Dick Roman is a horrible human being. Not that Dean is overly concerned about the morality of the mark at any given moment, but it's kinda nice to know that he's stealing from someone who not only can afford to lose it, but who also deserves to lose it.

Charlie's the one who brought Dick to Cas' attention. At first glance, Roman Industries is a kind of shell company. They have their hand in a lot of pies, from automotive manufacturing to medical testing to snack cake companies. Not really the kind of thing Cas usually involves the crew in, Dean knows, but it's right up Charlie's alley.

As impressive as Roman Industries' defenses are, and Dean has been assured that the answer is "very," Charlie went through them like tissue paper. It turns out that, though he makes quite a bit of money from the cars and labs and Twinkies, most of Dick's profits come from his shadier dealings. He's involved in shit like large-scale drug dealing, importing illegal firearms, and human trafficking.

When Charlie revealed that last charge, the look on Cas' face let Dean know that they'd be going after Dick. So much of the sex slave trade that makes up a majority of trafficking is centered on victimizing lost children. The very same children from whom Cas tends to find new parts of the crew. Those blue eyes darted to Dean for a moment while Charlie was talking, and he knew Cas was thinking about Dean selling himself, about how quickly it could have gotten so much worse if the wrong person had come along. When Cas told Charlie that they'd be both burgling and cyber-stealing from this motherfucker (Dean might be paraphrasing here), Dean knew that it was more about him than it was about money.

Dick is currently on an "extended holiday," so his giant fucking house is empty. It's the perfect opportunity to rob him blind.


Dean gets back to the bedroom they used as an entry point before Cas does. He wants to pace, or fidget, or maybe jump on the bed like a little kid while he waits, but he does none of that. He stands next to the window, attention split between the view outside and the door of the room, and waits for Cas to meet him here.

He also somehow manages to resist the urge to mess with his stupid uniform shirt.

Even though the place is empty, Cas still insisted they look the part. Cas says that only amateurs (read: idiots, he means idiots) would break into a house wearing black clothes and ski masks. Cas says the point is not to dress to avoid getting caught, but to dress as if getting caught is an inevitability.

"It's not about whether or not we're there," Cas explained as he chose what they would wear. "We're there, we've been caught. They know we're there. Our goal is not to convince someone that we are not there, but to convince them that we belong there."

Which is why Dean's wearing the long sleeved grey button-down shirt and black slacks that make up the uniform for the cleaning company Dick Roman employs. If they get caught (not fucking likely), they'll just claim that they got their schedules mixed up.

It's a good plan. It's a great plan. Just another way in which Cas is definitely a master of his craft. It's just that the uniform… Well, when it's on Cas, it's distracting, to say the least.

Cas is criminally (heh) hot. His ass fills the slacks out like no one's business. The grey shirt stretches lovingly over his broad shoulders and chest. Even though Dean kinda feels like a kid trying on his father's clothes, Cas looks good.

When the older man walks back into the bedroom, Dean takes the opportunity to check him out again. His hair has been combed into submission for once in his life, but his eyes still sparkle in the minimal light they have in the room.

"Are you ready to go, little one?"

Dean smiles. "Yes, sir."


In the weeks since Dean last saw his father, when he went to Cas first for comfort, Dean has completely given up fighting the feelings he harbors for Cas.

Oh, he's not going to make a move. The things that held him back before are still relevant, if not even more so these days. It's just that he's all right with it now. He doesn't try to stop himself from checking Cas out as he walks down the hall behind him. When Cas smiles and Dean's heart stutters in his chest, he doesn't berate himself for being a stupid kid with a stupid crush anymore.

Because it's not just a crush. He doesn't just want to hold Cas' hand, or for Cas to fuck him into oblivion. He wants both. Dean doesn't think he'd be really happy with one or the other. No, he's just selfish enough that he wants everything Cas has to offer. He wants to fuck Cas, but he wants to hold him, too. He wants to go out to dinner with Cas, and he wants to stay in and just watch TV with him. He wants to help Cas build a closer crew, help choose their charges, become Cas' partner in every way conceivable.

He wants to be with Cas forever.

And that's just not fair, because Cas deserves so much better than Dean. Cas deserves a grown-up, first of all. Someone who has their shit together, someone who's confident. Cas doesn't need some teenager with too much baggage who won't leave his younger-but-smarter brother to his own devices.

All of that's fine, though, because Dean's decided to be okay with it. He's all right with being mostly in love with Cas, falling deeper every day. Hell, he can't think of anyone he'd rather have unrequited feelings for.

So, really. Dean's all right with it.

Really.


When they get back, Dean's too wired to go to bed just yet, so he offers to take everything from tonight's job to the shared apartment and divide it accordingly. Cas agrees after a beat, and Dean watches as the older man goes to his own place for the night, then heads into the apartment.

He's alone here tonight. Garth is already in bed, because Garth is somehow a seventy-five-year-old in a kid's body. Sam's at Kevin's place, since there's a big biology test coming up that they're both nervous about. They're probably still cramming for it, actually. Benny's with Andrea again, much to no one's surprise. Dean thinks there's gonna be a ring soon, but Cas has thrown his vote in with Andrea being pregnant before Benny makes a more permanent move.

Dean tries to keep his thoughts away from Cas as he sorts the loot into piles. Bank statements, complete with account numbers, go into a stack to give to Charlie, so she can really fuck Dick up. There are a few bundles of hundreds from the safe that Cas cracked (a skill he's promised to teach to Dean once he masters burglary) that he puts aside to be divided up. Finally, there's a couple of watches that are probably worth ten grand each. They're stupid, but they're also small and mass-manufactured, so Dean couldn't resist. Cas rolled his eyes, but he didn't say no. Dean slips those into his pocket so he can take them to the local fence tomorrow.

Unfortunately, that's all he really has to do tonight. They got a lot, and he's glad of it, but there's not much else to keep him distracted from his thoughts.

His thoughts about Cas.

He deserves better, and you're fine with that, he insists to himself as he sits down to count the bills from the bundles. You've gone this long without someone, you didn't just wake up one morning and start needing people.

No, another voice, just as persuasive, says in his head, you've just been with Cas for over six months now, coming up on a year, and you've wanted him the whole time.

Dean sighs. Maybe he's not quite where he wants to be on the whole "I'm cool with Cas not wanting me back" train after all.

When the front door opens and Cas makes his way into the dining room where Dean sits, surrounded by piles of their ill-gotten goods, Dean starts to think maybe he's not okay with anything at all.


Castiel is in love with Dean Winchester.

Dammit.

He worked so hard to not get attached to the green-eyed boy. He exercised all of his willpower to stop his thoughts in their tracks when they wandered. He hasn't even masturbated to the image of a flushed, thin chest and plush, ridiculously biteable lips.

And still, he failed. Miserably, spectacularly, and utterly has he failed at not having feelings for Dean.

It's just that Dean is so… Good. Though he's only seventeen, he's old in his soul, wise beyond his years. He's selfless and irreverent and everything that Castiel has ever needed in his life, all wrapped up in a completely unavailable package.

So many things work against him. The age difference, of course. Castiel is a firm believer that age is just a number, but it's more than years than separate he and Dean. It's just as he told Charlie, Castiel himself might be the first person in Dean's life to tell him that he's good, that he matters. He's the first adult to take care of Dean, and not the other way around, full-time. That alone would skew the boy's way of looking at him.

He also keenly feels the power imbalance between them. No matter how hard he tries to insist that it's not necessary, Dean is always going to feel far too indebted to Castiel for him to feel comfortable approaching the boy. If Dean did say yes, Castiel would never be sure if it was because Dean really wanted him, or because Dean feared what would happen to his brother and himself if he upset Castiel by saying no.

Honestly, though, all of that is perfectly all right. He's perfectly fine with loving Dean from afar.

Are you really?

He wonders, sometimes, if this is how Cain felt before they fell into bed together. By that time, of course, Castiel knew well enough what was going on, and encouraged Cain's attention eagerly.

If only Dean would do the same.

The thought of it nearly makes him stumble on the way to his kitchen. The image of Dean's green eyes, downturn in faux coyness, of his plush mouth, caught between his teeth as he demurely bites his lip. Castiel wants to wreck him. He wants to mark the boy up, turn him into a trembling, babbling mess. He wants to make Dean come so hard the boy sees stars, wants to make him cry out until he's hoarse.

Jesus.

With the strange combination of nostalgia, adoration, and arousal swirling in his gut, he knows that sleep will continue to elude him for a while now. That's all right, he needs to look over some paperwork that Charlie sent over, anyway. She was able to find some information about Azazel, but because of the Roman job, Castiel has been exceptionally distracted. Since this promises to be a sleepless night, it will be the perfect opportunity to go through it.

He makes his way to the shared apartment and assures himself that it's not because he knows Dean might still be there.


Shit, shit, shit.

Cas is coming in. Fuck. It's not that Dean doesn't want to see Cas, obviously. He loves being around Cas, but right now all he can think about is how he can't have Cas, about how he's not good enough for the older man to even look at him twice, much less want him. Right now, he's struggling with the idea that he'll never get to kiss Cas.

Right now, it might not be the best time to see Cas, but he doesn't have much of a choice, because the older man is standing in the kitchen now, an unreadable look on his face. He's still wearing the grey shirt and black slacks from the job, but he's just got socks on instead of shoes, and the top few buttons of the shirt have been undone, revealing tanned skin pulled taut over a delectable collarbone.

Shit.

"Dean, is everything all right?"


"Dean, is everything all right?"

As much as Castiel is currently debating on whether or not it's a good thing that he's alone in this room with Dean, concern for the boy overrides everything. Dean looks a little ill, almost like he's in pain. It makes something deep and protective flare to life in Castiel's chest.

He wants to sweep Dean into his arms, carry him back to Castiel's bed, and wrap him up in blankets until he feels safe, sheltered. He wants to hold Dean and press chaste kisses to his face until he feels warm and loved. Of course, he also wants to fuck Dean so badly it's almost a physical pain in his solar plexus, but that's beyond the point now.

None of that is an option available to him, so he settles for asking after Dean's well-being.

"Thought you went to bed," Dean says gruffly, his voice scratchy and strained. It makes Castiel even more desperately curious as to whether or not Dean's actually sick. With Sam's exams coming up, it would only be right of me to offer to care for Dean myself while he's ill, some crazed part of his brain is already rationalizing.

"I wanted to get some paperwork that Charlie sent about Abaddon and her gang."

Dean's eyes are on the table. He brings one of his hands up to rub the back of his neck, and Castiel tries not to find it appealing. "Oh, yeah. The, uh, the printer went off."

He wants to insist that Dean tell him what's wrong, but he's not privy to that. He's not Dean's lover, or his boyfriend, he's essentially his boss. He has no right to demand information from the boy.

So he smiles tightly. "Thank you, Dean."

Maybe it's because he's moving closer to Dean, since he has to move around the table to get to the office. Maybe it's because he was already looking at the boy. Maybe it's because, since the moment he laid eyes on him, Castiel has been more in tune with Dean than he has any other human being he's ever come in contact with.

Regardless of the reason, Castiel doesn't miss the way Dean's breath catches a bit, or the way his pupils dilate as he looks up and stares at Castiel coming toward him.

He stops, standing just in front of where Dean is sitting. He watches as Dean, seemingly almost against his will, turns in his chair to face him. "Dean," he says, his voice low, soft.

"Y-yeah, Cas?" Dean's voice is trembling just a touch.

"You know…" Castiel thinks for a moment, wanting to choose his words very carefully. "You know… You know that you can talk to me, yes? That there's nothing you should be embarrassed or hesitant about coming to be with?"

Dean swallows hard, and Castiel is helpless to do anything but follow the movement. "Yes, sir," the boy whispers.

Castiel can feel arousal start to pool in his belly. "And you know I won't be angry or disappointed with you for doing so?"

"Yes, sir." This boy is trying to kill me.

"Are you certain that there's nothing you'd like to tell me?"

The question hangs in the air between them. Castiel feels like he's having an out of body experience. He's standing too close to Dean, can feel the heat radiating off of him. Move back, for God's sake.

For Dean's part, he looks heartbreakingly tired. He somehow manages to look incredibly old, and still so young that it makes Castiel's heart hurt. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He's gazing up at Castiel with those green eyes that seem to be begging him for something. It takes a few beats of staring into them to realize what it is.

I can't.

Well, I can, but I shouldn't.

I could go to jail, and not even for stealing. In fact, I'll probably go to hell.

Dean lets out a soft sigh, like a resolution has been made, and Castiel realizes that it has.

But who lovelier to go with than Dean?

When their lips meet for the first time, it's because they're meeting in the middle.


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