Title: The Heist
Author: castiel-thepizzaman
Pairing: eventual Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17 or M overall, this chapter is PG.
Warnings: None. I do not own Supernatural.

A/N: So I wrote this on the airplane, and I decided to post it. I hope to placates anyone who is upset that I haven't posted on my other two Supernatural stories. I'm a slow proof reader... Ill get them up soon, I promise.

Oh yeah, I suck at summaries. Especially since this is not all written out yet.

Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter One

The first time Dean ever picked up the package he was extremely late, bordering about a half hour behind the time he was scheduled to arrive. He drove around the large marble building, staring up at the skyscraper as it seemed to wave in the sky from the light breeze. Bobby had given him this job, Dean had practically begged for it due to the increase in Sam's tuition and the desperate need for money to pay for the expensive law books. Driving an armored car around was really not as amazing as it sounded, but it got the bills paid. The big, black, armored car took turns rather wide, and even though nothing could hurt it he still had to pay for the damage to other cars if he happened to clip them while passing by. He had started doing this job when Sam and him had just moved to the city, the younger brother excited about Stanford and his classes, while Dean just thought about the bills that would be piling up. His last boss, Rufus, had put in a good word for Dean and he was able to get a decent paying job driving around whatever the clients wanted him to transport. Whether it be jewelry, money, or something they preferred to keep quiet. Mainly, Dean had been working low end jobs, but then there was a call from a company run by Zachariah Adler, a very rich, very secretive company whose forefront showed them heavily involved with charities and giving back to the world. This only problem was this secretive company needed items moved every Friday night at ten. Most of the other workers were long done by that time, even if the job came with a major increase in pay. When it was offered to Dean, he took it without a second thought, knowing very well that he would still be up at that time of night and Sam would probably be studying, even if it was a Friday night, or out with Jessica and friends.

Except by the time he had finished up moving the large silver cases that were loaded with money from a branch bank to the main bank vault, he was slightly confused as to where to go. So, stopping for a coffee, Dean consulted his map of the city. He had been living there for three years all ready, but there were some thing that still confused him. He was a country boy, born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas and he not adjusted to the hustle and bustle of the city as well as Sam had. Finally planning a route that would cut down on the time as much as possible and still have easy access for an oversize vehicle, Dean set off towards the sky-scraper.

When he saw the building he knew that the owner of the K.O.K. company had hit a jackpot. Made of solid white marble, the building had to be over sixty stories high and the base took up multiple blocks. Even walking around it to get to a destination would be a pain. Dean pulled up to the gate and waved a pass over the scanner, alerting the people inside that he had arrived. Dean assumed there were people still in the building because multiple lights were on in the offices of the building, signaling that whoever worked there were dedicated and probably did not have a life. Dean chuckled at that as he pulled through, driving around the parking lot and trying to find the meeting place for the items.

Ten minutes later, Dean was still trying to find the area, granted, the building was rather large, but he couldn't find the loading deck. Finally, after passing an area with a six foot high shelf he decided that had to be the area he was supposed to be at. It was made out of an onyx colored marble which made a deep contrast against the white marble. The lights that illuminate the building from the ground flashed off the stone and hit Dean's pupils in a painful way, causing them to rapidly constrict from the light and then return to normal from the darkness around him. He pulled out and then backed up to the loading dock, turning off the car and taking the keys with him before he slid off the seat of the car and onto the smooth pavement beneath him.

The vehicle locked itself automatically whenever the door is closed and he jogged up the steps to the top of the deck and glanced around. Bobby told him that there would be an employee who would meet him, but at the moment it seemed that no one was in the area with him. Perhaps they were late also, or well, that was what Dean hoped since being fired for being late on his first day would just suck. He leaned against the back of the vehicle, his hands resting on the black paint as he drummed his fingers against the metal.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat alerting him to the fact that he was not alone and that there was a presence with him. Glancing in the direction of the noise Dean noticed the flare of the end of a cigarette, softly lighting up the face of a man.

Dean pushed himself off the back of the truck and turned towards the man, waiting for him to speak or act first. Instead, he just blew out some smoke from between his lips and stared back, that dark area of his eyes unmoving as the shadows lay across him. They stood that way, the only movement was the man moving the cigarette to his lips and then back down to his side. Dean could not really see what he looked like but after five minutes the other human walked out from the shadows and moved to the trash can, placing the burned out cigarette in the ashtray. Dean took in the man's rumpled suit, and the trench coat hanging over his body as if he had lost weight since buying the item of clothing. The man's black hair was slightly messy as if he had ran his hand through it from a stressful day at the office and stubble had appeared along his jawline crating an aging effect.

Turning, the suited man walked in through a metal door on the side of a truck loading door and Dean had just wondered if he had spent five minutes watching the man he was supposed to meet or not. A small groan left his lips, he was throughly annoyed at this job and at this company and just as Dean was going to turn around and get back into the vehicle the door opened and the man came out again, carrying a heavy looking black case. When the employee walked up to him, Dean took the case, glancing up to see vibrant, blue eyes staring back at him. Their hands lingered on the handle, almost as if the smoker did not want to give it away, but then the hand let go and Dean was left attempting not to show his surprise at how much the case weight. Instead, he nodded at the man and turned, unlocking the back door of the van and pressing some numbers into a keypad, finishing the rest of the safety procedures before he put it in the back of the truck, secured in a small case holder.

When he emerged from the back of the truck and began the safety procedures again he could smell the faint traces of nicotine and saw the smoke curling through the air in the glare of the lights. Turning, he noticed the red tip of a cigarette being brought up to the mans light pink lips.

"That'll kill you, you know." Dean muttered under his breath with out thinking. Realizing what he said out loud Dean's head whipped up from the scanner to see if he had offended the employee. No emotion was on his face, but his head was tilted to the side as if he was trying to analyze something and found it too confusing. Dean took this as a good sign that the smoking man was not angry with him.

Shrugging, Dean turned and walked down the stairs, unlocking the drivers door and sliding in. Turning the car on, Dean pulled away, glancing in his mirror to see the lone figure smoking on the deck as the back lights of the vehicle illuminated him.

The next time Dean arrived ahead of time and made sure to check everywhere for the man before he realized that the other person had not arrived yet. He exited the door, pack of cigarettes in his hand before he noticed Dean already prepared. He shoved the pack back in his pocket before motioning with his hand for Dean to follow him. He brought him into the large warehouse room and lead him to a side storage door where he punched in a code and then scanned his retina and his thumb. When access was granted, the man opened the door and turned to look at Dean expectantly. Dean saw a large black case of the floor as well as a medium sized cardboard box. He went in and grabbed the black bag, surprised at how light it was compared to the case last week, and glanced over to see the man picking up the cardboard box. Often times, he was left to move everything himself and he was surprised that in a company like this an employee of obvious slightly higher status was helping him.

They walked together to the van in silence before Dean chuckled, "didn't make me wait for you to smoke this time."

"You weren't late this time. I had to wait for you so I figured you could wait for me." Dean was surprised by the voice of the other man, gruff and deep, it could almost be classified as scary if it held the right tone. He assumed this lowered and gravely voice came from how much the man smoked since Dean could see the slight twitching of the unoccupied hand near the pocket he had stored the nicotine addicting sticks.

Dean placed the bag on the black marble and proceeded to preform the necessary tasks to open the back doors of the vehicle. He heard the other man place the package on the floor and then step back, the riffling of clothes signaling that the man was finally getting his well needed cigarette. Dean opened the back door and placed the two packages in the truck before closing it and driving away, once again leaving the other man to his cigarette alone.

Weeks went by and Dean made his round to the K.O.K. company every friday. If he was late he had to wait for the ruffled looking man to finish his cigarette. Dean didn't really mind when that happened, it allowed him some time to think which seemed to be rarely often in his line of profession. He was always going somewhere, doing something, protecting something. He would just lean against the vehicle and rest his head on the shiny paint and think about the bills he needed to pay, the food he needed to buy in order for there to be some extra spending money for Sam, a fun trip they could go on this weekend. But, more often than not, Dean would arrive on time, having figured out the best route from the main bank to the company that involved some fun back alley twists.

Tonight was different, Dean was over half an hour late since Sam had forgotten to print out a paper and begged his older brother to bring it to him. Being a good older brother who wanted Sam to succeed, Dean agreed even if it meant that he would get to every job late after that. Pulling into the loading deck, he could see the red end of a cigarette glowing and Dean knew he would have to wait a while before he could load up the items and drive them to the vault that Zachariah wanted them stored in. Dean did not know what happened after he brought them there, nor did he want to know.

He was exhausted, every muscle in his body ached and there was a deep throbbing behind his eyes. The driver could not wait until this run was over and he could collapse on his shoddy bed in their small apartment. It was what he could afford and Sam was probably already asleep, or out with this girl he had been seeing regularly since he began college. The first time he had met Jessica he had come back from a visit to Rufus in Lawrence earlier than he was supposed to. Walking into the apartment in the middle of the night had freaked Sam out, not expecting his brother to return until mid-morning. A tussle on the floor had lead to Jessica coming out of Sam's room in nothing more than pajama shorts and a ratty smurf's t-shirt.

Let's just say, Dean knew he did not make the best first impression. Hitting on his younger brother's girlfriend as she stood awkwardly in the doorway, meeting her boyfriends brother for the first time and knowing the impression she gave off.

But Dean had to admit it, she was good for her younger brother and they all got along together, she had somehow been included into their small, tight-knit family.

A sigh escaped Dean's lips as he exited the car seeing his breath fog in the cool air and jogged up the metal stairs, wrapping his coat tighter around himself. Winter was coming, and even though it was mid fall, the cold seemed to swirl around the city, chilling people, and invading homes. The man seemed to be unaffected by the cold, his trench coat hanging open and his bare fingers rolling the cigarette between them. He stood in the same position he always did when Dean was late. Having no desire to stand anymore, Dean leaned against the opposite wall and slid down, kicking his feet out in front of him. The marble was cold beneath his legs and for the first time the driver thought about how impracticable it was for a building to be made out of marble.

Closing his eyes Dean let his mind slowly empty of thoughts before he drifted off into a cold, fitful sleep.

Fifteen minutes later Dean jolted upright, eyes wide as he realized that he had fallen asleep and precious time had passed since he had arrived. The other man was standing in the center of the deck, a large black suitcase placed next to him as his blue eyes turned and watched Dean struggle back to consciousness. Green eyes met blue in a wary glance before Dean stood and moved to the back of the truck and took a few seconds to open it.

Turning back to the man Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and held out his hand, "Dean Winchester."

A strong hand gripped his own and shook it, "Castiel Novak."

Now the driver had a name to go with a face, but the conversation ended there, neither of them seeming too keen to continue in the cold weather, so Dean picked up the case as placed it in the back of the truck, locking it up behind him. He nodded goodbye to Castiel and turned to jog off the platform, blowing warm air from his mouth onto his numb hands. The flick of a lighter could be heard behind him and Dean saw Castiel bring up the cigarette to his lips as he drove away from the building, heading towards the road.

"Fuckin' A, it's freezing." Dean muttered, hopping from foot to foot as he stared at the light spilling out from the metal door, the only thing blocking him from the warm air pumping through the vents.

"It's your fault. You closed the door behind you." Castiel grumbled, glancing down at the large black watch that resided on his wrist. "He said he would be here five minutes ago." For once it seemed as if the November chill in the air was getting to the suited man. He had drawn the trench coat tighter around himself, and his hands were twitching against his crossed arms. But then, Dean hadn't seen the man smoke yet since his arrival.

Castiel had not appeared when he had pulled in just before ten, and Dean opened the door to the building and called out his name. The man had arrived, looking more haggard, if possible, and exited the door to the outside before he called back to Dean not to close the door since he did not have the key on him. Unfortunately, the comment was just mili-seconds from the click of the latch on the door.

To say the least, Dean was very pissed at the turn of the events. Thanksgiving was this weekend and he still had to go shopping for food. And he wasn't getting any of the cheep stuff like he had the previous years. This time, he had saved up enough money to get Sam and him a real turkey and some good beer, along with the other usual items needed on a day of Thanksgiving. Many of the stores would be closing around midnight, but at the rate they were going it would be well past that time after Dean delivered the packages to their destination.

Hugging himself, Dean turned to look at Castiel, noticing that the man was giving the door a glare that could have exploded it into smithereens if at all possible. "So... got any plans for Thanksgiving?" It was just idle chatting, something to pass the time until the person arrived with a key to let them in.

The blue eyes turned from the door and onto Dean, causing him to feel slightly uncomfortable at the calculating gaze he was given. "No." The reply came and it left Dean with little more information that he previously had. Castiel tilted his head before asking, "you?"

Dean paused, reaching up to blow some warm air onto his hands before he curled his fingers into firsts, attempting to preserve the heat. He knew he should start wearing winter clothes, but he refused hats and gloves due to the fact that they were in California and it should not be getting this cold. "My younger brother and I are eating together, I'm not sure if his girlfriend is coming as well, but, the more the merrier."

There was a long pause after that before Castiel cleared his throat and began to speak again. Dean could tell he felt awkward which caused him to wonder if he asked a personal question. "My siblings invited me to eat with them, but I prefer to treat this holiday as any other day."

Dean nodded, he understood. This job must be time consuming, leaving little time for a life and he assumed Castiel would want to spend his vacation doing what he wanted. But still, couldn't Castiel spare some change to get a real turkey or some sort of substance that he did not have to heat in a microwave. Knowing it was none of his business, Dean tried to steer the weak conversation in a different direction. "What exactly do you do here?" He hoped this was safe territory, Dean wasn't trying to pry, but he and this man had been meeting up for months and he barely knew anything about him, hell, they had barely talked.

"That..." Castiel paused, "is something I cannot tell you." A ghost of a smile passed over his light pink lips as he turned his body to glance behind them, waiting for the tell-tale of headlights that would signal someone's arrival.

"Secretive. This company has it's reputation." A chuckle passed from the drivers lips as he moved his arms to hug around him again, wishing for nothing more than returning to the sanctuary of the driver's seat, to turn on the heat at full blast and bask in the feeling of the chill leaving his body. But that would be unprofessional, and he was not going to invite Castiel into the front of the vehicle with him.

Castiel's drumming of his finger's against his arms increased in tempo before the patted down the pockets of clothing. "Our reputation has been long held intact by the charities we support and the deeds we do."

Dean only half listened to the statement, too focused on the way Castiel's long fingers threw shadows against the bottom hem of his trench coat. "Are you okay?" The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, but the way the man seemed agitated was far from his normal stoic and uncaring persona.

"No." Castiel snapped, and Dean hoped that he would not want to get into his feelings at the moment since the driver had no care or desire to listen to a man working for one of the richest companies complain about anything. "I'm tired, annoyed, the janitor should have been here fifteen minutes ago, and I left my pack of cigarettes on my desk in my office."

Castiel continued to glare out at the parking lot, as if trying to will the janitor into existence. It turned out that without his cigarettes and his daily dosage of nicotine, Castiel was an angry man who wanted nothing more than to smite anything in his way. Dean made a note of that so he could make sure that he was never in the man's path when withdrawals kicked in.

Not knowing what to respond with, Dean just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and murmured, "ah."

Neither one of them broke the silence that blanketed them after that. It wasn't uncomfortable, they were used to the silence that surrounded them previously, it was just silence from the lack of anything to say. They seemed to have fulfilled their small talk quota for the day.

Headlights appeared around the marble corner, a small Ford truck appeared, meandering towards them at a leisurely pace. Castiel's face grew cold and storm clouds seemed to form in the bright, blue eyes, anger seething just beneath the surface. The janitor got out of the car and took one look at Castiel's face before he ran up the steps and hurried to unlock the door for them. Castiel went straight past the man and to the storage room, punching in the code and scanning his eye and his thumb before he turned and disappeared down another hallway, leaving Dean to deal with everything himself.

Since Dean began that conversation that late night before Thanksgiving, talking flowed easily between them. It never passed the realm of personal life since both of them had rather secretive jobs to begin with. Sometimes Dean would comment on the traffic or something Sam was doing, while Castiel might comment on how his coffee was in the morning or the book he had just bought on his way to work. It was rather pointless information, but through that they learned about each other. Castiel was from a large family from Pontiac, Illinois. He took the job here to get away from them and get a new perspective. He walked to work, living a few streets away and would get a coffee and a bagel from the same bakery every morning. He rarely got a day off and when he did he usually spent it reading, sleeping, or going to museums. Those were just the basics, Dean had gathered some information from the man during talks, and he enjoyed them, even if they were just pleasantries. In return, Dean had told the man that he was from Kansas, loved his Chevy Impala and was working to put his brother through law school. He wasn't too fond of the city, but enjoyed that there was a variety of food grouped in one place. Dean was sure he had let more slip, especially when Castiel would prompt him with another question about Dean's life, and in return, Dean couldn't help comparing, out loud, information to other things Castiel had said.

Christmas was rapidly approaching and Sam had finally been able to convince Dean to switch his leather coat for a more practical winter one. He felt stupid, as if the puffy, down, coat made him look three times his actual size and that he was unable to move his arms to the full extent he should be able to.

Dean knew he was early, but he did not have a problem waiting for Castiel. Though once he pulled in to the loading dock area and turned the vehicle around the lights illuminated the figure standing out on the deck surrounded by large, plastic cases. Once the vehicle was in position he shut it off and hopped out, jogging up the steps to meet Castiel.

"Eager today, aren't we?" Dean joked, scanning his thumb as he glanced over his shoulder at the shadowed figure.

Castiel blew out a line of smoke and cleared his throat, the sound of rough gravel echoing off the marble. "I apologize, I have something to tend to after this."

Dean shrugged, pulling open the door after he entered the code. "No problem, I never complain about getting into my bed earlier than planned."

There were five cases in all and Dean grabbed the first one, noticing that it weighed a great deal. Castiel grabbed another one and entered the vehicle behind him. "Thank you, Dean." It felt slightly awkward to be thanked for doing his job so Dean just shrugged and they loaded the cases in silence. He closed the back doors and turned, getting ready to leave before his eyes landed on Castiel who pulled an envelope out of an inside pocket and held it out. Dean took it, glancing at the white envelope where his name was written in neat, cursive script. "Christmas bonus. All employee's get one. Have a good night."

With that, the other man turned, entering the building and letting the door close quietly behind him while Dean stared in surprise at the place Castiel had been standing.

When Dean arrived he felt like a storm cloud was brewing over Castiel's head, blue eyes swimming with anger and the ability to snap at any second at anyone. Dean walked up the steps and shook his head. "Deep breath, man, deep breath."

For once, Castiel listened to him and closed his eyes, breathing in slowly and then breathing out equally as slow. "Do I really look that bad?"

"Yeah, even worse than when the woman gave you a mocha latte instead of a black coffee." Dean chuckled, leaning against the back of the truck, shoving his hands back into the familiar leather pockets of his jacket. The weather had warmed up, heading towards spring and Dean couldn't wait for the beach weather. The t-shirts and jeans. Being able to work on his baby with out fearing for his appendages.

Castiel's blue eyes glanced over at him as they headed into the building. "I was angry because I had already left the bakery and walked most of the way here before I realized her mistake. They almost lost a customer."

"You would have returned. You seem like a rather loyal person." Dean was being sincere, from what he knew of Castiel he believed in everything he was doing whole-heartedly. Although, Dean was not sure whether that was a good or bad thing. "But what is it this time?"

Castiel huffed as he entered the code into the door, reaching up to run a hand through his messy hair before it dropped down to his side and drummed anxiously against his thigh. "Due to a new regulation, smoking is forbidden on company grounds. This is to encourage smokers to quit. We're trying to build a reputation as a healthy company and we would not want to be giving the wrong impression to children or customers. I've gotten a memo that I must abdicate smoking at once because of my position."

Dean raised his eyebrows and ducked through the door to grab the black case, lifting it up by the handle. "They're forcing you to quit?"

"Something like that." Castiel growled back, his deep voice laced with traces of anger and annoyance as he followed Dean back outside, observing him.

Dean opened the back of the van and placed the case into the holder before he exited and shut the door behind him. "Well, all I can say is that I wish you luck. It's gonna be a struggle."

"That it will be. I shall see you next week, Dean." Castiel replied, nodding to Dean as he turned, walking down the stairs and headed across the parking lot. Dean assumed that Castiel was heading home, especially since he could no longer stay on the deck and smoke a cigarette before he headed out. Shaking his head in slight confusion, Dean followed the same path off the deck and get onto the drivers seat of his vehicle.

Each week that passed by, Castiel seemed to be getting better and better about the whole not smoking ordeal. Instead, he told Dean that he would go for runs in the morning instead of having multiple cigarettes while staring off his balcony. Cigarettes had been the addiction that staved off his stress and gave him something to look forward to, now he used exercise to combat the stress and leave him tired and ready for sleep by the end of the day. Dean joked that they could go running together one morning, as he was an avid runner himself, but Dean knew Castiel would never take him up on that offer. Castiel seemed to be more relaxed, and it was odd for the first few weeks seeing the man with a book, papers, or just standing there when he arrived, instead of rolling a cigarette around his fingers. Although one thing that stayed the same was his voice and Dean wondered if maybe Castiel had always had a voice like that and the multiple packs of cigarettes had not changed it to be that rough.

As the weeks went by he considered Castiel to be more than an acquaintance, they had become almost companions as they went thought their required tasks for the late night. He liked to think that, perhaps, if their situation were different, they could be good friends. That was something Dean had missed. Due to the life he led he had little time for friends. He needed to take care of Sam. Needed to support and provide for his younger brother. That was what came first over everything.

Though Dean was not sure as to what the other man thought of him. Castiel's facial expressions barely changed, or at least, that was the way it seemed in the dim lighting of the loading area. Sometimes it seemed like a ghost of a smile would pass across Castiel's lips, but Dean had only seen him actually smile once or twice in the whole time he knew him. There was anger, and that always seemed to be there, confusion perhaps, and the usual spectrum of emotions except they seemed to be muted, almost as if Castiel fought against letting them show.

When Castiel met Dean on the loading dock he looked the most worn he had since he quit smoking. "Hello, Dean." The words seemed drawn and his voice was rougher than before.

"Hey, Castiel. What's up?" Dean meant it in a normal greeting, but it was also an invitation to talk about what was bothering him if he needed to.

Castiel shrugged, thrumming his thumb against the side of his leg, the trench coat swirling around his body as a cool breeze blew around them. Halloween had just passed and Dean had been working for this company for over a year. "Just stressors with the company and the fear that my family will not leave me alone for this Thanksgiving. I've heard it from one of my brothers who lives in Los Angeles that they're trying to congregate in Stanford for the holiday in order to force me to participate with them."

Dean chuckled, taking the black, plastic case from Castiel and placing it in the back of the vehicle. "Sometimes seeing your family isn't a bad thing."

"There is a reason why I left Illinois and there is a reason why I cannot talk about my work." Castiel replied, running his now free hand through his hand in an agitated manor a sigh rushing from his mouth.

Dean raised his eyebrows at the mention of Castiel's work, that was a subject they always steered away from. The clear anxiety that the employee was showing caused Dean to hesitate for a second, unaccustomed to seeing so much emotion on the man unless it was anger. Usually so stoic, this was a different side to Castiel.

So he took a chance.

"You look like you could relax. Sam, Jess, and I were going out for drinks, you can come if you want." Dean offered, shrugging one of his shoulders as he leaned against the back of the truck, watching Castiel closely.

The man seemed to think about his offer for a few seconds, his head tilted to the side while his eyes drifted off to the side. Then his head straightened and his gaze landed on Dean and he nodded slowly, another ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. "I'd like that."

A/N: So... this is the first story I've ever posted without finishing it first. My first WIP, woot. So I guess suggestions as to what should happen are awesome. I already kinda have an idea in mind.