I may have accidentally included a little smidgen of Destiel fluffiness, just because I'm a SUCKER for Destiel, but I shan't lay it on too heavy. Nooo I'll leave that for my other stories ^-^
Dexter hovers in his lab, peering through the blinds at the closed door of LaGuerta's office, just waiting. He isn't 100%, but if that wasn't the guy from the crime scene and from the bar the night before last 'Agent Young' scurrying through the cosy little home of the Homicide Department, then he is a monkey's uncle. He caught a flash of brown-black hair and the most ridiculously blue eyes he has ever seen in the brief moment the trench coat clad side kick glanced up from the floor, which just happened to be the moment Dexter looked up from the handful of reports he was double checking before he leaving them on Angel's desk. This is a new face. It's not the same Hulk pretty boy he has been with before. The two men file out of LaGuerta's office, followed closely by LaGuerta herself, who is clearly taking more than a professional interest in 'Agent Young' and she giggles sweetly, laying a hand on his arm, and even flashing a slightly curious look at the new man. The trench coat wearing man is standing bolt upright, but his shoulders are relaxed and from the way his head is beginning to drift to the side, he is not paying LaGuerta any heed whatsoever. She notices this, quickly returning all of her attention to the taller and more agreeable of the two, and he flashes her an award winning smile before more than gently tugging at the sleeve of his partner in an attempt to drag him away from whatever fantasy he is having and back to the real world, where he now has to act like a normal human being. Whatever that means. He apparently takes it as shaking LaGuerta's hand, pausing to smooth his hand over the back of hers, and by the way she flushes and turns her face away from him, he is complimenting her, but this seems to rile the taller one, and he actually begins to tow Agent Trench Coat away. Certainly not normal fed behavior, that's for sure. Dexter springs in to action, applying his best power walk as he tries not to look conspicuous in following the agents, whom have already attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity, and he hops easily in to the elevator, making a 'whoop' noise as he does so, "Hold the elevator!" He exclaims warmly, in what he considers to be a friendly tone. He doesn't miss as 'Agent Young' glares at him unhappily, like he's just ruined his picnic plans, but he simply answers it with a friendly smile and a nod. Dexter tries to think of awkward small talk he can make, anything to catch them out, fixing on mentioning the fact that this is not exactly trench coat weather. His words are cut off as soon as his mouth opens though, as Agent Trench Coat fixes him with the most unsettling stare he has ever come across – and he's been on the receiving end of the glares of a lot of scary people; murderers, rapists, child abusers, wife beaters, real FBI agents – and Agent Trench Coat begins to speak.
"What is it you do?"
Dexter stumbles with his words stupidly with the shock at the unexpected question. "Blood spatter analysis," He gestures skywards as the elevator begins its descent, readying for a cut-a-long-story-short tale of what it is he does in the daylight hours.
"You know I don't mean that," The man's brilliant blue eyes don't flicker, there's a blend of every emotion imaginable and utter emotionlessness in them, and his face is a mask of solemnity.
Dexter lets out an awkward chuckle and scratches at his stubble. "I have a son at home..." All of a sudden, Dexter feels naked in front of this man, like he is looking straight in to his soul and reading him like a hardback book.
Agent Young clears his throat loudly and stamps his foot in an attempt to cover a sharp jab to Trench Coat's ribs. "Cas, enough."
Cas' gaze lingers on Dexter for a very long time before turning to his partner, and for what it's worth, he looks perfectly innocent, like a child caught with chocolate smeared all over it, denying any knowledge of what has happened to the chocolate spread. His face takes on a different quality now, the way in which he looks at Young is almost like admiration. Young glares back, his jaw set hard his lips a tight line until eventually, Cas drops his eyes and his head, like scolded puppy, and he shuffles against the wall of the elevator. "I'm sorry, Dean," He looks back up at 'Agent Dean Young' eyes pleading for forgiveness, and for a brief moment, a look for pain crosses Dean's face, as if the words had brought about a memory he had buried in the past, and he briefly goes to lay a hand on Cas, but snatches the hand back at the last moment and looks away.
"Just... Be careful," The weight of the words as the come from Dean's mouth sets heavy on all three of them, and it doesn't take a fool to realize that these two men are more than just partners in a government agency.
Dexter lets out a sigh of relief as the elevator doors slide open, and the tension inside seems to drain out, and he graces the two men with one last smile and a tip of the hand. Only Dean returns the gesture; Cas is still glum, gazing longingly at Dean as he hurries out of the elevator before the doors close.
Dexter watches as Cas trails quietly behind Dean, shoulders now sagging, feet almost dragging, but he seems to still glide along like some kind of cosmic being. He keeps his head low, but it is obvious even from where Dexter is standing that those bright blue eyes are trained on Dean.
Feeling somewhat nauseous and faint, Dexter opts to take the stairs back up to Homicide, and he rushes to his office and collapses on his chair dropping his head in to his hands until he manages to calm himself down again.
He knows. I don't know how, but he knows my secret. I can't trust him with it. I can't trust anyone. It never turns out well when people know. It is a problem. And problems need dealing with.