"Good morning, Mr. Winchester. I have your coffee right here." The receptionist greeted Dean pleasantly, even smiling, as the chrome doors separating the elevator and lobby slid open. Dean stepped out of the elevator, giddy and grinning himself.

"Morning." He'd given up on trying to remember the name, it was just impossible. He picked up his mug and took a drink from the hot liquid inside, rocking back on his heels and blowing a breath out his nose. He was excited, he couldn't deny that. He and his friend, Angel, had been texting back and forth for about a month and a half, very nearly every day. They were close, well, as close as they could be without seeing each other's faces. Not as close as he and Charlie or Sam, and yet, closer at the same time. There was no judgment, no looks or lectures. They shared a bond that he was incredibly grateful for. He was just there, easy to talk to and pleasant, and Dean was more than excited to show his friend his appreciation. "You have a good weekend?" Dean held the mug at chest level and looked at the blue-eyed man behind the desk, unable to miss the look of surprise that flashed across the other's face.

"I... Did. Thank you." The secretary nodded, smiling suspiciously. It was nice to see him smile, to see something different from the stoic expression that usually clouded those sharp features. He was truly a stunning man, something Dean had always known and never vocalized.

"No problem." A glint on the hardwood desk caught the corner of his eye and he looked down. Wow, he'd been a total idiot for two years. "Cas-teal." He read the nameplate and looked at the receptionist, grinning and quite obviously proud of himself.

"It's pronounced Cas-tea-ell. Castiel." Castiel nodded once, eyeing Dean as though he wasn't sure whether to congratulate him for finally pulling his head out of his ass and reading the nameplate, or be annoyed that he took two and a half years to read a bit of folded up copper on the desk with his name on it and still pronounce it wrong.

Dean hummed, taking another sip as he looked over the name. "Yeah. Tell ya what," Dean moved toward the end of the desk on his way to his office. "I think I'm just gonna go with Cas."

"Only close friends and family call me Cas." Castiel responded, voice straining like he was barely keeping from snapping, expression nonplussed and annoyed.

"Well," Dean grabbed the doorknob and pushed the open the oak door, back to his office, as he gave Cas a shit-eating grin. "Consider me a close friend or family." He winked and stepped into his office, hearing the agitated sigh as the door swung shut. He chuckled under his breath and shook his head at how high strung the man behind the receptionist desk was.

Dean sat down and sighed, drumming his fingers on his desk and smiling. He hadn't felt so excited, so full of energy and optimistic since.. Well, probably since he and Lisa drove to Vegas to tie the knot. He worked for about half an hour before the intercom buzzed and the deep, garbled voice of the man in the lobby filtered through his speaker.

"The mail just came, there's something for you from the courthouse."

Dean frowned, tapping his pen on the desk as he thought of what that might be. He reached over and depressed the red button. "Go ahead and bring it in. I'm not on a call or anything." He let go of the button and sat back, picking up his mug and drinking from it.

"Yes sir, that's quite obvious since none of the lines are busy." Cas snarked. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, watching the door as it opened and a thick mania envelope was dropped on his desk without a word.

"Thanks Cas." Dean traded his coffee for the envelope, ignoring the scoff at the nickname. Hey, at least he was trying, right? He didn't have time to ponder the receptionist's sudden sour attitude over the last few months as he opened the envelope and pulled out the divorce papers within. His smile faltered a moment, his senses dulling. It was the nail in the coffin of his marriage with Lisa. It was the last piece of the puzzle before the whole thing broke apart.

With a deep sigh, he started reading. He'd learned long ago never to sign anything until he'd read through the fine print. He was only halfway through when he had a surprise meeting with Cain. He set the papers to the side to finish reading later, wondering why Cain was there since they'd already closed the sale.


"...So, after much thought, I've changed my mind. I'm not going to sell."

Dean blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the impossible words from the bearded man's mouth. "What? No. You can't."

"Yes, I can. It's my property."

"Um, no." Dean stood up and moved the filing cabinet against the left wall, pulling open the second drawer and flipping through the files. "Your contract stated that the sale was final, you can't actually renege without serious financial repercussions." He pulled out Cain's folder and walked back to the desk, setting it down in front the older man with a soft thwap as he sat himself the leather chair. Cain picked the folder and opened it, scanning the pages. Dean waited, he was patient. After about ten minutes, Cain looked up, looking grim.

"I'd like a copy of this to give to my lawyers."

Dean nodded and hit the intercom button. "'Course. Cas, I need you to make a copy of the contract for Mr. Smith." He let go of the button and folded his arms, looking at Cain who stared right back, unflinching. They'd already discussed it, Dean had gone over every line with Cain and they'd already paid the man across the desk. He didn't let his annoyance at the man's sudden change of heart affect his professionalism and smiled away.

The door opened and Cas slipped in, trademark blue tie dangling over the waistband of his trousers. He took the papers from Cain, muscles tensing as their fingers brushed together. Dean's brows raised ever so slightly at the reaction and he narrowed his eyes. He knew they were dating, had known since the Yankees game the month prior, and he'd even brought it up a few times. Castiel had remained tightlipped about it, even after Dean had pointed out the giant hickey along the crook of his neck. After that, he could still see the soft purple under the haze of make-up, but he never pointed it out, especially since the blue-eyed man was so painstakingly covering it up with foundation.

The receptionist left, leaving a tense silence over the two in the office. Cain slowly turned to look at Dean, one brow raised. "He sure is something, huh?" A wolfish grin pulled at the corners of his mouth and Dean felt the hairs along the back of his neck prickle.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. If you're into that kind of thing." Dean shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the pounding in his chest. No way Cain knew about his… Extra curriculars. Right? The older man hummed and nodded, still smiling.

"He's very limber. And adventurous."

"I bet." Dean gave a nervous chuckle, drumming the pads of his fingers over his desk. "But nothing can beat a great rack and a nice ass." He smirked and leaned back in his seat, resisting the urge to shrink back as Cain's icy blue eyes swiveled to his green; that hungry grin still playing at his lips, something sinister underneath.

"You won't really know until you sink into a nice ass as tight as that one."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, shock evident in his wide eyes and blank stare, but he was saved by the bell as the door opened and Cas came back in. Dean looked at the man, blinking a few times before accepting the original of the contract and nodding. "Thanks, Cas," he breathed and looked away.


The meeting didn't last much longer after Cain had gotten his copy of the contract and Dean breathed out a sigh of relief when he left. For the rest of the day, he'd gone over every line of the divorce papers and, when he was sure he knew what he was getting into – or rather, ending – he signed at the bottom and slipped it back into the manila envelope. He stood as the clock ticked five and pulled his jacket on, grinning as his heart thrummed excitedly under his ribs.

Nothing could really ruin the day he met his Angel.


Dean went back to the motel and changed into his Blue Oyster Cult shirt and jeans. He gelled his hair and spritzed on some cologne and slapped his cheeks a couple times, glaring at the bags under his eyes in the mirror. Really, he was fussing over nothing. He looked fine, and it's not like this guy was more than just a friend, or would ever be more.

Okay, so maybe a small, teeny, tiny voice in the back of Dean's mind kinda hoped that maybe this guy would be super-hot and want to quell his desire for affection. God, he swore he was growing ovaries.

Dean gave another long sigh and nodded at himself in the mirror because he wouldn't get much better than that. He walked out to his car and slipped inside before pulling out his phone, biting his lip anxiously.

SMS Message to Angel
6:46P 6/7/16
"Hey, I'm headin' out. See you soon, I guess."

He arrived at the coffee shop right on time and he parked on the street in front, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he scoped out the place through the window. Nobody really stuck out, although he had to admit that the tall blond guy toward the back was pretty attractive. Dean sighed and shook his head, willing himself not to psyche himself out. With his luck, the guy would… Well, the guy would look like Bobby. That gave Dean pause, his hand on the door handle as he continued looking through the window. What if it was some old nasty guy and he'd had his dick in his mouth? Was Dean better not knowing?

In the end, pure, unadulterated curiosity pushed him out the car, over the sidewalk, and into the coffee shop. He ordered some kind of frilly coffee drink that he couldn't pronounce and went to wait at the other end of the counter, hands clammy and heart racing. He pulled out his phone and checked it.

Nothing. No response.

Dean frowned and looked at the time. Quarter past 7. He sighed and picked up his coffee, moving to a table in the back and sipping at the sugary coffee within. It was different from his usual plain black coffee, but it wasn't bad. He sighed and checked his phone again not too long after. Half past 7. He kept his gaze on the door. Quarter til 8.

Heart sinking, Dean threw away his long empty cup and stood to go outside when his phone buzzed. Quickly, he pulled it out and unlocked it, reading the text as his heart jumped into his throat. He wished the stupid organ would just stay where it belonged.

SMS Message from Angel
8:49P 6/7/16
"I'm so sorry. Something came up, but I'm walking in right now."

Dean read the text as the door jingled and he grinned, looking up at the door as a man with brown hair, a goatee, and chocolate eyes walked in, the door held open by someone he couldn't see. Dean slipped his phone away and nodded his approval. The guy may have been a little gangly, maybe a little bug-eyed, but definitely still cute. He slipped his phone away and walked up to the bar behind him, the person who'd held open the door moving to stand behind Dean.

"I'll have the pomegranate Tazo tea. Can I get a squirt of honey in that please?"

Dean smiled and nodded, sure that this was his guy. He pulled out his phone and texted Angel back as the stranger in front of him paid.

SMS Message to Angel
8:51P 6/7/16
"Honey? Really? Lol."

He chuckled softly and sent the text, putting his phone away and stepping up to order. "I'll have a—" He cut himself off as he heard a text tone from behind him. From behind him. Not from the guy who ordered the tea. He blinked a couple times, feeling strange and detached as he slowly turned around, gaze landing on a man a few inches shorter than him with a mess of raven hair and a red hoodie, head bowed as he typed into his phone. Was this-?

"Sir?" Dean whipped back around and smiled.

"Sorry. Just a-uh.. Frappe. Thing." He fumbled for his wallet as his phone chimed with a new message. He paid and went to wait at the other side of the counter, checking his phone.

SMS Message from Angel
8:52P 6/7/16
"What? Also, I'm in a red hoodie and jeans. I don't see you."

Dean read the text twice and looked up, a slow grin pulling at his lips. That is, until the deep rumble of the shorter man reached his ear drums.

The same rumble from the bathroom.

And from across the intercom.

Dean's jaw dropped, stunned, as the man in the red hoodie paid and turned to him, guarded confusion flashing over his face.

"Mr. Winchester?" The deep blue eyes flicked down to Dean's shirt and Cas' eyes went wide, his jaw dropping almost to the floor.

Dean cleared his throat and grabbed his coffee, throwing the shorter man his best smile, tight at the corners. "Hiya Cas." He croaked.