Chapter Text
Dean wipes his palms against his pants, eyes nervously fixated out the window beside him. “Dean,” his brother’s voice sounds across from him. Dean shifts his gaze to find Sam staring at him with a humored look on his face. “I told you to stop wiping your hands on your pants.”
He smirks. “Okay, Mom.” He sets his hands on the table anyway, although not before seeing two faint marks on his slacks where the fabric soaked up some sweat. Great, now he’s going to look like even more of an idiot. His smirk fades as the anxiety grows once more.
“Listen, I know you’re nervous, but really, you’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” he mumbles, reaching for a napkin to play around with in his hands. He just needs to keep his hands busy. And not ruining his pants with his nervous sweat. Sam reaches forward and shoves his relatively untouched sandwich towards him.
“Eat. If anything, you’re gonna pass out from an empty stomach,” Sam cracks a smile. This makes Dean feel slightly better as he picks up the sandwich and takes a small bite. Best to narrow the possibilities of failure as much as possible, right? “They’d be idiots not to hire you,” Sam tells him after a moment.
“No. They’d be smart. A firm that prestigious can’t afford to be hiring mediocre employees,” Dean says as he chews. It’s true though. This architectural firm is one of the top firms in Chicago and difficult to get a position in- especially for someone who has little experience in the field. Honestly, it’s a hopeless feat.
“And who says you’re mediocre? Dean, you’ve got to be more confident. Or at least act like it. I’ve seen your work; you’ve got so much potential!”
The urge to deny Sam’s words rises in his throat, but one look at his brother’s concerned face makes Dean swallow the words with his sandwich. “Thanks Sammy. It’s just a lot of pressure. It’s a miracle I even got the interview. I just don’t wanna screw it up, you know?”
Sam smiles comfortingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the same way once I begin interviewing at law firms. And I know you’ll be sitting across from me telling me the exact same thing I’m telling you now.”
This brings a small smile to Dean’s face. Damn right he won’t let Sam believe he’s anything less than deserving. This in itself calms his nerves. If he’s doing this for anything, it’s for Sam- to make him proud, to have someone he can look up to.
After his lunch with Sam, Dean arrives at the interview ten minutes early. Designs of Divinity. A rather cheesy name, but from what he’s heard, the founder of the firm is a cheesy guy. It’s only fitting for a guy that goes by the name Metatron. Dean wonders how anyone took this firm seriously when it was first established. But who is he to judge? Isn’t he currently sitting, a nervous wreck, in wait for an interview at said firm?
He runs through the possible questions that may be asked and his well-practiced responses in his head. The clock on the wall keeps calling his name as he looks at it every few seconds. This wait is agonizing.
He finds himself subconsciously wiping his sweaty palms on his pants again and grabs the nearest magazine to distract himself.
He replays Sam’s words in his head in an effort to settle his nerves. This time, though, it isn’t working. Maybe he should call Charlie, or Jo. Both of them know how to calm his nerves. But he decides not to. It’s no use. Nothing will relax him at this point.
He’s absently flipping through the pages of a structural engineering magazine when the receptionist’s phone rings. Dean’s eyes dart up, freezing in his page turning.
There’s not even a greeting before she’s speaking, “Of course, I’ll send him right in.” Then she hangs up. Dean carefully sets the magazine down as the girl looks over to him with a sweet smile. “Metatron will see you now, Mr. Winchester.”
He stands slowly, trying to resist the urge to run into the room and get it over with. Or maybe it’s the urge to flee while he can. Regardless, he calmly walks past her desk, sparing a glance at her name plate. “Thank you, Anna.”
Her smile widens and a little color fills her cheeks. “Good luck.”
Dean returns the smile and proceeds into the office.
“Mr. Winchester!” Metatron greets him, standing to shake his hand firmly before sitting back down and motioning for Dean to do the same.
“Thank you for making time for me, sir,” Dean smiles. He mentally takes a deep breath as the interview starts.
Metatron is an interesting man. On the older side with wild, curly gray hair, and instead of a suit, he’s wearing a hideous robe that a rich person might wear in an old, classic film. This only compliments the soft classical music that fills the air of his office. And if Dean isn’t mistaken, is that a type writer on the corner of his desk?
It doesn’t matter though. He’s is far too focused on the interview to question anything right now.
But nonetheless, after forty five minutes, the man is telling some overly dramatic story of a recent client, eyes flashing with an insane smile on his face. Dean takes this as a good sign.
When his story ends, Metatron laces his fingers together and looks Dean over, sitting back in his overly big swivel chair. “I like you, Dean. Very promising- although not much experience in the field.” That’s what Dean dreaded hearing. He opens his mouth to respond, to assure him of his talents, but Metatron continues talking. “However, I think you could be a good fit here.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me,” Dean gives a polite smile even though he feels like jumping out of his chair and cheering. He likes the direction this is going.
“If you were to take a position here, it would be a lower one, I’m afraid. Give you an opportunity to get more experience,” Metatron tells him.
“Of course, that’s completely understandable,” Dean says, trying not to sound too desperate because honestly, he would take being a paper shredder if it means getting a chance to work for this firm.
“There is one position open- pretty recently too. It’s an assistant to one of our most reputable project managers. He’s one of the best in the business.”
“May I ask who?” Dean runs through all the names of who it could possibly be.
“Castiel Novak,” Metatron says. Dean’s heart nearly stops.
Castiel Novak.
He really is one of the best in the world of architecture. Not only is he excellent, but he made himself a name so fast- basically coming out of thin air. If Dean were to work under Castiel, it’s a promise that he would be able to get any job he wanted in the future.
“You’ve heard of him?” Metatron’s question brings Dean from his thoughts.
Dean grins. “Of course. Like you said, one of the best.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Dean. There are a few other candidates for this job. When I took a look at your resume, I decided to give you a chance not expecting to be very impressed-” well, that’s comforting, “-But you’ve exceeded my expectations. I wasn’t prepared to have you meet Castiel, but seeing how well you’ve done, I’d like you two to have a chat. Since it’s his assistant that we’ll be hiring, he will be the one to make the final decision of which candidate is the best fit.”
“Of course, I’d love to meet him,” Dean says, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He also wants to kick himself for saying ‘of course’ too much, but his nerves are making it too hard to form many words. Metatron smiles that toothy grin before calling up Castiel, who shows up not even a minute later.
Dean stares up at the man for a moment before scrambling out of his chair to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester.”
Castiel looks Dean over for what seems like forever- blue eyes scrutinizing every inch of him before meeting his gaze once again and accepting his hand with a firm shake.
“Castiel Novak.”
*****
Two Years Later
People pass by in a blur, the sounds of city traffic noises filling Dean’s ears. He weaves skillfully through the crowd, careful enough to keep the hot contents safely inside the coffee cup that he’s clutching for dear life. He offers quick apologies to the people he shoves past or bumps into but carries onwards.
Dammit, if only he’d woken up five minutes earlier. But this is what passes through his mind every other morning.
He ducks into the revolving door of his building, hurrying through the marbled lobby without too much of a disturbance. He practically launches himself into the elevator as it’s closing, punches the button to his floor and collapses against the wall in a panting mess. He ignores the bewildered looks that are being thrown his way from the other passengers, not caring one bit what they thought of him. They would be in the same state if they were in his shoes.
After a couple floors of panting, he straightens up and uncovers his watch from beneath his suit sleeve.
8:34.
His heart sinks.
He’s late.
He leans back against the wall for support since he most likely will need it.
Maybe there’s a chance though. Maybe there is hope that he can sneak in and look as if he is practically bored from waiting. Maybe.
The elevator doors open to his floor and Dean composes himself before hurrying out. He crosses the small waiting room, murmuring a good morning to the receptionist and swings open the door to reveal an open office space filled with cubicles. He walks swiftly to his desk and starts up his computer, briefly nodding in greeting to his coworkers around him. Dean notices the sympathy in their eyes but decides to remain hopeful. He slings off his bag, grabs the coffee and makes his way to the office no one ever willingly goes to.
“Good morning, Dean! Good luck in there,” Balthazar greets him with a smirk.
“Don’t tell me…” Dean stops when Balthazar nods in confirmation. Dean exhales, his hope deflating. So much for trying to have a good day.
“Don’t worry. We’ll pray for you,” Balthazar purrs in that elegant accent of his before turning back to his work. Dean briefly looks around to see eyes filled with pity and concern staring at him. He sighs and turns back to the closed door. He rests his hand on the handle, hesitating, but what’s the use of stalling? Might as well get it over with. He turns the handle and pushes in.
“Good morning, Mr. Novak,” he says in as cheery of a voice as he can. He steps into the office and closes the heavy wooden door behind him. He can see Balthazar through the tiny window next to the door giving him a thumbs-up. He suppresses the impulse to roll his eyes and steps up to the desk, setting the cup of coffee down carefully next to the gold name plate that reads Castiel Novak.
“You’re late,” Castiel says in a low voice that sounds like a growl, although it’s not aggressive. He doesn’t look up at Dean as he flips through some concept drawings on his desk.
“Uh yeah, I, uh, may have overslept a little,” Dean stammers, wishing he could come up with a plausible lie, but he knows Castiel wouldn’t buy it for a second. Not after two years.
“Doesn’t that seem a little irresponsible to you?” Castiel questions in an uninterested voice, still concerning himself with his papers.
“Very. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
Castiel finally looks up at him, his piecing blue eyes burning into him. It makes Dean want to squirm but he stands his ground, holding the eye contact.
“I don’t want you to try. I want you to just do it,” Castiel says in an eerily calm tone. Honestly, it’s worse than yelling.
“Understood. I’ll just… do it,” Dean says and offers a small smile, hoping maybe he can charm his way out of this death stare. Castiel glares at him for another moment before turning his attention to the cup of coffee. He takes a small sip and nods in satisfaction before digging through his papers once again. Well, at least the coffee passed the test.
He pulls out a thick folder and holds it out to Dean. “I need this done by the end of the day. Did you move my meeting like I requested last night?”
Dean snaps into work mode, automatically taking the folder from Castiel. “Yes. Your meeting with Bartholomew was rescheduled to 2:30, I received the information to prepare the slides for Bela’s presentation…” Dean carries on updating him on the various tasks he’s completed. Castiel nods occasionally, having turned his attention back to his work as he idly sips at his coffee.
Once Dean is done with his report, he turns to leave. “Oh and my voicemail needs to be checked. I can’t be bothered with another desperate architect who thinks they’re ‘revolutionizing the way we view buildings’,” Castiel tells him, annoyance heavy in his tone.
“Yeah, how irritating,” Dean laughs lightly in an attempt to get back on Castiel’s good side. But Castiel ignores him and he clears his throat awkwardly. ”I’ll get right on that.”
Dean turns back to the door, ready to leave, but then stops. A thought crosses his mind- something he’s been meaning to ask Castiel for a while now but there never seemed to be an appropriate moment to talk about it. Now is definitely not the best time, seeing that Castiel looks like he wants to smite Dean, but he feels the sudden need to ask.
“Mr. Novak?”
“What.”
Dean swallows uneasily. “Did you happen to take a look at my sketches? For the Talbot Project, I mean.” Castiel pauses in his work and looks up at Dean, expression unreadable.
“Yes, I did actually.” Maybe there is hope. Before Dean can get too excited, Castiel continues, “They were rather subpar. A client such as Ms. Talbot requires ideas more… capable. More deft.”
The words stab into Dean. Harsh.
He swallows the lump forming in his throat and nods, unable to say anything more. The sad part is Dean can tell Castiel was trying to sugarcoat his words. He’s heard the way Castiel gives critiques of others’ ideas- the guy’s sensitivity is comparable to Gordon Ramsay sometimes- and this is definitely him being nice about it, if it can be called that.
He turns back to the door, ready to disappear from this office.
“Dean,” Castiel’s voice sounds behind him again. He takes a small breath to steady himself, patience starting to wear thin and he’s worried he might either blow up on the man or cry. He turns back around, putting on his best fake smile.
“Yes, Mr. Novak?”
“I am assuming this phone number is not intended for me,” Castiel twists his coffee cup to reveal a number scrawled in sharpie across the side. That number is certainly not intended for Castiel.
Normally, Dean gets two coffees every morning. One for Castiel and one for himself. But since he was late today, he only ordered Castiel’s in a pathetic attempt to save time. He’s had this flirtatious ritual with the barista for a while now, but he never thought she’d write her number on a cup, which was now perched in his boss’ hand.
Maybe instead of trying for a good day, Dean’s mission should be to see how much he can piss Castiel off. That might make him feel better, and it sounds more fun.
“No, Mr. Novak, I don’t believe that was for you. But hey, you never know, maybe you should give it a call sometime.” Dean cracks a smile at him in an attempt to brush it off. Castiel’s response is an unamused stare. “So, uh, I’ll just get started on that voicemail now.”
Dean quickly opens the door and scoots out of the office, closing it behind him with a relieved sigh. Balthazar is waiting, of course, with an expectant look and Anna hovering close behind him.
“Look who made it out alive,” Balthazar announces to no one in particular. Anna stares at Dean, worry clouding her eyes.
“Is everything okay, Dean?” Of course, while Balthazar teases Dean, Anna actually worries about him.
“Anna, I’m fine. Castiel doesn’t scare me,” Dean scoffs, walking to his desk. He feels their gazes follow him, still expecting an explanation or a juicy story.
“Guys, nothing happened. Just got the usual scolding and that was that.” Dean tosses the heavy folder onto his desk, but they are still waiting. He sighs, turning back to them. “Okay fine. Um, his coffee cup had a girl’s number on it.”
Both of their mouths drop open and Balthazar bursts out laughing, Anna withholding a laugh of her own.
“Seriously?”
“That is classic! He must’ve had smoke coming from his ears!”
Dean holds his hand up to stop them. “He didn’t say anything. I just told him to call it and kinda left.” This only makes Balthazar laugh even harder. Dean smiles at their clear enjoyment. Despite being Castiel’s personal punching bag, he admits it’s fun to poke at him and see how much he can get away with. It provides entertainment for everyone else, at least.
“Dean, are you sure you’re okay though?” Anna asks, her smile replaced with another look of concern. He looks between them, her concern rubbing off on Balthazar, who has settled down now.
“Well, I asked him about my design for Bela...”
“And?” Balthazar prompts.
“He basically said I sucked,” Dean says bitterly, turning away from them to start unpacking his work from his bag. They’re silent for a moment and he can feel their pity rolling over him in waves. “It’s fine guys, really. I’m fine.” He hates this feeling. He does not want anyone’s pity.
“You should’ve seen the look on his face when he came in and you weren’t here yet,” Balthazar chuckles in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Dean raises a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, if looks could kill,” Anna adds.
“We thought for sure you’d be dead,” Balthazar continues. They’re trying to make him feel better and it works. Dean cracks a tiny smile.
The door behind them opens up and everyone scrambles away to their desks, heads down. Even Balthazar- who rarely puts in the effort anymore- jumps and turns in his chair to fumble around with some papers on his desk as if he’s incredibly busy. Dean quickly slides into his chair and grabs for the phone to start the voicemail. He watches the door out of the corner of his eye. Castiel emerges, sweeping his disconnected blue gaze over the office before walking through the cubicles and down the hall.
“That was a close one,” Balthazar mutters to Dean, who nods bleakly as the first of twenty two messages starts to play.
*****
Castiel pauses in his work, head spinning as he looks out the wide window next to him. He studies the city- impressive buildings surrounding him, the lake glistening in the distance with small, ant like people and cars humming below.
So much to get done. Everything needs to be perfect by the time Bela and her agents arrive. If something were to go bad… Castiel shakes the dark thought from his head.
Things simply cannot go wrong.
A chime from his computer pulls him from his thoughts and he spins in his chair to look at the screen. It’s an email from Bartholomew confirming their meeting at 1:30. Irritation flares up in Castiel. This damn assistant of his is useless. He briefly wonders how he’s managed to keep Dean around after two years.
He stands up, walking to the door and swinging it open. He spots Dean at his desk a couple cubicles down and starts towards him, hearing his low voice speak into the phone.
“…Yeah I know Sam. Don’t worry, I’ll be down there with plenty of time. He can’t not let me go to my brother’s wedding,” Dean murmurs. His green eyes snap up as Castiel approaches and he says louder, “And I will get back to you shortly about that. Thank you,” before hanging up. Castiel doesn’t bother to point out he knows when Dean isn’t actually on the phone for work related matters.
“Dean, I thought I told you to move my meeting with Bartholomew to 2:30.”
“I did, Mr. Novak,” Dean says slowly, clearly confused.
“Then why did I get an email from him confirming 1:30?” Castiel narrows his eyes, pressing his lips into a firm line.
“I swear I emailed him,” Dean mutters, picking up the phone and quickly dialing Bartholomew’s extension. Castiel watches him closely, not even trying to hide his annoyance. On top of everything he needs to be worrying about, this certainly should not be one.
“Hey, Bartholomew! Dean Winchester calling. There must’ve been a miscommunication. Mr. Novak requested the meeting to be moved to… yes. 2:30. Right. Okay,” Dean nods occasionally, eyes flickering up at Castiel. “Of course, not a problem!” Dean hangs up, turning his attention back to Castiel.
“Well?” he demands impatiently.
“Bartholomew realized he made an error in his email to you. He meant 2:30 instead of 1:30. He said he sent the correction,” Dean tells him calmly. Castiel can’t help but notice the microscopic look of smugness in his eyes. It makes Castiel even more irritated, but it’s more from embarrassment for jumping the gun.
“Oh… Well, then in that case,” he starts. Dean looks around awkwardly, seeming unsure whether to make eye contact or not. A thought crosses his mind though- that conversation he walked up on Dean having. “Were you planning on taking time off?”
The question seems to take Dean off guard and he becomes flustered. “Uh yeah, I got a family event planned.”
“Did you approve it with me?” Castiel presses, something in him aching to pick a fight with Dean.
“I was going to talk to you after your meeting. I know you’ve got a shi- a lot of stuff going on today,” Dean explains, catching himself before he curses.
“Your request for time off is denied,” Castiel doesn’t even pause to pretend to think it over. He turns on his heel and strides back towards his office.
“But it’s my brother’s wedding! I kinda can’t miss it as the best man and all,” Dean calls after him. Castiel can tell Dean’s struggling to stay calm, but he ignores it.
“Your time is needed here. My decision is final,” Castiel casts one last look at Dean, who has risen from his chair, hands clenched into fists at his side, before disappearing into his office and shutting the door firmly behind him.
*****
Dean feels like he might implode.
He’s still standing in the aisle staring at the closed door to the demon’s office. Anger burns in him and he’s fighting every impulse to charge in there and let Castiel Novak hear it all. He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to look into the wide eyes of Anna.
“Dean?”
“Anna, hey,” Dean takes a careful breath, running a hand through his hair.
“Dean, he can’t do that. There’s no way,” Anna says slowly. Embarrassment rises to his cheeks as he glances over her shoulder to see the rest of the office watching him.
“Well he just did,” he mutters, gently moving out of her grasp. He swipes his cell phone from his desk and makes his way out of the office, telling no one in particular, “I’m taking my lunch break.”
Dean feels like he’s watching himself outside his body as he rides the elevator down to the ground floor, crosses the open lobby and steps outside to freedom.
This can’t be happening.
He knows if Castiel finds out he took his lunch break without notifying him that he’ll be even more pissed at him, but at this point, Dean doesn’t care. Even if Castiel were to fire him, he might not be so upset. Sure, it would suck- this architecture firm has been Dean’s dream for a long time now. He’s been working his ass off for two years as Castiel’s assistant in hopes one day he can get his big break.
Dean still remembers how incredible that day of his interview was. He was so nervous because this job was everything to him. Castiel is one of the most notorious project managers in the architectural world as well as an incredible designer himself. It’s obvious why Dean was beside himself to have the honor of working closely with such a well-known and respected individual.
Of course, there were always rumors about Castiel Novak- that he was a hard ass, very task oriented and lacking in the people skills department. Dean heard all of them after his interview with Metatron and Castiel, but his blinding excitement caused him to dismiss those rumors as just that. Rumors.
Turns out, they weren’t just rumors.
So now that he’s standing in front of his building with people bustling around him, he’s realizing that maybe his dream job isn’t worth it anymore. He exhales gently, looking down at his phone that he’s been clutching tightly in his hand and dials Sam’s number.
“Dean, what happened? Did he catch you?” A worried voice fills his ear after two short rings.
“Yeah. Guess my cover wasn’t so convincing,” Dean manages a half-hearted laugh, more for his brother’s sake than his own.
“It was a pretty lame cover,” Sam says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice. “So did he say anything?”
“Yep. After ridiculing me about some email, he mentioned me taking some days off,” Dean trails off.
“And?”
“He denied my request,” he mutters, leaning against the dark granite wall of his building.
“What? There’s no way he can do that! It’s my wedding and you’re the best man for heaven’s sake! And you haven’t had a day off in months,” Sam exclaims.
“Well he did, Sam,” Dean’s voice hardens, frustration growing even more and he really wishes he wasn’t having this conversation right now.
“What are you going to do?” Sam’s voice is strained.
“Don’t worry, I won’t miss your big day for some stupid job under an asshole who clearly has some sort of God complex. I’m coming no matter what he says,” Dean assures him.
“What if you get fired?”
“Then so be it. I’m not about to sacrifice my baby brother’s wedding for anything.”
“Dean, this is the job you’ve worked so hard to get for years now. Hell, this is the exact place you’ve been working towards ever since you wanted to be an architect. This is your life,” Sam tells him. Dean shakes his head even though he knows Sam can’t see him.
“I’ve made up my mind. Nothing will keep me from coming. Even if I have to come a day or two later, I will be there. I promise.” There’s silence on the other end and Dean knows Sam is stressing out big time. He knows Sam wants badly for him not to have to sacrifice his job, but he doesn’t care anymore.
“Listen, I gotta go. Seriously, don’t worry about me. You just focus on you and Jessica. I’ll call you later,” Dean promises.
Sam sighs. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later,” and with that, they hang up.
*****
Castiel types away on his keyboard, still fuming over his conversation with Dean. It’s a strange mix of embarrassment and annoyance. He will admit he was in the wrong to immediately fault Dean for the error Bartholomew made, but he could be blamed? Dean showed up to work late, once again, amongst other small mistakes he’s been making lately.
With the Talbot Project rapidly approaching a signed contract, Castiel can’t afford to be paying for Dean’s mistakes, no matter how small they are. If Castiel screws up with an important client such as Bela, he’ll be out of a job no doubt.
Castiel turns his attention to an IM that pops up on the side of screen. Bartholomew again. Castiel rolls his eyes. That’s another thing. Metatron decided to put them both on Bela’s project to “make sure everything gets done correctly”.
Castiel’s worked with Bartholomew plenty of times before. However, he always seems to think he out ranks Castiel, when in reality, they are equals. There’s been speculation that Metatron is planning to off a project manager due to budget cuts and it’s between the two of them- his deciding factor based on how each of them do with Bela.
While Castiel prides himself on being well recognized and successful, next to Bartholomew, he is one of the younger project managers. Easy pickings for Metatron. And Castiel hates to admit it, but Bartholomew does have a track record of being a damn good project manager.
Of course though, he doesn’t buy into petty rumors. They’re for children. But Bartholomew certainly seems to. Ever since he was assigned to the Talbot project as well, he’s been trying to take over and passive aggressively asserting himself over Castiel.
He doesn’t feel threatened though- only mildly annoyed. This senseless competition is only getting in the way of paying attention to an important client.
Castiel reads over his message, furrowing his brow as he reads.
Castiel, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve submitted my version of our presentation to Metatron for review. I figured we could discuss his feedback during our meeting.
Castiel stares at the message, speechless. It takes him a moment before he moves his fingers to respond.
Bartholomew, I thought we agreed to wait on submitting the presentations to Metatron until after we’ve met. I have yet to submit mine and I’m sure Metatron would’ve wanted us both to wait until we made our final revisions.
Castiel picks up his phone and dials Dean’s extension, but it goes to voicemail. “Dean, come to my office immediately. We need to discuss Bela’s presentation now.” He slams the phone down on the receiver. Dammit, where is Dean? His computer chimes to signal a new IM.
Castiel, I figured- why not take the initiative? We are running out of time and things need to move along more urgently than they are.
He shakes his head as he reads over the message. This can’t be happening. His phone ringing brings him back to his senses and he picks it up swiftly.
“Castiel Novak,” he answers tensely, hoping to hear Dean’s voice on the other end.
It’s not Dean though.
“Castiel, I’d like to speak with you in my office when you have a moment.” Metatron.
“Yes, I’ll be right over,” Castiel says before hanging up. Shit, this can’t be good. Bartholomew just threw him under the bus.
He stands, emerging from his office to see Anna sitting on Balthazar’s desk, both of them giggling and talking in hushed voices. They jump at his sudden entrance, Anna scampering off to her desk while Balthazar lazily pretends to look through some papers on his desk. It irritates Castiel because he knows Balthazar isn’t actually working, but the man doesn’t even seem to care about putting on a convincing act for Castiel’s sake. He never says anything though- it’s just not worth it.
“Where is Dean?”
Balthazar shrugs. “I’m not sure, quite honestly. I think he’s on his lunch break.”
“When he returns, let him know I need the outline for the Talbot presentation immediately,” Castiel says before stalking to Metatron’s office.
*****
Dean spends his lunch break in Millennium Park. If it’s one thing Dean enjoys about Chicago, it’s the various places to visit. It’s full of art and architecture and food. The perfect place for him. He used to go here all the time when he first moved to the Windy City but until recently, Castiel hasn’t been allowing him to take long enough lunch breaks to make the trip worth it.
But now he sits alone on a park bench, half-heartedly nibbling at a sub. After the day he’s had, he’s barely hungry, but he forces himself to eat anyway.
After trying to swallow a bite that seems to stick inside his throat, he decides to call Charlie. Surely out of anyone, she’ll be able to lift his spirits.
“Hey Dean!” her voice squeaks on the other end of the line and it brings a smile to his face.
“Hey kid, you busy?”
“Nah, just doing some coding. What’s up?” He can hear her fingers going a mile a minute on the key board in the background.
He sighs. “I just wanted to blow off some steam.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right person! Is it that demon boss of yours again?” she asks, slightly amused.
“Yeah. He denied my time off to go to Sam’s wedding.” After a moment of hesitation, he tells her about Castiel’s response to his design too.
Her reaction is instant and it’s what Dean was hoping for. “What? That’s so unfair! I’m starting to believe he actually doesn’t have a soul.” He can hear her fingers working furiously against the keys and it makes him chuckle. This is why Charlie is his best friend.
“Maybe you’re right. But don’t worry, I’ll be there. There’s no way I’m gonna miss it.”
“I say you march into his office and give him a piece of your mind,” she tells him and Dean knows she has a mischievous smile on her face.
“As much as I’d love to, it’s probably not the best decision.”
“Listen to you, sounding all wise and crap,” she accuses.
Dean snorts, “Yeah right.” Charlie snickers on the other end of the phone but doesn’t say anything and Dean knows she’s trying to work. “Listen, I’ll let you go back to your work, but thanks for listening.”
“Of course, Dean! I’ll call you later, I promise.”
Dean smiles and they say their goodbyes before hanging up.
He glances at his watch. Twenty minutes has passed already. He decides it’s best to head back to work, although he takes his sweet time doing it. He’s almost certain Castiel will be waiting with that icy glare on his face, jaw tight.
When he strolls into the office, he gets the same curious stares as always. It makes him want to say something to make them stop. They always stare at him like he’s some sort of exhibit at a zoo.
He tosses his phone onto his desk before settling in his chair. Oddly though, there’s no angry Castiel waiting for him.
“Welcome back, Dean!” Balthazar smirks.
“Thanks, did I miss anything?” Dean murmurs, shaking his mouse to wake his computer up.
“Castiel was looking for you. Something about needing the presentation outline like, yesterday,” Balthazar informs him.
“Now? Why?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. He went to Metatron’s office though.”
Dean furrows his brow in confusion before digging out the outline. This wasn’t supposed to be ready for a couple hours. He sticks everything in a folder and walks down to Metatron’s office.
Dean hesitates at the door, unsure whether to interrupt them or not, even though he attends all Castiel’s meetings with him. But Castiel wasn’t scheduled to meet with Metatron today, which makes Dean think this is a personal issue.
He exhales and knocks on the door before he can change his mind. A muffled Metatron calls for him to enter above the ever playing classical music. Hesitantly, he pokes his head inside, stopping when he sees Castiel standing before Metatron and two other people Dean vaguely recognizes.
“Um, sorry to interrupt, I just had something-“
“What are you doing here?” Castiel’s cold blue eyes are on him.
“I just heard you needed this?” Dean holds up the folder questioningly. Castiel’s eyes flicker to the folder then back to Dean. His eyes turn curious and Dean can see the gears turning in his head.
What’s going on? Is Castiel getting fired?
Dean opens his mouth to explain they can talk later but Castiel motions for him to come closer.
He hesitates, glancing at the others before awkwardly closing the door behind him and moving further into the room.
“I understand completely. These things happen. However, I do have some great news,” Castiel says, turning back to Metatron and the other two. Dean is startled when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder and turns to see the hand belongs to Castiel.
“Dean and I- we’re getting married.”