A/N With much thanks to heart4rescue, on tumblr, who helped me out immensely, when I was struggling to write this, and for suggesting the staff lunch idea!

Dean and Castiel stayed in the conference room, talking into the early evening. Dean had called his office to tell them that he wasn't coming back in and Castiel had asked Crowley to cancel his afternoon appointments before dismissing his secretary for the day.

As they discussed the plans for the dismissed workers, and the conditions for the rest, Dean began to understand where Castiel was going wrong.

Dean had not expected to experience a complete about-face today, but he couldn't hold on to a shred of the idea of Castiel as a greedy, uncaring, irresponsible employer. Clearly, Castiel had managed to keep the business running in the black even though the odds were against him, and even though Dean hated to give an inch, the redundancy package Castiel had designed was quite fair.

That didn't mean that Castiel didn't have a hell of a lot to learn about life on the other side of the fence. Because Castiel had come into the administrative side of the business, he had little experience in what happened on the factory floor. He had always trusted his foreman, Bobby Singer, to manage that side of things. But with the state of the economy and the growing unease among the workers, Castiel could no longer ignore the chasm that existed between himself and the core of his business.

"I remember going into one factory, Cas, representing a guy who had been injured on the job, pretty bad, man, he was in no shape to be working, y'know?" Dean had been regaling Castiel with stories from his time as a union rep. Neither man could really say when the conversation had taken a turn, but both now sat comfortably across the table from each other, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up.

"Anyway, the boss, a real son of a bitch, refused to cover the guy while he was off work, so you know what this guy's co-workers did? They propped him up in a chair on the shop floor and did his job on top of their own. Never let the boss catch them at it either. The bastard couldn't do anything but keep paying the injured guy's wages. Dude was still clocking in, and the work was getting done." Dean's punctuated the end of this speech with a laugh, smiling fondly across the table at Castiel.

Smiling at Dean, but, really, almost ashamed at how few of his employees' names and faces he knew, Castiel could not speak. As Dean talked on about the collective bargaining process and about some of the conditions in which Xaphan's employees worked, Castiel's shame only grew. How could he know so little? Was he any better than the boss in Dean's story?

With every story, Castiel felt himself responding to the warmth in the way Dean spoke about the people he represented. And Castiel realised that Dean didn't just speak for those people, he was one of them.

Castiel started a little. Without thinking about it, he had always considered those who worked for him, employees. Of course, in an abstract sense, he had acknowledged that they had families, lives outside the factory, but he'd never perceived them as 'people'. They were necessary, occasionally adversarial, but, if Castiel was honest with himself, never, really, human.

"Cas," Dean was suddenly at his side, "are you ok, man?"

Castiel lifted his head at the concern in Dean's voice.

"Yes, Dean, thank you. I was only thinking," Castiel's voice trailed off.

Dean huffed, as though relieved, "Thanks for telling me so I'll know for next time, I thought I must have bored you into a trance," Dean dropped into the chair next to Castiel's, "You could really hurt a guy's feelings, spacing out like that."

Castiel turned his chair to face Dean's, "Dean," he said, seriously, "I apologise. It's just…some of the things we have spoken about," Castiel trailed off again, eyes locked with Dean's.

Dean licked his lips nervously, "Cas, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, man."

"You misunderstand me, Dean," Castiel's eyes flicked down to Dean's mouth for a moment, "I have the run of this company, but if we were to walk down to the factory floor tomorrow, you would know more about how this place works than I do. You would have a connection with the people there that I…could never hope to have."

Castiel shifted a little, eyes moving around the room, "I am not used to the human relations side of things. But speaking with you…I realise, perhaps, that is where I have been going wrong."

Dean bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder, forcing the other man to look at him. "Cas, we can fix this. Not all at once, maybe, but hell, we can make a start."

The wounded look in Castiel's eyes, the look that stripped away tiny pieces of Dean's heart, abated. And Dean smiled.

"Let's start with lunch."

Dean suggests that Castiel make it 'Hamburger Friday' in the staff cafeteria. Castiel had been embarrassed to admit that he had never actually visited the cafeteria, let alone eaten there, but he agreed to try it the following week. Castiel even invited Dean back for the inaugural lunch. Never one to turn down a free burger, Dean agreed. The two men parted with smiles and a handshake.

Dean went home that night and dreamt of Castiel's hands; folded on the surface of the conference table, twining a pen between his fingers. He woke up with his own hand palming the front of his sleeping pants.

That evening, Castiel gasped as he spent himself in the shower. The warm water against his skin was Dean pressing against him.