Chapter Text

Chapter 1

“Castiel, can you fill out a 2130 for the Pearson case and have it on my desk by 3 pm? I need to get it filed with the court clerk by close of business.”

Right, a 2130. 

“Yes, of course.” Because Castiel definitely knows what a 2130 is and how to file something with the court clerk. Because he has loads of experience as a legal assistant. That’s what he told his new boss, anyway.

He stares at the three-dollar trench coat folded up under his desk. He’s so fucked, and it’s all the coat’s fault. 

Thrift shops are not for the poor. Thrift shops are for the very poor and desperate. Which is exactly what Castiel is, or was, before he landed a job he shouldn't have.  

Who would want pre-owned clothes that smell like someone else—no matter how many times you wash them, they never lose the original owner's scent? Someone who doesn’t have any other options, that’s who. 

He was sifting through the racks trying to find a jacket because winter was coming (or it had already arrived, but Castiel was living in a cold denial he could no longer ignore). They all felt wrong under his fingers and he was running out of breath. 

Eventually, he sighed heavily in defeat and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, when the single most amazing scent he’d ever smelled hit him. Cinnamon, buttery pastry, apple and vanilla, all laced with a smokey, distinctly alpha smell that filled his brain and nearly shut it down completely. 

Like a dog sniffing out a sausage (or an omega chasing down his alpha), he let his nose take over. He took in as deep of a breath as he could through his nose and was assaulted by the most disgusting mix of all the scents possible—like mixing all the colored paints together and ending up with a poo brown—but underneath it all was the mouth-watering scent he was after. It should have been impossible to single out one scent among the thousand swirling in the store, but that never occurred to him.

He followed his nose along the rack and, like in an old Disney movie, the object of his desires was highlighted amongst the greys and blacks—a beige trench coat, sliding off the hanger. He zeroed in on it. 

The fabric was thin, but incredibly soft under his fingers and his heart picked up speed as he removed it from the hanger. In slow motion, he lifted it to his face and rubbed the collar across his cheek and nose, taking another breath. Safety, warmth, and home flood his body as if it were his alpha wrapping his arms around him, protecting him from the harsh world. 

“Can I help you there, dearie?” a voice filtered through his stupid omega brain and he snapped back to reality. 

He pulled the offending garment away from his face and stared guiltily back at the older beta lady who ran the shop. “Er… sorry, Missouri.” He blinked a few times, trying to reign in his hormones, which were betraying him with every breath. “I would like to t-take this one, please?” 

“I thought you were after somethin’ a little warmer?” 

She was right. This jacket was much too thin and wouldn't protect him from the wind and snow they were expecting. But then she reached out to take it. She was trying to take something his alpha gave him—

“Don’t you think about growling at me, Castiel!”

“I wasn’t…” He totally was. 

“Mm-hmm,” she said, but dropped the hand anyway. “Bring it up to the counter when you’re finished drooling over it.”

“I’m not drooling.”

She raised an eyebrow and turned, walking away. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—he was not drooling, thank you very much.

Not wanting to get stuck in a smell-lust-dream-fantasy loop while standing in public, he trailed after her. With great effort, he handed the coat over the counter, but didn’t let it leave his sight. Using her intuition (or maybe Castiel wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was), she didn’t offer a bag but handed it straight back to him. He clutched it to his chest and handed over the three dollars. 

“He’s a regular of ours,” Missouri said just before he was about to make the mad dash home with his most prized possession. 

“I’m sorry?”

“The alpha who dropped that off.” She nodded towards the garment. “He comes in at least once a month.”

“ Really?” His voice does not squeak. “Really?” Much better. 

“Mm-hmm.”

“When-when might you expect him… back again? If he-if he was to come back… again?” God, he is such an idiot. 

“I’m no physic, sugar. But you could try again in two weeks? He usually has high-quality stuff, so it doesn’t last long.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Have a good day, honey.”

“You too.” He waved goodbye and walked toward the exit. 

Before leaving, he opened the coat and slid his arms inside. A feeling of rightness settled on his shoulders and he took a deep, glorious breath. 

The late-November wind blew straight through the thin fabric as he made the short trek back to his apartment. He almost regretted his purchase as he had possibly chosen the lightest coat in existence, but the occasional scent of burnt butter apple pie found him and then made it all worthwhile. 

He pushed open the doors to “Omega Oasis Apartments'' and stepped inside. The name made it sound like some luxury resort when in actuality it was more like an orphanage for unmated Omegas who are past their prime—of which Castiel most definitely was. 

He ignored the other omegas milling around the foyer and ducked past Zachariah’s office while he was distracted, not wanting to have the ‘don’t forget the rent’ conversation. Up on the second floor, four doors on the right, was his one-room shoebox of an apartment, with the smallest bathroom possible stuck to the side. But it had a lock, it was cheap and, most importantly, it had his nest. 

There was an itch under his skin, telling him to strip off the outer layers of his clothes and climb into his nest with the coat. The sensation was almost impossible to thwart, but against all odds, he managed a shower first, scrubbing off all the other scents of the day. 

Finally, finally, he got into his nest and draped the beige coat over himself. 

His body relaxed in a way he never thought possible. Like his inner omega had been frozen, trapped in a giant block of ice and, for the first time since he presented, he could defrost, just a little, around the edges. 

Omegas weren’t designed to be alone. Everyone knew that. But nothing could change the fact that he didn’t like any of the alphas he’d met. Definitely not the ones his parents had tried to offload him on. Alphas were pushy and degrading and thought omegas belonged in the kitchen or bedroom. 

It was bad enough that society wouldn’t let them go to university to get a higher education or let them get better-paying jobs—they’re not designed for higher thinking. But omegas couldn’t get loans or mortgages either, so their only viable option was to find a suitable alpha to provide for them. 

Castiel had fought the system tooth and nail, determined to make it on his own. But you know what that got him? A shitty room, with a shitty job, and no snow jacket to get through winter. 

But for once, he had a smell in his nest that wasn’t his, and nothing felt more right. 

That was until he caught a cold a week and a half later and lost his job for needing ‘too much time off’. It was okay. He didn’t enjoy being a night janitor, anyway. It wasn’t like he needed the money for food or rent. 

Jobless and almost penniless, he had no right to go back to the Thrift shop, but he needed something more suitable for job hunting. He couldn’t get a decent job without the right clothes, but couldn’t get the right clothes without a job. He would have to see what he could find with $12.42. 

Since the last time he was here, December had sprung, along with all the Christmas trappings. It used to be his favorite time of the year—the peaceful, angelic music, the glow of the fairy lights at night, warm homely food, family… 

He hadn’t celebrated it in nearly a decade, and he wasn’t about to start now. Deliberately ignoring the festive decorations lining the shop window, he pushed open the heavy front door. 

“Morning, Castiel,” Missouri greeted him as he entered the store. “I’d hoped to see you last week.”

“I was a little under the weather,” he said, his voice still showing as much. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, sugar. ‘fraid I haven’t got good news for you. He was here last week. That alpha of yours. But I couldn’t hold any of the items, you know how it is. I just sold the last item yesterday.”

“Ah.” Awesome. It wasn’t like he expected anything to go right for him. “That’s okay. I’m actually looking for something specific today.”

He explained why he was there and told her his budget. She grimaced, but Missouri was never afraid of a challenge. 

They found a white dress shirt that could work. It was four sizes too large, but he could fold it and tuck it, and with the trench coat over the top, he could hide most of the ill effects. Lastly, they found a pair of black dress pants. They were only a little tight around his thighs and short in length—Castiel was large for an omega, but with some black socks, he would be alright. 

The total came to exactly $12, which was great, but also not ideal. He’d only have forty-two cents left until he could find another job. But, hey, what was the rule of 3s? ‘ Three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food ’? He still had half a pack of uncooked rice in his apartment, so he’d be good for a while. 

Missouri threw in a free blue tie and Castiel used the changing room to put on the outfit. He may as well start the job hunt now. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. 

He eyed the professional white-collar businesses as he walked the street—they offered the highest rate of pay for omegas, but were extremely hard to nail—but he couldn't gather the nerve to walk inside. Instead, he walked to the local mall and went door to door looking for jobs in retail. Despite the Christmas season, nobody was hiring, or at least none were willing to give him a chance. He was a decade older than most of the other omega employees. Anyone his age should be at home, being taken care of by their alpha. A good omega doesn’t need to work. 

Too ashamed to sit down inside the building where he’d been rejected over twenty times, he sat down outside to rest his feet. His black joggers offered little in the way of arch support these days. 

He had his eyes closed when the scent hit him. It was faint, barely stronger than the smell still coming from the coat he was wrapped in. But it was definitely him. 

His eyes darted from side to side, trying to narrow down the person responsible. He stood and followed his nose; the scent was disappearing quickly into the wind. A tall man was ahead of him, striding quickly with purpose, a phone up to his ear. 

As Castiel got closer, he was sure it was him, but also… it wasn’t. His hopes dropped when he realized it was a transfer scent. This wasn’t the alpha he was looking for, but he’d been in close proximity to him.

Castiel was so stuck in his head, so fixated on the scent in the air, that he hadn’t been paying attention. He collided with the alpha and sent the man, his coffee, and his phone to the ground. 

“Shit!” Castiel raced after the phone as it skidded along the footpath toward the road. In hindsight, he probably should have checked on the alpha first, but he was focused on the most expensive item skittering along the bumpy footpath. A smart phone was not something Castiel had ever been able to afford. He snatched it up before it landed in the gutter slush and wiped it off on his jacket. 

He turned to face the alpha, ready to accept the wrath he was no doubt due. The alpha had righted himself, dusting off his suit jacket— oh no ! He was covered in coffee. His crisp, white, fitted dress shirt had turned a god awful shade of brown. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he said, holding out the phone. The alpha took it back. Castiel wanted to fix it. He wanted to wipe away the spilled mess, but he had no tissues or anything else he could use. His hands hovered uselessly in the air. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. 

“It’s okay, man,” the alpha said, his tone tight; he clearly hadn’t meant it. 

Castiel finally raised his eyes to meet the alpha's gaze. Narrow, hazel eyes connected with his, but softened almost instantly. He gave Castiel a small smile before continuing in a lighter tone. “Just a shame about the coffee.” 

Out of all the things Castiel had just destroyed—the no-doubt expensive business shirt and latest iPhone—coffee shouldn’t even register. 

“I can get you a new one,” Castiel blurted out. “Please. It’s the least I can do.”

The alpha took a moment to assess Cas, and he could feel his eyes take in his body, the cheap clothing, his unmarked neck, the unmated omega scent. He tensed for the rejection or worse, the slurs, but all he got was an ‘alright, then.’ 

Castiel let out a breath and smiled. Giving him a tentative nod, the alpha turned and gestured for him to follow. “It’s just around the corner.” 

Alarm bells should have been ringing in his brain, but he blindly followed the other man down the street. He didn’t know this alpha, where they were going or why this clearly busy man was bothering with Castiel. He could have been leading him into a trap or down an alley to collect payment another way, but none of this occurred to him. Maybe it is the lack of anger in the man’s scent or posture, or maybe it's the fact that Castiel can smell the other alpha on him, and he's addicted to the scent. 

The man walked quietly, and Cas tried to subtly scent him. He had similar undertones to the apple-pie alpha (as he’d been calling him), like the smoky pastry smell, but it was more savory, with hints of herbs like oregano and thyme. However, underneath it all was a level of comfort Castiel couldn’t place. 

The café was literally around the corner because not a minute later, the alpha was holding open the door to a small coffee shop. Inside was warm, and it was bustling with people. Christmas lights hung along the roof and around the menu board, highlighting the seasonal beverages—Gingerbread Hot Chocolate and Sugar Cookie Almond Milk Latte.

It hits Castiel like a wave of cold water, washing down his body, taking all the blood with it until it reaches the ground, and then rises back up with a vengeance, boiling his veins with immense shame. 

He didn’t have any money. 

He couldn’t afford this. 

He’d promised to buy this nice young alpha a cup of coffee to replace the one he’d basically thrown all over the concrete footpath and he didn’t have any money. 

Correction. He had forty-two cents. 

He stood frozen on the spot, his heart pounding so loud in his chest he was afraid everyone was going to hear it, but if he ceased focusing on it, it might just stop forever, and this would be the very spot where Castiel died. They would mark the outline of where his body lay on the polished floor, ruining Christmas for everyone. 

“Hey.” A hand grabbed his elbow—it may have been his heart for how much it shocked him. He flinched and stared up in fright at hazel eyes. “Are you okay?” the alpha asked, and Castiel couldn’t lie. He couldn’t think to lie. 

His eyes darted around the menu, seeking the cheapest item on there, even though he knew he wouldn’t even have enough for that, but it didn’t stop him. He had to fix this, but he couldn’t—

Firm hands held onto both of his shoulders and the alpha weaved his head in between Castiel’s gaze and the menu board. “What’s wrong? You smell terrified.” 

Of course, Castiel hadn’t even thought to reign in his scent. He was probably pumping out all kinds of scared-and-ashamed-omega. Thankfully, the alpha hadn’t pointed out that last part. 

His hands shook as he reached deep into his trench coat pocket. He found the coins and pulled them out, holding them in the palm of his hand. “I-I-I… only…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. 

The alpha glanced down. “What—?” and then it must have dawned on him because his mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and a wave of sympathy washed over Castiel. “Hey,” the alpha said, going to grab Cas, but he pulled back at the last second. “Sorry. It’s okay.” He held his hand out in a placarding gesture. “I’ll get the coffees. What would you like?”

“What?” Castiel blinked up at him. Was he asking if he wanted a coffee? No, Castiel was supposed to be replacing the one he’d already ruined.

“Next!” the barrister called, and the alpha turned quickly to glance at her. “Sam?” she said. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, hey, Jess,” he replied, watching Castiel, like he was afraid he was about to bolt–which was a fair assumption. “Had a bit of an unfortunate accident with my last coffee. Came to get a new one.” 

“Of course,” she said sweetly. “Would like some napkins?” 

The alpha chuckled. “Yeah, that’d be great. And can you make it two, please?” 

The blonde omega behind the counter glanced at Castiel as if only just noticing him for the first time. He expected her to glare at him. She seemed friendly with this alpha and Castiel was now standing next to him, and he was about to buy him a coffee, and everything about this was wrong. 

But she smiled kindly at him and nodded. “Coming right up!” 

The alpha tried to hand over some cash, but she wouldn’t accept it. “It’s on the house.” 

“Jess—” 

“Nope. I won’t hear of it. Go take a seat. I’ll bring it to you in a sec.” 

The alpha beamed and replied with a ‘thank you’ before steering Castiel with the palm of his hand, not quite resting on his shoulder, but directing him nonetheless.

He led them to a booth and sat down, but Castiel hesitated. He didn’t belong here. He shouldn’t have even stepped inside the business, let alone be sitting at a table with an alpha who was not his. 

“Sit, please,” the man said, and Castiel was not really in a position to say no to anything. So he sat. 

“My name is Sam,” the alpha said, and Cas kept his eye trained on the table, too embarrassed to look up. “Can I… What’s yours?” 

“Cas—Castiel.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Castiel.” When Cas still didn’t offer anything, the alpha, Sam continued. “I know this must seem odd…”

He trailed off as Cas placed his forty-two cents on the table and slid it over towards the man. 

“That’s okay,” he said and pushed it back. 

“No! That’s all I’ve got. Please take it.” 

“Castiel, I don’t need your money.” 

A rock formed in his throat, and he tried to swallow it. He had lasted almost thirty years without having to stoop this low, but something about this gentle alpha made him want to make it better, rather than run away kicking and screaming. “I can pay you back in other ways.”

The alpha sat back so abruptly that Castiel finally raised his gaze to look at him. He looked upset, not pleased like Cas had expected. “I don’t want that from you.” 

“Then why? Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“You—” He was interrupted by Jess as she dropped the drinks off at the table. He thanked her and silence returned to the table. 

Castiel took the offered coffee and wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth soak into his cold hands. He closed his eyes and ignored everyone for just a moment. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked. 

He opened his eyes and stared back, confused by the question. “I was trying to make it up to you—” 

“No, why are you here in this area?” 

“I was looking…” he trailed off and let out a deep breath. “I was looking for a job.” He held his head high and looked him in the eye. He was not ashamed of being a working omega (or an omega that needed to work). 

The alpha nodded like he’d expected that answer. “Did you have any luck?”

“No, not today.” 

Sam tapped his fingers on the laminate bench top. “You got any office skills? Good with computers?” 

Prickly butterflies erupted throughout his body. Is he asking what you think he is? “Yes?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but he couldn’t take it back. 

“Yes?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why are you asking?” 

Sam scratched the side of his face, before lowering his hands to the table, wafting a fresh dose of apple-pie-alpha scent Castiel’s way. “I work in a small law firm. Our workload has increased significantly in the past year and we find ourselves in need of an assistant.” 

Castiel should have told the truth. He hadn’t used a computer since high school. But the alpha was kind and… who was he kidding, the transfer scent of the other alpha was enough for Castiel to say yes to pretty much anything. The fact that he needed a job hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

“I-I have worked at a law firm before,” he lied. “Only on reception. Answering phones, filing, doing basic… reception-y duties.” He grimaced. God, he was a terrible liar. 

“Really? That’s great!” Sam gave him a huge smile, and Castiel reigned in his guilty-as-shit scent as fast as he could. 

And so, that is how Castiel found himself working for Winchester & Tran, in an office that is warm and clean, Googling what a 2130 is. 

He locates the form and fills it in as best he can. It honestly isn’t that hard once you work out which fields to fill in with which information. It probably takes him three times longer than it should, but by 3 pm, he’s successfully completed it and sent it over to the court clerk. 

Working in a divorce lawyer’s office is not something Castiel ever imagined for himself. When he said yes, he envisioned a larger office, bustling with workers, and hoped he could melt into the background. But when he turned up for his first day, yesterday, he quickly discovered the entire office staff consisted of three people, Castiel included. 

Kevin Tran, a quiet beta, and the other associate, greeted Castiel excitedly, shaking his hand, and seemed relieved to have someone to help around the office. There were mounds of paperwork piled up on every available surface, and Castiel spent the whole day creating a filing system and clearing off a desk for himself. 

The following morning, he returned to find a computer set up just for him, and he was unexpectedly touched. It wasn’t even second-hand. It was brand new, with the plastic film still stuck to the back of the monitor. It was so different from all the other jobs Cas had ever had—no one talked down to him, and they didn’t delegate the worst, most disgusting jobs to him. He knows he isn’t on the same level as them, he never would be, but for a moment, he feels important; he feels hope. 

That is until 4 pm when Sam pops out of his office to ask about the progress on the form. 

“I lodged it, just as you asked.” 

Sam pales and blinks a few times. “You lodged it? Already?” 

Heat floods his face, and he tampers it down with a large swallow. “Yes. It’s… isn’t that what you asked me to do?” Judging by the look on Sam’s face, that is not what he was asked to do. 

“Shit,” Sam says, ducking back into his office and picking up the desk phone. 

Castiel listens intently, which is harder than it should be because of the ridiculous heartbeat pounding in his ears. Sam’s voice is low, as he mumbles about needing to change something and laughing with the person on the other end. 

The breakfast Castiel ate almost nine hours ago churns uncomfortably in his stomach. He focuses on the shiny black keyboard in front of him, trying to keep the probably-mostly-digested food inside his body. 

He’s going to be fired. He’s fucked up and he’s going to lose the best job he’s ever had. He can’t even remember the words Sam used when he spoke to him earlier this morning. His brain is a swirling mix of every bad thought he’s ever had about himself and he thinks about the trashcan under his desk and how fast he can grab it when he inevitably needs—

“—you okay?” 

Three things happen in such quick succession that Castiel isn’t sure which one is first. There are green, green, eyes, beautiful in a way you only see on the big screen, peering down at him; the strongest, most delicious scent he has ever smelt in his entire life filters down in his soul … and he throws up.  

His body tries its hardest to heave up anything and everything from his stomach, which is basically a watery bile that is gross to look at, taste, and smell. He is desperately trying to stop the dry retching going on when he feels the next most mortifying thing in his life… the gorgeous alpha who was standing right in front of him when he barfed ( Oh god, did he throw up on him? ) is rubbing his back and talking to him with his deep honey whiskey voice. Castiel wishes he could just melt in the carpet or grow a pair of wings and just fly the fuck away. Because, holy shit, there is nothing he can do to salvage his dignity at this point. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” the man’s words finally make sense. 

“Oh, god,” he groans, wiping his mouth before hanging his head in shame.

“Here, have some water.” A glass appears in his peripheral vision, and he reaches out and takes it without looking up. 

He drains the entire contents and places it on the desk in front of him. Next, he is given a bunch of tissues, and he wipes his mouth before stuffing them into the cup. He eyes his desk, which is now covered in yellow disgusting vomit and there aren’t enough tissues in the entire office to clean this shit up. He’s going to have to sacrifice his entire first paycheck to a cleaning bill, that’s if he gets paid at all. Shit, he’s only worked two days. 

“You good now?” the voice speaks again, the apple-pie scent filling his body with every breath. Castiel nods, making a jerky movement. The alpha is squatting on the ground next to his chair, trying to catch his eyes, but Cas is too embarrassed to raise his head. “Can you look at me?” his voice is kind and warm and Castiel does not want to look at him. 

But his inner omega has the memory of a goddamn goldfish, seeming to have completely forgotten all about the mess they are currently sitting in because he finds he is helpless to resist the request. He lifts his head and makes eye contact again, his breath catching in his throat. This is the most beautiful man Castiel has ever seen—a strong, stubbled jaw, softened with a small dimple on his chin, and a scattering of freckles high on his cheekbones highlighting those eyes he only glimpsed at before. His perfect, cupid lips move into a one-sided smile. “Hey, there.” 

There is a lump in Cas’ throat and he doesn’t think he could say anything, even if he knew what words were. 

“Dean! What are you— What the hell happened?” Castiel’s boss emerges from his office and is staring at the mess all over the desk and brand new computer. 

Castiel stands up immediately. “I can clean it up. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I—”

Sam raises his hands, cutting off Cas’ words. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“It-it must have been something I ate at lunch. I’m fine.” 

“I’ll go get a clothe,” Sam offers. 

“No!” he practically shouts and then freezes. Sam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look like he’s about to skin Castiel alive, so he continues. “I-I’ll get it.” 

Without waiting for further instructions, he ducks his head and runs to the kitchen. 

“What the hell, man?” Sam stages whispers, not very convincingly. The kitchen isn’t as far away as Castiel would like, and he can still overhear the conversation, which he should definitely not be eavesdropping on. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know,” the new alpha answers, in the same tone. “I just got here, and he was freaking the fuck out. I called out to him and he just threw up.” 

“Geez…” Sam says, his voice muffled. Cas opens the cupboard and finds a stack of clean towels. Thank god. He turns on the tap and starts dampening them. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Just wanted to check in on my favorite brother. See how his day was going.” 

They’re brothers? That’s interesting, and also good—

Pull yourself together, Castiel.  

“I am your only brother.” 

“That you know of.” 

“Dean…” 

“Sam…” he replies in the same admonitory tone. 

There is silence, or they have finally learned how to whisper, so Castiel finishes wringing out the last towel, before heading back to this desk. 

The brothers seem to be communicating telepathically or with their eyes when Cas returns. He keeps his head bowed and ignores them in favor of cleaning up the disgusting mess he made. 

Castiel’s ears heat as the silence continues around him, the unspoken conversation hanging like a thunderstorm over his head. 

Someone clears his throat. “So, I called the clerk’s office and got the form recalled.” 

“Oh… good?” Castiel is once again reminded of his other fuck up from today, and in front of the apple-pie alpha Dean, no less. 

“It’s all good, man. I just wanted to check it before it went out. But you did a good job. A great job, actually.”

He finally gathers his courage and looks back at his boss. Sam is giving him a tentative smile, and there’s no hint of anger in his posture or scent. Castiel swallows and nods, not sure how he dodged that bullet. He thought for sure he was going to get fired. “I’m glad…” 

“I’ll get the cleaners to give your desk a thorough scrub tonight. You can head home if you want?” 

There is still half an hour left, or twenty minutes now, and his stomach sinks. He’s being fired after all. 

“I’ll see you at nine tomorrow morning,” Sam says, totally unaware of Castiel’s freak-out. He turns to his brother and gives him a stern look. “Can I see you in my office?” 

Dean shuffles on his feet like he is being told off by his boss, which is jarring and strange. That is the look Cas expected for himself, and now his brother, this Dean, is getting in trouble. 

“Yeah, give me a second.” He waves Sam off and turns his back on him, focusing back on Cas. “It was nice to meet you.” 

“Was it?” he can’t stop the words that tumble from his mouth. He covers it with a slap, his eyes going wide. 

Dean chuckles. “Yeah. I hope to see you around.” With two raps of his knuckles on the top of the desk, he turns and walks into Sam’s office, shutting the door behind him. 

Castiel is left standing like an idiot, staring at the shut door. The rumble of conversation continues from inside the room, but he can’t hear it, probably for the best. 

When he turns back to his desk, he sees it. 

A scarf. 

A black and red checkered scarf that looks so incredibly soft is sitting perched on the edge of his desk. His fingers act on their own accord as they pick it up and bring it up to his face. 

His eyes roll back in his head and his body warms from the inside out, like a small fire has been lit, as Dean’s alpha scent, in its rich, thick, and delicious glory, fills his lungs. The urge to wrap himself in it is like a pull against a magnet as he eyes the door, afraid it is going to open at any moment and he’ll be caught. 

A part of him does not give a flying-fuck if he is caught… but the other, more reasonable side registers that Castiel has found the alpha, the alpha, with the mouthwatering scent that led him to the three-dollar coat, that consequently led him to this job.

Sam and Dean are brothers and if Castiel hasn’t been fired (he’s still not a hundred percent certain on that one), he will, may, possibly, get the chance to see him again.  

With trembling hands, he lowers the scarf and places it back on the table. His fingers itch, but he picks up his trench coat and slides it over his shoulders. The coat still has Dean’s scent on it, and it is enough to give him the courage to not do anything else stupid today. 

Well, that is until the last moment, when he slides the scarf along the desk and tucks it behind the monitor. He’s not hiding it. He’s not. He totally leaves the end sticking out, you know, in case Dean does go looking for it.