Part VIII
Overload

Castiel didn't sleep much that night.

When his eyelids did fall to a close, he spent two fitful hours in a light doze before knocking jerked him back awake. Red eyes gazed blearily at the digital clock telling him it was a quarter to seven. The faint light filtering in through the pulled curtains told him that it was seven in the morning and he only had an hour to get ready for work.

The knocking persisted.

Wrapping his comforter around his shoulders, Castiel set his feet on the cold floorboards of his bedroom with a shiver. He made an unhurried shuffle to his front door and checked the peep hole. A grumble instantly started up in the back of his throat as he viewed his brother in the hallway. It would do no good to ignore him, pretend he wasn't home, because one way or another Michael had gotten into his apartment yesterday evening. Castiel wouldn't put it past his brother to do it again.

Flicking open the locks, Castiel pulled the door open and leveled Michael with a grim look.

"I see you're still not much of a morning person," Michael said by way of greeting, stepping in past Castiel, leaving his younger brother to close the door and follow him into the kitchen.

A gruff Castiel watched blankly as Michael began messing with the coffee pot. Making himself at home as if he hadn't shunned his little brother for several years. Not so much as a phone call on birthdays had been exchanged between them. Michael had lost the right to act brotherly toward him. Yet Castiel couldn't find it in himself to kick Michael out. Even if their relationship had become estranged, Michael was still his brother. Castiel had always been willing to forgive and forget. Regardless of the circumstances, it was good to see Michael again.

A hug, however, would be far too awkward.

Castiel leaned against the doorway of his kitchen, blanket still curled around his lean frame, and continued to watch his brother with no small amount of suspicion, "Why are you here?"

"I'm not allowed to visit my only brother?"

"Not when you've refused to talk to him for the last few years."

"I heard about the break in," Michael commented as if not noticing Castiel's scowl. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Castiel's fingers curled into his blanket. He knew it was bullshit, but a part of him - a part that longed for the comfort that came from family - wanted to believe it. "Where were you when my car broke down forty miles outside the city. I really could have used a brother then."

The words opened up a wound Castiel had thought was healed over the course of time. Hurt welled up in his chest as he surveyed his brother's stoic features. It was a manner of coping with emotions that they both shared. They both just shut it out. Castiel probably would have been more indifferent as well if not for the last few days of chaos and running on very little sleep. Right then he couldn't seem to bite back his tongue, "Or fuck, where were you when Mom died and I was left to take care of everything by myself. Making the arrangements, going there here stuff–"

"I was on a case," Michael sternly replied without turning around. "I had more important things on my plate at the time."

Castiel's jaw firm and he shook his head. He averted his gaze while rapidly blinking to keep the sting in his eyes from manifesting into tears. He could still remember what it felt like standing there in the chill of the autumn morning and watching the casket be lowered into the ground. His eyes had been dry then, his mind in state close to shock as he watched the first throws of dirt hit the lid of her coffin.

It would have been nice if his brother had been there to at least stand next to him that morning.

"Why are you here, Michael? Because I don't believe for one god damn moment you're here for me."

"Castiel," Michael's voice warned.

"Fuck you, Michael." Castiel tiredly rubbed at his eyes with the blanket, hoping Michael didn't see the small wet spots dotting the fabric. "Lucifer isn't here. I'm sure you're well aware of the fact that we broke up and I haven't had any contact with him since then."

"That's not–"

"Then why else are you here? Please," Castiel's snarled. "I'm all ears."

"I'm... concerned... for you."

Castiel rolled his eyes, losing a corner of the blanket when he threw a hand toward the ceiling in frustrating. "You know what, Michael, I need to get ready for work. So if you would see yourself out, that'd be great."

"Would you listen if I told you to stay away from Winchester?"

"I'm not sleeping with him Michael," Castiel growled, barely able to keep his tone level. "Besides I work with him, it's a bit fucking hard to avoid a guy I work with."

He didn't bother asking why Michael wanted him to stay away from Dean. If Dean had been a girl, Castiel was certain Michael wouldn't be troubled by it. Leaving the comforter in the hallway between the kitchen and living room, Castiel stalked off to the bathroom and slammed the door. He didn't bother to check whether or not his brother was going to leave, just turned the water on full blast to drown out any other sound. He didn't need this. On top of everything else he didn't need this shit.

When Castiel got out of the shower, a mug of coffee and the carton of creamer had been left on the counter for him.

Castiel ended up being late to work, which earned a stern look from Singer. Castiel stone-walled the detective with a scowl and didn't bother to greet the older man. He went straight into his small, cluttered office while pretending he couldn't see Dean glancing his way from where he leaned against Sam's desk, chatting amiably with his partner.

Castiel slammed the door of his office.

Not an hour later he was sitting in Ellen's office like a child sent to the principal's office. He tried not to glower, he really did, but under Ellen's steady gaze Castiel's jaw continued to tighten. He felt like the whole ordeal was a bit unfair, because he had never caused trouble at work. Shouldn't he get a first time warning before there was talk of writing him up?

"Cas," Ellen leaned back against her desk while crossing her arms. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Ellen didn't look convinced, "You've worked here for nearly four years and have never stepped a foot out of line. Today you come in looking like you're going to lob off the heads of my detectives."

Castiel lifted fingers to his lips, pushing his lower lip in between his teeth to lightly chew at the chapped skin. He stared down at the corner of Ellen's desk and wondered if he could keep his silence and she could just give him a stern talking to, a slap on the wrists, and send him on his way.

"You either talk to me, or I'll set you up with Tran."

Guess not, "I'm just having a rough time - had family drop by unexpectedly and my place is still a wreck from the break-in."

"Well do you think you can keep all that under wrap?"

It felt like Castiel had been punted in the gut. It wasn't as if he had the convoluted idea that Ellen actually wanted to hear about his problems. She hadn't made chief and given her own squadron because she had a sympathetic ear. Castiel closed his eyes and gave the woman a curt nod.

"Good, because we need you here Castiel. We're running out of time and leads. You had the others haul in two whole bags of trash that the other technicians won't touch because they're afraid you'll bite their heads off. So I need you to get your head into the game and get things done. Stay late if needed, but I want it all done tonight and the if you find anything substantial I want you to call me right away."

That was how Castiel ended up staying late in the lab laboring over two tables full of bagged garbage. Some of his co-workers had said goodbyes as they went home for the night, but Castiel did little but lift his chin in acknowledgement to their voices. It was only when Castiel's eyes began to hurt from staring at the catalogued results in a computer monitor did he notice that all the lights outside the lab had been turned off. The clock on the wall read ten fifteen and Castiel collapsed backward into his chair while rubbing both hands over his face.

A loud rumble erupted from his stomach, likely not for the first time but now that Castiel wasn't engrossed with his work he had no choice but to acknowledge the fact that he had nothing but coffee all day. It took some fishing around the office, but Castiel put together enough change to support a trip to the vending machine. He recounted his changed as he walked the hall, pausing when the hum and flicker of a television screen caught his attention. Thinking someone had forgotten to turn it off, Castiel wandered over to the side room, but froze after the first step inside.

Dean sat slouched in an uncomfortable metal folding chair. His jacket missing and his tie loosened and flipped back over his shoulder. His tired features jerked up to blink at Castiel in the doorway. His face looked pale, gray in the light of the glowing screen. Castiel skirted Dean's gaze, adverting his line of sight to the screen to view the surveillance videos of the intersection near the suspect's house.

Sniffing at the air, Castiel's head swiveled to the take-out food left spread on the desk. His blue eyes lingered on the left over fries and he absently licked his lips.

"Jesus Christ," Dean softly exclaimed as he checked his watch. "Is it already that late?"

Castiel drew back, tucking his chin in toward his chest as he spared one last fleeting glance at Dean. He clutched the coins in his hand, turned and made for the vending machine at the end of the hall. He didn't want to talk to Dean. As he was making his selection of potato chips from the vending machine, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was being watched. Castiel ignored it, instead doubling to fetch his chips and head back toward the lab. Dean stood in the doorway of the office room, intently watching him as he passed.

Castiel ignored him, not so much as looking back over his shoulder when he heard the detective sigh. It didn't matter. Castiel didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't worth the trouble of discussing. Wishful thinking, Castiel realized, because even if he was resolving to forget everything that had transpired the other day, Dean was not privy to these thoughts. Castiel had just opened his bag of chips when the detective cleared the air from the doorway of the lab.

"If you're concerned about me repeating what Michael said about you," Castiel spoke in a level tone without bothering to look back at the detective. "Don't be. I won't say anything - it's none of my business."

Dean again cleared his throat, this time taking two small steps into the lab. "Actually, I uh.. "

The words came out soft, nervous, and Castiel couldn't resist the urge to spin around in the chair and peer inquisitively at the normally cock-sure detective.

"I didn't have to work late," Dean's hands slid into his pockets. "I was actually trying to work up the courage to come in here and talk to you."

Damn if those few words didn't make Castiel's expression soften. All the same, he couldn't let himself fall into the same trap - to be fooled twice. He firmed his jaw, "I don't want to talk."

"I think I owe you an explanation."

Dean looked so sincere, it was hard to say no. Castiel shook his head anyway, standing to move over to the evidence table. The turn of back was dismissal enough in his opinion.

"Cas," The detective pleaded, not getting the 'go away' memo, and came up behind Castiel. "Give me a chance. What your brother said–"

"It's none of my business, Dean."

"Just," Dean spoke firmly while staring down at Castiel's profile from a mere foot away. "Let me finish."

"No," Castiel growled as he spun around to glare up at the detective. "I've learned the hard way, that whatever it is you do that might be considered illegal, I don't want to know. Don't make me an accomplice."

Puzzlement creased along Dean's brow.

"So please, just.. let me get back to my work."

As Castiel turned back to his work, his attempt was cut short by the detective's hands cupping either side of his face. Castiel flicked widened eyes up to the other man fa'ce. Dean pale green eyes brimmed with determination, "I know I'm not the greatest guy. I've done some shit I'm not proud of. I've fucked up, I've made mistakes, but give me a fucking chance before you decide to hate me."

Castiel's lips parted on words unknown. Dean seemed to take those parted lips as invitation, because he dipped down to claim Castiel's mouth in a heated kiss. Castiel's lips moved on their own accord, matching the intensity that in one felled swoop fanned a small flame into an all consuming blaze. Castiel's hands pulled at Dean's shirt like a man starved. He pulled the fabric free of Dean's pants and attempted to rip it right off the detective. He didn't get far, not without popping off the buttons, and if not for the span of warm skin and tightly corded muscles beneath his fingertips, Castiel might have not been so distracted to do just that.

Dean's hand caught him around the waist and pushed him back to the table, lifting him up the inch needed to sit Castiel on the edge. Then he drew away, breaking their kiss and drawing a needful noise from Castiel. The smaller man spread his legs, allowing the detective to slot himself between them. Castiel curled his legs around the back of Dean's thighs to pull him as close as possible. Dean gifted him with a brief press of lips, nipping on his lower one before drawing away far enough to hastily work on the pesky buttons.

"Lost one," He said breathlessly, passing his thumb over the button-less sting left on the bottom of his shirt. He broke out in a grin, one that Castiel returned lopsidedly while impatiently starting on the top buttons. When Dean's dress shirt finally opened, the detective wasted no time in pressing Castiel flat on the table despite the smaller man's attempt to completely remove the shirt from him. Evidence bags scattered and the sound of the plastic hitting the tiled floor woke Castiel out of his lust filled haze.

"No, no," He murmured even as hands continued to bunch the fabric of Dean's shirt. "Stop."

Dean growled against side of Castiel's neck, "Why?"

"Not here," He didn't care anymore about the details. He wanted this, and wanted it now. Just – "Not on the table. The evidence."

"Oh," Dean's warmth exhale caressed Castiel's neck. Teeth followed afterward, grazing over the sensitive flesh. "Right. Don't want to.. " The stilted words made it clear that Castiel wasn't the only one having a hard time thinking. "Don't want to contaminate it?"

"Yeah," Castiel needlessly nodded. "Yeah.."

"Floor?"

Castiel actually considered it for a half second before shaking his head.

Dean made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, "My desk."

The mental image of shoving papers and pencil cups out of the way as Dean bent him over the desk momentarily halted any form of rational thought. Dean was already back to lavishing attention on Castiel's exposed throat, which made it all that much harder to think. Castiel's pulse raced beneath the press of Dean's mouth. Any other time and place Castiel would have been too reserved to even humor the ideas speeding through his mind. He had never been much of an adventurous type - there always had to be someone else there acting as a catalyst to make him behave so out of the box. In this situation, Dean was his source of influence - one that made the idea of having sex at work sound like a fucking fabulous idea.

"Shouldn't - not at work." He'd never be able to concentrate again if they did.

"Come on Cas," Lust made Dean's voice husky, "Live a little."

Castiel's eyes widened.

"Nick!"

Castiel crowded the older boy, scanning the dark school grounds under the dip of his hood. His heart was racing and what he really wanted to do was run away - fast and far. He actively chewed on his lower lip while glancing down at the bolt cutters Lucifer was currently using to cut the lock keeping the side door of the gym closed.

"Nick, we shouldn't be here. This is - this is against so many rules."

Lucifer smiled up at him, musically quoting, "Any fool can make a rule, and every fool will mind it."

"We're going to get in trouble–"

"Only if we're caught."

Castiel couldn't argue with that logic. "Come on, let's just go."

A sharp click severed the lock and as it tumbled away to the dirt beneath their shoes, Lucifer spun to face him. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't want to get in trouble."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

Castiel had to pause to think it over, "Suspension from school?"

"Is that the end of the world?"

"No, but–"

"Then what's there to be scared about?"

Castiel could do little but frown in response. Lucifer smiled at him, a gentle expression that did well to take the edge off Castiel's frantic nerves. The older boy reached up and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. The same hand grazed his pale cheek with fingertips. "Live a little, Castiel. Let yourself be free. It's not as scary as you think it is. Now, grab the spray paint and let's do this."

Such a simple phrase of peer pressure, and Castiel found himself steeling beneath Dean's dominating weight. The words shocked his system, because there had been so many times he had been told that phrase, or something similar to it, when Lucifer was talking him into doing something he didn't want to do. Castiel always crumbled so easily to it - but he had grown. He had learned from his mistakes. He had learned to say no.

"No," He transferred the word from his thoughts to reality. "Not here."

Dean planted his hands on either side of Castiel's waist as he drew back. His green eyes heatedly met Castiel's dark blue orbs. They warred with each other through the look until finally Dean withdrew with a sigh. "Alright. I'm sorry." His hands drew along Castiel's thighs, gently squeezing at the top of his knee in apology. "Where do you want to go?"

"Home."

The detective didn't look thrilled at the idea, "You sure your dick Fed of a brother isn't going to be there?"

"I'll kick him out," Castiel grumbled.

"Fine - but we're taking my car."

Castiel grimaced, "I can't leave my car here, people will ask questions."

Another frustrated growl sounded from the detective.

"I'll meet you at my place," Castiel murmured as he awkwardly climbed off the table. He glanced at the evidence bags scattered across the floor. Wanted to pick them up and re-arrange them back on the table but considering the impatience rolling off Dean in near tangible waves, Castiel figured he wouldn't further pull at the tiger's tail.

Dean chewed over the situation a long moment before he grumbled out a short fine and leaned forward to steal a kiss that was oddly tender in comparison to the primal way he had been trying to devour him a moment earlier. It was a kiss that Castiel recognized as a promise to see each other later - to miss each other while apart. Castiel stared after the detective as he left. His mind began to whirl, once again uncertain when he didn't have Dean's confidence there to guide him. Quickly shaking the insecurity away, Castiel gathered his things and locked the doors as he exited the building.

As he climbed into his car, Castiel wondered if he had time to swing through the nearest drive-thru, because Christ on a pogo stick, he was starving.

Things to Know
1.) Don't be too quick to cast judgment on Michael.
2.) I didn't know their mom died until Castiel blurted it out while I was writing.
3.) I'm not apologetic about writing the snippets of Castiel and Lucifer. They have a long history. It's insightful.
4.) To those that professed their addiction to this story, be so kind to hand over your souls, they now belong to me.
5.) P.S. I love you all.