I know, I know guys – I'm so sorry. Unfortunately after a long and painful illness, by laptop has finally ascended to pc heaven, and I am, alas, computerless. For some reason my other half has banned me from borrowing his computer (it's like he thinks I'm going to use it to write smut or something!), but screw him- what he doesn't know won't hurt! So I pretty much wrote all of this by hand, and am now typing it up and uploading asap whilst he's out (yeah… am bad), so please excuse any glaring mistakes!
Also I just have to say – thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I had my uncertainties, but you guys made me feel so much better and gave me such a confidence boost. Love to all
The single bare bulb hums softly overhead, the unmuted yellow glow filtering weakly through a swirling cloud of cigarette smoke to illuminate the four figures beneath. They make a curious picture; sat around an upturned crate between trays of tomatoes and shelves of dried pasta, three men and a woman, well-dressed, not speaking, not even looking at one another… just waiting.
A quiet knock breaks the loaded silence, a short man with a curved black moustache and a cheap toupee opening the door timidly.
"Your final guest has arrived sir," he murmurs, shuffling aside and revealing the tall dark figure behind him.
"Excellent, come on in," the man at the 'head' of the table looks up, the glare of the fluorescent lamp catching his eyes in a sickly jaundiced reflection. He smiles, wide and wolfish. "Let's get this show on the road."
(***)
Mario steps aside for the newcomer to pass then backs carefully away, eager to be out of reach of the sinister group meeting in his stock room. He knows better by now than to wonder what is happening behind that closed door, he learnt early on not to ask questions.
Returning to the bustling main floor of the restaurant, Mario pushes aside the skin prickling uneasiness he always feels when faced by his 'sleeping partner', and seeks comfort over the maître d's shoulder- a quick glance at the full booking list never fails to settle his nerves, just like listening to the cheerful symphony of clinking porcelain and clattering silverware harmonising with the ringing of the cash register always manages to cheer him.
Once a rundown dime a dozen eatery, offering bad food and worse service, 'Mario's Place' had been a Health Inspector's nightmare (or dream)- an injunction or ten just waiting to happen. Through a combination of poor management and appalling luck, the place had taken a spectacular nosedive after the death of Mario's father (also called Mario) and was on the verge of closure.
Fighting off creditors and hiding from the bailiffs, Mario had done his level best to rescue his establishment, but he had never been a skilled business man or cunning restaurateur. So in the end, he'd resorted to the only thing he could think of…
He'd made a deal.
With a cash injection for a much needed revamp- a two hundred dollar an hour interior designer and a catchy new name, 'Hell's Kitchen' had become an almost overnight success. Maybe not the most auspicious name for a restaurant- but chosen by his investor and fitting nonetheless.
You'd have to sell your soul for the pick of the wine list.
And the only thing his new associate had asked in return was full control of the books and undisturbed use of the backrooms. A small price, Mario thinks. He was never good with the sums anyway, and the… unsavoury characters that sometimes come and go never hang around long enough to upset his clientele.
Ok, it's true some of the goings on aren't exactly kosher, he's seen enough unexplained sums of money appearing on his balance sheet to know that- but he figures everyone strays a little from the straight and narrow these days. Despite the fact that the man makes his skin crawl, his new business partner has more than held up his end of the bargain, and Mario is determined that he will do the same.
(***)
"Good of you to join us," the woman looks the newcomer up and down, twirling a strand of short blonde hair around her finger and smirking as the man glances around distastefully for somewhere to sit.
"What is this place?" Nudging aside a large bag of flour and a sack of lentils, the large bald man turns over an empty crate, grimacing at the grime on the underside before seating his wide frame gingerly.
"Welcome to Hell's kitchen," the leader spreads his arms expansively, "Just one of the humble establishments in my little portfolio." Pouring a glass of scotch from the bottle on the makeshift table, he pushes it towards the other man. "Not the classiest of settings I know, but I was under the impression that discretion would be of the upmost importance."
"That's true," bald guy accepts the glass, staring at the amber liquid as he swirls it gently. "If I'm seen in this part of town it would most certainly raise questions that I would rather not have to answer."
"Of course." The leader grins, settling back in the only actual chair in the room. Crossing his legs and making the rickety wooden seat look as though it's offering some comfort, he beckons the others towards him like a child sharing secrets,
"So tell me, my good people… how long before we are ready to bring down Michael Di Angeles?"
(***)
To say Dean looks surprised at the revelation of the man's identity would be to underestimate the expression of sheer jaw-dropping disbelief marring his features.
Staring wide eyed and open mouthed at Gabriel; you can almost hear the whirring of his brain as he absorbs this information, the realisation of the situation setting in like an unexpected frost, sudden and devastating.
Michael's brother… of all the people to shoot his mouth off to- Michael's fucking brother.
Dean didn't even know Michael had another sibling.
But apparently he does- and he's here… and he's just walked in on him and Castiel…
"…Fuck."
Smirking at Dean's conclusion, Gabriel pulls a lollipop from the inside pocket of his brown cord blazer.
"Sounds about right, bucko."
The man swirls the candy idly between his fingers, before removing the wrapper and lodging it in the corner of his mouth. Looking to Castiel, he nods sardonically. "Hey Cassie, long time no see."
"Gabriel." Castiel gulps, dipping his head shakily in return.
Dean's mind races as Castiel squirms beside him and Gabriel looks on in amusement. He's veering somewhere between dropping to his knees and begging Gabriel's silence, or possibly just threatening to shoot the man, when Michael's brother huffs impatiently,
"Come on guys, isn't this is the part where one of you tells me this isn't what it looks like?"
He looks expectantly between the two men, but the only sounds to break the silence are the soft ticking of the clock in Castiel's office and the blare of a car horn out on the street. Dean is genuinely unable to think of a single thing to say that will make this any better; one of his greatest fears has been realised- only a step away from Michael himself finding out, they've been busted by someone close to him.
"Jesus, I don't have all day," Gabriel rolls his eyes, "Where's all the pleading or the threats? Give me something to work with here guys!"
Shaking his head Gabriel looks at Castiel,
"Ok Castiel, let's start with you- why don't you tell me just how long have you been screwing around behind my brother's back?"
Dean feels Castiel tense up beside him, and expects the older man to stutter or gasp, to plead ignorance or denial, but to his astonishment, he hears Castiel draw a deep steadying breath and a dry palm slides into his own. Stealing a sidelong glance, he sees Castiel raise his chin and stare Gabriel down with something close to defiance.
"I don't wish to play your games Gabriel. I am not now, nor have I ever been 'screwing around'. But if you must know, Dean and I have been having relations for over two years now."
Mouth falling open for the second time is as many minutes, Dean thinks he is beginning to resemble a goldfish as he gapes at Castiel in incredulity. What the hell is Castiel thinking? Well there goes their 'it was a one-time mistake' defence.
Turning hesitantly to gauge Gabriel's reaction to the blunt statement, Dean finds the other man staring at them with an unreadable expression. Narrowing his eyes, Gabriel looks hard at first Castiel then Dean, until to his utter amazement (ok, so it's becoming his default state) the short man throws his head back and bursts out laughing.
"'Having relations Castiel? Man… you haven't changed a bit!"
Dean blinks, startled, as Gabriel chuckles merrily, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Clapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder, Gabriel squeezes it lightly and grins widely,
"Damn, I'd forgotten what a way with words you had- it's good to see you again Cassie."
His shoulders losing some of their rigid poise, Castiel relaxes a little and smiles tentatively at the short man.
"You too, Gabriel. It's been a long time."
(***)
"Can one of you please tell me what the fuck is going on here?"
It takes approximately thirteen seconds of Castiel and Gabriel greeting each other like long lost friends before Dean runs out of patience and demands an explanation. He turns an accusing glare on Castiel,
"Why the hell have you never mentioned that Michael's got a secret bro who you just happen to be BFF with? A heads up might have been nice."
"Relax, hot stuff," Gabriel rolls his eyes, herding them back into Castiel's office, seating himself behind the desk like he owns the place and rifling unashamedly through the drawers. "I haven't seen Cassie in over fifteen years- I doubt there'd be any reason for him to mention me."
"That's right Dean," Castiel lays a placating hand on Dean's arm, staring at him anxiously. "It's true Gabriel and I were friends once, but I was still a child when he left home and I haven't heard from him since."
"Bingo," Gabriel pulls a bottle of single malt from Castiel's bottom draw, whistling low in appreciation as he checks out the label. "Not bad… usually I'm more of a strawberry daiquiri man myself, but for this stuff… I'm willing to make an exception."
Dishing the whiskey into two crystal tumblers and a used coffee mug, Gabriel glances up at Dean,
"You're John Winchester's kid, right?"
"How did you-"
"You're the spit of your old man." Gabriel passes one of the glasses to Castiel, keeping the other for himself and offering the mug out to Dean. "I knew him back when he worked for my father, before Michael took over the family business. Good man… I was sorry to hear when he died."
Dean swallows carefully, schooling his features to contain his surprise. He nods once, stiffly, in acceptance.
"So I guess you followed in his footsteps, huh? Working for Michael?"
"That's right."
"Makes sense I guess, your daddy was one of the best. If you're half as good it figures Michael would want to keep you close."
Dean doesn't really know what to say to that, so instead chooses to move past it,
"So how do you two know each other then?" he looks at Castiel, "I thought you didn't meet Michael until you were seventeen?"
"I didn't…" Castiel glances from Gabriel back to Dean, "But I met Gabriel long before that. When I came to live with Rachel and Zachariah, Michael must have been about sixteen, but Gabriel is the youngest of the Di Angeles' and was only a few years older than myself." He sips at his drink and smiles at Gabriel, "Gabe used to stay with Rachel sometimes whilst his father and brothers worked- I like to think we became friends over the years… despite the number of pranks he used to pull on me."
"You were too easy kiddo," Gabriel grins, "I couldn't resist."
"So what happened," Dean asks Gabriel, "Why did you leave?"
"Honestly?" The honey-blonde man rocks his seat back onto two legs, balancing precariously and staring up at the ceiling, "I just got tired of all the fighting, I suppose. Plus, I never was cut out for the family business," He tilts his head to wink at Dean, "More of a lover than a fighter."
"So you just bailed on your family?"
"Hey," Gabriel lets the seat fall level with a heavy clatter, leaning forward and glaring at Dean. For the first time Dean sees something of his older brother in the sudden fire in his gaze. "For eighteen years I watched my brothers tear one another apart, you have no idea what that't like. Michael and Lucifer were at each other's throats for as long as I could remember, and when Dad got older and started talking about who would take over as head of the family, it only got worse. By the time I was eighteen I couldn't be in a room with either one of them without them trying to convince me to side with them when the time came."
"Ok… so why didn't you come back?" Dean holds up a hand in surrender, "Lucifer's been gone for a long time, but you still stayed away."
"You think that's by choice?" Gabriel hisses, expression dark and glowering. "Yeah ok, I ran away, but when my father died and Lucifer went to prison, Michael didn't even tell me. I heard about it three months later, and God help me, I tried to come home then. I called Michael, and you know what he said to me? He said 'I have no brother'."
Dean watches Gabriel take a deep draught from his glass and sees the pain there.
"Michael is not a man to forgive or forget; you of all people should know that. As far as he's concerned, I betrayed the family by leaving… and I'm lucky that he sees banishment as a fitting punishment rather than my life."
Gabriel closes his mouth abruptly, looking down at the desk, and Dean feels suitably chastened. Family isn't easy at the best of times, without having a pair of raging psychopaths as older brothers.
"I'm sorry man," Dean mutters.
"Yeah well," Gabriel sighs. "I made my choices, and I stick by them."
An awkward silence descends and Dean stares at the chipped porcelain in his hand blankly, trying to make sense of this overload of new information. Just when he'd thought he knew everything about his employer, something like this crops up. He wonders if he'll ever be privy to all of the intrigues hiding in the Di Angeles family closet.
The cherub on the side of his cup (a gift to Castiel from Becky) leers mischievously at him as he tries to slot all the pieces together, leaving only one question unanswered,
"So… why now?" he asks, "What are you doing here now?"
Something flickers across Gabriel's face, gone before Dean can quite distinguish it.
"I have a… parcel, for my brother. Something that's come into my possession… something I thought he should have."
Is it Dean's imagination or does Gabriel look suddenly shifty? The man looks at Dean but doesn't quite meet his eye, his gaze instead landing just short on the wall to the side of his head.
"And you couldn't post it?"
"It's a little… sensitive," Gabriel hedges, definitely suspicious, "I didn't want to post it, and I know Michael won't see me himself, so it seemed like a good opportunity to drop in on Cassie here and ask him to pass it on."
Dean frowns, opening his mouth to comment further when suddenly the opening riff to 'Smoke on the Water' sounds loudly from his jacket pocket.
"Excuse me," he mumbles, reaching for his cell and glancing at the caller ID before flipping it open with a sigh.
"Winchester."
A familiar rumble launches straight into a berating spiel without any preamble or greeting, Dean listens, a bored expression on his face.
"Yeah, yeah Chuckles, I'll be there…" Dean rolls his eyes, "Actually I'm on an errand for Mr Di Angeles at the minute so unless you wanted to take it up with him… yeah, didn't think so… give me thirty minutes."
Pocketing his cell, Dean meets Castiel's questioning look with a light shrug.
"Uriel- he likes to think he's the boss… I do have to leave though."
"Ah, sweet Uriel," Gabriel smirks, "How is he these days?"
"The size of a refrigerator with the personality of one," Dean deadpans, getting to his feet and coming to stand next to Castiel. He has no idea why he feels suddenly uneasy leaving Castiel alone with Gabriel, call it a gut instinct, but something tells him the other man is hiding something.
Gabriel laughs openly, "I like you Deano, it's a shame we won't be seeing any more of each other."
"No?"
"No, I'll be heading back to Vegas as soon as my little chore here is complete."
"You live in Las Vegas?" Dean lays a hand on Castiel's shoulder, letting his fingers rest lightly against the smooth skin of his neck whilst maintaining eye contact with Gabriel.
"Yeah, if you're ever in the area you should look me up; I'm the proprietor of a charming little establishment just off the strip called 'Heavenly Delights'.
"Heavenly Delights?"
"Mhmm," Gabriel grins, "I'm in the entertainment business- a purveyor of exotic choreography of the nudist persuasion."
"So… you run a strip joint?"
"Absolutely."
Dean huffs a laugh despite himself, and shakes his head,
"I'll bear that in mind."
Carding his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Castiel's neck, Dean looks down to meet the wide blue gaze looking up at him,
"I'll see you soon Cas, ok?"
"You'd better," Castiel catches the hand on his shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the tips of his fingers.
Cupping Castiel's face between both hands, Dean reaches down and seals their mouths together softly. It's strange bidding farewell like this with Gabriel right there- showing any affection in front of an audience is unheard of for them, never mind in front of Michael's own brother, but the other man seems unconcerned, so Dean goes with it.
"Be careful Dean," Castiel murmurs against his lips, making a small sound in the back of his throat when Dean's tongue sweeps into his mouth for a moment before he pulls away.
"Always."
Straightening, Dean nods to Gabriel, "It was… interesting, meeting you."
"Likewise, Deano."
"Goodbye Dean," Castiel smiles up at him.
"Later Cas," Dean squeezes his shoulder lightly, stealing a quick final kiss, before making a swift exit.
Whilst Uriel may not be the boss, he doesn't need any awkward questions about where he's been.
(***)
"Dammit, Cassie… you've got it bad," Gabriel observes in amusement, watching Castiel's eyes follow Dean as he leaves.
Flushing, Castiel snaps his head around and smiles sheepishly.
"I know."
Shaking his head, Gabriel purses his lips, "You know when I first heard you'd gotten involved with Michael, I prayed it was a mistake." Castiel's smile falters, slipping slowly from his face. "After everything I told you about him… what were you thinking Castiel?"
"I didn't have a great deal of choice in the matter," Castiel mutters, gaze fixed on his lap.
"He forced you?"
"Not exactly- but you know him… he gets what he wants."
"I do know that," Gabriel sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"He treats me well," Castiel says quietly, feeling the need to explain this to someone, "It's just…"
"You don't love him?" Gabriel supplies.
"No. I don't."
"You realise how dangerous this thing you've got going on with Dean is though, don't you?"
"I'm well aware Gabriel," Castiel huffs, "I know how big the risks are. But I… I can't help it."
"Oh Castiel…" Gabriel shakes his head, frowning sympathetically at the hopeless tone to Castiel's voice. "I really hope you know what you're doing, then."
"I don't really," Castiel sighs, "It was never planned, it just… happened… and kept happening. And now the thought of giving it up, of giving Dean up…" He trails off, unable to articulate the feeling of icy dread that consumes him anytime he considers his life without Dean in it. They sit in silence for a moment, before Castiel continues hesitantly, "And you- you definitely won't tell anyone about us… will you?"
Gabriel frowns at the doubt layering Castiel's tone. His lips curve in a comforting smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, falling closer to pity than reassurance,
"No Castiel- your secret's safe with me."
A/N: So there we are. I'm sorry again for the delay, I estimate it'll be about another four weeks until I can afford a new laptop, but I'll keep writing on paper until then, and steal some more time with his computer if I can!
As always let me know what you think of this chapter – your reviews help me so much!
On another note, I'm not really sure what's been happening recently on here with fics being pulled down etc. but as a precaution I've started accounts on both LJ and AO3 under wanda_thefish, and will be posting this story to them as soon as I figure out how to work them! So worst case, come and find me over there