Title: Sin with a Grin
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Please visit the following link for Notes and Cover art for the story: stolen-childe (dot) livejournal (dot) com/85288 (dot) html
A Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the beta!
"Mister Winchester! Please! You can't just go in there!" The poor harried secretary called after Dean, waving a plastic visitor's badge in her hand. "You need to be escorted!"
"Like hell I do," Dean snarled back and snatched the card from the secretary, barging through the bull pen and to the Special Agent offices beyond.
Castiel heard the raucous from his office and met Dean halfway, grabbing Dean firmly by the elbow, his face expressionless.
"Dean," Castiel greeted coolly.
"What the hell happened, Cas?" Dean snarled.
"Dean, shouldn't you be at work?"
"Damnit Cas!" Dean yanked his elbow away and glared at the slightly shorter man. "Tell me what the fuck is going on right now or so help me god…"
"Dean, I highly recommend not threatening a Federal agent while on Federal property," Castiel was not amused. "Sam is perfectly fine, Dean, you do—"
"Cas stop being a dick, where the fuck is Sam?" Dean snapped.
"He is doing his job like you should be doing. There's nothing you can do here, Dean. We have it under control," Castiel tried for placating. He realized people were staring and was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Castiel took Dean by the elbow once again and steered him into his office, shutting the door behind them. Almost the entirety of the front was glass but the office did afford a small measure of privacy in the front right hand corner, which is where Castiel led him.
"You have him in there with that bitch? Alone?" Dean snarled.
"Dean, your brother is a highly trained professional. He is slightly bruised and sustained a broken wrist but was never in any immediate danger. He is perfectly capable of interviewing the suspect without his hand being held or me breathing down his neck and he certainly doesn't need you there watching over him," Castiel chastised. "You're lucky, Dean, that people know you around here. Civilians don't tend to make a habit of barging into the FBI demanding answers." It was probably the wrong thing to say. Castiel knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he was a little pissed off as well.
Dean recoiled away as if he'd been slapped, his expression going stony. It just served to remind him once again that he was relatively useless compared to Castiel and Sam.
Castiel was highly educated, carrying numerous degrees. He spoke several languages. The older man first earned his undergraduate degree, then his graduate degree in an accelerated program. He was trained in various forms of combat thanks to his Ivy League education and his two tours overseas. Castiel, having been desperate to climb out from under the cloying shadows of his incredibly successful brothers, and feeling the need to rebel, did the one thing his fanatically democratic parents despised: joined the military. He was near genius-level intelligent and his translation duties had been upgraded to strategy and intelligence. He had gone in a translator and had come out a highly decorated soldier, joining the FBI soon after and earning himself an assistant and an office within the first few months of service.
Dean's little brother Sam was no slouch in the brains department either. He earned himself a full ride to Stanford University, completed his undergraduate degree in Criminal Psychology and Legal Studies, passed his LSATs with one of the highest scores in the history of the exam, and sailed through Law School like it was a cake walk. Upon graduating, Sam landed himself one of the most coveted internships in one of the largest Law Firms in Las Vegas. After a year of incredibly successful lawyering, Sam quickly realized that sitting behind a desk wasn't for him and applied to the FBI with the glowing recommendation of Castiel. He was accepted quickly, as was usual for Sam, and passed all prerequisites as if they were nothing.
Dean was a third grade teacher at the local elementary school who restored classic cars in his free time… What little of it he possessed.
Dean sighed, forever feeling inadequate next to these two. He supposed he had to admit he wasn't completely useless though. Dean owed that mostly to his brilliant mother and paranoid ex-marine father. Still, he had nowhere near the achievements that Castiel and Sam could boast of, even if they never would boast.
Dean was a bit of a slacker in high school. Okay, he was a real slacker in high school. It was only afterwards advances in education made him realize that he had not been challenged enough. He needed an extra year in order to graduate but it resulted in his marks increasing substantially. He then took two years off to work at his Uncle Bobby's garage because he didn't think school was his thing. He finally decided to give it a shot because his mom's pleading was finally getting the best of him. Dean never expected to like post-secondary, but it turned out when given his choice of what he studied, he adored it. He earned his undergraduate degree in Engineering with surprising ease and thought maybe he'd do another in Aeronautics. Which was when Dean had a life changing revelation.
After doing some required extracurricular work where he chose to volunteer at the local elementary school as a tutor, Dean realized he loved kids. He loved seeing their faces light up when they understood something. He loved their laughs and smiles as they enjoyed their day. He loved their rapt attention when they were really, truly interested in something and he loved their innocent joy at every simple success. Above all, he loved helping to make it happen. He immediately went home and cancelled his application to MIT for the AeroAstro Program and began the long application process over again for the Education Program anywhere he could find.
He was a little surprised when he was accepted at Northwestern on his first try and found himself second guessing his decision more times than not. However when he heard his professor utter the words, "A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child," Dean's heart beat faster, his throat tightened a little and he knew he was in the right place. Needless to say, his mom was over the moon and his dad had that quiet prideful glow when he walked across the stage and held his Bachelor of Education Degree for the first time.
But still, even with all that, compared to all Sam and especially Cas had done, teaching a few kids to think smart and not be brats was nothing.
"Dean," Cas said gently. "I understand you're upset, I get it. If anything had happened to one of my brothers I'd be upset as well. But seriously, Sam is perfectly fine. He knew what he was doing. I was ready to go in there the minute he gave me the distress word."
Dean sighed. Cas was right but still…
"Why didn't you tell me until after Cas?" Dean said, hating the hurt in his voice.
"Honestly? Because you worry too much and I thought you teaching your kids was a little more important than wasting time in an emergency room where you'd be utterly useless. Unless you have a degree in radiology hidden in your back pocket, because frankly I wouldn't be surprised," Cas gave him a small smile.
Despite himself, Dean smiled back, "Almost, but no." Dean knew Castiel wasn't sure if the younger man was joking or not, and really Dean wasn't. He had changed his mind twice before settling on Engineering.
"Even after nearly four years, you continue to surprise me, Dean Winchester," Castiel shook his head.
"Part of my charm right?" Dean waggled his eyebrows.
"It helps, but something else entirely had me enthralled when we first met," Castiel's answering look was full of innuendo that made Dean's stomach squiggle happily.
They had met, of all places, in a bar. Castiel was visiting his surgeon brother and Dean was up for the weekend visiting Sam. As cliché as it sounded, they locked eyes from across the throngs of wriggling bodies moving to the heavy bass beat, and it was lust at first look. Dean figured it would just be one night of utterly amazing sex and he'd go back to Boston on Monday ready to start his new position in a few weeks. Well, the sex didn't disappoint. It was probably the best night of Dean's life, and that included comparing the year he spent with his yoga instructor former girlfriend. Dean also did something he never did: he stayed the night and had breakfast the next morning.
Dean and Castiel quickly realized that they hit it off pretty well, and if Dean experienced a tiny bit of hero worship for the War Veteran turned FBI guy, well, he couldn't really be blamed, could he? Oddly enough though Castiel seemed to be just as in awe with Dean's dedication and love of teaching, telling Dean that he thought teachers were the most important influences of a child's life. Needless to say, the departure was bittersweet but necessary, and neither regretted the night. It was, in fact, the subject of most of Dean's fantasies for several months to follow.
Dean flew back to Boston and fell for the alluring Andrea Barr, a friend of Dean's friend, Anna Milton, and a fellow teacher at the elementary school where Dean had his new position. They only dated for a month before Dean and Andrea both realized that they liked each other, yes, but they would make better friends. Dean was still hung up on the mysterious guy from the club and Andrea found she never could get serious after her husband's death only a year and half earlier. She had her son Lucas to think about. They parted on amicable terms and Andrea continued to be one of his greatest friends at the school.
"Cas, you know I've fantasized about sex in your office since the first time I saw the damn thing, but I don't think now's the most appropriate time. I'm still half pissed at you, you know," Dean's response was mostly teasing as he countered the seductive note in Castiel's tone.
Cas rose the short few inches between their heights to press a gentle kiss on Dean's lips, "I know, I'm sorry. Would it help if you could see Sam?"
Dean gave Castiel a look that required no words whatsoever and Castiel nodded, resigned. He reached down and pried the plastic visitor's badge out of Dean's hand and clipped it onto Dean's shirt collar. Cas smoothed a hand down the soft, expensive green cotton and smiled; he had bought Dean the shirt. Dean frowned and, as always, reached up and fixed Castiel's loose and askew tie upon catching sight of it.
"Who covered your class anyway?" Castiel asked as he led Dean out of his office. Dean took a moment to admire the neatly painted letters of Castiel's name on the glass door as he passed it.
A small aid approached Castiel, looking drawn and harried, "Agent L'Ange, Agent Winchester is in Room Five with the suspect."
"Thank you, Andy," Castiel said kindly.
Dean grimaced a little before answering Castiel's question, "Andrea. I owe her a Prep. Our kids both have . the last part of the day but she generally has the second-to-last period off. She took over my Social Studies and combined our gym classes." Dean felt guilty at leaving poor gentle Andrea with a horde of energetic seven and eight year olds for one of the most difficult to control periods of the day.
"I see," Castiel said a little coolly. Dean knew that Andrea was a point of contempt for Castiel, who had a rather spectacular jealous streak when given the right motivation (in this case, Dean was really the only motivation Cas needed), and Dean's brief, though pleasant, relationship with Andrea occurred in between their first meeting and the meeting that finally got them together for good.
Castiel was just as surprised as Dean was when he walked through the door dressed as a cowboy (a. because Dean thought cowboys were awesome, and b. Dean's kids helped pick out his costume. It was very nearly Batman and Dean was grateful every day since that the much sexier cowboy won by a small margin of one single little girl whose uncle worked on a ranch in Texas) and saw Cas dressed as a fairy-tale prince, complete with a blue, silver-embroidered tunic and black riding boots. The slightly older man was leaning by the buffet table and talking quietly with Anna. Or he was talking, until he caught sight of Dean coming in and his mouth paused, hanging comically open. Anna's curious gaze followed and she grinned, waving Dean over. Dean reigned in the butterflies currently rousting in his stomach with a firm figurative hand and slapped on his best smirk-almost-smile. As expected, Anna faltered for a moment while she inevitably swooned and, not as expected but very welcome, Castiel's lids lowered fractionally and his eyes darkened. Perfect, slightly chapped lips parted just so and made Dean want to feel them pressed against his own again.
"Dean!" Anna gushed, very slightly breathless. "I'm so glad you made it, I thought you might not be able to what with the inevitable clean-up you faced tonight." Dean shrugged. The annual Halloween party the school held was a small, quiet affair with just as many faculty and parents as children. Dean was in charge that year so he had to stay until it was all done but it was a kids' party after all and most of the kiddies were packed up and shipped out by eight; the only stragglers were children of the staff members. Besides, Dean had already been mostly dressed, all he had to do was throw on his floor length duster and his gun belt which he declined to wear at the school and he was ready to go.
"Not a big deal," Dean said with a charming smile. "I had help in the form of the Head Mom wrangling up the kids and parents. I was just on broom duty. Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world, you always threw the best parties back in college," Dean waggled his brows.
Anna gave him a hug but thanked him again anyway.
"I want you to meet my cousin, C—" Anna began.
"Castiel," Dean interrupted, smiling, "we've met."
"Hello Dean," Castiel greeted smooth and low, a slight smile of his own in place. "It's a pleasure to see you again. You look magnificent." Oh yeah, Dean was extremely glad that the kids voted cowboy because Castiel was certainly appreciating the look if his stunningly blue eyes sweeping quickly over Dean was anything to go by.
"Yeah Cas, you too," Dean replied, his own voice lowering of its own accord as he felt himself gravitate minimally towards the regally dressed agent.
They suddenly remembered Anna because she chose that moment to speak up, "Wait, wait, wait, Dean from Palo Alto is Dean Winchester? Shut the front door!" Dean was a little startled but very pleased to realize that Castiel had talked about him. Castiel blushed ever-so-slightly at Anna's unwitting confession.
"Apparently so," Castiel murmured.
"Oh this is too good," Anna almost squealed in delight. "I have to call Balthright now. I'll let you two catch up! Thanks again so much for coming you guys!" Anna almost pranced away, grabbing a few girlfriends as she went along, her white feathered wings bobbing merrily in her wake.
Dean suddenly found himself nervous again, "Wow, so… yeah, hey this is just…"
"Yes, it is," Castiel agreed.
"Yeah, it's something. So ah…"
"Would you like to go out on the balcony? It's quieter, and I trust you find it as warm in here as I, dressed as we are," Castiel gestured to the gauzy curtained French doors.
Well there was no denying that. Even if Dean had decided to come as a surfer instead of a many-layered cowboy he would have found himself helpless not to follow Castiel out the doors. They spent the remainder of the night out there, only returning for Anna's reveal of best costume and a few minutes to eat. Following the party, they found themselves tangled around each other later that night in Dean's apartment. After that, Dean was hooked.
Three months later Castiel told Dean he loved him for the first time, and three months after that they decided to move in together.
Castiel guided Dean through the mess of desks, around hurrying aids and ringing phones, buzzing printers and animatedly talking agents, when they rounded a corner and very nearly ran into a slightly stern looking woman with kind eyes.
"Well what's this I see, Castiel? Is it bring your kid to work day?" The woman quirked a brow, a little smirk curling her lips. It wasn't the first time someone had made an off-hand comment about their age difference. It was only four years but Castiel carried himself older and sterner while Dean knew his constantly kid-rumpled clothing and wide eyes made him look a little younger than he was. It was usually only when he smiled that people saw the evidence of his thirty-two years around his eyes.
"Ah Agent Harvelle! I'm just escorting Dean back to see his brother, Agent Winchester. He heard Sam was injured," Castiel replied, his professional tone slipping slightly with what Dean could only gauge as nerves. He quirked a brow; Castiel didn't do nervous.
"Dean, huh?" Harvelle smiled, holding out her hand. "It's a pleasure Son, Castiel has certainly talked about you."
"Ah… hi…" Dean looked to Cas for help.
Castiel seemed to shake himself out of his shock and introduced the woman properly, "Dean Winchester this is Ellen Harvelle, Special Agent-in-Charge…"
Shit! This was Castiel's freakin' boss and Dean looked like a college kid in his Friday jeans and not-so-fresh button down. At least he was wearing his good brown dress shoes and not his scuffed runners like he would normally, had he taken the kids to .
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," Dean stuttered out.
Boston wasn't large enough to warrant a Deputy Director, that was only reserved for the larger FBI branches in Los Angeles, New York and D.C. but each smaller branch of the FBI had a Special Agent-in-Charge and their word was the word. Special Agent Harvelle looked as if she took bullshit from no one. She couldn't in an ol' boys' club like the FBI and Dean had just barrelled in here demanding answers, using his relationship with Cas and Sam to his advantage. Dean hoped it wouldn't get Castiel in trouble and swallowed nervously.
"You too, Kiddo," the woman said amicably. "Your brother's just down the hall, you can see for yourself from the observation room that he's just fine. I just left there myself. Poor kid's wrist is banged up good and he'll be a desk jockey for the next six to eight weeks but he brought in someone I've been wanting for a long time. That boy did us proud. See you around Castiel, and make sure your guy here signs in on his way out." Dean swore he saw the woman wink but was too busy being mortified and afraid for Castiel's position to notice properly.
Castiel blanched a little. "Y—" he began then coughed and cleared his throat, "yes, Ma'am." After Special Agent Ellen Harvelle rounded the corner, Castiel grabbed Dean's elbow again in a not-so-gentle grip and directed him to the interview room where Sam was. He was very quiet on the short way there, icily quiet and Dean didn't look over for fear of seeing the stony expression he knew would have his blue gaze stilted. Oh yeah, seemed that Dean and the couch may be having one of their special nights tonight.
After Dean saw that Sam was indeed fine, and when he was cleared to leave, Sam and Dean decided to stop and have an early dinner before heading home. Castiel declined, claiming paperwork, but they had been together long enough for Dean to know that Castiel really just needed time to reign in his anger. Dean was nobody special. He really had no good reason to have been there today aside from his overprotective instincts towards his little brother. Castiel was far more capable than Dean could ever hope to be and Sam frankly didn't need him anymore. Family members did visit the FBI occasionally, that was nothing unusual. Family members didn't tend to storm in and demand answers like they owned the joint.
"Dean, he'll get over it," Sam said quietly as he picked at his chicken salad. His grilled chicken salad, not even breaded. Dean made a face as he took another hearty bite of his double bacon cheeseburger. Sam spared Dean's dinner a similar look of distaste.
"I eat healthy in front of my brats all friggin' day, if I wanna get a burger, I'm getting a burger," Dean said defensively around the food in his mouth, just because he knew it bugged the hell out of Sam. If Castiel had joined them Dean would have never have gotten away with it. But Cas wasn't here. Dean pouted (frowned, not pouted!) and his next bite was not as enthusiastic.
"Dude, gross," Sam scowled. At that Dean had to grin; big fancy lawyer-turned-FBI-guy and Sam still said 'dude.' Dean had to love his little brother.
"I dunno Sammy, things have been rocky lately. I've been spending more time with Andrea - and you know how Cas feels about her - because of planning for the Halloween thing. It's bigger this year because we're fundraising for all the recent natural disasters so we're doing a funhouse, games, a corn maze. Heck, I think Missouri even managed to score us a Ferris Wheel or something. So there's that, and the first month or so back is always hard, so I'm beat to shit at the end of the day and you and Cas have been dealing with that crime ring thing so he's been coming home late…" Dean shook his head and tossed his burger onto his plate, pushing the heavy white porcelain away. The older Winchester pulled the square sugar holder towards him and began sorting the colours, pressing them down so they were nestled evenly together.
"Look Dean, maybe you and Cas just need to take some time for each other. I've noticed he's been a lot more stressed at work lately. Why don't you go out to the cabin for the weekend or something? Since this phase of the case has wrapped up, Agent Harvelle gave us both a week off…" Sammy trailed off. Instead of the suggestion brightening Dean's spirits as was the intention, the mention of their boss only served to remind Dean of his big screw up today. He groaned and slumped down.
"Mama look! I can give it to him after all!" a little voice piped up from across the restaurant.
"Sydney, no… Just wait until after the weekend, I'm sure he—"
"Mister Winchester! Mister Winchester!"
Dean's head snapped up and he abruptly straightened in his seat. Sam saw Dean literally alter himself physically, though probably subconsciously. His expression schooled slightly, though it retained an element of his familiar smile. His eyes softened and his posture straightened, worries from that afternoon buried for the moment.
Dean and Cas lived fairly close to the school Dean taught at, which of course meant inevitably running into his students on occasion. He didn't mind so much, really. He knew half the time, in this day and age with both parents working so much, he spent more time with the kids than their own families did and children this age tended to imprint on whatever adult in their life they could. Dean, of course, always kept perfectly professional, but that didn't mean he couldn't spare them a kind ear and a smile if he ran into any of them outside of school.
"Hello Sydney. Just came from dance did you? Will we get to hear all about it Monday morning?" Dean smiled at the blonde little girl, dressed in a pink and white leotard, her curls falling from a ponytail at the top of her head.
"Yep! We learned this butterfly thing today! It was super fun but I'll tell you all about it Monday. I just wanted to give you this. I made it in art class today. We had to pick a picture from a hat and draw it. I got a car; I know you like cars and thought you might like it, but then you were sick. Did you have a tummy ache?" Sydney said in one long rush. It wasn't hard for Sam to miss the hint of hero worship and a budding crush in the eight-year-old's eyes.
"No, not a stomach-ache," Dean replied. "I had some big brother things to take care of. Now let's see this picture." To Mr. Winchester was scrawled happily across it in little girl writing and below was the car Sydney drew, if not realistically, then certainly enthusiastically. From Sydney abruptly finished the image.
"Excellent work Sydney! I see that extra time with our 'little Ds' and 'little Bs' has helped. I like this very much Sydney, thank you. I'm going to put your drawing on the cupboards behind my desk on Monday," Dean smiled at the little girl.
Sydney nodded back, "I know which way to put my D now Mr. Winchester! Not backwards anymore!"
"All right Sydney. Thank Mister Winchester for allowing us to interrupt his nice dinner. We have to go home now," Sydney's mother said gently.
"Thanks! Bye Mr. Winchester!" Sydney took her mother's hand and waved behind her.
"I'm so sorry Dean," Sydney's mother mouthed.
"No worries, you have a good weekend," Dean flashed her a grin. The woman flushed and turned away. After she picked up her take-out bag from the waitress at the counter, she tossed Dean a shy little smile before leaving the restaurant, daughter in tow.
"Dude. Wow. Like Twilight Zone, wow," Sam was looking at his brother slightly wide-eyed. He knew Dean wouldn't be his brash self in the classroom but still… witnessing it was something else entirely.
"Shuddup," Dean tossed a fry at his hulk of a little brother. "What do you want me to do, drop f-bombs and make snide remarks at her? Sheesh, Sammy, I'm a professional."
Sam chuckled, then shot his brother a cheeky grin, "So you and Cas ever role play, because I'm sure he'd get a hell of a kick outta Teacher-Dean giving him a detention."
"Don't you know it," Dean returned with a filthy grin.
"Aww, man, walked into that one. Visuals are burning my retinas," Sam shuddered. So Sam's plan of embarrassing his shameless brother utterly failed but it was worth it to see him coming back to himself a little.
"You should see what he does with his handcuffs…" Dean added.
"Wow Dude! TMI! Line: here. Dean: here," Sam gestured on the table.
"Well at least now you'll pick your plays a little more carefully in the future, because this is one game you ain't beating me at, Sammy." Dean leaned back against his seat, far too pleased with himself for Sam to let him get away with it. The younger Winchester opted to toss a piece of lettuce at the elder as punishment. It fluttered limply for a moment before falling far shy of its target.
"FBI training at its finest. Maybe you should go back to agent school Sammy," Dean said patronizingly. He picked up the piece of lettuce then put it on his plate, quickly wiping up the residue with a neatly folded napkin.
"Hilarious," Sam deadpanned and stood, scooping up the check that their waitress had brought over as they spoke. "I got this."
"Thanks. I'll take the cabin," Dean said.
"Great," Sam smiled.
When Dean entered their apartment it was to find Cas leaning in the doorway leading to the kitchen, dish towel over his shoulder, cup of tea in hand, sleeves of his white button down rolled up to his elbows. The tie, jacket, and Castiel's socks had been discarded as usual as soon as he got home. Dean thought he looked amazing, and felt a little twinge in his chest that he had let himself basically ignore this gorgeous man for so long.
"Hey you," Dean smiled gently.
"Hey yourself," Castiel returned, that private smile curling his lips. Dean came over and decided to kiss it off. They lingered together for a moment, Dean's hand curling around Castiel's waist before he squeezed once and pulled away, helping himself to a sip of Castiel's tea as he did so. Cas quietly accepted his mug back after Dean was finished with it.
"You eat?" Dean asked, moving into the kitchen.
"Yes," Castiel replied, following.
"Sam, rabbit that he is, didn't finish his salad. A freakin' salad and he didn't finish it! I'll put it in here if you're hungry later," Dean said as he leaned into the fridge, pushing aside the bottles of water to make space for the food. He still couldn't convince Cas that filtering the water was just as good as the bottled stuff. Dean actually found he preferred the taste of filtered over the bottled now. He was trying to teach sustainability after all, and as he always taught his kids, it starts at home. Cas couldn't pass up the convenience and Dean couldn't really fault the busy agent for that one.
"Thank you," Castiel said, taking another sip of his tea.
"That's different, what is it?" Dean nodded at the orange mug Castiel held.
"Chai. Mrs. Brar, the woman who just moved in with her husband down the hall? Taught me to make it the Indian way," Cas answered.
"I like it," Dean remarked. Without asking or waiting for Dean's request, Cas set about heating the milk over the stovetop for the tea.
Dean came over and wrapped his hands around the smaller man's waist, resting his chin on Castiel's firm shoulder. He watched as Cas added the herbs, spices, and tea leaves.
"Brar… That an Indian name then?" Dean asked.
Castiel shrugged, "Punjabi." Dean nodded and watched as Castiel gently stirred the milk and herbs that were rapidly darkening. Castiel nodded his head to the coffee pot and Dean reached forward to grab the bowl of sugar they kept there. Castiel took the sugar bowl with a soft 'thank you,' added it, and stirred again.
They began in unison. Castiel reached over and lowered the heat to allow the tea to simmer before turning in the circle of Dean's arms and putting his hands gently on either side of the younger man's face.
"I'm sorry," Castiel said.
"Me too," Dean grinned in reply. "Though it was all my screw-up. You don't need to apologize."
"Even so," Castiel returned. "I did overreact, and for that I apologize. It wasn't necessary. You were worried. I should have understood that better."
"Well I shouldn't have barged into the Federal building like you just arrested my 90-year-old grandmother or something," Dean shrugged.
Castiel opened his mouth to counter again but then he let his lips lift in a faintly amused smile, "We could do this all night. So we'll agree we've said our final apologies and we'll move on. All right?"
"Deal," Dean nodded.
"Excellent," Castiel answered. Dean leaned down and kissed Cas again just because he was in the perfect position to do so and Castiel responded by wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and leaning into the heat of his body. They stood there, kissing gently and languidly for a few moments, enjoying the closeness that they had unwittingly deprived themselves of for the last several weeks. Dean pulled away and rested his forehead on Castiel's shoulder, inhaling the uniqueness of his scent before giving him a tight squeeze and pulling back with a contented sigh.
"Anything record last night?" Dean asked, going over to lean on the counter as Castiel poured the tea into a mug for Dean and the remainder into his own cooled one.
Castiel paused, thinking, "Bones, I think. I know you have a crush on that Booth character."
"I think he's hot, so what? I got a thing for Federal Agents," Dean grinned.
"Oh? I never would have guessed," Castiel smiled teasingly back, drying his hands and finally relinquishing the dish towel from his shoulder. He put it down on the counter. Dean went over and carefully hung it up.
Castiel continued, "It's one of the only procedural crime dramas I can tolerate. At least they seem to do their research, and I find forensic anthropology fascinating. I picked up a few of the novels the program is based upon. They're really quite good. You should read them. The author is an actual forensic anthropologist which lends a lot to their credibility."
"Oh yeah? Will do," Dean replied, letting Cas lead the way out of the kitchen and pick a spot on the couch first. As usual, Castiel picked the corner closest to the kitchen, settling gently down and crossing his ankle over his knee. Dean sprawled next to him, leaning against the other side and kicking his bare feet up into Castiel's lap. As Castiel began the show and began gently rubbing Dean's ankle with his free hand, Dean wondered how on Earth he got so lucky. Castiel flashed Dean one of his rare brilliant smiles, thinking the exact same thing.
"Hey, you're off this weekend right?" Dean asked as Castiel began skipping commercials about fifteen minutes into the show.
"Yes, why?" Castiel asked.
Dean grinned, "I have a plan."
"Should I be concerned?" Castiel quirked a brow.
Dean grinned in response, "Maybe."