"What happened last night, Castiel?" Michael asked. "Dean didn't seem like himself."

Castiel tried to skip over the fact that Michael thought he knew what Dean was like. It was five in the morning, and Castiel had barely slept. He had stumbled upon Michael and Lucifer talking tersely in the kitchen and been drawn in to their discussion on the way to the coffee maker.

"He wasn't. I think his drink was tampered with."

"That's melodramatic of you," Lucifer rolled his eyes. Castiel didn't argue with him. "He embarrassed the both of you, and the rest of us."

"He wasn't himself." Castiel insisted.

"Or maybe your artist is just a jerk? A disrespectful-"

"He understands a lot more than you give him credit for. I think I know him better than you do, Luke." Castiel drew his shoulders in, already wishing he had never walked out of his quarters. "He would never have done that normally. So stop."

"Just because you've watched him for months, read an article and been on two dates doesn't mean you know him at all." Lucifer shot back.

"Enough!" Michael commanded. "Luke, if Castiel's vouching for him then that should be enough."

"Why are you encouraging him? Encouraging this?" Lucifer sneered. "You know how this is going to end up. The same way it always does with Castiel."

Castiel's face erupted in heat, and he left his coffee on the counter, striding back out of the room.

"Castiel!" Michael called after him. Castiel heard him whispering reprimands at Lucifer, and footsteps following him. "Castiel, wait!"

"I'm going back to bed."

"Castiel … I saw you. The both of you. In the hallway."

Castiel stopped, and looked back at his eldest brother, who gave him a weak smile.

"I didn't mean to pry, or to invade your privacy. But it's okay, Castiel. I think he's good for you."

Castiel wished he could just take Michael at face value, and believe that he was enthusiastic for Castiel and Dean to have a real relationship, but he knew Michael too well. He just couldn't work out what Michael's agenda was.

"Luke's wrong. Dean's not after your money, or your name. I can tell. I know you worry about those things constantly, but for what it's worth, I think Dean is genuine in his attraction to you."

Castiel still said nothing. There was nothing he wanted to say to Michael. He just wanted his brothers to drop it.

"Maybe it's good that Meg's coming with you tonight. It'll give Luke a break from being so antagonistic."

Castiel continued walking away, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and messaging Dean. It was too early for him to reply, but Castiel couldn't wait. He needed to remind himself of the bond that was forming between himself and Dean, regardless of the night before.

"Did you miss me, Clarence?" Meg smirked as she strode into Castiel's room. He looked up from his cell phone, where he had been texting Dean. Dean who said he didn't remember much of the night, but he was sorry for the speeches. Castiel had managed not to mention the making out, the tender touches, the plan to go to Paris together. He had stuck to what Dean had mentioned, though his heart ached every time he remembered Dean asking for bread, and then asking to sleep with him in French.

"Hey, Meg."

"Look at you, using your cell like a normal person. Add me on Snapchat."

"I'm texting."

"I see that. Who is it?"

"That artist I know, Dean Winchester? I don't know if I've-"

"Clarence, I know who Dean Winchester is. I know about the massive crush. You mention him every time we talk. So last night was good, huh?"

"There were good elements," Castiel conceded. "How was your weekend?"

"Boring. I don't know why I still get dragged along with my parents to Washington. It would be so much easier if they just made me dictator of the United States. You can be my first lady boy."

Castiel rolled his eyes, but smiled at Meg.

"Well, to make up for a boring weekend, you get to come to this awards ceremony with me and my brothers."

"Kill me." Meg flopped onto his bed, and buried her head in the covers.

"And be left alone? No."

"I can't wait for Michael to ask me what my political interests are." Meg snarked.

"Gabe and Balth will ask which politicians you screwed," Castiel acknowledged. Meg looked up from the covers.

"Rookie mistake. You screw the admin, and get them to parrot your agendas while they're still besotted. Then if it goes wrong it doesn't fall back on you."

Castiel didn't know enough about politics to argue with her. She rolled over on the bed.

"You're so lucky your father never decided it 'might be fun' to be a senator. Ugh."

"I thought Azazel went into politics for capitalist gain?" Castiel mused. Meg glared at him from the bed.

"Stop sexting that artist guy. We need to get ready for an evening of banal conversation with your dull siblings."

Meg began stripping off, unabashed about nudity in front of Castiel. He had seen her naked a few times growing up, although he still felt like he had to look away, show her some respect. She crossed the room in just her thong, and pulled on her dress slowly, before turning her head.

"Can you zip me up?"

Castiel got up from the bed reluctantly, and helped with the zip at the back of Meg's dress as she held her caramel-coloured curls to the side. She grinned at him, and he strode over to his closet, pulling out a suit to change into. Like Meg, he was unabashed as he changed in front of her. They had grown up together, shared baths together. He knew her body as well as he knew her own, and vice versa. And there was never going to be anything between them, even without men like Dean existing.

"Guys have it so easy, throwing on a tux and you're done. My make up took an hour, and my hair took twice as long." She gazed at herself in the full length mirror, turning her head this way and that to critique her appearance. Castiel returned to his cell phone. "Can you leave that alone for one night? Didn't you ever treat them mean to keep them keen?"

"I don't want to treat Dean meanly."

Meg twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

"This is where you're going wrong."

"I don't think so, Meg. The right person will want the way I treat them, and treat me in a way I appreciate."

"Dork." Meg smirked.

"Indeed. Are you going man eating tonight?"

"Of course. There has to be someone eligible at these things. Now you're taking yourself off the market with that artist guy."

"Enjoy hitting on the staff."

"Always," Meg smirked.

The night was as dull as Castiel was expecting. Even spending his time with Meg didn't have the same veneer as time with Dean. Meg was as she always was, dry and sardonic and dismissive of his siblings. She occasionally turned to Castiel to make a caustic remark, but otherwise, Castiel spent most of his time thinking of Dean. Of the award that Dean had won, and how different a prestigious art award was to this one, which involved various companies run by Lilith's family. How Dean would look in his tux, his hair slicked to the side. How much Dean took away his anxiety, which had been in full force all night. He found it difficult to even speak with Meg how he normally did, which she either didn't notice or didn't care enough about.

It was strange how much Dean calmed him, how open he felt around such a good-looking, even-tempered man. How time flew in his presence, how even though his siblings were irritating it did feel less annoying with Dean there as a buffer. As much as Dean didn't believe that he did that. They had only had two dates, and yet Castiel missed him so much already.

He arrived home late, after Michael but before the rest of his brothers, managing to avoid a conversation with his eldest brother and going straight to bed. He crawled under the covers and checked his cell. There were no new messages from Dean, but that was okay. Castiel sent some instead.

-Hello, Dean. I missed you tonight.

-Meg is good company, but it wasn't the same as you being here. I hope you had a good evening. See you soon.