DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters from the Supernatural universe. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).

Castiel glanced over the paperwork one last time as the limo pulled up to the hotel. As he exited to find Dean, he sent up a silent prayer that one, the young man would be ready but also that he would be dressed appropriately. Case in hand, Castiel walked into the lobby and scanned the people there quickly. He frowned and pulled out his mobile, dialing the room. Before he could press 'send', a smooth accented voice spoke to him.

"Mr. Novak?"

Castiel looked up distractedly. "Yes? I'm sorry but I have a call ..."

"Yes sir ... I'm the hotel manager, Balthazar, I actually have a message for you."

Castiel paused impatiently. "Yes? From whom?"

"Your cousin, sir."

Castiel tapped his headset and gave the man a confused look. "My cousin?"

"The young man who is staying with you in your room," Balthazar said softly.

Castiel felt a bit warm but he met the man's eyes. "I think we both know is no relation to me."

"Of course, Mr. Novak."

"The reason I know this is because my brother did not have any offspring," Castiel replied.

Balthazar blinked. Offspring? He gathered himself quickly. "Of course, sir."

"What is the message?"

"He is waiting for you in the lounge, Mr. Novak. He is an intriguing young man – Dean."

Castiel paused. "Intriguing ... yes ... thank you - ?" Castiel's attention was already focused elsewhere so he only vaguely heard the man respond.

"Balthazar. I'm the manager -" Balthazar dropped off as Castiel walked away from him. "Honestly."

Castiel walked into the lounge. He did not immediately see Dean and tracked his gaze over the room again, thinking he'd simply missed him. As he glanced over the bar, Castiel did a classic double-take. Sitting at the bar was Dean, watching him with an amused grin. He eased off the bar stool and did a quick heel turn that made Castiel smile.

Dean felt his heart pound in his chest when Castiel smiled at him.

Damn if he isn't just the best lookin' guy in the room, Dean thought.

Dean had dressed exactly the way Charlie had instructed him although his head had spun somewhat when she was laying everything out for him. His suit was a dark navy pinstripe wool two-piece with a slim jacket and tapered trousers. Charlie assured him it was appropriate for day and evening wear. His shoes were two-tone leather brogues and felt just about as comfortable as his work boots which had surprised Dean. His tie was a simple geometric pattern with blue and green highlights and a pocket square that emphasized more of the green just peeked over the top of his lapel pocket. Dean strolled over to Castiel, looking every inch the sophisticated young man out for a casual dinner at a high-end restaurant.

"Dude, you're late," Dean teased.

Castiel leaned in a bit and said in a particularly gravel-laden voice, "You are stunning, Dean."

Dean blinked. Castiel's voice had gone straight to the part of him that didn't need to be awake right now. He cleared his throat and smiled. "Guess you're forgiven, Cas."

"Shall we go to dinner, Dean?" Castiel asked.

Dean's blush at Castiel's compliment made the light dusting of freckles on his face stand out and Castiel was sorely tempted to cancel the meeting altogether so that he could examine them more closely. Dean was handsome and somehow completely unassuming. It was a potent mix. Dean gave Castiel a long look with his lovely hazel eyes and smiled.

"Lead on, Cas."

Dean swallowed hard as they came into the restaurant. It was breathtaking. The decor was full of rich, warm colors and the architecture was 1920's art deco – Castiel pointed out different art pieces in the lobby that had been there since the building was completed. Dean's eyes widened as he took in the gorgeous artwork. When they entered the restaurant proper, the maitre'd immediately came over and welcomed them.

"Mr. Novak, welcome back. Your table is ready and your guests have arrived."

Dean tugged anxiously at his sleeves.

"Stop fidgeting, Dean. You look just as handsome now as you did in the hotel," Castiel soothed.

Dean inhaled deeply and managed to look calm when they reached the table and Castiel greeted Robert Singer and his step-daughter, Joanna.

"Mr. Singer."

"Yes, Mr. Novak," Singer said, standing. He shook Castiel's hand and then gestured toward a young blonde woman sitting at the table. "I'm Robert Singer and this spitfire is my step-daughter, Joanna Harvelle-Singer."

The blonde rolled her eyes affectionately and Castiel leaned toward her to shake her hand. "Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Novak."

Castiel smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. This is a friend of mine, Dean Winchester. He will be joining us this evening."

Dean shook Singer's hand firmly and did the same for Joanna. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Harvelle-Singer."

"Call me Jo," she said brightly. "The rest is just a mouthful that looks good on the stationery."

Dean chuckled, relaxing a bit. The tension returned when, not moments after they'd settled at the table, Jo stood. She motioned to her headset and whispered, "I have to take this ... dad, order for me?"

Dean wouldn't have moved had it not been for Castiel's gentle pressure on his elbow urging him up. They stood until Jo had walked away from the table and then sat again. Dean frowned. Castiel leaned toward him and murmured.

"It is considered respectful to stand when a lady arrives at or leaves a table."

Dean nodded his understanding. Singer chuckled. "Took me a while to get the hang of it too, kid."

Dean smiled, relieved he hadn't committed some major faux pas. The evening grew more interesting as dinner progressed.

Dean stared helplessly at the baked cheese pastry placed in front of him. He looked at Castiel in some dismay. Castiel smiled, guessing Dean's distress.

"The salad comes at the end of the meal, Dean."

Dean frowned and looked back at his plate. "But that was the fork I knew."

Singer chuckled. "I always wondered who needs three forks to eat a meal!"

Dean smiled at the man again. He was beginning to like Robert Singer. He was as impeccably dressed as Castiel but there was a hint of blue-collar hovering just below the surface. Dean had noticed his hands earlier. They had softened after years in a boardroom, but Robert Singer had worked hard at some point in his life – not all of the callouses were gone and there were even a few scars. It made him feel less self-conscious about his own - working on cars for most of his life hadn't exactly given him smooth flawless gentleman's hands. Dean was grateful it was appropriate for him to keep them in his lap.

The main course arrived and Dean watched as the waiter set a plate with what had to be the most unidentifiable food he'd ever seen. Castiel told him during the limo ride that the restaurant was Italian. Dean was no gourmet but the white somethings covered in bright green something and covered with dark brown somethings resembled no Italian food he knew. Castiel had ordered for him – Dean wished he'd paid attention. Castiel glanced over at Dean. Another faint smile drifted across the man's face.

"It's homemade gnocchi with pesto sauce and shitake mushrooms ... try it, Dean. It's a specialty of the restaurant and quite delicious. Jo, please continue," Castiel gestured toward Singer's step-daughter.

"Mr. Novak, if you were to get control ... and I don't think that you will ... what do you plan to do with the company?" Jo fixed Castiel with a steady gaze.

Dean was half-listening as he carefully speared one of the small white knots. He braced himself and ate the bite tentatively.

"I will break it up and sell off the pieces," Castiel said quietly, taking a bite of his own food and looking over to Dean.

Castiel smiled when he saw the look of surprise that went across Dean's face as the flavors hit his tongue. After probably a lifetime of fast-food, Dean's tastebuds were probably in overload. His smile widened when Dean proceeded to attack the dish with enthusiasm.

Singer frowned. "I'm sure you understand that I'm less than thrilled at you turning 40 years of work into a garage sale, Novak."

Castiel shrugged. "At the price I will pay for your stock, Mr. Singer, you will be a very rich man."

"I'm damn well rich enough, son," Singer said gruffly. "I just want to run the shipyard."

Dean was sure his eyes couldn't get any wider when the dessert was placed in front of him. It was a fresh fruit tart with vanilla mascarpone and he thought it was the most beautiful food he'd ever seen. Bright red strawberries circled the outer edge of the crust, followed by a ring of green kiwi then pears and peaches – raspberries and blueberries dotted the top of the tart. Dean didn't want to cut into it because it was so pretty, but his hunger won out over the aesthetics and he speared a strawberry. Dean was savoring the sweet flavor when he registered the conversation between Robert Singer and Castiel.

"I met your brother ... oh, what was his name?"

"Michael," Castiel replied. Dean looked over at the flat tone in his employer's voice.

"Yes," Singer nodded. "Michael Novak. He wasn't quite the bastard people make him out to be."

Castiel chuckled darkly. "No, that would be my forte."

"Does that make him proud of his little brother?"

Dean saw Castiel's shoulders tighten. "I seriously doubt it. It doesn't matter regardless ... he passed away."

Singer frowned and Jo's eyes dropped to her plate. "I'm sorry, I hadn't heard."

"I'm sorry too, Cas," Dean said softly. He had no idea what he would do if he ever lost Sam. His little brother was everything to him.

Castiel sighed and lay his dessert fork down. "Mr. Singer, you asked for this meeting. What can I do for you?"

"Leave my company alone, Novak."

"I cannot do that ... I own 10 million shares," Castiel replied quietly.

Jo spoke up. "We'll buy the stock back ... we're getting a contract to build destroyers."

Dean let the waiter take away his dessert nearly untouched. He didn't like the dark cloud that had settled over Castiel. His body language suddenly seemed so tired and sad. Dean found himself desperately wanting to make the gloom disappear from Castiel's face anyway he could. He didn't examine that feeling too closely.

"There will be no destroyers ... the contract is buried with the appropriations committee. It will remain there." Castiel replied softly. Dean didn't get the feeling Castiel was glad of that anymore.

Jo sprang to her feet a threw her napkin down. She leaned forward even as the men stood. She met Castiel's eyes. "I don't know who you think you are but I'm not going to sit here and listen to any more of this." Jo's gaze flicked to Dean. "It was nice meeting you, Dean. Dad, I'm going to get some air."

With that, Jo turned and walked out of the restaurant. Dean stood, a little stunned. Singer watched her leave and then turned back to Castiel.

"Watch yourself, Novak. I'm not going down without a fight," the older man growled.

Castiel met his opponent's eyes. "I look forward to it."

"Good luck, young man."

Dean sat back down quietly. He wasn't sure what bothered him most – the unhappy expression on Castiel's face or the fact that he couldn't do anything about it.

With a yawn, Dean changed out of his suit and back into his jeans and a clean t shirt. He hung everything up neatly. He still couldn't believe that he'd managed to pull off a fancy dinner like that – Dean had been sure he'd do something to make Castiel throw him back out on the street. Instead, no one had batted an eye at him. He'd fit in and managed to look presentable, if not terribly suave. It was a pleasant surprise for Dean – he was too used to being an outsider, unnoticed and unwanted. He went to find Castiel and found him in a chair half in and half out of the balcony.

"Hey, Cas ... thought you never came out here," Dean teased.

"I am only partially out – consider it a compromise," Castiel replied. He still looked down.

"You didn't say much on the ride home, Cas – still thinkin' about dinner?" Dean turned and pulled himself up to sit on the wall edging the balcony. "I actually did it! And that food ... man, that go-gochi -"

"Gnocchi," Castiel supplied with a smile.

"Yeah, that stuff ... it was great!" Dean grinned down at Castiel. "I kinda got the business ... he's in trouble and you want his company. He doesn't want to let it go."

Castiel regarded the floor. "Thank you for the highlights, Dean."

"Trouble is ... I think you kinda like Mr. Singer, Cas," Dean offered quietly.

Castiel looked up at Dean. "What I would like is for you to come down. That wall is not intended as a seating area."

Dean chuckled. "What this? This makes you nervous?" Dean began to lean backwards and Castiel paled. "C'mon, Cas – would ya grab me before I fell?"

"Dean, I'm serious ... " Castiel said in alarm. He abruptly turned away. "I will not watch!"

Dean laughed and sat back up. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel rolled his eyes and glared at Dean. Then he shook his head. "It is irrelevant how I feel about Mr. Singer. I cannot allow myself to become emotionally involved in business."

"Yeah, I get that," Dean said. "Gabe's always tellin' me not to get attached when I turn tricks. That's why no kissing ... too personal. It's like what you're saying ... you stay numb, you don't get involved." Dean looked up at the starlit sky. "When I'm with a john, I blank out – don't even have to think, just do it." Castiel raised an eyebrow and Dean froze. His freckles stood out as he blushed furiously. "Uh ... not with you, Cas."

"Of course not, Dean," Castiel said with a wan smile. He looked up into the earnest hazel eyes. "We are not such different creatures, you and I. We both screw people for money."

Dean dropped his eyes, his stomach knotting. It was one thing to know what he did for a living – to hear it spoken out loud so bluntly hurt worse than he thought it could. He cleared his throat and cast for something to say. Dean recalled something from dinner and looked up sadly.

"I was sorry to hear about your brother, Cas. When did he die?" Dean asked.

"Last month," Castiel answered. His gaze was distant.

"Do you miss him? God, Sammy's only up the coast five hours and I miss him more than anything," Dean said. His throat tightened at the thought of his little brother – or not so little anymore.

"I haven't spoken to my older brother for over fourteen years. I was not present when he died."

Dean looked at Castiel. He had the same sad and tired aura around him that he'd carried in the restaurant. Dean frowned. "Dude, do you wanna talk about this?"

"No," Castiel said firmly.

"Cool, I don't do chick-flick moments anyway. But I have an idea," Dean said eagerly, jumping down from the wall. He crouched in front of Castiel and grinned. "Let's break out the beer and popcorn and find a movie marathon or somethin' – hey maybe Star Wars is on demand!"

"Star Wars?" Castiel asked curiously.

Dean inhaled sharply. "Do not tell me you've never seen Star Wars!"

"Dean, I run a multi-billion dollar corporation, I've hardly had time to read a book much less go to a movie - wait, is that the film with the robots?"

Dean groaned. "Dude, you're pathetic – come on, we'll find somethin'. We can veg out in front of the tv all night."

"Veg out?"

"Cas, Cas, Cas ... man, you gotta learn to relax. Veg out – be still like vegetables ... lay like broccoli," Dean said with a laugh.

Castiel sighed with a smile. He brushed his knuckles against Dean's jawline and was inordinately pleased when Dean leaned into the touch. Then his smile faded and he said, "I will be back later Dean ... we can do – the vegetable thing tomorrow."

Dean's face fell in disappointment. "Where ya goin', Cas? I mean, we don't have to do that ... if you wanna do ... you know ..."

Castiel smiled. "I'm just going downstairs, Dean."

Dean frowned as Castiel walked out the door, closing it gently behind him.

Dean jerked awake to the applause on an infomercial. Frowning, he looked at the time on the tv and was surprised to see it was almost three in the morning. Running his hand through his hair, Dean got up and headed downstairs, still in his jeans and tshirt. Dennis, the elevator operator, grinned when the doors opened.

"Hey dude," Dean greeted him with a broad smile. "You seen Mr. Novak around?"

"I'll show you," Dennis said.

Once they reached the lobby level, Dennis peered out of the elevator to make sure no one was around and then pulled Dean over to the hotel restaurant adjacent to the lounge. As Dean entered the room he heard someone playing the piano - the tune was soft and melancholy at first but it seemed to lift a little at the end. Dean inclined his chin to the night crew cleaning the room before standing behind Castiel to listen to the remainder of the piece. He smiled, watching the play of muscles in Castiel's back and shoulders as his hands danced over the keys. The man really was great to look at – Dean found himself captivated at the intense concentration. It was the same way Castiel tackled everything else in his life – like there wasn't anything else in the world save what his attention was focused on. Castiel ended his piece and scattered applause came from the workers in the room.

"Thank you," Castiel said with a faint smile. His eyes brightened as they landed on Dean who moved to lean on the piano. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. Didn't know you played," Dean said watching Castiel's eyes – they were so damn blue.

Castiel shrugged. "I normally only play for strangers."

Dean blinked. Did that mean Castiel didn't consider him a stranger any longer? He pushed the thought aside and looked down, running his fingers along the edge of the keyboard. "I was gettin' kinda lonely upstairs." He moved to lean back against the piano.

Castiel looked at Dean, his expression unreadable. He looked around the room. "Gentleman, would you mind giving us the room?"

The workers grabbed coats and caps and walked out. Dean watched them go with faint amusement. "People always do what you tell them to do, Cas?"

Castiel did not respond, but he closed the cover over the keys and took Dean's hips to slide him across so he stood in front of Castiel now. Holding Dean still, Castiel leaned forward to rest his head on Dean's torso. Dean frowned but his hand automatically came up to tangle in Castiel's thick hair, gently carding his fingers through the dark locks. He could almost feel the ache pouring off the other man and it made him sad.

Castiel looked up into Dean's hazel eyes and then his hands were working on the button of Dean's jeans. He unzipped the pants and ran his hand up under Dean's shirt, warm fingers sliding over the muscles. He smiled when Dean inhaled sharply.

Dean couldn't believe how incredibly sensual Castiel's hands on him felt – he dragged in a startled breath when his hand stroked down his side. He'd gone commando in anticipation of anything Castiel would want - at the moment he was very grateful because his erection would have pushed very painfully against his zipper otherwise. He looked at Castiel who was regarding him curiously and Dean realized he had his answer – people did what Castiel Novak wanted them to do and he was no different.

Castiel urged Dean's shirt upward and off while pushing his jeans down. Dean gave a startled look around the room but no one was there. Castiel's hands were still moving and stroking over him and suddenly Dean didn't care if all of Beverly Hills came traipsing through the room – his entire focus was on Castiel. Dean's hand drifted from Castiel's hair to his face. Castiel turned and kissed the palm but then he pushed Dean's hands to either side. Dean frowned and opened his mouth to ask what Castiel wanted when lips closed over his cock. Dean groaned and arched forward. For a guy who couldn't drive a car to save his life, Dean thought Castiel was doing a pretty good job driving him completely out of his head with his tongue. Dean fought to keep from bucking into Castiel's mouth. His hands slid back into Castiel's hair and Dean's head dropped back.

"Cas ... Cas ... god ... Cassss ..."

Dean heard the strains of the music Castiel had been playing drifting through his mind as he came with a shout.