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There’s a cat in his office.
The damn thing is sleeping in his chair – his $2,000 ergonomic office chair, which is now covered in thick orange fur.
“What the hell?” Dean mumbles, hand still on the doorknob. He can’t figure out how a cat could have gotten inside the building, much less ridden up in the elevator, without anybody noticing. That’s not even considering how it could have gotten into his office, which should have been closed.
“Her name is Dolores.”
Dean whips his head around and finds himself nearly chest-to-chest with…well, it’s fair to say he’s one of the hottest guys Dean has ever seen, though he’s not exactly what Dean would normally call his type. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week or two, and his hair is a rumpled mess – and not in the I spent two hours and a bottle of hairspray to make it look like I don’t care way, but the I literally just got out of bed and I’m too hungover to look in the mirror way. He smells nice, though, somehow like rain, clean and calming, with just a hint of something spicy. And his eyes are so damn blue, the corners crinkled up in a soft smile.
Dean thinks he might be a little in love already.
So of course that’s when he sneezes right in the guy’s face.
“Shit,” Dean says elegantly. “I’m sorry, I –“ He sneezes again, this time managing to aim it into his elbow. “I’m allergic to – to cats.”
“Oh,” the man says, wiping his face off with his sleeve, no sign of a smile left on his face. “Nobody told me that. I’m sorry.”
The man ducks in past him and scoops the cat up from the chair, holding her protectively against his chest. His shoulders are slumped as he carries her out of the room, and Dean feels like he’s somehow insulted the both of them.
“I’m sorry,” Dean says again, though he’s not sure at this point what part of the encounter he’s apologizing for.
“Not your fault,” the man murmurs. “I’ll keep them away from your office from now on. Sorry about your chair.”
Them?
It isn’t until he’s finally at his desk – his poor chair rolled to the other side of the room until he has time to get it clean, the lumpy visitor’s chair wrestled in front of his computer instead for the time being – that he sees the e-mail.
Kitten therapy.
The man’s name is Cas, and he’s from the animal shelter across town, and he’s here with his box of adoptable kittens and neon-shirted teenage volunteers and gorgeous smile to reduce office stress.
Dean sneezes again and groans.
- - -
The program is a huge success, because of course it is, and he sees Cas once a week after that – sort of. Across the parking lot, down the hallway, through the glass of the meeting room windows as he passes by, holding a kitten and laughing and chatting with someone else. Someone Not Dean.
Dean tries to smile every time they make eye contact, but Cas just looks sort of sad.
It’s a month into the program when he comes in to find another cat in his office.
The door is open just a crack. He has to assume the cleaning crew left it that way last night, because Cas has held to his promise so far and there’s no reason to think he would do this on purpose again, especially given how firmly he avoids even looking at Dean anymore.
It’s white this time, and it’s sunning itself on the floor next to the windows. Dean has never especially liked cats, considering he can’t get within five feet of one before his eyelids start swelling, but he’s never especially disliked them either.
That still doesn’t explain why he tiptoes into the office as though he’s trying not to wake a sleeping baby.
He manages to get into his chair silently, and though his eyes prickle dangerously he doesn’t sneeze. It’s nearly an hour later when he hears the soft knock at his door.
He gets up as quietly as he can and ducks out into the hall instead of just opening the door.
It’s Cas.
“Oh,” he says. “Uh, hi.”
“I’m sorry,” Cas says, taking a careful step back. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I’ve looked everywhere else.”
Dean rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. He hadn’t even considered Cas might be looking for his cat. He’s probably been worried as hell. Now Dean feels like a kidnapper, and he still can’t really explain himself. He opens his door again slowly.
“It’s just been sleeping there,” he mumbles. He can feel his cheeks burning. “Didn’t really want to move it.”
When he looks back up, that warm smile he saw that first day is back on Cas’ face, and he’s moved a little closer back towards Dean.
“That’s…sweet of you,” he says, and Dean’s sure he’s being teased at least a bit, but all he can do is smile back.
Then he sneezes, because of course Cas is covered in cat hair, and thank god he caught it in time to turn his head, but he’s still so embarrassed he could die.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, sniffling.
“You know,” Cas says carefully. “There are over-the-counter allergy pills you could take for that. Have you ever tried any?”
Dean almost sneezes in his face again because he’s too busy staring at him in shock to move.
Allergy pills. Dean is an idiot.
“I’m an idiot,” he mumbles without meaning to.
Cas’ grin widens. “It’s something to think about. If you did want to interact with the cats, I mean,” he amends.
“And you?” Dean blurts out.
Cas’ smile softens. “And me.”
Cas fetches the cat, whose name is apparently Mehitabel. Dean manages to even give her a few rubs under the chin before they go – from an arm’s length away – and the joyful look on Cas’ face is totally worth the extra trip to the bathroom to wash his hands.
Cas stops by one more time before he leaves for the day.
“By the way,” he says, slipping into Dean’s office without knocking this time. “You don’t have to wait until next week to interact with me again, if you want.”
Dean swallows hard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Cas says, sauntering in and coming around Dean’s desk. “Only if you want, of course.”
“Oh, I – I want,” Dean stammers.
“Good,” Cas says, leaning over Dean. “I’d hate to have changed my shirt before I came in here for nothing.”
Then his lips are on Dean’s, warm and soft. His fingers curl into Dean’s carefully sculpted hair, ruffling it up, and Dean finds he somehow doesn’t mind in the slightest. He melts into it with a shaky sigh. Cas pulls away a few moments later, eyes half-lidded and cheeks pink.
“Good,” Cas says again, voice rough and unsteady. Dean tries not to feel smug about the fact that Cas looks just as affected as he feels.
Cas clears his throat and composes himself again within seconds, though, that cheeky little smile settling back into place. Before Dean can fully process what’s happened he’s gone, leaving a small slip of paper behind him on Dean’s desk.
A slip of paper with a phone number on it.
Dean traces his fingers over his lips, replaying the kiss in his head. He programs Cas’ number into his phone immediately. Then, with a grin, he adds a note to his planner to remind him to buy allergy medicine after work.