Dean came to slowly, a nagging pain in his lower back bringing him back to consciousness. He reached around, and pulled a lump of metal out from under him. He frowned at it, and then tossed it aside sleepily, hearing it clunk across the floor. Was he taking his work to bed with him now?
"Ahem."
The fake cough brought him around much more quickly. He blinked his eyes open to find Charlie and Sam glowering down at him, the roof behind their heads full of exposed beams and hanging creations. He'd fallen asleep in the studio.
"Crap, did I miss the thing with Cas last night?" He croaked, and rubbed his face roughly. "Think I dreamed that we went-" he stopped himself as his dream came back to him. And the end of the dream, where Cas confessed to liking him too. Where they made out for ages, and came back to the studio … and that's all Dean could remember.
"No, you went." Sam said shortly, looking pissed off. "Dean, what the hell is going on?"
"Um, I tanked, I think." Dean blushed. "I was up nearly forty-eight hours, Sammy."
He sat up and looked around then, and noticed that Castiel was long gone. Had Castiel even stayed the night? Dean didn't think they'd even had sex, just fooled around, making out on the dusty floor. His suit - which he'd slept in - was completely filthy, and crumpled. Ruined. A couple of thousand dollars worth of couture washed down the drain, and Dean had no regrets.
"Dean, this is starting to go the same way it did with Benny." Sam pressed.
"I think he likes me." Dean replied. "Like, really likes me."
Sam and Charlie exchanged another look, and Sam walked away, Charlie bit her lip.
"Dean lets … lets just focus on the art show, okay? We don't have long. We'll go eat breakfast and then you can work on the last few pieces."
He hated the patronising tone. Did they not see Dean and Castiel's connection? They never even met Benny; he was just a concept to them. But he knew that pointing all this out would only make Sam and Charlie worse. Instead, he cleared his throat.
"I'm going to shower and change first."
"Good idea," Charlie nodded, and flitted out of the studio. Dean searched in his pockets for his cell phone, but the battery had died over night. First thing he was going to do, even before the shower, was plug it in and look for messages from Castiel.
As far as Charlie and Sam knew, Dean dedicated the next couple of days exclusively building up his pieces for the show. They didn't know he had sneaked his cell phone into his pocket or that he was messaging Castiel at every opportunity. Their texts were getting increasingly soppy, and Dean could feel that buzzing in his chest just thinking about the messy-haired billionaire.
But despite the flushes of new love, Dean had actually managed to progress pretty well with his work. Maybe that was what kept Charlie and Sam off his back. He had a week until the show, and he was already putting the finishing touches on the last sculpture that he wanted to include in his showcase. Just in time for the last event that Castiel wanted to bring him to, a catwalk show for some client of Michael's.
In some ways, Dean was upset that it was the last time he would be doing anything with Castiel in this capacity. He didn't exactly enjoy the pretentious people and opulent surroundings that made up Castiel's world, but he really liked Castiel. He was at least looking forward to what would come next, to taking Castiel out on a real date. He would take Castiel to his favorite art gallery; maybe have a tour of Castiel's place. He wanted to curl up under a blanket with him, a cheesy movie blaring as they ignored it to make out on Dean's sofa. It would all have to wait until after his show, which of course Castiel was invited to, but that just gave Dean more time to plan some real dates.
There was one last surprise waiting for him, but this time, it didn't come from Castiel. Dean walked into the main section of the house from the studio after finishing his last sculpture, intent on grabbing a beer. But he never quite made it into the kitchen, because Michael Novak of all people appeared in the doorway, a suit bag in his arms.
"Hello, Dean." He nodded his head, and looked at Charlie, who was loitering behind Dean, eager for gossip. "May I speak to him privately, please?"
Charlie squeaked, and left the room, though Dean doubted she would go very far. Michael watched the door closing, before he turned back to appraise Dean.
"Please forgive my intrusion, and any insult you may feel at what I'm going to say." Michael gestured to the sagging, plaid-covered sofa and Dean sat next to him warily. "I've been watching you carefully, these last few weeks Dean. You and my brother. And though I was doubtful when he first mentioned that you would be attending with him on occasion, I could see very quickly that you and he are very well matched."
"Uh, thanks?" Dean was flattered, of course. But he wasn't quite sure where Michael was going with this.
"You're welcome. I hope to see you a lot more often. With him, of course."
"That's up to Castiel."
"Of course. But you still want to see him?"
Dean didn't know whether to be offended by Michael's presumption or not. He decided to play it safe.
"Yeah. Sure I do. But I think Cas is hoping that he doesn't have to do any big functions for a long time."
Michael pursed his lips until they were hard to see, and stayed that way for an uncomfortable amount of time. Dean privately wondered if he'd broken him, but then Michael was speaking in a low voice, as though he were aware Charlie might still be listening in.
"Castiel is aware - I have tried to make it abundantly clear to him in the last few months - that he needs to make more of an effort to represent himself at these fundraisers and social events. Our family depends on full attendance, particularly when Gabriel and Balthazar use them as an excuse for their deviant behavior and when Luke continually attempts to network with unsavory connections in order to undermine everything that I, and our father, worked hard towards. Castiel has a vital role to play in our family and its time he stopped shying away from it. I don't expect you to understand why he needs to, but I do need you on board to help, Dean."
"Why me?" Dean blurted out. He wished Michael would be a little more specific.
"Because, you temper him well. He seems relaxed around you, which means he finds it easier to network. And because I don't trust Meg. That girl is working to her own agenda, and it's not one I approve of. I'm worried that she'll set him on a path he won't be able to turn back from."
Dean was surprised at this. He thought Meg was meant to be Castiel's friend? He said as much to Michael, who looked away with an agitated expression on his face.
"Yes, well, maybe that was true when they were children, but there is reason enough to be wary of her now. Anyway, the real reason I came here was to give you this," he offered the suit bag. Dean unzipped it, and found yet another tuxedo. "It's the Armani. I made Lisa adapt it to your measurements, they keep them on file."
"I don't think Cas wanted me to wear this. He already picked out some outfits for me."
"I understand, but my brother didn't even consider this for you. And when I mentioned it in front of him - and you - I could see that he was kicking himself for not doing it. Trust me, Castiel would want you to have it."
Dean took the bag, feeling clumsy and awkward. Had Castiel really liked the idea of him in this tux? What made it so different to the other suits Castiel had chosen? Michael stood up, and headed to the door, and Dean followed him still clutching the suit. Just inside the front door, Michael looked back at him.
"For what it's worth, Dean? I'm rooting for you. I want you to make my brother happy."
Michael left and Dean leaned against the door, thinking. Was Michael being sincere and giving Dean his blessing? Or was there some hidden agenda? He wasn't sure, but he knew he had to start getting ready for the catwalk, whatever Castiel's brother was playing at.
Dean couldn't bring himself to wear the suit that Michael had brought over. As grateful as he was that the Novak's seemed to want to shower him with gifts, he wasn't sure how to explain it to Castiel that his elder brother had bought him the suit. It felt different as well, to when Castiel bought him things. With Castiel there was an understanding, and Dean never felt cheap, or poor. With Michael, the suit seemed to come with an expectation. And that made Dean empathize with Castiel even more, because if Dean was feeling like that over a suit then he couldn't even begin to imagine how pressured Castiel felt.
When Castiel came by this time, he seemed impatient to get into the car. The partition was already up, and the moment Kevin closed the door behind them, he fell on Dean, kissing him hard, pulling him closer. And Dean wasted no time in kissing him back, sneaking his hands underneath Castiel's jacket and feeling the heat of his body through his thin shirt. They were tangled together, barely on the seat; time passing too quickly for Dean's liking as he lost himself in Castiel's touch and taste. When the limousine stalled, they quickly separated, and tried to make themselves look presentable. Or at least make it look like they hadn't been making out heavily in the back of the limo for the thirty minutes it took them to arrive.
The catwalk and the socializing around it was torture. Not because of Castiel's apparent social anxiety, but because Dean didn't want to be separated from him, didn't want to go without kissing him for a minute, let alone a five hour event. At least Gabriel and Balthazar were there to provide a welcome distraction from the sexual tension that Dean was feeling. He was even grateful when Balthazar laid a big, slobbery kiss on his cheek, and then went prancing off after two scantily clad models. Balthazar and Gabriel were also a welcome distraction from their other brothers, both of whom Dean could tell wanted to take him aside and talk to him. Michael, he guessed, would want to know why he wasn't in that damn suit. He had no clue what Luke would possibly want to say to him.
When they finally got to leave, Castiel wrung his hands nervously as they waited for the limousine to swing around.
"Everything okay?" Dean asked him. Castiel nodded, and then shrugged.
"It's just … would you be okay if we didn't go back to your place? I'd like to take you somewhere else first." Castiel blushed, and Dean smiled back easily.
"Sure. I'm not ready for tonight to end."
Castiel gave a small smile, which disappeared as quickly as it came, and then the limousine was in front of them, Kevin already running along for the door. Dean climbed in as Castiel talked quietly with Kevin, and then they were off, although Dean wasn't sure where they were going, exactly. It soon didn't matter, because Castiel fell on him again, restarting their earlier tryst.
The car stopped before they could get too hot and heavy, and Castiel pulled away with a glint in his eye.
"We'll continue this in a moment. There's something I want to show you first."
They climbed out, and Dean took in the scene before them. They were at the docks.
"Uh, are you sure you wanted to be here?" Dean double-checked.
"Quite sure." Castiel nodded primly, and took Dean's arm, dragging him along past the commercial boats and towards a small marina full of large, expensive looking private yachts. Dean realized where they were headed, and wondered why Castiel wanted to show his boat when he always seemed to shy away from his fortune. But he said nothing, as Castiel directed him up a gangplank and onto the deck. The white façade seemed to glow in the moonlight, making it easy for Dean to follow Castiel around the deck and towards a door that led into the hull of the boat.
"My crew aren't here to pilot it, so we won't be going anywhere, but I would like to give you a tour."
Of course Castiel's boat had an actual crew. Dean was starting to feel a little inadequate, but he followed Castiel into the control room, the mess room, the bathroom, and the study, of all things. Then they came to the bedroom.
It was a sad fact that this rarely used bedroom on a luxury yacht was so much nicer than his bedroom. The walls were lined with shiny polished wooden panels, there were thick gilt borders and on the bed were pristine white cotton sheets. Castiel turned on the small lights by the bed and smiled nervously at Dean in the soft lighting, sitting slowly onto the mattress.
"I've never actually invited anyone in here before." He said shyly.
"I'm honored." Dean could feel a lump in his throat.
"I actually hate that tonight is going to be our last night attending functions together," Castiel said wistfully. "I've really enjoyed my time with you. I would have enjoyed it more without my brothers, of course, but without them I wouldn't have had a reason to ask you to come with me in the first place."
"It's just our last night playing nice with your brothers at these things. I thought we were going to see each other properly? We could still fit in some of these events. Without paying me this time. Just you and me." Dean knew he probably sounded pathetic, like he was clinging onto some kind of fantasy. He knew that going to any more of these events would be Castiel's idea of torture, but he would gladly go to a thousand more just for the company. He was crazy about Castiel.
"We could start now?" Castiel cocked his head to the side, and patted the bed beside him. "Right now what I want to do is be with you."
Dean didn't need asking twice. He stepped forward, cupping Castiel's head in his hands, and bent down, relishing the feel of the billionaire's lips pressed against his own, the way Castiel's hands stroked down his chest and stomach like he needed warming up. And then they were shedding their clothes, pressing their skin together, rolling around on that expensive bed with no concern except for getting closer, embracing each other, making up for all those nights they saw each other and did nothing.
