Chapter Text
Dean usually took the last Sunday ferry so he could eke as much time out of the cabin as he could, but after a leisurely breakfast of cinnamon toast in bed and a handsy stroll along the beach, they packed up both cars and headed back to the mainland. Castiel followed Dean to his apartment to gather the necessities for the week: five days’ worth of clothing, his razor, an extra pair of shoes. The rest seemed suddenly trivial. He’d stop by mid-week for anything he forgot.
“I hope you like the house,” Castiel said. “The furniture isn’t as nice as yours, and the house needs work, but it’s going to be beautiful when it’s done.”
“Would any of this fit?” Dean surveyed his leather couch, the black Barcelona chairs on either side of the fireplace, replica Eames chairs around his dining table. The Ascoso espresso machine had been a gift to himself when he’d put in ten years at Sandover—he’d like to keep it. And he’d hardly touched his cookware, preferring takeout after a long workday. It was practically brand new.
“I didn’t want to presume you’d sell right away.”
“It’d be nice to have a place in the city, but I’ll be happy to have one less mortgage.” Dean put a hand on the floor-to-ceiling window. He would miss the water view, but now he’d have an excuse to use the cabin more often.
Castiel hooked his chin over Dean’s shoulder. “I have a lot of good memories of you here.”
“A sale won't complete for a couple months. We should come back before then.” Castiel’s arms tightened around him like a vow. “Anyway, we don’t have to figure out the details today. Let’s go. I want to meet your brother.”
Gabriel was absolutely nothing like Castiel and everything Dean had expected. He met them in the driveway. Short and candy scented, with a distinctive nose and hazel eyes narrowed in judgment, he took to Dean instantly. Although Dean had heard next to nothing about him over the three years of Castiel’s friendship, Gabriel had obviously gotten an earful about Dean. He shook his hand with vigor and exclaimed “It’s about time!” when Castiel explained that Dean was moving in with them.
“No mating bite, though,” Gabriel observed with a frown, taking Castiel’s chin in his hand.
“Not yet,” Castiel said, flushing.
“You’d better make an honest man out of Dean, Castiel,” Gabriel clucked. “What would mother say?”
The house was two stories tall, tan clapboard with black shutters, and a small back yard. The inside was bright and spare, with hardwood floors running room to room where they’d pulled up the carpeting. The kitchen was cramped and had melamine cabinetry, not new by any standards, but in good condition.
“Sexy, huh? Sure you’re ready to give up your stainless steel countertops?” Castiel asked tentatively.
“I think …” Dean turned in his arms to kiss him, “... that my espresso machine would look really good on the counter.”
Castiel grinned and squeezed Dean’s ass. “You know what else would look good on the counter?”
“In case you lovebirds forgot,” Gabriel said. “I’m right here.”
Dean and Castiel dissolved into a laughing fit.
Samandriel was upstairs napping. A bright and curious toddler, he asked about their visitor as soon as he woke, pointing to Dean with the hand not scrubbing his eyes and demanding, “Who that?”
“That’s your Uncle Dean-o, squirt,” Gabriel said, lifting him from his bed and smoothing the dinosaur quilt back in place. “Your Uncle Cas finally pulled his head out of the sand.”
“Actually, that’s a misconception,” Castiel began to explain. “Ostriches don’t–” but Gabriel cut him off.
“Why don’t you show your man the bedroom? He’s raring to go, and he’ll stink up the place if you don’t do something about it.” He carried Samandriel on his hip down the stairs. “Dinner’s in an hour. You kids enjoy yourselves, but keep the screaming to a minimum. Virgin ears.”
“Wow,” Dean said when it was just the two of them in the upstairs hallway.
“Yeah, he’s something. But he’s a good dad. He spoils Sam rotten.”
“Never really thought about having kids,” Dean mused.
“I’d like them one day.” Gesturing over his shoulder, Castiel smiled shyly and said, “Our room’s this one.”
Their bedroom had hideous green carpet and honey-stained trim around the windows and doors, but the bathroom counter was gray stone, with a newer white vanity, which was something. The bed, pushed against the longest wall in place of a headboard, offered two sagging pillows and a blue duvet. But since sleeping in this room meant sleeping with Castiel every night, presumably for the rest of his life, Dean didn’t bat an eye at the decor. A long weekend and a trip to Pottery Barn would easily bring it up to date. Mom would be thrilled if Dean asked her to fly out and help, although Gabriel might have trouble getting Sam back once she got her hands on him.
They unpacked and rested together for a half hour, Dean’s head on Castiel’s chest. He listened to his heart, to the rush of air into his lungs. The whole room smelled like him, but especially the bed. Every hint of stress melted away and Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever been so happy in his life.
“What should we do tomorrow?” he asked. “Do we keep this quiet?”
“I don’t want to hide it,” Castiel said. “But I’d rather it not be public knowledge until the restructuring is formal and I have a new title on my door. Once that happens, I’ll put framed pictures of you all over my office.”
“And the other thing?”
“It’s none of their business. As far as they’re concerned, we’re an alpha couple. That’s not unheard of, even if it is rare.”
“Okay,” Dean said.
“I’d like to come out,” Castiel sighed. “I’ll have to, if I … if you and I start a family. But I want it to be on my own terms. Let me make myself indispensable first.”
Dean smiled. “You’re doing a pretty decent job of that so far.”
In the end, they decided to take separate cars to the office until the promotion was official. It would mean unnecessary miles on the Prius for a couple weeks, but it’s what Castiel wanted, so Dean was content to oblige.
He’d thought it might be frustrating, even difficult, to work in Castiel’s proximity now that they were together, but whenever he felt antsy during that first week, the urgency that had chased him for three years was tempered by a wink from Castiel and the promise of “later,” whispered in Dean’s ear as they passed one another in the hallway, or met over the coffee pot, or parted in the garage at the beginning of each workday.
To their surprise, Meg Masters from the human resources department was livid when she received Castiel’s complaint about Bart and Raphael’s behavior. She summoned both Dean and Castiel for a meeting as soon as she’d reviewed it.
Meg looked at Castiel appreciatively across her desk, which was covered in neat stacks of paper, labeled with multi-colored post-its. Dean sat next to Castiel in solidarity but kept respectfully quiet while he explained what had happened in the conference room.
“I’ve heard rumors about Bartholomew for years,” she said, letting the typed complaint droop in her grasp. “You’re the first person with the guts to file something against him. The others were too afraid of retaliation, even though they would’ve been protected by state and federal law.”
“So they can’t do anything to Castiel for this?” Dean asked, leaning forward.
“No,” Meg said. Dean sighed in relief.
“And you’ll follow up on it?” Castiel’s eyes widened hopefully.
“I’ll do what I can,” Meg said. “I want to bring Ms. Bradbury into the conversation. Unfortunately, with that older generation, they’re steeped in a bigoted way of thinking. Of course, I’m sure Sandover would like to avoid dealing with the EEOC,” she shifted her gaze to Dean, “especially since you’re trying to secure a contract with the transit authority. The negative publicity wouldn’t bode well.”
“I’d prefer we deal with this internally, if possible. I don’t want to have to run damage control if it’s not necessary,” Dean said. Castiel gave a short, resigned nod and made a fist against his thigh. Feeling that he’d betrayed him by implying he valued the company more than human rights, Dean took a breath and added, “But if Charlie wants to pursue this, I’m going to support her. I’ll go on record about what I heard.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Meg said. “The threat of you taking this public could be enough for the board to take action. We’ll see what happens. Is there anything else I can do for you gentlemen in the meantime?”
Dean glanced to Castiel and raised his eyebrows in silent question. Castiel shrugged but nodded.
“I need to request vacation time,” Dean said.
Meg took out a black binder. “What month?”
“December,” Dean said. “I’m not sure of the exact dates yet.”
“His vacation will be the same as mine,” Castiel spoke up and Meg’s smile turned sly.
“Why, Clarence. Congratulations. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“It’s not …” Dean pulled self-consciously on his tie. “We’re not mated. Yet.”
“State law grants leave to mated couples only, but Sandover recognizes scent bonds,” Meg said. “I’ll pencil you in, and you’ll call me when you have more information.”
Dean blinked but thanked Meg for her assistance and held the door for Castiel, relishing in the clandestine brush of their hands as he passed. Instead of walking toward the elevators, Castiel led him into an unused office located off of the hallway outside HR. He locked it and pressed up against Dean.
“You okay?” Dean slid his hands beneath Castiel’s jacket and ran them over the contours of his back. He tucked his face against Castiel’s neck and breathed.
“I’m wonderful,” Castiel said against his hair. “Thank you for what you said in there.”
“Course.”
“I mean it, Dean. I’m grateful.” He dipped his head to graze his teeth along the side of Dean’s throat. “Fuck, you smell good. It’s a shame I can’t rip your clothes off right now.”
Dean held onto Castiel’s hips. He worked a knee between his thighs and encouraged Cas to rub against him. Dean had worn silk boxers and felt Castiel’s body respond through his wool trousers as they ground their hips together, smelled the heady tang of ozone that heralded arousal.
“We could swing by my place after work,” Dean whispered. “I was going to stop by anyway and pick up a few things. We can get a pizza for old time’s sake.”
“Only if you promise to eat it naked,” Castiel said. He nipped at the skin beneath Dean’s ear.
“Deal,” Dean said. “Do you think it’s true? What Meg said about a scent bond?”
“It would explain why we’re so attuned to each other, why you can smell me through my blockers.”
“When do you think it happened?”
“Probably when we met. I didn’t want to let go of your hand.” Castiel kissed him soundly. “I don’t want to stop, but I don’t have another pair of pants at the office, and I’m about to soak through these. Rain check?”
Dean nosed at Castiel’s neck, laving the spot where he’d sink his teeth, when it came time, when Castiel said yes. He suckled until Castiel gently pushed him away.
“We should go.”
Dean shivered with disappointment but nodded. Sighing, Castiel traced his index finger down the length of Dean’s yellow tie, orbiting his finger around the sterling pin.
“I adore this color on you,” he murmured.
He loosened the tie and unbuttoned Dean’s shirt to expose his neck and chest, shooing away Dean’s hands when he tried to undress Castiel in kind. He dipped his head and bit Dean on the meat of his shoulder, hard enough he’d feel the impression of Castiel’s teeth for the rest of the day. Dean groaned, angling his mouth toward Castiel’s, but he’d already stepped away to fix his clothes.
“What was that for?” Dean asked, dazzled by the ache, the way it throbbed in time with his heart. He adjusted his tie and smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt.
“You needed it.” Castiel kissed Dean a final time, long and deep. “See you at five.”
“I’ll be there.”
With a wink, Castiel slipped into the hallway, trailing the musty aroma of damp earth, of rain, that Dean followed willingly.
art by MyColour