My tumblr has officially changed back to MysticMoonhigh, so if you'd like to follow me, you should do that thing :-) I worked hard last night typing this out because dear lord, it seemed to take forever to actually get 3,000 words out! XD. Next chapter the coffee (date?) trip!

Oh, I will probably be opening my etsy later today. So if you want to check it out (later as in around four) my username will be MysticMonarch1998

Thank you guys for the wonderful response this has gotten so far, you all have my deepest gratitude! Last chapter got EIGHT COMMENTS. I was expecting four. This was a wonderful surprise!

PRESENT-DAY ME: Sorry this is a day late, I forgot to update until like midnight and by then it was already technically today, so...

"I was wondering when you would put two and two together, Dean. You're not very perceptive." Castiel commented, smirking just the smallest bit. Dean felt a little smothered when he turned completely, putting the full force of his eyes to use. They scanned up and down Dean's body, in a weirdly non-sexual way.

Dean almost couldn't think. He'd lived next to Castiel for a year now. At least. He'd passed him in hallways, he'd seen him walking to and from the store, he'd watched him have conversations with the ancient tenant. He'd checked out the dude's ass. His head was reeling from all the memories that were flooding him, especially from the last two weeks. It had been Cas all along; how the hell had he not known?

"You knew?" He asked, just then processing what Castiel had said. "You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"I wanted you to figure out yourself." Castiel said, giving a shrug. "The likelihood of this happening was one in a million at the least. I figured I'd wait it out and see how long it would take you to notice."

"How long have you known?" Dean asked, before he could stop himself.

"Almost since we've been talking. It's nice to be able to really get a good look at you, though." Cas said, sounding vaguely pleased. His eyes raked up and down Dean's body again, and Dean felt a little self conscious. "Before, I was averting my eyes so as not to draw excess attention. I wanted to see how long it would be before something gave it away."

"That's... Oddly scientific." Dean said slowly, blinking. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes downward, his hand briefly catching on his stubble as he did. He suddenly realized that, had he known he was meeting the man he was interested in, he definitely would have shaved. Oh well.

"Yes. It appears as if the faulty elevator was the prime factor in your piecing it together. I'm guessing we have Chuck to thank for that." Cas mumbled, glaring at the buttons. As if it were their fault the elevator stopped working. They were just doing their jobs. Cas needed to lay off the poor things.

"Who's Chuck?" Dean questions. Because, out of all the things you can say to someone you've been pining after for the last week and just recently met, asking about a name is top on his list, apparently.

"Chuck is the elevator maintenance man. He also unclogs sinks and toilets in his spare time. He's usually in the boiler room, but he's nice to talk to. One of the more interesting members of the staff, actually. In his spare time, he gets paid to write biographies."

"Oh." Dean says. Cas just nods, and suddenly, the very small (Dean just noticed how small—Cas and him couldn't be more than three feet away) elevator became very awkward. Dean couldn't stop staring at Castiel, his eyes, his strong jaw line, that absolutely delicious sex hair all mussed up like somebody had been running their fingers through it... Not only that, but Dean knew from previous experience that he had a great ass. He leaned forward involuntarily, his eyes working their way back up Castiel's body and to his vivid eyes again. It occurs to him that he's just checked Castiel out.

Before he can stop himself, he mumbles, "Your eyes are really blue."

Instead of looking uncomfortable, Castiel leans forward a little bit too, and Dean realizes that he may have involuntarily taken a step forward while looking Cas up and down, because they're close. As in, Dean can literally feel the heat and vibrancy of the other man's body, he can smell the faintly oceanic scent (with undertones of tea and honey), and his eyes flicker to his full lips before he can help himself.

"Your eyes are green. Odd, they looked brown from further away." Castiel says, clearly.

Dean suddenly feels like if Cas doesn't back away, he's going to have to kiss him right then. So, he clears his throat, leaning back a bit. "Cas? Personal space." He says, gruffly.

"My apologies." Cas says, nodding towards him and stepping back. Dean clears his throat and follows Castiel's lead, stepping back until he hits the wall. He feels his legs tire, and realizes that they could be standing here for hours if this "Chuck" doesn't get his butt over to the elevator and fix it. So, he slowly lets his back slide down the wall, letting out a puff of air.

"Well, we're going to be here for awhile, might as well sit down. Come on." Dean says, patting the ground. Castiel's eyes flicker towards where his hand is before he plops himself down all at once, his trench coat flaring out behind him. He managed to stay upright. Where most people would have smiled at the move, he still had a blank expression on his face, like he was a six year old who had been told she couldn't have iced cream but felt as though she was too mature to pout.

"Well, now that we've established we live in the same general vicinity, I suppose it would make actually going on that road trip a lot easier." Castiel says, as a conversation starter. Dean thinks he's joking around for a second, but he looks entirely serious. Cas really trusts him enough to go on a road trip together.

He thinks there's a chance he might literally explode from happiness. The connection he felt, the trust that had developed, Cas felt that too. Suddenly Dean relaxed, all at once. Sure, he was a little more intimidating in real life, but this was the same person he'd been talking to for weeks. He shouldn't feel awkward around him.

"Yeah, that it would. Actually, it would be easier to meet up period." Dean said. Then, something dawned on him. "I could drag you over to my house and make you watch Star Wars."

"I'm quite busy this week, but I'd love to find some time if you desired so. Would something Saturday work for you?" Castiel asked. Dean felt the lightbulb above his head flicker to life. It had a small layer of dust blown off, but other than that, it was pristine.

"I actually have a Christmas in July party my brother wants me to throw that day. If you wanted to come over and meet him and the guild, I would love to have you. That would be awesome." Dean enthused, smiling. For the first time since they sat down, Cas's lip quirked up.

"That sounds pleasant. I bake a mean fruit cake." Castiel quips. Dean's mind immediately goes to a brick with an angry face drawn on it sitting on a plate.

"Dude, fruit cakes are of the devil. Are you sure you want to go there?" He teases, "Besides, pie is better than cake."

"Not all fruit cake is cooked by Satan, I believe." Cas replies, as serious as one could be while delivering that line, "I'm going to force you to try it if you continue to blaspheme."

"I bet you couldn't. I'm all muscle. Look at this," Dean enthuses, raising an arm and flexing his bicep. Castiel shakes his head, and suddenly, they're both laughing. It's a glorious sound, and Dean thinks that he wouldn't mind hearing it every day for the rest of his life. Both of them are literally sitting on the floor in a room so small a husband and wife would be uncomfortable, and they're not batting an eyelash. They're laughing and talking and joking, absorbing each other's presence.

"I told you I can hold my own. I'll bet you're not as strong as you look." Cas says, once they've both settled down. Suddenly, Dean leans forward, getting closer to Castiel.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that a challenge? Because I gladly accept." Dean says flippantly. Castiel raises an eyebrow.

"We'll have to do that another time, I'm afraid. It appears as though the elevator is moving again." Cas points out. Dean feels the world begin to shift, and he realizes that Cas is right. He and Cas both quickly right themselves, standing up as the elevator comes to a halt. Cas straightens his blue tie (it makes his eyes pop, thinks Dean) before giving Dean a quick nod and moving forward, out of the elevator.

Dean stumbles after, his legs having fallen asleep from being in an awkward position for so long. He hops as he walks out of the elevator, hissing as pins and needles go up and down his legs. He sees Castiel watching him, slightly amused, and flips him off. His stomach suddenly sinks as he realizes that he's leaving to go and get coffee with his boss. Dean was going to have to say goodbye after only five minutes of talking to him.

"Wait." Dean calls out, before he can stop himself. Castiel turns, his expression patient as Dean fumbles for a reason to get him to stay just a little bit longer. "We can test who's stronger now. Come over to the desk and we'll arm wrestle. He can be the judge." Dean gestures towards a partially grease covered man who has just exited the boiler room. Cas nods his head.

Dean feels slightly triumphant as he walks back over to him.

"Chuck would be an excellent judge. I think arm wrestling sounds reasonable, though I've never honestly attempted it myself." Cas explains, stopping at the front desk. Dean quickly follows him, slipping behind it and shrugging off his jacket. He would only be there for a few minutes; he'd be fine to step behind it for the time being. His forearms revealed, he slung an arm up on the table, flexing his biceps again in a move that was supposed to be intimidating.

Castiel looked entirely unfazed by his show. He simply shrugged off his trench coat in an imitation of the move that Dean had just taken, setting his own arm on the table. Dean couldn't help that he noticed how the fabric clung to Castiel's muscles. Cas wasn't typically one for showing off, but he didn't need to flex for Dean to see how powerful and sculpted he was.

He felt the other's hand grip his own, and he felt his knees go weak. The warmth radiating off of his angel was more intoxicating than the strongest scotch, and the feel of his surprisingly soft skin was all Dean could think about. Dean felt his face heat up as he realized that they were basically holding hands right now. Well, in a very macho way.

He was entirely enticed by Castiel's hands, actually. They were thin and lithe, they reminded him of a hand model's. All Dean could think about was how Castiel's hand would look wrapped around his cock, pumping and twisting and milking him for all he was worth. He felt his blush leave as his blood immediately redirected to his lower quadrant. Damn it, why did Cas have to be good looking on top of it all?

"So I'm judging this?" Chuck asked. Cas gave a tight nod, his eyes still fiercely locked with Dean's. "Go, then."

Before Dean even had time to react, his hand was (surprisingly gently) shoved back onto the table, crippling under the weight of Castiel's bruising strength. He stared for a moment, in utter disbelief, before he looked back up towards Castiel. He wasn't smiling or gloating his victory, just had a neutral expression, as if he had expected to win. Dean opened his mouth as if to say something, but had a hard time forcing anything out.

"I wasn't ready." He finally excused, clearing his throat. Castiel smirked then, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Come on, two out of three." Dean enthused, picking his hand back up. He quickly concentrated on something other than what he had previously been thinking, (hoping his erection would fade away before he had to get out from behind the desk) hoping to actually gain back some of his masculinity.

"Okay then. If I win, you have to try some of my fruit cake at the Christmas party." Cas said, putting his own hand back in Dean's. Dean contemplated for a moment before giving a tight nod, flexing his jaw as he did.

Their hands were touching again, their eyes met, but this time, Dean's mind was on the prize. Chuck called for the go, and Dean pushed with all of his might, giving a soft growl of irritation as Castiel refused to move. Dean's eyes flickered back down to their hands, pushing just a little bit harder.

Cas was remaining calm and cool. When Dean glanced back up, he didn't even look like he was breaking a sweat. In fact, he looked like he was actually enjoying the experience, like he got some kind of twisted pleasure out of watching Dean struggle to achieve his goal. Dean briefly wondered if he was actually into that sort of thing, and in his mental lapse, found his hand an inch closer to the table.

He cleared his mind again, determined to prove himself. He didn't want to have to try the fruit cake, for god's sake, why did he have to agree to that? He felt himself lose another inch as Castiel flexed his arm again, and he pushed back even harder. His whole arm was shaking from the effort, and his breathing was slow and practiced. He gave a mighty push, gaining back about half of an inch. Another glance up proved that Castiel didn't look worried at all, and he still wasn't struggling.

Dean felt his feet start to lose purchase on the floor, but he held out for as long as he could. Eventually, Castiel's muscles flexed one last time, and he stumbled to the floor as his hand hit the counter top. He quickly recovered, jumping up and putting both arms across the counter to leave his hip hanging in mid air, rather than crashing into the cool tile beneath.

Castiel held out his left hand to help Dean, his face still the same blank canvas it was before. "Sorry if I made you fall." he said. Dean took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled up, feeling the tips of his ears redden again as he realized that they were weirdly holding hands again.

"No, it's fine. I'm just a little clumsy." Dean admitted. On the bright side, his dick had lost interest in the situation right after he had to stop himself from breaking his hip. That was always good news.

"I hope you'll enjoy the fruit cake." Castiel said, surprisingly warmly. Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked the man up and down.

"You knew you could beat me and you still let me do this. What kind of a friend are you?"

"The kind that wants you to partake in traditional holiday deserts."

"Fuck you."

"Hey, not in the lobby!" Chuck teased from the side lines. "The last couple who did that, believe it or not, got kicked out."

The words rang in Dean's head. They swam around and around again and again. "The last couple". Did this guy just imply that he and Cas were a couple? And that they were going to have sex in the lobby? When did that thought become so arousing for him?

"No, no, no! We're, uh, we're," Dean makes a wild hand gesture between himself and Cas, "Not like that, so... yeah."

"Oh, right, and I'm God." Says Chuck sarcastically. This is the point where he looks into the camera like a character off of the office and winks.

"No Chuck, I guarantee that Dean and I are merely friends." Cas assured.

Suddenly, their little group was assaulted with a loud ringing noise, coming from Castiel's phone. He slowly lifted the device up to his ear and pressed the listen button, staying silent for a couple of seconds, listening to the man on the other end of the line speak. Instead of looking disappointed or worried, he looked relieved. He nodded his head and said okay a couple of times before finally putting down his phone and pressing 'end call', a small, satisfied smile on his face.

"Well, I've just been let off the hook for coffee tonight. That means I'll be free to play the game with you, if you would like, Dean." Cas says, casually. "I actually assumed this would happen in the first place, which is why I didn't tell you until I was leaving. I have to thank you though; without you, I would already be halfway there."

Suddenly, Dean got a little brave. "What, does this guy cancel on you often?"

"He's a very busy man, and life keeps him shut up for the most part." Castiel admits.

"Then why don't you go out somewhere with me? We could go out for coffee, if you'd like." Dean said. Castiel thought for a moment, and the time seemed to stretch on. Dean didn't realize until the words were out of his mouth just how much it sounded like he was asking Cas out on some kind of a weird first date. He cleared his throat awkwardly, leaning forward on the desk and looking anywhere else to avoid looking at Cas.

"I suppose that would be a nice use of my time." Castiel said slowly. Dean had to resist the urge to fist-pump into the air. He'd gotten Castiel to say yes! Maybe this did mean the other man was interested?

"Okay, which coffee shop are we going to?" Dean asks, coming out from behind the counter. He offers his arm for Cas to loop his through, and gets stared at awkwardly until he almost wants to drop it. Right before he does, though, Castiel catches on and threads his arm through Dean's own.

"The small one on Fifth Avenue." Cas informs him. Dean and him walk together towards the door, where they unlink so Dean can open the door. "And they say chivalry is dead."

"Yeah yeah yeah, just lead the way trench coat." Dean says, patting Cas on the shoulder.

As the door is shutting behind them, he hears Chuck's faint cry of, "Tell me when you two are dating!"