"Usually on the holidays the cook and maids are sent home, to be with their family. It's become tradition that Lucifer cooks while we all maintain the house." Castiel gave a half shrug, "It's not like the house becomes a wreck when the maids leave, we just keep tidy." he told Dean. "Right now, though, we don't have any staff on hand. Michael is afraid of word getting out about our Father's illness, leaving us open for a media storm." The both of them had finished their lunches, and now they sat and chatted, Dean seeming to not be in any hurry to get back to work, and it seemed no one was going to come in and remind him of his duties.

"Media storm?" Dean questioned. He knew it was a small town, but surely New Haven wouldn't be turned over about the news of the current CEO of the only big business around…slowly dying. As soon as Dean thought it, he wanted to slap himself.

Castiel seemed just as confused as Dean was with himself at the moment, "Well, yes. This would be considered big news around here." He chuckled a bit, but the humor in it turned sour half way through, and Castiel's eyes turned down cast, his hands slowly folding themselves across his lap.

Dean felt horrible, quickly trying to salvage this conversation before the silence dragged on, "Does that mean you get secret service or something.?"

Castiel looked back up at Dean, his brow incredulous, and this time when he laughed, it wasn't lacking in mirth, "No? He's not into politics, Dean." He chuckled again, "And I'm fairly certain the only people who get secret service are the President and Vice President."

"Oh." He shrugged, letting it drop. He then spoke up, changing the subject, "It's gotta be great having a cook in the family." He commented. "I'm sorta decent at the few things I can do, but other than that..." he shook his head, "It's a mess." He hoped the transition didn't seem too abrupt.

Castiel chuckled, "I don't know if I'd say it's great." His brows furrowed despite his smile.

Dean grinned, already understanding what he meant by that. He could easily imagine how much his brother was praised for his culinary skills, while his siblings may have been decent themselves, they could never outshine him. Dean knew that feeling all too well, but he asked anyway, "How so?"

Castiel gave a small chuckle, "Well it's great when you want a five-star meal for dinner, but when you're starving for lunch and all you want is something quick, and easy, Lucifer wants to go all out, and it takes forever..."

That got Dean laughing, sitting back straight from the lean he had the chair in. That wasn't at all what he thought Castiel meant by it. "Well if quick and easy is what you want," he mumbled, then looked to Castiel with a smirk, "I can deliver."

Castiel wasn't sure why he began to blush, but he gave a cough, using it as an excuse to raise his hand to cover his mouth, concealing his embarrassed smile. Quickly, he came up with something, anything to say, "Um, Dean, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" he asked. Although he used it as a segway away from his embarrassment, he truly was curious.

Dean sat back in his chair, his hands resting over his abdomen, "Well, actually, I'm not sure. We've been so busy with other things, we haven't really discussed it." He shrugged, "But I don't think we'll be doing much." He mumbled the last part, looking down at his hands. He looked a little deflated after that, his thumbs twiddling as he stopped making eye contact. It was a little hard for Dean to admit that, having wanted things to be settled in time for the holiday. But with the way things were going, it seemed highly unlikely.

Castiel suddenly felt bad for asking, realizing what he was talking about. But then he had an idea which he was sure his family would be alright with. He just hoped it didn't come off as being too soon to invite his potential… friend over for a holiday dinner. "Well why don't you and Sam come over to our Thanksgiving dinner?" he looked to Dean hopefully, "I mean, I know we haven't known each other long, but…" He shrugged, now feeling a bit unsure of himself. "We've become…friends? Haven't we?" he asked.

He was a little surprised to hear Dean chuckle just a beat later, "Of course we're friends." He reached over and gave Castiel a hardy pat on the shoulder which turned into a squeeze, "And even if we weren't, I don't think I'd turn down an invitation to a rich family's Thanksgiving dinner."

That got Castiel laughing, shaking his head at him, which in turn got Dean laughing along with him. "But seriously," Dean was able to reel it in, to show his sincerity, "Thank you, Cas. We'd love to come over." He shook his head a little, "With everything that's going on, I was probably gonna order Chinese…" he admitted.

Castiel made a face, "Wouldn't they be closed?"

Dean laughed, "The one on Main stays open. They don't celebrate Thanksgiving." He shrugged, "There's plenty of poor jerks like me and Sam who wouldn't survive without them." He mumbled with a grin.

Castiel rolled his eyes, "How are you not overweight…?" he wondered aloud, looking Dean over.

Dean raised his brows at him, "I'll have you know I get plenty of exercise." He told him, matter of factly.

Castiel chuckled, "How? Working on cars, shirtless?" As soon as Castiel said it, he was embarrassed. He didn't know why he had to tack on that last detail. They were in a joking mood, so maybe it came off as just a jab…

Dean's eyes went wide, his grin even wider, "As a matter of fact, yes! That's exactly how!" he then leaned his elbows on the table, "Being shirtless allows for good air flow." Just a beat passed before he spoke again, "How do you keep fit, Cas?" Dean asked, still grinning at the Poet, though it now hinted more toward a smirk.

"Have you heard of the Tough Mudder, Mud Runs?" he asked, just as quickly as Dean had.

A sudden burst of hysteric laughter erupted from Dean, his head falling back as he couldn't believe what Castiel was suggesting, "There's no fucking way you do Mud Runs!"

The high endurance, high octane obstacle course was for the fittest of the fit, and for those who don't mind getting dirty. Dean had trouble trying to imagine Castiel covered in mud, and possible other fluids, and grunting and groaning trying to lift a teammate out of the mud and over an obstacle.

Castiel grinned, knowing Dean would've liked his joke, "No, I mostly jog and try and eat right." He admitted.

"Oh my God…" Dean mumbled, rubbing at his face, still a bit shaken from the joke, "You've killed me." He mumbled, still grinning.

Just then there was a quick knock on the break room door, and a second later, the door opened, Benny's head popping through, "Boss says you'd better hurry up." He grinned, then not so subtly gave Dean a grin and a wink, then just as quickly as he'd shown up, Benny was gone, the door closed once more.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Yea, I guess it's about time we wrap it up…" he mumbled, checking the time on his phone as confirmation.

Castiel nodded, "Alright then." He stood and started collecting the trash to throw away, "It was nice to have lunch with you. I hope the rest of your day is just as nice." He told Dean with a soft smile.

Dean grinned, "I'd like to do it again some time." He stood a bit awkwardly by the door for a moment, not grabbing for the door knob, but then he turned back to Castiel, "Maybe next time, I'll do the cooking." He told him, his grin broadened.

Castiel chuckled, "Just don't try to convince me that you made Chinese takeout, okay?"

Dean chuckled at that, "Oh come on, have some faith in me!"

Castiel waved him off, "Don't forget to take your shirt back off." He told him, trying hard to suppress a smile, but it was obvious.

Dean scoffed, "Shut up." He mumbled, his grin lightening his words. He then left the break room, his chuckles trailing behind him.

Castiel was left feeling light and airy, unable to stop himself from grinning. It was like that night when he found Dean's number in his pocket all over again. He found himself not being able to wait to tell his friends and family about their lunch. He also needed to double check with Lucifer to see if it was alright that he'd invited Sam and Dean over for Thanksgiving. With that thought in mind, his efforts doubled, picking up his pace as he cleaned the little break room table and left the shop all together.

Dean watched as Castiel left, giving him a wave goodbye. He still clung to that feeling even as he got back to work, the way his chest felt like it was full. He caught himself thinking more than once about the way he laughed. Dean tried shaking it off, but it kept resurfacing, tickling like a breeze on the hairs of back of his neck. His work was mindless enough that he slowly caved in, allowing him to keep replaying their lunch over and over.

Thankfully, because he'd shoved himself under a car, he didn't have to explain to anyone who asked why he kept smiling. Even if they did see him, though, he was sure they'd know why.

Immediately, Castiel knew something was wrong when he returned home, hearing the booming voice belonging to his eldest brother shouting somewhere in the house, probably the den. His light and carefree feeling had evaporated like morning dew in the afternoon sun. What had happened in the time he'd been gone? Was the hospital giving them problems? He'd been nervous that for some reason they'd come to the house to tell them that his father actually needed to stay in the hospital for some reason, cutting their time around him even shorter. He knew these were irrational thoughts, but he couldn't help it.

Quickly, he went searching for someone, anyone who knew what was going on, and soon he found Gabriel and Anna sitting in the living room. They sat silently, neither of them quite taking notice of his arrival. They were both listening for every little bit of what Michael was yelling about. Eventually, Castiel had to break the silence.

"What's going on? Whose Michael yelling at?" he asked, looking between them both.

Gabriel picked up a leather bound book on the coffee table, flipping through it, obviously not paying attention to the words, "It's Uriel." He then looked up to Castiel, "Michael found out about his plan to get him voted out of his VP position. Now he's trying to cover it up by saying it'd only be temporary, so that he can focus on family issues…" he shook his head. "Of course, part of that plan also includes making himself VP. Then we'll see how temporary it is after that."

Castiel's eyes were wide, "He can't do that!"

"Oh, yes he can, when he has the approval of most of the board." He looked up at Castiel with a humorless smile.

"Why is this man so impatient? Can't he understand what kind of crisis we're going through?" Castiel reasoned.

"That's just it…" Anna spoke up, "The family crisis is the company crisis. Uriel is doing what he thinks is best for the company right now." She told Castiel in a reassuring manner that only seemed to make Castiel even more incredulous.

"So what, now you're defending the guy?" Gabriel quickly asked Anna, just as confused as Castiel was.

Anna sighed, "I'm just trying to be Devil's advocate, okay? He must have a good reason." She explained herself.

"His reasons are completely selfish." Castiel retorted. "We all know Uriel has been aiming to be the next VP, but now that he's got this opportunity, why wait any longer…" he argued back, looking to Anna with a deep disdain. Though of course it wasn't meant for her, she could still feel the sting from it.

She shook her head with another sigh, "Alright." She mumbled, given up, "Does this mean he's fired?" she asked, now looking to Gabriel.

Gabriel sighed, his shoulders sagging, "He'd be an idiot not to fire him." He then shrugged, "But who knows. Michael has been known for giving out second chances like they're going out of style."

Castiel frowned, "How can he go back to work and look him in the face without wanting to punch him…" he mumbled. Surprisingly, that got a small chuckle out of Gabriel and Anna both.

"My thoughts exactly." Gabriel mumbled, then picked up a glass of amber liquid to sip that Castiel had only just then noticed sitting on the coffee table. "That's why I say he should fire the guy." He tacked on afterword.

"It's 2 o'clock." Castiel pointed out, eyeing how Gabriel took another sip.

Gabriel just stared at him, as if waiting for something else, "And you're point?"

Castiel was about to delve into that, but Samandriel suddenly came into the living room, holding a glass of ice water which he proceeded to hand over to Anna, "Thank you." She whispered, then took a drink.

Samandriel just nodded then went and sat in the arm chair closest to the door, "Hey, Cas." He greeted his cousin with a sigh.

"Hello Samandriel." He greeted back, "How long has this been going on?" he asked him.

Samandriel shrugged a bit, "I think he called him 40 minutes ago." He told him, "Give or take."

Castiel shook his head, but then realized something, "So, wait…" he looked back to Gabriel, "Who told him about this?" he asked. Obviously it had to be someone on the board, or even a branch manager, someone who liked Michael.

Gabriel chuckled, "A web developer named Charlie Bradbury." He told him, "Only been working at the company for two months now."

"A web developer? Really?" Castiel scoffed, "What has Michael done for this guy to help him out?" he asked, not knowing that his brother even meddled in that branch of the company.

"She…" Gabriel corrected, "Was in that small team of tech guys Michael hired to find that virus that had wormed its way into the systems. He saw how well she worked on our systems and offered her a better paying job at the company." He grinned.

Castiel's brow raised, impressed, "Well it's good to know that there is still some form of loyalty for Michael." He shook his head, his mind wandering, "What if she hadn't, though…" he mumbled quietly, his hand raising to rub at his jaw, then nervously run through his hair, his gaze fixed on a certain point on the table, "Would Michael be voted out…?"

"Let's not think of that." Gabriel interjected, then slowly stood up, "Come on, let's go outside." He instructed everyone, shoo-ing them in the direction of the door. They all obeyed, filing out of the living room and out the back door and onto the veranda. There they sat close to each other, neither of them making comment on how they could hardly hear Michael now.

"It's supposed to rain tomorrow." Anna spoke up, unable to take the silence, even though a soft breeze had rustled the wind chimes.

Gabriel made a humming sound, his only sign of acknowledgement.

"Where's Lucifer? At work?" Castiel asked, trying to stop their conversation from spiraling into small talk that no one cared for.

"Yea…" Anna replied, "He was feeling copped up and decided to go in." she shrugged, "I don't see how working that restaurant is less stressful than this." She mumbled, referring to dealing with the company issues.

Castiel chuckled, "And I suppose running your business isn't stressful?"

Anna rolled her eyes, "When you're doing something you love, you don't call it stress." She took another sip of her water, "You call it motivation." She answered, smiling to Castiel.

Castiel smiled in return. Suddenly, he felt like writing, "I think I'll head in." he announced, standing.

Gabriel gave a nod, "I'll let you know if something happens." He told him, "Though I doubt it. Michael's got this situation on lock by now."

"Go do your thing." Anna encouraged with a wink. "We've got things under control." It amazed him how well Anna seemed to pick up on his intentions. He gave them one last smile before heading back into the house. As he walked through the living room, he heard how Michael had stopped yelling and was now talking more calmly, though whatever he was talking about was still business related.

"I don't care how long it'll take, what I'm saying is that it needs to be set up… I need an assistant immediately, so the quicker the better." Castiel managed to hear that little bit before getting out of earshot, heading up the stairs. Michael having an assistant actually sounded like a great idea. Hopefully his brother could get all this sorted out before something else happened. He gave a sigh as he shut the door behind himself.

Before being brought down by the vibes in the house, Castiel had been quite content. He sighed, leaning up against his bedroom door, trying to calm himself to regain that feeling. He closed his eyes and thought about how he'd been able to make Dean laugh, the one who usually cracked the jokes. He was a little proud of himself over it. He'd began to smile.

Slowly, he made his way over to the desk, and pulled his laptop from its carrying case. He set it up and pulled up an empty word document and began trying to pinpoint a feeling or sensation, to give him something to start with. He began typing out a list of words.

Happiness, Giddiness, Amusement

He started out small, basic.

Warmth, Fondness, Yearning

And his words became deeper.

Questioning, Hesitance, Forbearing

But then his words started taking a turn, and realized he needed to do a little back tracking. He sighed, closing his eyes once again, trying to capture that feeling. He then began to type, taking his time to pick apart his feelings.

Eagerness, Suspense, Excitement

He grinned to himself, feeling like he'd found the right topic for his next poem. He then began setting up a loose structure, deciding on a free form style, not wanting any boundaries for his free-flowing thoughts.

Blood in my veins, rushing, pumping, fast, loud.

He began, his mind now solely on Dean, and how their encounters made him feel.

I wonder if he hears it, my eagerness. I wonder if he feels it, too. If I listen hard enough, could I hear his veins, rushing, pumping, fast, loud?

His head fell back, his eyes closed. He imagined Dean's smile, the way he looked at him, the way he joked. He sat back up.

It's almost too loud to hear him. Too fast to see him clearly. Or am I shaking? Can he see me, my body reacting to his words? Does he even know it's because of him? Does he feel no apprehension? Is he the type to shake, too?

Castiel smiled to himself. What if Dean was so excited to see him, he shook…

My questions go unanswered, too rushed to go past my lips. Perhaps in time, I won't need them answered. Perhaps this feeling will never end.

Castiel realized that all of this hung on a very precarious detail, one that could ultimately bring him crashing down to Earth, angry at himself for getting so caught up… Or an alternative, one that was hopefully more positive. He was unsure of where to go from there, if Dean truly did like him in that way. What do people do in these situations? Do they shake hands and declare themselves in a relationship… Surely if he went asking his brothers they'd offer some advice… Or better yet, Balthazar.

Castiel was quickly calling his friend, hoping he wasn't too busy, or preoccupied. His problem wasn't all that urgent, but what else were friends for other than answering questions about relationships. Balthazar had been in a few good, long term relationships in his life, and though they all had come to an end, he supposed they had their moments, ones that really stuck with him in the end.

But the more he thought about the fact that all Balthazar's relationships had ended, the more he lost the nerve to even ask. Suddenly, he was filled with anxiety. What if things didn't work out alright with him and Dean? What if they were happy together, but then one day something changes? He's not sure what, but the change was relationship ending. Then all of this had been for naught.

But then Balthazar answered the phone, "Goood evening, Castiel." He answered, quite chipper.

Castiel stayed silent for a moment, now not even sure why he called.

"Castiel?" Balthazar sounded concerned, "Is everything alright…considering?"

Castiel sighed, then looked over his poem, unfinished. "I was just writing…" he finally spoke, "But now I'm not sure how to end this poem." He mumbled, no longer enthused.

"Hmmm…" Balthazar hummed, "Well, what's it about?" he prompted.

Castiel leaned his chin into his palm, his elbow on the desk, "I was writing about how this thing with Dean is making me feel." Castiel then went on to read Balthazar what he'd written so far. There was an unmistakable dead tone in his voice, now feeling bad about the rush of sensations from earlier. Why was he so quick to become infatuated? Why did it have to be Dean Winchester? What if he didn't like him back?

Balthazar gave an impressed, "I like it." He told him with a chuckle, "But what's got you caught up? It sounded like you had it."

Castiel swept a hand through his hair, "Well I was calling to ask you how you even got into a relationship in the first place… When the dates ended and it became official." He clarified. This was all new territory to him.

His eyes widened, realizing he liked the sound of that. He quickly typed in the title of the poem.

New Territory

Balthazar gave a small, understanding chuckle. "For me, I could tell things were going good when I was comfortable around her. Or, no…" he corrected himself, "I wasn't afraid of being myself around her. I always still felt this rush you keep coming back to." He clarified. "We stopped making 'dates' and it became a thing where I'd always be at her house, or she'd always be at mine, no questions asked. And for the most part, we'd do most everything together."

Castiel gave a nod, no one there to see it, "But…" he hesitated for a second before finding the courage to ask, "All your relationships…" he tip toed around it, not wanting to upset Balthazar with throwing this fact in his face, how all his relationships had failed. "Well… you're currently not… with anyone." He concluded, hoping that would suffice.

"Ahhhhh." Balthazar understood, "Castiel, just because there's a possibility of the relationship ending doesn't mean you shouldn't go for it." Balthazar knew this went beyond the poem, and knew Castiel was more than likely second guessing this.

"If I had known none of my relationships would have worked out before hand, I do believe I still would have given them a go." He told him.

Castiel's brows furrowed, "Why? It would have just been time wasted…"

Balthazar gave a small chuckle, "No, Castiel, it wouldn't have been wasted. Because all these experiences I've had has not only made me stronger, but wiser. Now I know better, and I can predict things more." He explained. "And Castiel, you can not, and I really mean this, you can not allow yourself to be scared away from this relationship before it even gets started. Because if you do, there's no telling how many more you'll scare yourself away from."

Castiel realized that Balthazar was right, giving a sigh. Though his words resonated with him, they didn't help any with his anxiety.

"And honestly, I can still think of some very good memories I've had with my girlfriends. I wouldn't give these memories up for the world." He went on, "You can't be afraid to put yourself out there. Yes, relationships end. There's no getting around that. But you'll miss out on so much if you don't try. Even if things don't work out, you'll at least have some fantastic memories, and have had someone to hold, or even be held." He told Castiel.

Castiel stayed silent, ruminating over all that Balthazar had to tell him. He really did like Dean. He was willing to admit that, though it might still be much too soon. He was still very excited to meet with Dean again, though the possibility of him not liking him back remained. He slowly began to smile.

"I guess I am willing to… put myself out there." He told Balthazar after much thought. Though he hoped it wouldn't come to it, he was now positive things weren't on track for failing quite yet.

Balthazar beamed, "I'm glad to hear it."

"Thank you, Balthazar." Castiel spoke, "I'd be a mess without you."

His friend chuckled, "I try."

The two bid farewell and Castiel was able to decide on an ending.

But I find myself asking; would it be so bad?

At the front desk of the Autman Furnishings office sat Becky, typing away on her laptop, posting for available positions in the company, "Yea, he called just a few minutes ago, and he seemed real angry… No, I have no idea. He just said he needed an assistant." She chatted away on her Bluetooth earpiece to her good friend who was just as much in the know as Becky was, though she didn't work in the company. All information and gossip, which was almost the same to Becky, went through to her friend Mary, who had full insight on all happenings of the office, thanks to Becky and her inability to follow the confidentiality rule. As she gossiped she also dealt with visitors and workers alike with ease.

"Yea, I'm just assuming it had something to do with Uriel. It's always Uriel." She chuckled to herself, "And really, this whole thing is hilarious, because right after Michael called, I had a lady come in with a resume… No, she said she wasn't sure if there was any positions available, but wanted to apply just in case something came up." She chuckled again, "And for work experience she's done everything from secretary to personal assistant." She shook her head, "I don't know what she was thinking, moving to this small town with only one big business and just hoping we have an opening… Well, duh, Mary, I get that this town is growing, but I mean Jesus, if she doesn't get this job, she'll be waaay over qualified for whatever one she does wind up getting." She rolled her eyes "I mean, she must think we'd never pass her up, or why else… Well, I guess she could be commuting from somewhere else, hold on, let me look at her address…" she mumbled before pulling the woman's resume back out of the folder she had set it in.

"Okay, she must be staying at a hotel or something, because she didn't put down her address. She must be moving around to find a job." She then gave a scoff, "I mean, this sounds perfect, right? This girl's wondering around, unattached, looking for something to keep her tethered… No, like a romance novel!" she told her friend excitedly as she went back to typing on her laptop, "Yes, I'm talking about for Michael…"

A man walked up to the front desk, but noticed Becky was in conversation, so he stood patiently waiting for her assistance.

"I'm not jealous, shut up, what I mean is she's perfect for him. Ever since his divorce, he's been this weepy little pussy." She then swiftly turned from her laptop to the man waiting, "Hello, and welcome to the Autman Furnishings home office, my name's Becky, how may I help you today?" she greeted with much more cheer and enthusiasm than what she used in her previous conversation.

It was apparent he'd heard her previous conversation based on his wide, confused eyes. He then gave a hesitant nervous chuckle, "I'm just looking for Lyle Wilson?" he asked.

Becky gave a wide smile, "No problem." She then quickly looked up said person in their database and gave him his floor and cubicle number.

"She's British, by the way."

At first the man standing at the front desk thought Becky was still talking to him, and he turned back to her, confused, but once he realized she wasn't making eye contact, he rolled his eyes and went on his way.

"I mean how can you refuse that. I don't even know why I'm making this ad, I'm just going to call her in and send her up to his office tomorrow when he comes in." She giggled, "Oh my God, I feel like Cupid." She giggled, then gasped, "Shut up, what if they name their first child after me?"