So, this originally started from a prompt I got on tumblr (by hopkins8) that was just meant to be a short ficlet. The short ficlet then accidentally became a long fic because I desperately needed to carry on writing in this verse and I didn't want to say goodbye to Oliver Mulligan just yet (hopefully you will understand when you read the first chapter).
I can't promise super regular updates; I'm unsure as to the times between each new chapter, but I will try and update as often as I can! I will try and ensure that I tag warnings appropriately in future chapters.
Happy reading!

Family

ˈfamɪli,-m(ə)l-/

noun

noun: family; plural noun: families

a group consisting of two parents and their children living together as a unit; a group of people related by blood or marriage.

It is not derived by the sharing of blood, but by the sheer power of choice alone.

Dean was in the middle of tapping away at the keyboard when the door opened to interrupt him, making him nearly jump out of his seat. A guy he'd never seen before was standing in the doorway awkwardly, obviously noting Dean's surprise and slight confusion.

"I'm-" the guy started to say, eyes wide, and Dean could see even from this far away how fucking blue they were, "I'm here for the Mulligan case."

"Oh?" Dean asked, still not quite getting it. He seemed to remember that he had an appointment about that today, but he couldn't for the life of him remember who it actually was with.

"I'm Castiel Novak, Oliver's social worker," the guy added, gesturing behind him, "Your secretary told me to come right through-"

"Oh, right," Dean finally understood, "Come in. Sorry, I've been having one of those long days, y'know, where you lose like 50 IQ points," he grinned tiredly, realising that he perhaps wasn't giving the best first impressions right about now, "Sit, please."

Castiel nodded and shut the door behind him. Dean gave him a quick glance, trying to figure out the guy in the few seconds it took him to sit down in his chair; Dean had always been one to try and know what kind of conversation he was going to get stuck in, whether it be with a social worker that didn't give a shit (which he'd had a fair amount of; those that only turned up because they had to rather than because they wanted to for the sake of the kid) or one of those that cared too much and tried to tell Dean how to do his damn job.

Castiel didn't seem like either of those and he also didn't look like he was going to cause Dean any bother or be insufferable. He just looked like a normal, albeit attractive, guy who was here to do his job. And when Dean said he was attractive, he wasn't exaggerating. Sure, Dean hadn't been on a date in a good while because he was 'married' to his job or whatever his family and friends always told him, but Dean knew a good looking guy when he saw one. And Cas was most definitely one of them.

Dark messy hair topped off the guy, followed by those bright blue eyes that Dean knew he could easily get sucked into. Clothes wise, he was wearing a shirt and sweater combo and Dean suppressed the urge to drool when he saw that the sweater had elbow pads. He didn't know why, but he'd always had a thing for elbow pads, it was one of the reasons why he'd became a lawyer in the first place, to get a chance at being around all the hot guys wearing cute office sweaters… Okay, it hadn't been one of the reasons why he'd chosen this life altering path, but it was definitely a perk.

Fuck, focus. Dean wasn't on a fucking date, he was in a business meeting. Jesus, he really needed to get laid. And he needed for hot people to not come into his office; that would be good too.

"So, uh," Dean coughed, putting himself back into his professional mode. He wasn't a dick after all, he could still work like a normal being even though he was in the presence of a hot guy, it wasn't like it was fucking difficult to put that aside while business was being done, "How's the kid doing?"

Castiel sighed, his shoulders drooping, "Not very well," he admitted.

"Problem with these kind of cases," Dean shrugged, shutting down the document he'd been typing on, "the kids always get the raw end of the deal," he'd been working this job for far too long to know that that was the saddening truth, "I think it's worse for the older ones, the ones who can understand what's going on," he looked at Castiel and raised an eyebrow, "How old is he?"

"Fourteen," Castiel replied, still looking troubled at the fact that one of the kids he was having to look out and be responsible for was having such a hard time. Cas' distress actually made Dean feel better though, it showed that the dude cared and he wasn't just here for a nice fat pay cheque.

"Yeah," Dean nodded in understanding, "I can understand why he's not dealing with it all too well. Does he resent her or does he love her and think she's done nothing wrong?" he ran his tongue over his lips, "I'm not sure which one is worse for the kid to be honest."

Castiel scratched his wrist lightly, perhaps a nervous habit of his, "I think it's a strange combination of the two."

Dean winced, "Worse combination then," he turned to look back to his computer, tapping away to get the correct document up, "Is he with a foster family?"

Dean already knew that the kid didn't have a father, not one that had stuck around anyway. It often helped if at least one of the parents were actually half decent but, sadly for this kid, that wasn't the case.

"In a foster home at the moment," Castiel told him, "I'm going to be looking for foster families when I know the outcome of the trial because then I know whether it'll be temporary or more permanent. Though most foster families are temporary nowadays, especially with someone his age," Castiel sighed and Dean made a noise of sympathy as he typed it down. Again, with his job he knew all too well how difficult it could be to get foster families to foster anyone who was over the age that was regarded as 'cute'.

"For the trial," Castiel leaned forward on his seat, settling his hands on the busy desk, "Does he need to be there?"

"No," Dean shook his head, turning his attention back to Castiel's worried expression, "Seeing as he's a minor, it's probably for the best that he stays away and is the least involved in this as possible. But," Dean smiled, "It'd be good if we could get some kind of witness statement from him. I mean, she's not going on trial for her mothering skills but I know she wasn't a great one," he frowned, silently thanking the universe for giving him the great mother that he had himself instead of one that didn't give a shit, "A statement from the kid might influence the judge."

Castiel bit his bottom lip, frowning as he thought aloud, "I'm not sure whether he'll want to do that."

"Okay," Dean smiled encouragingly, "Just tell him that it's no pressure at all. If he wants to, he wants to, but if not, that's okay too. I have other evidence so-" Dean shrugged.

Castiel smiled back before it turned into an uneasy frown, "Realistically, how long do you think she'll get?"

"I'm pushing for twelve or thirteen," Dean replied truthfully, "But she'll probably only get eight or nine. Ten at most."

"And there's no chance of a suspended sentence?" Castiel asked, asking all the right questions he was supposed to, the guy was obviously good at his job.

"No," Dean snorted, "the defence attorney isn't that good."

"Right," Castiel nodded, eyes flicking to the left and right as he thought of something, "He'll be his own guardian by the time she finishes."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "And it will probably do him some good. She's not good news and the kid is better off, even with foster families rather than with her."

"Yes, I know," Castiel agreed, though he didn't seem happy about it. Dean understood, kids should be with their parents, not strangers, and they especially shouldn't be thrust upon strangers so late into their life. But sometimes that was the way things had to go even though it sucked.

They finished off their meeting dealing with some of the small print of the trial and in Dean's relief, Cas seemed to understand it all and was nice and alert unlike some of the other social workers Dean had had to deal with in the past. Castiel left with the promise that he would contact him when he knew whether Oliver would want to write a statement or not.

Castiel kept to his promise and three days later, Dean got a phone call. It was in the middle of Dean's lunch break where he was catching up with everything that was going on in Sam's life, but Dean answered it all the same; it wasn't like he wasn't going to see Sam after work anyway, because Dean was going to his to have dinner with him and Jess (which Dean was looking forward to because his mother had recently taught Jess how to make awesome apple pies).

"Hey Cas," Dean smiled through the phone, momentarily wondering whether he should perhaps be using his last name instead because y'know, it would probably be more polite and professional. Shit.

"Hello Dean," Castiel replied, making Dean relax because the dude was using his first name too so that meant it was fine.

Dean ignored Sam's puzzled glance, "So, have you managed to talk to the kid yet?"

"Yes," Castiel told him, "It seems like he might do it, but he has a few questions and I thought- I don't want to be a bother, but I thought it would be best if he got the answers from you? I think it would make it easier for him to decide to go through with it."

"Sure, that wouldn't be a problem," Dean reached out for his planner, flipping through it as he tried to multitask, "Um, I'm free on Friday, it might be a bit of a squeeze but I can fit you guys in-"

"No Dean, I don't want to be a bother," Castiel interrupted him.

"No man, it's okay," Dean grabbed a pen and tapped it against the notepad, momentarily forgetting Sam's existence, "I want to sort everything out by the end of this week seeing as the trials in two weeks, maybe three if the defence attorney gets their way. I want it all sorted out so I know what case I'm putting forward and then I can focus on the bigger cases I have," he sighed as he looked at the wad of paperwork that still needed to be done. God, this week was going to be a long one.

"Okay, if you're sure," Castiel said, "So, Friday?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "I can fit you in just before lunch and then it doesn't matter if we go over a little cause the kids asking a lot. How about," Dean scribbled it down on his planner, "I'll talk to my secretary and just make sure I can fit it in, and then I'll call you when I know for sure?"

"Okay, that's fine," Castiel replied, sounding like he was smiling, "Thank you for doing this Dean. I know you're busy and the fact that you're making time for Oliver is extremely generous of you."

"It's okay," Dean shrugged, feeling himself smile, "I know that sometimes the kids don't get a say or know everything that's going on and I don't think that's fair, y'know?"

"Yes, I know," Castiel agreed and there was something in his tone that made Dean think that he perhaps knew all too well, "I'll leave you to it and I'll wait for your call. Thank you again Dean."

"Yeah, okay," Dean ducked his head down as he grinned, "I'll call you."

The both said goodbye before they hung up, Dean dropping his phone back into his pocket. He was pulled out of his happy daydreaming when he saw Sam's expression.

"What?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sam huffed, "He has your phone number?"

"Yeah," Dean explained slowly, thinking that perhaps Sam had been hit on the head, "One of the cases I've got, there's a kid involved and he's the social worker of the kid."

"Okay," Sam nodded slowly, suddenly speaking as slowly as Dean had to him, like Dean was an idiot or something, "So why does he have your phone number?"

"Huh?" Dean crinkled his nose, lost in the conversation.

Sam bit back a smile, those annoying ones where he knew or noticed something you didn't, smiles that Dean had had to deal with his entire fucking life, "He has your cell number," Sam pointed at Dean's pocket, "Not your work phone."

Understanding washed over Dean, "Oh," he stumbled on his words as he tried to explain, "Yeah, but that's because I was waiting for him to call me about the kid and I needed to know quickly," he realised that was indeed, the worst excuse in the world and he promptly shut his mouth because there was no reason as to why Dean had given him his phone number. In fact, Dean didn't even know why he'd really done it; Cas could have quite easily just left a message on Dean's work phone if Dean hadn't been here to pick it up. Hell, Inias would have picked it up for him and delivered the message to him, that's what secretaries did after all.

"Right," Sam said, though he sounded far from believing Dean's spiel, not that Dean blamed him for that, "And," Sam grinned knowingly, "You've got that look on your face."

"What?" Dean frowned, wondering when his nice lunch with his little brother had turned into Sam teasing him.

"You know, the look you do, when you go all gooey because you've found someone new that you like and want to settle down with and have five kids," Sam's grin widened maddeningly.

"What? No, I don't," Dean argued back, spluttering, "I don't have a look!"

"Sure you do," Sam replied with shrug, "Dean, I've been your brother for twenty seven freaking years, I know your looks."

No matter what Dean did, his stupid, annoying, younger brother still didn't relent. Even when it was dinner time and they were seated around Sam and Jess' dining table, Sam was still grinning knowingly. Dean was surprised at how he managed to fight every urge in his body that told him to pick up his filled plate and throw it as his smug looking face. Because Dean didn't have a look, he didn't.

Friday came around quickly and Dean fiddled with his collar when Inias announced on the intercom that Mr Novak and Oliver Mulligan were here for their appointment. As soon as Dean realised what he was doing, he instantly stopped, just in case one of Sam's little spies were around who would go tell his little brother and only add fuel to the fire. It had been fucking days and still, Sam was teasing him.

Dean stood up as Castiel entered with Oliver, face stretching into a grin when he saw that this time Cas was in more casual wear, probably for the sake of the kid so as not to make him think that he was walking into some serious business conference. Today, Cas was wearing a simple pair of (tight) dark blue jeans, a plain grey t-shirt and a slightly oversized tweed jacket flung on top. And jesus, he looked good.

"Hey Cas," Dean looked over at the kid who was staring at him unnervingly, "Um, Mr Novak."

"You can call him Cas in front of me, that's what I call him," the boy pointed out, crossing his arms.

"Right," Dean nodded, grinning at Cas.

"Dean," Castiel smiled, gesturing to Oliver, "This is Oliver. Oliver, this is Dean Winchester, he's the lawyer I've been talking to you about."

Oliver stared at him coolly, like he was trying to figure Dean out. He looked his real age, perhaps a little older with the way he carried himself which wasn't a surprise to Dean, He guessed the kid had had to act a lot older than he was with the upbringing he had. He had dark hair that was a little similar to Cas', though it was black rather than a dark brown and seemed even more messier than Castiel's. His clothes were simple, a faded t-shirt with a band that Dean had never heard of, old jeans with black lace up boots to finish it off. He didn't have a jacket even though it was cold outside, either because he didn't own one or because he was trying to look like he didn't need one.

"You want to shake hands or are you too cool for that?" Dean half joked, already knowing the answer as soon as the boy's dark eyes bored holes into him, "Right," Dean gestured for the two of them to sit down on the plush chairs. He wasn't fazed by Oliver's non response, Dean had dealt with way worse a people than this kid.

"Oliver," Castiel hissed as all three of them sat down, "Be polite."

"I'm here aren't I?" Oliver replied, turning his gaze back to Dean. Castiel smiled apologetically at Dean and Dean smiled back to let him know it was fine.

"So, Cas told me you have some questions," Dean folded his arms on the table, the documents already up on the computer if he needed to look at them.

Oliver gave a quick glance at Cas who nodded at him encouragingly, telling Dean that even though Oliver seemed to act like he didn't have a care in the world, he still listened to Castiel and valued his advice, "You want me to write you a witness statement, right?"

"Yep," Dean nodded, "I'm not asking for an essay or anything like that though, don't worry."

Oliver crossed his arms tightly against himself, leaning back on his chair, "And my statement will help my mom go down for longer?"

Dean looked over at Cas who was watching the exchange nervously, "It-" Dean tried to use his words carefully, "Depending on what you write, it'll help the judge see what kind of a person your mother is, her overall personality. It could cause her to get more years," Dean replied honestly. He wasn't going to sugar coat it for the kid, that wasn't fair on him.

Oliver kept his eyes locked on Dean and asked up front, "What about if I wanted her to have less years? For my statement to do that?"

Dean looked over at Cas, not expecting the question. Cas seemed just as surprised, he hadn't been expecting it either. Cas shook his head at him, eyes wide, like he was unsure of what to say.

"Well," Dean said, shrugging, "Then you're talking to the wrong side kid."

Oliver nodded like he'd knew that all along, "So," he looked around the office with interested eyes, "You're the lawyer that's trying to put my mom in jail."

"Uh," Dean winced, "Yeah."

"What, you think you're god or something?" Oliver asked, raising a dark eyebrow challengingly, "That you get to decide who does and doesn't deserve to go to jail?"

"Oliver," Castiel reprimanded him, looking at Dean apologetically, "I'm sorry Dean."

"No, it's okay," Dean smoothed it over, not offended by it at all.

"What?" Oliver pulled a face, "I'm just asking, Cas," he scraped his thumb across his bottom lip, "That's what I'm here for, to ask questions."

"Not questions that insult him Oliver," Castiel reminded him with a frown.

"Fine," Oliver mumbled, sinking into his seat.

Dean looked from Oliver to Castiel and back again, "To answer your question," Dean couldn't help but smile, "No, I don't think I'm God. I just want to put the bad guys away."

Oliver's eyes snapped up to him, "You think my mom's one of the bad guys?" he countered.

Straight away, Dean sensed it was a test of some kind, even without the way Castiel stiffened in his seat and then started to fiddle with the hem of his jacket nervously. Dean knew that whatever his reaction was to Oliver's question would decide on whether or not Oliver would make a statement for him.

"I think," Dean smiled softly, "she's committed a crime so she has to take the punishment."

Oliver looked at him and while he could use his body language and all the expressions in the world to try and act like he didn't care, he couldn't control the emotions in his eyes. Dean could see the hurt in them, the betrayal of what his mother had caused. And Dean didn't blame him one bit for it.

The boy averted his gaze, pressing his lips tightly together before he gulped heavily. His shoulders turned slightly hunched and Dean spotted the way he turned his body a little away from both Cas and Dean as he thought for a while. Dean kept quiet, giving the kid some space; his whole world had turned upside down in the matter of two months, the kid deserved some time to think things out.

"So," Oliver spoke up, licking his lips nervously as he looked over the table at Dean, "How do I do this witness statement thing?"

Once they'd discussed it fully, what Oliver needed to write in the statement, what he didn't need to do, their little meeting came to a stop. Oliver clearly wanted to leave, standing up from his seat as he looked from Castiel to Dean.

Dean locked gazes with Castiel, wanting to speak some more but not wanting to do it in front of the kid, "Hey Oliver," he rummaged in his pockets, "There's a vending machine just around the corner, how about you go see if it's got anything you like. That okay, Cas?" he turned to Cas with a smile.

"Yes, that's fine," Cas nodded, eyes warm.

"Here," Dean handed over a five dollar note to Oliver.

Oliver only looked down at it and said with distaste, "I don't want charity."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Kid, its five dollars so you can get a candy bar, I don't think that quite categorises as charity."

Oliver kept his eyes on the money before he reached out and grabbed it, mumbling, "Thanks," as he walked out of the room to leave Cas and Dean to it.

"Turn right and you'll find it," Dean called out to him, grinning when Oliver simply raised a hand, back still turned from him, to signal that he'd heard.

"I like the kid," Dean announced, turning to Cas with a smile.

"Really?" Castiel blinked, looking confused, "Most people call him brash and rude, amongst other things," he blew out an irritated breath, clearly angered by the way people were treating the kid.

"Nah, I'm a lawyer," Dean squeezed Cas' shoulder, "I can tell the difference between a kid who's been dealt a shit card and an evil son of a bitch."

Castiel smiled at that, "He's a good kid," he looked in the direction that Oliver had walked off, "He just tries to hide a lot of it."

Dean bumped Cas' shoulder, "You're good at your job," at Cas' wide eyed expression he added, "Really good."

Castiel opened his mouth but nothing came out and he looked flustered as he bit his lip to try and hide a smile, "Uh," he recovered quickly, "I'll make sure Oliver writes the statement tonight," he hugged the papers to his chest, "I can fax it tomorrow."

"Thanks," Dean smiled appreciatively.

"Do you have everything ready for the trial?" Castiel questioned, fiddling with the papers in his hold.

"Yep, got everything covered I think," Dean nodded smoothly, "Can't wait to get it out of the way now though."

"It seems," Cas dipped his head to look Dean in the eye, amusement playing in his eyes, "Like you're good at your job too."

Just as Dean was about to reply, Oliver returned in the doorway, "Can I come in or have you guys not finished your special private talk?" he rolled his eyes.

"Come in," Dean laughed, "Did you find a candy bar that you like?"

"Yup," Oliver muttered before he took a massive bite out of the chocolate, mouth full.

Castiel looked mildly horrified at that but he turned back to Dean and managed a smile, "I shall see you at the trial."

"Yeah, okay," Dean grinned at the thought of Cas being there; he hadn't known whether he would be there or not and the idea of Cas getting to see him work made Dean part excited, part nervous, "See you then Cas," he looked over at Oliver, "See you Oliver."

"Yeah, see you," Oliver said distractedly but he gave Dean a small smile which Dean took as an accomplishment. The smile turned into a frown when Castiel stayed where he was, "God Cas, come on," he complained, tugging at Cas' sleeve, muttering something about heart eyes or some shit that Dean couldn't quite catch.

Cas managed to give Dean a quick wave goodbye before he was strutted off. Dean sat back down on his chair at his desk, looking at his computer screen that had switched off. In the reflection of the black screen, he realised he did indeed have a look.

The trial went as planned and Carla Mulligan was sentenced to nine years in jail. It wasn't quite as long as Dean had hoped for, but it was long enough for him to be happy about it. The defence attorney seemed to be happy with the results too, she'd managed to cut some of the years off anyway. Dean thanked the judge, picked up his papers and made his way to greet Cas in the corridors. The guy was back to wearing more smart clothes, a grey suit this time and Dean grinned at the sight.

"Hey Cas," Dean quickly walked to him, loosening his tie a little.

Cas' face lightened when he realised Dean had appeared, "Hi," they moved away from the crowds, "You did a good job in there."

Dean flushed at the compliment, "Thanks," he licked his lips and pulled a pained expression, "How do you think the kid is going to take it?"

Castiel winced, body deflating tiredly, "I'm not sure."

"Hey Cas?" Dean laid a hand on Cas' shoulder, "If you ever need someone to talk to about the trial or any of the other shit you've got going on, call me okay? You've got my number."

Cas blinked at him, momentarily shocked at the offer before his face broke out into an appreciative smile, "Thank you Dean. And the same of course goes to you," he leaned in with a wry smile, "I can imagine that being a lawyer is rather stressful."

Dean snorted, "You bet your ass it is."

Castiel laughed at that, the weariness seeping away for a moment, "I-" he swallowed, "I should get back to work. There's lots of papers I need to fill out before school finishes and then I have to go see Oliver."

"Right, okay," Dean nodded, moving back away from Cas, "Um, good luck."

"Thank you," Castiel gave him one more glance, blue eyes bright and almost a little regretful, before he turned on his heel and walked down the corridor away from Dean.

Pathetically, Dean watched him go until he was no longer in sight.