Castiel kept changing his mind. The light seemed harsh but candles seemed to be too much. He had the entire afternoon to prepare dinner. Sam had dismissed him with the words 'you live to fight another day' when he left. Castiel had devised his own filing system, confirmed the next day's appointments, ordered flowers for the wife, ordered breakfast for his boss that he would pick up at seven forty five the next day. Yeah, he was feeling a little better about his job. Preparation was key. Which is the main reason he was freaking himself out about this evening with Dean.
This was obviously a bad idea. Doing your boss almost ends indisaster. Dean was rich. He was probably used to three course meals and caviar and other expensive things he didn't have and had never eaten. After hauling all the food out of the fridge and cupboard he put it all back and made an English breakfast. Dean liked bacon. If you invite a guy over you have to feed him at least one thing he likes, right? Why was he putting so much effort into this?
Castiel changed his clothes three times. He settled on keeping the shirt and tie he'd worn to work. He swapped the pants for a navy pair of skinnies. Tried and trusted baby. After going back and forth between the couch and the dining table a few times he settled on the dining table. There was no TV so the dining table won. Shaving was left for a later time. Stubble was always good. Castiel was ready fifteen minutes before seven. He waited in the hallway so there'd be a respectable gap between the knock and the opening of the door.
Dean showed up ten minutes early in his wilted suit minus the jacket. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie loosened. Gone was the slick hairdo. Dean's short hair was standing. It was as casual as he could get with what little time he had. He parked on the curb and ran up to the door. After pressing the doorbell three times and not hearing a sound he knocked.
"Dean," Castiel smiled as he opened the door, "You brought me flowers," he laughed.
"Google said this is what the boy does when he comes over," Dean handed the younger man the bouquet.
"Your idiocy knows no bounds," Castiel laughed as he took the flowers.
"Insert kiss here," Dean touched his cheek. Castiel smiled at his taste in men as he kissed Dean's cheek. "I love being irresistible," the man with the dirty blond hair smirked as he walked by his host.
"You're not irresistible," Castiel put his hands on the small of Dean's back, directing him, "I'm just easy."
"The shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes," Dean shook his head. Sometimes Castiel seemed to have two personalities. One picked up guys in bars, came on to his boss and was a little dark. The other was responsible enough to go to college and get a job with no coercion from parents or anybody apparently. Dean's face lit up when he saw the table.
"Laugh, get it out," Castiel encouraged.
"Are you kidding me? This is perfect," Dean couldn't believe it, "I was expecting you to feed me vegetables and all sorts of things I would've been happy to push around my plate till you were distracted enough for me to get away with stuffing them in my napkin."
"Do you wanna eat on the floor Tarzan?" Castiel smiled. There was something childlike about Dean. Not in the annoying way, in that cute way that makes you forget your troubles.
"I've been housebroken," Dean took a seat and started eating.
"How was work?" Castiel started to dig in as well.
"I had Sam's clients this afternoon, miserable bastards," Dean stuffed his face.
"Are you gonna chew that?" Castiel watched the other man eating.
"You want a man to chew, you serve sex first," Dean educated.
"You got somewhere to be?" the young man asked.
"I thought you'd want me out of here early," Dean thought it fairly obvious, "Tomorrow..." Dean said when he saw Castiel's look of confusion, "Dude, Death is coming."
"Death is coming?" the blue eyes flew open.
"Death is coming," Dean confirmed.
"Let's try a new sentence. That one? It isn't comforting!" Castiel slammed his fork onto the table.
"I'm sorry. I've never met an employee who didn't know Death," Dean recovered from his shock.
"Still waiting on the comfort over here," Castiel tapped his foot.
"We have this big shot client, Julian Richings. He is always in a black suit, has a cane and a ring everyone swears is the ring of Gyges," Dean shared the lore, "Why did they picked the legend of the invincible shepherd? Well, he kind of is invincible. He owns half the casinos in this place and the last person who tried to take his throne wound up in bankruptcy court. Death bought all his property, demolished the houses, scrapped the cars and I swear I heard something about a bonfire of furniture. And the shepherd thing is because he has eleven children. They're all in various parts of his business. Once a year we meet up with him to pretend to negotiate contracts but we all know it's a farce and we can't afford to lose his business."
"You have to go," Castiel sprang out of his seat.
"Yep, definitely start with the sex," Dean nodded as he got to his feet.
"You just put the fear of God in me. No, your brother already did that. You got the honour of putting the fear of Death in me," Castiel's hands went into his hair.
"Calm down," Dean put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, "Death likes pizza... from Chicago. Follow that with a bacon dog... from a stand in LA. Top it all off with fried pickled chips from Sioux Falls. Oh and he likes chocolate milkshake. Only Sam knows the specifics and he has backup but he will fire you for not knowing. Hopefully you'll be the first assistant to survive a visit from Death."
"I bet you say that to all the girls," Castiel grumbled as he led Dean to the door.
"Cas," Dean stopped at the door, "Calm down," he kissed the young man's forehead, "You have a phone assigned to you by the company. People will yell at you for calling so late but if you can find the best pizza in Chicago and all the other crap. Apply yourself and it will work out fine," he gave Castiel a chaste kiss on the mouth, "One more tip: avoid Death as much as you can. If you think Sam is missing a soul, well, Death is probably the one who took it."
"That's reassuring," Castiel's expression became even more sour.
"Wanna know what will make you feel better?" Dean leaned in, "Sex."
"I have to find the perfect bacon dog, remember?" Castiel pushed the older man back.
"A quickie will boost your enthusiasm," Dean wouldn't give up.
"You're incorrigible," Castiel pulled Dean into the house.
"If I had a penny for every time I heard that one," the horny businessman said into Castiel's mouth as he circled and pushed him up against the door.
"Do you think I should learn about the eleven children?" asked as Dean nipped at his neck.
"No," Dean attacked Castiel's buttons, "You have to organise every piece of paper Sam will touch, keep the food warm, blah blah."
"To be seen not heard, got it," Castiel took Dean's hands off his shirt and put them on the belt, "Quickie," he reminded, "How should I time the food serving?"
"Watch Death for ring twisting," Dean lowered his own pants, Castiel's hands were limp on his shoulders.
"How do I get in and do the organising? There is a meeting at eight and Death comes in at nine," Castiel was fully appreciating how unprepared he was.
"Hijack a conference room," Dean kissed Castiel on the mouth, rubbing and squeezing his thighs, grinding against him.
"How do I do all this and man the phones?" Castiel pushed Dean back.
"Congratulations, I'm flaccid," the green eyed man huffed.
"I'm sorry, I'm distracted," Castiel pulled his pants up.
"You don't say," Dean put on his pants and brushed the dust away, "I'm gonna go."
"Um, tomorrow?" Castiel stood awkwardly between Dean and the door.
"I can't," Dean shook his head.
"Dean," Castiel did the thing with the eyes.
"Adam's coming to town," Dean explained, "He's the youngest brother and he chose medicine over the family business so Sam and Dad always get into it with him. Dad got his mom pregnant while he was separated from our mother, whom he is now back with so family dinner requires a buffer and referee, maybe a SORT team."
"Sorry I thought you were blowing me off," Castiel looked down, "And it's SWAT."
"Put down the red pen, it's SORT: Special Operations Response Team. They clean up prison riots. Hey," Dean put his hand under the young man's chin and lifted it, "There's something about you Blue Eyes. Besides just think of the kick I'll get from telling people how we met if I keep you around."
"Tomorrow then," Castiel gave Dean a tender, deep kiss.
"When you're done crying," the older man said when he pulled back.
"That is too close to the truth to be funny," Castiel shook his head, "And thank you for the nickname. I've never had one before."
"You're telling me people called you Castiel all your life?" Dean couldn't believe it.
"Oh I never said they called me that either," the young man fiddled with his shirt. There was a moment of awkward silence. "Anyway, I'll try to make tomorrow a little less disastrous than your time served."
"I have to duck when people try to pat me. The bar is very low," Dean kissed Castiel and left.
"I'll never hear the end of that," Castiel mumbled as he closed the door. He only slept for four hours that night, in random intervals. It was worth the effort though. He found all of Death's foods and actually managed to convince the people who made them to come to Vegas. He booked their flights, picked them up at the airport and put them up in a hotel. He even slept in the lobby till he was told he had to either get a room or leave. The second he got home he pressed the next day's attire: black pants, navy shirt, pale blue tie with a pattern that made it look like it had a slight shimmer to it. Another round of sleep took place while his coat was in the washing machine. He got up again when that was done, on to removing those wrinkles.
Castiel took another nap to remove the bags from under his eyes then took a shower. He even did a commendable job of taming his hair then he went to wake some cranky vendors and took them grocery shopping then to work. After he found the kitchen he gave them times to have the food ready by and left them to organise Sam's info on Death. He said a prayer as he made the milkshake then he put it in the fridge and marked it 'Death'. Once you've shared a fridge in college you know marking things with scary crap is your friend. Gaining access to the boss man's office proved impossible but he did manage to snatch up a conference room and pull all the required files. He ran out to pick up Sam's breakfast.
"I beat you to the office again?" Sam looked up from his work, "Leave. I'm not sure you won't burn this building to the ground with your incompetence."
"I just went out to get you breakfast," Castiel explained as he walked in, "Egg white omelet, coffee, decaf, black, no sugar," he set the items on the table. Disgusting Castiel thought Unsweetened black coffee? What fun are eggs without the yolk? "I've secured the forth floor conference room for your first meeting. I'll organise all the documents you need in here for your meeting with Mr Richings and file them in order of importance. I could make up a cheat sheet for you about his life."
"I've been doing business with Richings for years," Sam pointed out.
"This is the file you'll need for your eight o'clock," Castiel set it down, "Will there be anything else?"
"Jessica's expecting flowers," Sam replied.
"She's going to get thirty white roses at ten, when she has brunch with Bela," Castiel informs, "Flowers are usually appreciated more when there's an audience. And the increase in volume is meant to convey you had a good time yesterday."
"She knows that," Sam started in on his food.
"It never hurts to make sure," Castiel backed out of the room and closed the door. This guy was just fishing for a reason to disapprove. The young man kept himself busy, afraid he'd fall asleep if he sat still for a minute and he was pretty sure he'd be fired if he left his post. After an hour people appeared busier. A tall man in a black suit with a grave face came down the hall. It was like he was walking in slow motion. Castiel was pretty sure this guy didn't need the cane. There were people with him in suits of various colours, none of them primary. They seemed to disappear into the walls as Death approached.
"Mr Richings," Castiel got to his feet. Death simply needed. "This way please," Castiel escorted the man to the office and opened the door for him. "Would you like some pizza?" Castiel asked before the man passed him.
"Yes," Death walked past. Castiel closed the door and rushed to the kitchen.
"Please tell me that pizza's ready," Castiel poked his head inside the door.
"Fresh out of the oven," the cook set it on the plate.
"Thank you," Castiel touched her shoulder and went to pour a glass of chocolate milkshake. "Wish me luck," he breathed.
"Good luck," they all said as he left the kitchen. Castiel was earnest and people liked him. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he brought Death his food. Sam wanted a file in the corner. His wall was mostly glass. Castiel went to get it and a car caught his eye.
"Something interesting in that corner Novad?" Sam asked.
"It's a 1959 Cadillac- and that was rhetorical," Castiel rubbed the side of his neck, "I'll go," he set the file down.
"You can drive it around the block," Death withdrew the keys from his pocket. Castiel and Sam's eyes flew open. "I like the pizza," Death gave a barely noticeable shrug.
"Thank you sir," Castiel took the keys and bounced out of the room. Things were looking up. He went to find Dean. He had to thank him. In his excitement he just barged in. "Dean! He liked the pizza."
"Ow," someone squealed under the desk. Castiel had startled Dean... who was getting a blowjob. It did not end well for the guy who was giving it.
"Cas," Dean got up, doing his pants as he did.
"His nose is bleeding," Castiel pointed to the black-haired man standing next to Dean.
"Oh Michael, I'm sorry," Dean passed the other guy his handkerchief. Michael noted how similar his features were to Castiel's and how the young man looked at Dean.
"Why do I keep hitting myself with this hammer?" Michael held the handkerchief to his nose as he walked to the door.
"Good question," Castiel turned and walked out with him.
"Oh come on," Dean threw his hands in the air. He just couldn't catch a break! And though he knew he didn't owe Castiel anything he felt a twinge of guilt.
AN: Thanx 4 all the favourites, alerts and reviews. Keep them coming. In the role of Michael please call Young John Winchester to mind. Thenyou don't have two Adams runnng around in ur head n it fits with Dean's taste.