Frederick couldn't have chosen a better subject. It's almost like Castiel wants to be stalked-no, courted. Not longer after his first night with Castiel, Frederick finds a closet that Castiel never uses It wouldn't be surprising if ever-oblivious Castiel doesn't know the closet is there. From the closet, Frederick can piece together what Castiel is doing by the way lights go on and off, and by the creaking of drawers and the sounds of doors opening.
On the rare occassions Castiel plays shopkeeper, he's in the store all day and well into the night. Frederick has a lot of time to inhale Castiel's scent and to take little keepsakes. He goes through Castiel's other closets and his bookshelves. Everything about Castiel is erotic, from his plain white undershirts and his musty old books. Frederick has a goldmine.
It's not the first time he's rummaged through the drawers, but this time he finds something different. Underneath Castiel's socks is a photo. A police officer, judging by his outfit, with short-cropped hair and a shit-eating grin, has one friendly arm around Castiel. Castiel doesn't look as surly as usual; in fact, he looks pleased, as pleased as his usual stoicism will allow.
Frederick doesn't know who the man is. Castiel's brother? He's seen one of Castiel's brothers before, in a cafe. Castiel and his brother were stern, serious-looking men. Castiel has a few brothers from what Frederick has gathered: Michael, Gabriel, Lucas. His sister, Anna, is dead. But the man in the picture bears no family resemblance.
Occasionally, Castiel receive calls from someone named Balthazar, but these usually make Castiel irritated. Balthazar often asks for money or bail. Castiel does not seem irritated by the man in the photo, Frederick fumes, clenching the photo in his hand. The man who has his arm around Castiel, smiling and open. Who is it?
Frederick flips the photo over. Dean&Cas, Sept2010, written in handwriting that's too large and sloppy to be his angel's. Frederick tries not to crinkle the picture any more than he already has.
Frederick hates Dean. Dean can touch Castiel whenever he wants, can touch him with other people looking, doesn't have to keep it a secret. He almost rips the photograph but decides against it. He buries it under socks again.
Now, he has to have Castiel. Whoever the man in the photograph is, he has no right to Frederick's angel. Castiel is his completely, and the angel needs to know that.
Drugging Castiel is a bit of a risk, but it's practical. It's a weak tranquilizer, enough to knock Castiel out but not enough to kill him. Frederick would never forgive himself if he hurts Castiel in any way.
He'll sneak it into Castiel's food. There's some leftover Chinese take-out, but Frederick thinks Castiel finished the remnants of his fried rice the night before. Frederick mentally inventories: slices of cheese, milk, chocolate syrup, egg salad.
He walks into the kitchen and finds out he is accurate. The container of milk is almost empty, and he'd forgotten about the yogurt and old pizza slices. But he was right about the egg salad, and that's all he needs. He crushes the pill into the egg salad and mixes it. Frederick is reminded of an dog's owner crushing up a pill into dog food to trick the animal. Castiel isn't an animal, but he'll soon be Frederick's pet.
Frederick kills time, smelling Castiel's clothes, looking over his few personal mementos. It's not enough to prevent his anxiousness. Tonight is the night. He has a car waiting, far enough to not cause suspicious, but not too far. Close enough that Frederick could carry the tall but slender body and lay it down on the back seat and drive Castiel to their new home. He can feel the phantom weight of Castiel's body, heavy in his arms as he rescues them both from miserable loneliness.
Tonight is the night.
He masturbates in Castiel's bathroom. oon, he'll be able to do the real thing. Castiel will be beneath him, on the bed that Frederick picked out for him, and he'll be staring at Frederick with those wide, loving, blue eyes, with a look he would never give to-
Dean. For some reason, the name slips into Frederick's mind. That one picture is enough to make Frederick want to kill the man. Maybe that will be his second mission.
He finishes, cleans up quickly, and ducks into the closet for the night. It's just in time too, because Castiel has walked in. Frederick stills himself completely. He sees the light go on in the kitchen, hears the refrigerator creak open. He imagines Castiel rummaging through his paltry selection. The refrigerator door closes.
Castiel is walking back to the room. He stops a few inches before the closet door, but Frederick can see him absently take the lid off of the egg salad. Bring a forkful to his mouth. Catch a whiff of something, make a disgusted face, sniff the container, flinch.
He goes back to the kitchen. In one fluid motion, Castiel tosses the container into the garbage with one hand and picks up the phone in the other. He orders tofu with black bean sauce and fried rice.