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The first one he gets, he thinks is a joke. He picks up the piece of paper, crumples it up, and sticks his head out of his office to say, his voice dripping sarcasm, “You are hilarious,” to his assistant, Gabriel.
“Well, I certainly am, but may I ask--”
Dean doesn’t wait to hear his reply. Lots of work to do, files to look over, and, God, so many forms. No time for little notes with cute little compliments written on them.
He drops it in the trash can by his door, walks back to his desk, stops.
You are beautiful, the note said. It’s a weird thing to put on a little, elementary love story-esque note. He’d think I think you’re cute and maybe a little heart, signed Your Secret Admirer would be more appropriate.
You are beautiful, like it’s fact.
Hm. Maybe not Gabriel.
Dean picks the paper out of the garbage can and tucks it in his pocket.
For further inspection, obviously.
*
The second one comes two days later, after Dean gets out of possibly the most stupid and pointless meeting he’s ever been in. He rubs his eyes as he opens the door to his office, hoping to get some actual work done. He didn’t get any sleep last night--not a rare occurrence for him. Stress from work, Sammy all the way in California forgetting to call, his apartment seeming way to big for just him. He was sure he looked like a mess.
There was a cup of coffee sitting on his desk when he got inside, and not the shit coffee they have in the breakroom either. It was still steaming, and it smelled fucking awesome.
He went over to it, and next to the cup was another note, the same neatly lettered handwriting spelling out, I couldn’t help but notice you were tired. Hope this helps.
Underneath that, Dean can make out the words I wonder who keeps you up all night crossed out aggressively, then I wonder what keeps you up all night crossed out but easier to read.
That’s all. It’s not signed.
Dean should probably not drink the strange coffee left here. It could totally be poisoned.
But, fuck is he tired.
And whoever’s leaving the notes (Dean’s still not sure it isn’t a joke) seems pretty alright.
So, to hell with it, he drinks the coffee.
It’s sweet, but not too sweet, just like Dean likes it.
Weird.
He poked his head out of his office.
“Gabe, you see anyone come in here?”
Gabriel cleared his throat and said, in a mockingly professional voice, “I am not at liberty to say, Mr. Winchester.”
He only called him Mr. Winchester when he was bullshitting him.
“Gabe,” he said in a warning tone.
“Someone’s got a crush,” he singsonged.
“Who is it?”
“Not telling.”
“Gabriel.”
“Nope.”
“I’ll bring you ice cream or something tomorrow.”
“I don’t accept bribes, but that was a good try.”
*
It was no secret that Dean was currently very much single. It was much more of a secret that the reason he was so single was that he… sort of had a crush.
Sort of. And he might even classify it as pining, if Dean Winchester was the type to pine.
Which he wasn’t, obviously. Just like he supposedly didn’t have crushes.
But honestly, how could Dean be expected not to fall for the guy.
Castiel Novak, in the office right next to Dean.
Dean was a sales manager so he didn’t have to (get to) interact with the marketing business analyst very much, and never one on one.
But the guy had these freaking blue eyes, like, so blue, and his dark hair was messy all the time, and he was just. Absolutely gorgeous. Dean kept getting distracted by his hands, of all things.
Even worse than having a crush on the guy was having maybe-more-than-a-crush on him, because, unfortunately, the attraction wasn’t just physical.
Castiel was completely focused on anything he did, his blue eyes like lasers boring into you whenever you talked. He rarely cracked a smile, but when he did, it was like the sun coming out in the morning. He was smart, and funny in this weird way where you know he didn’t mean to be funny but was pleased just knowing that he made someone smile.
His whole being was a ray of fucking sunshine and--
Dean was sort of gone on him.
*
So, long story short, Dean didn’t know who the notes were coming from and, as nice as they seemed to be, Dean wished they would stop. Dean really didn’t want to have to let the poor guy or girl down, not because he was dating anyone or necessarily uninterested in them, but because he had a middle-school-level crush on the literal guy-next-door.
The next week was full of finding notes just about everywhere. There were some in his office, some slipped into his folder of files to look over (how the fuck?), one that Gabriel had given him saying Message from the wifey.
They were all ridiculously sweet and Dean could tell that whoever it was paid him a lot of attention, with all of the little details they seemed to notice said anything.
Gabriel clearly knew who it was. Dean determined a while ago that it wasn’t him, especially since he knows Gabriel’s chicken scratch handwriting was nothing like the clear and neat writing of the mystery person.
Somehow, Gabriel and Dean had come to an unspoken agreement that Dean got one question each day about it.
His first was, “Are they actually serious or is it some sort of prank?”
Gabriel outright laughed and said, “Oh honey, it’s so serious,” and Dean hated how he knew something Dean didn’t.
The next day was, “Guy or girl?“
“Very much a man.”
Next day, “Do I actually know him?”
“He hopes so.” Dean glared until Gabriel relented. “Yes, you know him.”
Next was, in the least teenage-girl-esque voice he could manage, was, “Is he hot?”
Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Not my type. But generally, yeah.”
The next three days’ questions were variations of “Who the fuck is it?” whose answers were variations of “I’m never gonna tell” followed by truly evil laughter, childish “nananana” sounds, and the sticking out of tongues.
Gabriel was so lucky that he was a damn good assistant and that he had a nice boss.
*
The Note Thing had been going for nearly two weeks.
Dean was on his way to another meeting when he realized he’d forgotten a really important paper in his office, and he was doing what was awkwardly between a fast walk and a jog because he really couldn’t be late but he also couldn’t show up without that paper and--
His office door was open. Hadn’t he closed it? Wouldn’t Gabriel’ve done so if he’d forgotten?
Gabriel tried to say something as he headed toward the door, but Dean ignored it.
The Note Thing had been far from his mind, so when he got inside his office, a bit more out of breath than he would like to admit, he had no idea why Castiel Novak would be standing by his desk.
God he was gorgeous, his eyes wide and startled, his cheeks all pink and his mouth open in surprise..
But no time to talk.
“Hey Cas, what’s up?” Dean started.”No, wait, I gotta go. See ya?”
Castiel looked… honestly confused as Dean swiped the paper he needed from his desk and swiftly left the room.
Weird. Maybe he walked into the wrong office? Did that happen?
Dean was approximately thirty seconds into the meeting when he realized that he was quite possibly the biggest idiot on the entire planet.
He wished he could defend himself by saying he was distracted, his mind was a million miles away, but he knew that those were not good enough excuses.
He was stupid. So stupid.
Dean barely kept himself from standing up and proclaiming loudly to every person in the room, Holy fucking shit.
*
As soon as he got out of his meeting, he walked straight past his own office (ignoring Gabriel’s laughter, that ass) and barely paused to give a quick knock before opening the door to Castiel’s office.
Castiel looked up from his desk in surprise and, upon seeing who had entered, blushed furiously but kept holding his gaze as he surged forward.
As Dean stepped toward him, Castiel stood up, the desk still between them but both of them leaning close.
“Have dinner with me,” Dean demanded. He shouldn’t be demanding, fuck. “I mean, would you? Have dinner with me, I mean? If you want to.”
Dean knew he didn’t have to say anything about the notes right now because, hopefully--God, hopefully--there would be lots of time to talk later.
Castiel paused, and there, one of those smiles that he barely ever awarded anyone, small but breathtaking. “I would like that very much, Dean.”