two got there first and threw a punch at Cas, which was easily blocked, and in his drunken state, he stumbled forward, putting him right in Cas’s space. Instead of taking the guy out, Cas grabbed the guy by the back of his head, pulling him into a forward bend and moving him until he was a barrier between Cas and the other man. The one that Cas was holding tried to get out of the hold, but he was off balance and soon realized that it would be impossible. He resorted to punching Cas in the stomach, but he was too close to cause any real damage. The taller friend tried to circle around to get a better shot, but Cas was jerking the smaller one around, constantly putting him in the way. Finally, Cas brought his knee up into the shorter man once, and then twice, nailing him hard in the stomach. Before the man could recover from the painful blows, he was thrown to the side and Cas was reading himself to fight the other man.
“Shit.” Dean muttered as he watched. He took a few steps back as he saw the bar staff start to respond to the fight.
Before they could reach him, Cas’s arms were up in front of his head and he was back to dodging the mans sloppy blows. With a grunt, Cas aimed a punch to the man's temple, knocking him to the ground.
Without waiting to be manhandled out of the bar by its doorman, Cas turned and marched over to where Dean held Anna, his face a storm of anger. Gently, Cas took Anna and led her to the door, only briefly looking back to lock eyes with Dean and giving him a grateful nod.
Dean felt a small hand on his elbow and felt a tug as he was led away from the scene. The bar staff was talking to everyone and tending to the three men. From what Dean could hear, those who had witnessed what happened were quick to jump to the defense of Cas.
Charlie was talking as she deposited Dean into his seat and slid her half-finished Sangria into his empty hands. He gulped it down gratefully, only half listening to her ramblings. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! I totally didn’t think he had it in him! What a fine male specimen!”
“Charlie..” Gilda chided, stopping Charlie’s tirade.
“That was…” Dean stopped, unsure about how he could voice what he was thinking.
“Hot.” Charlie finished with a sigh. “He looked like he knew what he was doing. Do you think he’s ex-military? Oh my god. What if he was, like, a Navy Seal?”
Dean scoffed. Cas? Military? No. He was an office man, an accountant. There was simply no way. But those moves didn’t look like ones an office man would know, nor would any average person. Cas obviously knew how to fight. Maybe he took fighting classes as a fitness alternative? Dean knew tons of people who took up boxing to keep in shape, could Cas have done the same?
“What’s his full name?”
“Castiel J. Novak.” Dean answered without thinking. He glanced up to see Charlie typing away at her phone. “I don’t know what the J stands for.”
“Oh shit.” She shoved her phone at Gilda. “Look at that.”
Gilda’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
Dean got up and walked around the table. “What is it.”
Charlie snatched her phone away and clutched it to her chest. “You’ll never guess what I found.”
He frowned. “Is he a veteran?”
She shook her head, her excitement visibly rising. “I didn’t even have to dig that much! It was like the third result, right under his linkedin and white pages result.”
He reached out for her phone, silently pleading that she would give it to him and put him out of his misery. He took it carefully, when she finally handed it over, unsure what he was about to see. To his surprise, it was a YouTube video of some kind of Mixed Martial Arts fight. Front and center of the screen was a young man with dark messy hair and striking blue eyes. Tattoos covered his arms, and a piece ran from his collar bones, down to the bottom of his pecks. There were defined muscles as far as the eyes could see and the low shorts showed off a pair of hipbones that Dean wanted to sink his teeth into. He was facing off with a tall blonde man, and an announcer was shouting over the roar of the crowd. The video must have been a highlight reel because it jumped to another clip, this one of Cas taking a hit to the stomach. The next clip was of the man forcing Cas into the cage, one arm hooked tightly under Cas’s knee leaving him off balance and struggling to get out of the hold. The man forced Cas to the ground, but in doing so, let go of his leg. Another clip of Cas and this other man grappling on the ground, Cas on top delivering punch after punch until he was removed by the referee.
The video ended too soon, leaving Deans head reeling with the information. What the fuck was that? Cas? The guy that Dean once saw googling pictures of bumblebees during a meeting? That Cas used to fight? And now he’s a fucking accountant? What the hell. Dean felt like his whole world had been tipped onto his axis.
Disbelief. That was what he was feeling as he clicked on another video and watched as the two fighters circled each other, punching and blocking like it was a choreographed dance. They grappled, both trying to get the upper hand, and Cas took an elbow shot to the ribs before he was able to get the upper hand and sweep his opponent to the floor. Cas was on top of him, sending punch after punch to the guys face as he tried his best to block the blows. Finally, Cas was able to get the other man into some kind of painful looking hold, and the fight was ended. Cas stood and the camera panned to Cas’s face, one eyebrow bleeding down his face and onto his chest where Dean was finally able to get a good look at Cas’s chest piece. One peck was covered by the same honeycomb pattern that covered his shoulder. The honeycomb and its bees blended into a classic flower piece with its thorns swirled around the flower into an intricate pattern.
The video description said it was Roche v.s. Krushnik, but that didn’t tell Dean much. It must have been a stage name, right?
“Ohh…he has a Wikipedia page!” Charlie’s voice pulled him out of his stupor. She had Gilda’s purple phone in her hand and was scrolling rapidly. “Castiel Novak, born in Kazan Russia in 1974 to Jimmy Novak and Naomi Krushnik. Moved to America in 1981, blah, blah, blah…ah! Here it is. Dude…the guy is a badass. He goes by a stage name but they call him The Reaper. Cas has like 15 wins under his belt. He was pro for like 6 years before retiring. This is your coworker?” She let out a slow whistle.
She turned the screen towards Dean and showed him the Wikipedia page. There, listed under a pretty damn intimidating picture of Cas with his muscular arms crossed over his chest, was a list of all of his accomplishments. “So out of my league…” he mumbled.
Dean went home an hour later, finally sober and able to drive. His brain felt like it was filled with fog. There were so many things he’d learned tonight and it was too much to comprehend. If Cas had been single, Dean would have approached him after that fight and pushed him up against a wall so he could press his lips into Cas’s. But Cas wasn’t single. He had a girlfriend, one who he had beat the shit out of 3 men for…
o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o
Dean wandered into work determined to talk to Cas. He had to make sure that Cas and his girlfriend were ok, that they had gotten home alright after the shit show that went down at the bar. But as soon as he walked through the door of his office, he was pulled into meeting after meeting, and by the time lunchtime had rolled around, Dean hadn’t even left his desk. With a sigh, he pulled out his grilled chicken salad and a water bottle, and settled into his desk for lunch.
He was interrupted just as he finished his lunch when Miss. Masters, Deans secretary, knocked lightly on his door before letting herself in. “Sir, Mr. Novak is here. He would like to know if he can see you. Would you like me to schedule an appointment?”
Dean looked frantically around his office and sighed in relief when he only saw clean surfaces and nothing offensive in sight. He cleared his throat and leaned back. “It's alright. Send him in.”
She nodded before closing the door silently behind her.
It only took a moment for Cas to march in, looking all strong and commandeering. Dean was starting to get hot under the collar as he gestured for Cas to take the empty seat in front of him. “Hey, Cas. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Cas took the seat and stared at the desk in front of him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Dean. I would like to apologize for Saturday night.”
Dean was unable to form a coherent thought for a few moments. “What for?” he finally blurted out.
“I need to apologize for what you saw on Saturday, Dean. It was unprofessional, and-”
Dean cut him off with a huff. “You don’t need to apologize, man. Don’t worry. What you do outside of work is your business. I would have punched that dude in the face too if he had touched my girl.”
His eyes, which had been staring at Dean’s name plaque the whole time, finally met Deans. “Anael is not my girl, Dean. Anael is my sister.”
Dean froze, eyes searching Cas’s face. “Your sister?”
Cas was frowning. “Yes, my sister.”
Dean ran a hand through his hair. So Cas was possibly single? He tried to think back to that Saturday. Had Cas ever said that Anna was his sister? He didn’t think so…but at the same time, Dean didn’t think Cas had actually come out and said that Anna was his girlfriend either. Isn’t that what people did? ‘Hey Dean, its great to see you. This is my girlfriend Anna’. That had never happened. “I thought she was your girlfriend.”
Cas frowned and shook his head. “We don’t look much alike, but I recall mentioning my families tendency towards angelic names.”
Dean wanted to slap himself. “You did say that…”
He bit his full lip. “Anael was recently promoted so I took her out for drinks to celebrate. Things got…out of hand.”
Dean let out a scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
Cas’s face took on a light flush. “That is what I wanted to apologize for, Dean.”
He shook his head. “Seriously, man. You don’t need to apologize. What you did was…pretty cool.”
Cas’s eyebrows lifted. “I was under the impression that violence wasn’t…cool.”
Dean let out a laugh. “I guess it depends on the circumstances, but I think you were completely justified.”
“Yes.” Cas sighed heavily. “I do believe that the circumstances justified what I did. I just regret that one of my colleagues was there to whiteness it. Especially you.”
“I uh…” Dean leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, putting him close enough to Cas that he could faintly smell Cas’s shampoo. Just the knowledge that Cas might be single doing all sorts of things to his brain. If he could just find some way to ask the guy out… “My friend, Charlie, found a few videos of you on Youtube. Ones from your career in MMA.”
Cas leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking wary again. “Yes, but I have been retired for a while now.”
“No. I’m not trying to knock it. I think its really cool, Cas.”
“You do?”
Dean clasped his hand onto Cas’s forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah.”
Cas was starting at Dean again, his intense blue eyes pinning him to his seat. “Thank you, Dean.”
Dean slowly took his hand back and smiled brightly at Cas. “Sorry for thinking Anna was your girlfriend. Sometimes people think me and my brother are a couple, so I know it can be annoying.”
Cas smiled. “It's not a problem, Dean. I understand the confusion.”
“Do you have one?” Dean asked.
“A what?”
“A girlfriend.”
“No, I have no girlfriend.” Cas turned away for a moment. “Dean, we don’t know each other very well, but I think I could consider you a friend.”
Dean smiled happily. “Sure, Cas. We’re friends.”
He nodded and seemed to consider something. “My romantic preferences lie elsewhere.”
Dean frowned. “Preferences?”
“Yes. I prefer men.”
Dean inhaled sharply and his spit decided it was a good time to take a detour into his lungs. He coughed harshly, his eyes welling up with tears. He felt a hand on his back, patting roughly and he was finally able to clear his lungs. The hand that was still on his back was warm and heavy, and Dean didn’t want it to be removed. He blamed his swimming head on what he said next. “You’re gay?”
Cas’s hand was pulled off of his back and Deans red-rimmed eyes locked with Cas’s. He looked unsure like he was readying himself for revulsion. “Yes.”
Dean surged up and pulled Cas into a kiss. If Dean’s mind had been working correctly, he wouldn’t have taken a deep breath and kissed him. He wouldn’t have sunk his fingers into the dark hair on the back of Cas’s head and pulled the unsuspecting man into his chest. He wouldn’t have sighed in relief at the feel of Cas’s full lips against his. But Dean wasn’t thinking any of those things, he was too distracted by the warmth of Cas’s lips, how perfect they felt slotted against his. It was then that he noticed that Cas lips, which were so warm and soft against his, weren’t moving. It was like a switch went off in Deans head. Fuck. He had just kissed Cas. Dean jerked back almost violently, breaking the kiss with an audible pop and letting go of the breath that he had been holding.
He took a step back and averted his eyes, unable to look at Cas’s wide eyes and slack mouth. “Sorry, Cas. I don’t know what came over me. I completely understand If you want to take this to HR and-”
Cas grabbed the lapels of Dean’s suit and pulled him roughly forward, crashing their lips back together. The scent of Cas was the first thing that hit him. That shampoo that he had smelled for the first time on Saturday was grapefruit, he was sure. Then there was the rest of him, the fresh scent of his fabric softener, the musk of his skin. Dean sighed at the pressure against his lips, parting them slowly, hoping he could get a taste of Cas. He didn’t have to wait for long. Cas parted his lips and tentatively licked into Deans' mouth. The groan that left Dean at the first touch of Cas’s tongue against his would have been enough to embarrass himself if he cared, but he didn’t. All he cared about was chasing Cas’s tongue with his own as it retreated.
Mint. Cas must have had a mint just before he came to Deans office.
That was the last coherent thought Dean had before Cas tilted his head further and took control of the kiss. Dean gasped and slid his hands into Cas’s suit coat, grabbing his back and pulling Cas even harder against him. Teeth pulled at Deans bottom lip and that was enough to turn Dean into a puddle. He couldn’t move, could barely even breathe as Cas took him apart one caress of the tongue and nibble at a time. Dean had lost all track of time. He could have been kissing Cas for hours, and he could go for hours more if Cas would just keep his tight hold. Dean didn’t even know how much he wanted someone else to be in control until Cas had kissed him into submission.
It was sometime after Dean had completely slumped against Cas, that the man finally eased his lips from Deans. He tried to follow Cas’s full lips as he pulled away, but he only succeeded in one small desperate lick against those lips before Cas was out of reach. Both men were breathing heavily, and Dean had to adjust himself in his pants before he stood back up to his full height.
“Um…” Dean cleared his throat and had to use both hands on his desk to hold himself up. “Did you, uh, want to go for coffee?”
Cas smiled, a large toothy one that sent Deans heart back into his throat. Fuck. Dean felt like he’d waited years for Cas to finally send one of those breathtaking smiles his way. “How about I take you to dinner. My treat. Saturday night.”
Dean smiled back at Cas and reached out to adjust the wrinkles he had put into Cas’s lapel with his tight grip. “I can do that.”
Cas placed his hands on top of Deans and squeezed them gently before clearing his throat and stepping back. Cas’s hair, which had been sitting neatly against his head was a mess and Dean couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride that he was the reason Cas looked like he had just rolled out of bed. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Dean bit his lip as he watched Cas walk out of his office. The man stopped at the door and turned around briefly to regard Dean one last time. Dean couldn’t help but send Cas a wink, which was answered with another small smile from Cas before the man turned and made his way to the elevator. Dean caught himself raising his hand to touch his still tingling lips. He was sure he was a complete mess, hair disheveled, skin flushed, and his lips were probably red and swollen from the kiss. If his secretary walked in, there would be no doubt what they had been doing. With a jolt, he realized that he wanted Meg to walk in right now. He wanted there to be no doubt to what they had been doing. That was utterly and completely new to him.
He lowered himself down into his seat and chuckled to himself. He had a date with Cas. Saturday. That was in- Dean checked his calendar- two days. Charlie and Gilda were going to flip their shit.