Castiel ran his hands through his hair, tugging lightly at the ends. His heavy sigh blew up another cloud of dust that led to his thousandth coughing fit of the day. He knocked over a box in his blundering out of the room in search of fresh air. The resulting crash made him cringe. Hopefully that wasn't expensive.
His grandmother was halfway to her new home in Florida by now while Castiel picked through the items in Aunt Annie's Antique Shop.
The shop that he now owned.
He'd never been a business owner. He didn't know the first thing about running an antiques store, but he was fairly certain most of what surrounded him was pure junk.
Getting permanently removed from his position at the university sure did have its downsides.
He sighed again and headed back inside. He had to finish the basic inventory and cleaning of the back room before the evening.
Dean pushed the door to Mrs. A's shop and grinned at the familiar bell tinkle announcing his arrival.
The sweet old lady that usually greeted him was oddly silent. Dean stood awkwardly in the entryway before he started to worry. What if she fell and broke a hip like on the commercials for those life alert pendants? Did she have a life alert pendant?
"Hello?" he called out. "Mrs. A?"
He heard some scuffling noises toward the back of the shop and made his way through the maze of items. If it wasn't Mrs. A then the old bird had a rat problem.
Either way, he was going to investigate.
He turned the corner into the one room Mrs. A had never let him clean and stopped dead.
A lithe young man danced to the beat probably pulsing through his earbuds as he wiped the blanket thick layer of dust from the shelving.
Dean licked his lips as he leaned against the doorframe to watch the show playing out in front of him. The man's hips moved easily from side to side before switching to a full body roll. Dean felt his cock starting to pay attention the longer the man gyrated.
He shook himself. He had to announce his presence before his downstairs situation got any worse.
Dean moved along the periphery of the room until he stood nearly next to the man. Damn. His profile was stunning. Black hair, great cheekbones, pink lips. Dean couldn't tell eye color because his eyes were closed as he moved into another body roll.
Dean reached out to touch his arm, hoping he didn't startle easily.
"Closer" by Nine Inch Nails blasted through Castiel's earbuds. He never danced in public, always feeling silly with the isolated hip movements he'd learned in that semester of belly dance.
Hey, everyone needed a physical education credit. He just refused to take weight lifting with his meat head roommate.
Although, looking back on his experience with Lucifer that semester, maybe he should have reconsidered.
His eyes slipped closed as he went into a full body undulation. The music ran through his body and he felt everything calm and relax.
Until he was shocked out of his mind by a warm hand pressing against his arm.
Castiel yelped and leaped backward, crashing into the shelf he'd just organized. Several items clanged and clattered the ground around him. His first thought was to be grateful he'd crashed into the "for sure crap" shelf.
His second thought was remembering he hadn't locked the front door.
"There's no money and most of the stuff is junk. Please don't hurt me," he stammered.
Castiel's last thought before he died was realizing the intruder was gorgeous.
Dean put his hands up in a surrender position to show he wasn't armed.
The terrified man in front of him had beautiful blue eyes that seemed to stare directly into his soul. His voice sounded like he'd been gargling glass.
Or had cock down his throat all morning.
"I'm not here to take anything, man. I'm looking for Mrs. A." Dean drew out the words carefully, making sure to speak clearly.
The man blinked those bright eyes a few times before he tilted his head like a confused kitten. "Mrs. A?"
"Annie? The older lady that owns the place." Dean was feeling impatient. If this guy was in the shop poking around shouldn't he know the woman?
Realization dawned. "That's my grandmother. She's halfway to her new home in Florida by now. I'm Castiel. She, uh, gave me the place."
Dean deflated. "Oh, she didn't tell me."
Castiel tilted his head to the other side and narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
Dean extended a hand. "I'm Dean. Sometimes I pop in to help Mrs. A with the store. She pays me in pie."
"Hello, Dean." Castiel took his hand and shook it, noting the callouses on his palms and fingers. He could imagine what that rough hand would feel like brushing over his skin and gripping. . . he coughed and pulled his hand back.
But not before Dean raised an eyebrow, obviously following his train of thought. Eyes the color of grass by a lake followed his every move.
Cas cleared his throat and stepped back. "You're more than welcome to grab a rag but I'm afraid I can't offer you baked goods. I'm a loss in the kitchen. I'd appreciate the help as I'm unsure of what she kept in inventory."
Dean eyed their surroundings. "She never let me back here."
Cas sighed. Of course she hadn't. His grandmother had been moving into hoarder territory toward the end and become oddly protective over the items in the back room.
Dean stepped close to Cas and picked up one of the items that had fallen. "She didn't tell you anything about it before she left?"
Cas chuckled and picked up a wayward metal urn. "She said some of the things had magic in them and warned me to be careful."
Dean didn't laugh. "You don't believe it?"
Cas shot him an incredulous look. "Do you?"
"I don't like to rule anything out." Dean shrugged and placed the item in his hands on a nearby shelf.
Castiel scoffed. "Magic? Really, Dean? Are you twelve?"
Dean turned and crossed his arms over his chest. Castiel most certainly did not notice how his shirt pulled across firm biceps and broad shoulders. Nope. Not at all.
"You realize the guys that say they don't believe are always the ones that have weird shit happen, right?"
Cas rolled his eyes. "This isn't a movie. That kind of thing doesn't happen."
"Uh huh." Dean sounded unconvinced. "Maybe I will help you out back here. You're going to need someone to save your ass."
"The only thing you're saving me from is attacking dust bunnies." Cas tucked his headphones in his pocket and resumed cleaning. He waved a hand toward the back of the room. "You can start over there and we'll meet in the middle."
Dean was furious.
What. An. Asshole.
Castiel had just dismissed him like he was a peasant before a king.
Dick.
Dean snatched up a rag and cleaning spray and moved to the center of the room out of spite. He wouldn't start where he'd been instructed because he wasn't a goddamn employee.
Good thing, too. He would have fucking quit on the spot.
Dean shifted a few items around to clean underneath when he spotted something behind the shelving unit. He slowly began transferring items from the shelves to the floor so he could move it.
"What on earth are you doing?" rang out from Castiel's side of the room.
Dean set a music box on the floor. "There's something back here."
"Like the door to Narnia?" Castiel quipped.
Dean rolled his eyes. "I can't tell what it is. I'm going to have to move the shelf."
"Just leave it," Cas huffed. "If it's back there it's for a good reason. It's probably crap."
"Or," Dean countered. "It's hidden because it's dangerous."
"You're confusing reality with movies, Dean."
"You're being a real dick about something silly, Cas."
The men glared at each other in silence for a few beats before Castiel threw up his hands. "Fine, we'll move the fucking shelf. Shove over."
Castiel had never been so irritated.
And horny. What the fuck?
His grandmother was a fanciful hoarder who believed in mystical realms and magic. Castiel hadn't been raised with her but she always found time to teach him folktales and fairy stories.
That is, until the day he'd mentioned feeling as though those stories were meant for children. That had been a few weeks ago and she'd started planning her change of location immediately.
He still felt bad about it.
When all of the items had been moved from the shelf he braced one side while Dean took the other. Both men cringed at the squealing sound of metal scraping across concrete.
Castiel dusted himself off as he surveyed the uncovered item.
It was a giant mirror.
The thing was taller than he and wide enough that he and Dean could stand side-by-side and both be seen in it.
"A mirror," he said flatly.
"A huge ass mirror," Dean agreed. "I'll bet if we cleaned it up you could sell it pretty quickly."
Cas nodded as he ran a finger through the thick layer of dust along the edge. The framing was quite ornate and had pictures carved into it. He could make out an apple, a bow and arrow, and a rose on one side.
He went back to his work station and grabbed his damp rag. He'd have to get the glass cleaner out later to make it really shine but a regular cleaner would work for now.
Dean watched as Cas trailed slim fingers over the frame on the mirror. He felt a stab of arousal as he watched those digits caress the wood.
Ha. Wood.
But mostly he felt uneasy. Something about the mirror didn't sit right with him. He'd been on enough hunts to know when something supernatural was afoot.
Cas left and came back with his rag. "I'll take this side, see how much you can get done with what we have and we'll reassess in a bit."
As more of the dust was removed, the nervous feeling in Dean's gut grew.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, Cas. Maybe you should step back."
Cas put a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow. "Why? Is it a magic mirror?"
Dean swallowed hard. "It might be. . ."
Cas gave the surface a few quick wipes to clear the glass before putting his fingertips to it. "Bloody Mary," he intoned.
Dean snatched his wrist back with bruising force. "Not funny, dude."
Cas ripped his hand from Dean's grasp and rubbed the sore spot. "What the fuck is wrong with you? It's a stupid kids' game."
Dean pointed a finger. "Don't fuck with that sort of thing. God. You're the kind of asshole that bring Ouija Boards into the house for fun aren't you?"
Cas sighed. "My foster family wouldn't allow it or I would have."
Dean deflated. He had a soft spot for people that had grown up in the system.
Cas was turned back to face the mirror. "How about this? Mirror, mirror on the wall."
"Cas," Dean warned.
Cas grinned at his reflection. Dean was so upset over something so simple.
"See?" he said when nothing happened. "It's just a stupidly huge mirror. There is nothing special about it."
Dean didn't look convinced. "Just. . . step back a bit, okay?"
"I'm telling you, Dean. It's fine." Cas did the opposite and stepped closer, noting that Dean moved with him. The man looked ready to jump in at any second.
Dean placed a hand on Castiel's wrist again, gentling his grip. "I'd feel better if we put the shelf back and pretended it wasn't here."
Cas twisted so he could grip Dean's wrist at the same time, his opposite hand still on the glass. "Dean. It's fine. There's no such thing as magic."
His last sentence hung in the air with palpable force. Time slowed around them. Cas looked around as even the smallest background sounds fell silent.
"Cas?" Dean whispered.
Cas turned his attention back to Dean, who was staring at the mirror with wide eyes. Cas turned to look too.
The glass rippled like the surface of a pond after a stone's throw. Small waves moved through the previously firm surface. Castiel could feel it moving beneath his fingertips.
He tried to jerk his hand back but found he couldn't.
"Dean, help me!" he shouted.
Dean sprang into action, using his other hand to pull at Castiel's. "You're stuck!"
"I know that. Fix it." Cas pulled and twisted but found it wasn't working. In fact, he was now up to his wrist in mirror glass.
"This isn't possible," he whispered.
He pulled back harder and his feet skidded uselessly on the smooth concrete flooring. His balance compromised and he teetered to one side.
Dean made to grab him but his foot caught on a small plate he'd placed on the floor earlier.
The men lost their footing and fell. . .
. . . directly into the rippling glass.