A Cold and Broken Hallelujah - Part 6
The following morning Castiel drove in to work. He needed to speak to Gabriel again. Perhaps he could persuade Gabriel to come out with him next time, he seemed to be able to speak to people much better than Castiel could ever manage. It seemed to be even harder with Dean, and not just because Dean couldn't (or wouldn't) speak. For some reason, every time Dean met his gaze with those wide emerald eyes of his, Castiel felt tongue-tied and either wanted to blurt out the whole mess or just turn and run.
Anna was in her usual place at the main reception, long auburn hair falling in a soft tumble over her shoulder as she smiled up at the UPS man who was delivering their latest shipment of mail. Her eyes widened as she looked at Castiel and he looked down at himself in worry. Everything seemed to be okay, he was pretty sure he could dress appropriately now; so he returned her smirk with an uncertain smile before dashing quickly down the corridor to Gabriel's office.
He was still looking down at his tie when he collided with a warm body and wobbled back on one foot. He let his gaze dart upwards, his eyes widening as he met Lucifer's bright gaze.
“Castiel.” Lucifer's voice was soft and low as he smiled gently at Castiel. Castiel blinked stupidly, as he did every time he was confronted with his older brother. Lucifer's gaze turned back into the office he had been leaving and Castiel wanted to sigh as he watched the blue eyes warm with love and devotion.
“I'll see you at lunch, Michael?” Michael let his body lean gently against the door frame as he returned Lucifer's smile. He reached out and trailed his fingers gently over Lucifer's hand, as if even this short parting would be far too long. “Always.” Michael's smile was small and soft and continued to curve his mouth as he turned to Castiel.
“Good morning little brother. Have you come to let us know how things are going?” Brown eyes searched Castiel's face and he dropped his gaze, feeling awkward and far too revealed under that warm, enquiring look.
“Was just going... to ask Gabriel something.” Castiel doesn't want to talk to Michael about Dean, everything is still too new, too disconcerting and Castiel doesn't even know if it will ever go anywhere. He really needs help and as disturbing and strange as Gabriel is, Castiel still thinks that he is the only one who may truly be in touch with humanity. He squeezes past Lucifer and continued his dash along the corridor, popping into Gabriel's office and slamming the door behind himself.
“Castiel!” Gabriel let his chair drop forwards and slid his feet off the desk in the same graceful motion. “Did you already forget what I said about knocking?”
“Are you still watching medical soaps during working hours?”
“Touché, little bro. So what's up? How's thing with Deano? First base, second?” Gabriel laughed at Castiel's mystified expression and pushed a bowl of rainbow coloured candy across the desk. “Sit, eat, and tell me how it's going.”
Castiel quickly brought Gabriel up-to-date, and he waited as Gabriel sucked his lower lip into his mouth and hmmm'd thoughtfully.
“I did that background check on Dean. Not that I really needed to once I heard that surname. He's fairly well-known in certain circles. I actually ran into him and his brother once a while back, when I was still doing that whole Trickster thing. Only thing I can suggest is take it slow, he doesn't trust easy. Oh, and if you can get his brother onside, that would be a huge plus. Totally devoted to that kid. In fact, you should invite Sam down here, we should all get together, Sam could help with the translation thing.”
Castiel pondered Gabriel's words and nodded gently. He wondered for a moment, who exactly Dean is, or rather was, but then thought that he would rather hear it from Dean, than go behind his back and pry. He has the feeling that Dean would prefer it that way.
“Do you have a number for Sam?” Gabriel handed over a post-it, and Castiel stared at the digits. It's another step forward and Castiel knows he needs to take it if they ever want to get home, but he is beginning to feel that there maybe something more than home.
---II---
Sam, although initially surprised, is more than happy to hear from him, his voice warm and smiling, even over the phone. He agrees to come up, says that he will arrange time off as soon as he can and that he looks forward to meeting both Castiel and his brother Gabriel. Castiel doesn't want to leave things that long and so he resorts to the internet again, which may not be his wisest move. But he thinks it will probably be safer, and less embarrassing, than asking Gabriel.
6.2
On Wednesday Dean arrives at work, wending his way through the stacks as usual. As usual the library is quiet, temperature even, air with that faint tang of dehumidifier. As usual all of the staff are busy with their work, but still making time to wave a quick hello. What is not usual are the variations of strange smirk that most of them are wearing. Dean looks down at himself, suddenly worried in case he forgot to put pants on or something stupid like that. But no, he's perfectly respectably dressed. And okay, he may be wearing a sweater vest, but it was chilly out this morning. It's a perfectly normal item of clothing. Dean makes his way through to his office, expecting to see Morgan busy on the phone or typing furiously. Perhaps she can explain all these strange looks. However, Morgan seems to have been replaced by the largest floral arrangement Dean has ever seen. White camellias dangle their heavy heads surrounded by sprays of almond blossom and hawthorn, the scent of freesias fills the room and the whole lot is embraced in a circle of lush greenery.
Dean peeks round the edge of the jungle and spots Morgan. She grins wide and toothily and Dean feels the urgent need to run for the door.
“Good morning Dean. I take it you were a very good boy this weekend?” Her voice drips with honeyed insinuation and Dean feels both embarrassed and confused.
/What? Also, when did you land a rich boyfriend?/
“Oh they're not for me Dean. They're yours!” Morgan cackles and passes him a small florists envelope, Dean's name scrawled in delicate script across the front. Dean doesn't need to open it to know exactly who the ornate, flowing letters belong to. He retreats into his office, eyeing the flowers warily. He pops out a minute later, sidles along the wall to the coffee pot, filling his cup to the brim, and then, once more, retreats to his office.
As soon as he's fortified with delicious, life-preserving caffeine he works up the nerve to open the envelope.
Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I am sorry that we were interrupted. Perhaps, we could try again? C
Dean's head drops to the desk with a thump.
Thursday brings a hamper, decorated with emerald ribbon. Morgan helps Dean empty it, her reactions gleeful and curious, Dean's resigned. There is coffee, both Dean's favourite blend and some new ones. There are muffins and a lusciously golden pie. There are several bottles of Dean's preferred brand of beer. Dean gives Morgan the muffins to share out amongst the secretarial staff. He keeps the pie, but is careful to move it out of the way before his head meets the desk again.
Friday morning passes without incident. There are no flowers, no foodstuffs. Dean begins to relax. Then, late afternoon, he receives a call from the main reception, asking him to come sign for a parcel.
He wends his way upstairs and signs for the small box. It is surprisingly heavy for its size. He takes it back downstairs, gets someone in Security to check it for spells or anything freaky like that. It's clean and Dean already knows who it's from, the address label written in that same careful script. He takes it into his office, Morgan following behind, teasing Dean about his admirer.
He opens the box carefully and finds two books. One is an old Journal; the cover is leather, worn soft and smooth with age and handling. Dean slips on a pair of gloves and opens it slowly. The pages are thin, the handwriting spidery and almost illegible in places. But Dean can tell, it's a Hunter's Journal. He closes it and strokes it reverently. He lifts out the other book, still lying face down in the box. It's a copy of “On the Road”. Dean wonders why on earth Castiel would send him this. Morgan steals it from him, opens the cover and squeals.
“Oh my god, Dean! This is a first edition, this is like finding a vegan vampire. Oh, this is just so romantic.” Morgan's green eyes go misty as she stares off into the distance, book clutched to her chest.
“You have to do something for him. Go over right now, take him out for dinner.”
Dean blinks at Morgan as she rushes around him, finding his jacket and his keys.
“I'll finish up here, and lock up and stuff. Go on, go!”
---II---
Dean finds himself heading out to his car before he knows it. He slumps down in the seat, straightens up and drops his head on to the steering wheel and then slumps back again, head tilted back, eyes closed. Well, even if he doesn't invite Castiel out, he can at least go and say thank you for the gifts and ask him to stop sending things.
He drives over to the office building where he knows Castiel works. Security directs him up to the 7th floor after he writes Castiel's name on a piece of paper and shows the man his identification. The lift doors open and Dean blinks at the wide expanse of glass and sky that takes up the opposite wall. His eyes drop and he notices a desk, manned by a sleepy-looking red-haired woman. She perks up when she notices him, smiles wide and almost shark-like.
“Hello. How can I help you?” She looks Dean up and down again and Dean wants to cross his arms but he squashes down the urge to hide and swaggers over the desk. Best form of defence being a good offence and all that.
He lets his gaze flicker over her desk as he approaches and he spots a pen and a small post-it pad. He reaches out to take them and writes.
He turns the pad round and watches as the Receptionist's eyes widen and she looks again at him, this time with speculation. She turns the pad back to him and asks “And you are?” The tone of her voice makes Dean think she already has a pretty good idea as to his identity but he smiles tightly and scrawls
Her lips part in a soft 'Oh' and then she smiles, natural and bright and beautiful, before her face suddenly falls. “Oh, I'm sorry. Cas isn't in today. He's on special duties. I could call him....No actually, better idea.” She reaches for the post-its and pulls the top one off, crumpling it and throwing it to one side. She scrawls rapidly on the next one.
“Here. This is Cas's address. It's not too far from here. I'm sure it'll be fine if you just pop over. You can tell him I gave it to you and if he has a problem with that he can come see me.” Dean grins, the receptionist reminding him of Morgan. He wouldn't want to argue with her either. He nods his thanks and turns back to the elevator.
“It was really nice to see you, by the way. Hopefully, we'll see more of you here.” Dean gives an uncertain wave and dashes into the elevator as soon as the doors slide open. He darts another look up at the desk but the woman is on the phone, hands and face animated. Dean has the funny feeling the whole office will know about his visit before the elevator reaches the carpark.
However, she was right. It is only a short drive over to the address on the post-it. Dean stares up at the building, all old stone and wide windows. He heads towards the door looking down the list of names. He's just about to reach for the bell when the door swings open. The man coming out holds it open automatically and Dean smiles and slips past him. He heads up and finds the door to Castiel's apartment.
His hand stops, hovers in front of the door and Dean gives himself a mental shake and knocks firmly. The sound of muffled steps comes from inside and then the door swings open. Dean's breath stutters and his hands flail slightly before one of them makes a half-hearted 'Hello'. Castiel in a suit was nice in a slightly nerdy way but this Castiel is something completely different and Dean would be happy just to stand out in the hall and stare.
Castiel's hair tumbles in a dark sleep-mussed tangle and Dean feels the urge to brush away the strands that droop over one dark, almost sapphire eye. His jawline is shaded dark with stubble, lips pale and almost feminine against the dark masculinity. However, Dean has seen all that before, it is the extra expanses of pale skin that have him frozen in the doorway.
The suit and trench have been replaced by a white wife-beater, the ribbed cotton clinging to the smooth muscles of Castiel's chest, baring the curve of shoulder, firm length of arms. Some kind of grey sports pants sit low over his hips, the barest sliver of pale abdomen on show where the two materials don't quite meet. Dean drags his gaze back up to meet Castiel's equally bemused stare.
Eyes flicker up and down as they both search for something to say. Finally Dean jerks his hands up in front of himself and makes the sign for 'Thank You.' Once he starts, it seems to come a bit easier and he continues on, eyes fixed on Castiel's face to make sure he isn't going too fast.
/Yeah, you know for the flowers and the coffee and the books. You really... it wasn't...I mean...I'm just going to go, you're.../ Dean's hand waves up and down, indicating the length of Castiel's body, searching for the word /whatever you are doing./
He turns, just about ready to make a run for it when Castiel's arm snakes out, long fingers wrapping around Dean's wrist, halting Dean in his tracks. The grip is so sudden Dean swings around under his own momentum, coming up against Castiel, chest to chest, one hand planted firmly against Castiel's ribs. He feels them shudder as Castiel inhales sharply and Dean's eyes drop down to those lips, soft and parted in surprise. He watches as they tilt slightly and then his lashes flutter closed as warm, slightly chapped skin brushes feather-light against his own.
The contact is there and then gone and curved lashes open to reveal two sets of eyes, one dark indigo, the other bottle green, both wide with surprise and darkening with desire. “Dean...” The word is hesitant, barely there and the world seems to pause.
Dean's eyes drop to Castiel's mouth and he leans in almost involuntarily, causing skin to brush against skin, touch soft as moth wings, before he jerks backwards, pulls both his hands away from Cas and signs quickly, uncaring if Castiel misses words.
/Thanks, and you don't... you shouldn't send any more gifts. We're good. Friends that is. I'll see you later, yeah?/ And Dean disappears down the hall leaving Castiel to slump back against his door, bewildered but strangely happy.
On to Part Seven
Anna was in her usual place at the main reception, long auburn hair falling in a soft tumble over her shoulder as she smiled up at the UPS man who was delivering their latest shipment of mail. Her eyes widened as she looked at Castiel and he looked down at himself in worry. Everything seemed to be okay, he was pretty sure he could dress appropriately now; so he returned her smirk with an uncertain smile before dashing quickly down the corridor to Gabriel's office.
He was still looking down at his tie when he collided with a warm body and wobbled back on one foot. He let his gaze dart upwards, his eyes widening as he met Lucifer's bright gaze.
“Castiel.” Lucifer's voice was soft and low as he smiled gently at Castiel. Castiel blinked stupidly, as he did every time he was confronted with his older brother. Lucifer's gaze turned back into the office he had been leaving and Castiel wanted to sigh as he watched the blue eyes warm with love and devotion.
“I'll see you at lunch, Michael?” Michael let his body lean gently against the door frame as he returned Lucifer's smile. He reached out and trailed his fingers gently over Lucifer's hand, as if even this short parting would be far too long. “Always.” Michael's smile was small and soft and continued to curve his mouth as he turned to Castiel.
“Good morning little brother. Have you come to let us know how things are going?” Brown eyes searched Castiel's face and he dropped his gaze, feeling awkward and far too revealed under that warm, enquiring look.
“Was just going... to ask Gabriel something.” Castiel doesn't want to talk to Michael about Dean, everything is still too new, too disconcerting and Castiel doesn't even know if it will ever go anywhere. He really needs help and as disturbing and strange as Gabriel is, Castiel still thinks that he is the only one who may truly be in touch with humanity. He squeezes past Lucifer and continued his dash along the corridor, popping into Gabriel's office and slamming the door behind himself.
“Castiel!” Gabriel let his chair drop forwards and slid his feet off the desk in the same graceful motion. “Did you already forget what I said about knocking?”
“Are you still watching medical soaps during working hours?”
“Touché, little bro. So what's up? How's thing with Deano? First base, second?” Gabriel laughed at Castiel's mystified expression and pushed a bowl of rainbow coloured candy across the desk. “Sit, eat, and tell me how it's going.”
Castiel quickly brought Gabriel up-to-date, and he waited as Gabriel sucked his lower lip into his mouth and hmmm'd thoughtfully.
“I did that background check on Dean. Not that I really needed to once I heard that surname. He's fairly well-known in certain circles. I actually ran into him and his brother once a while back, when I was still doing that whole Trickster thing. Only thing I can suggest is take it slow, he doesn't trust easy. Oh, and if you can get his brother onside, that would be a huge plus. Totally devoted to that kid. In fact, you should invite Sam down here, we should all get together, Sam could help with the translation thing.”
Castiel pondered Gabriel's words and nodded gently. He wondered for a moment, who exactly Dean is, or rather was, but then thought that he would rather hear it from Dean, than go behind his back and pry. He has the feeling that Dean would prefer it that way.
“Do you have a number for Sam?” Gabriel handed over a post-it, and Castiel stared at the digits. It's another step forward and Castiel knows he needs to take it if they ever want to get home, but he is beginning to feel that there maybe something more than home.
---II---
Sam, although initially surprised, is more than happy to hear from him, his voice warm and smiling, even over the phone. He agrees to come up, says that he will arrange time off as soon as he can and that he looks forward to meeting both Castiel and his brother Gabriel. Castiel doesn't want to leave things that long and so he resorts to the internet again, which may not be his wisest move. But he thinks it will probably be safer, and less embarrassing, than asking Gabriel.
6.2
On Wednesday Dean arrives at work, wending his way through the stacks as usual. As usual the library is quiet, temperature even, air with that faint tang of dehumidifier. As usual all of the staff are busy with their work, but still making time to wave a quick hello. What is not usual are the variations of strange smirk that most of them are wearing. Dean looks down at himself, suddenly worried in case he forgot to put pants on or something stupid like that. But no, he's perfectly respectably dressed. And okay, he may be wearing a sweater vest, but it was chilly out this morning. It's a perfectly normal item of clothing. Dean makes his way through to his office, expecting to see Morgan busy on the phone or typing furiously. Perhaps she can explain all these strange looks. However, Morgan seems to have been replaced by the largest floral arrangement Dean has ever seen. White camellias dangle their heavy heads surrounded by sprays of almond blossom and hawthorn, the scent of freesias fills the room and the whole lot is embraced in a circle of lush greenery.
Dean peeks round the edge of the jungle and spots Morgan. She grins wide and toothily and Dean feels the urgent need to run for the door.
“Good morning Dean. I take it you were a very good boy this weekend?” Her voice drips with honeyed insinuation and Dean feels both embarrassed and confused.
/What? Also, when did you land a rich boyfriend?/
“Oh they're not for me Dean. They're yours!” Morgan cackles and passes him a small florists envelope, Dean's name scrawled in delicate script across the front. Dean doesn't need to open it to know exactly who the ornate, flowing letters belong to. He retreats into his office, eyeing the flowers warily. He pops out a minute later, sidles along the wall to the coffee pot, filling his cup to the brim, and then, once more, retreats to his office.
As soon as he's fortified with delicious, life-preserving caffeine he works up the nerve to open the envelope.
Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I am sorry that we were interrupted. Perhaps, we could try again? C
Dean's head drops to the desk with a thump.
Thursday brings a hamper, decorated with emerald ribbon. Morgan helps Dean empty it, her reactions gleeful and curious, Dean's resigned. There is coffee, both Dean's favourite blend and some new ones. There are muffins and a lusciously golden pie. There are several bottles of Dean's preferred brand of beer. Dean gives Morgan the muffins to share out amongst the secretarial staff. He keeps the pie, but is careful to move it out of the way before his head meets the desk again.
Friday morning passes without incident. There are no flowers, no foodstuffs. Dean begins to relax. Then, late afternoon, he receives a call from the main reception, asking him to come sign for a parcel.
He wends his way upstairs and signs for the small box. It is surprisingly heavy for its size. He takes it back downstairs, gets someone in Security to check it for spells or anything freaky like that. It's clean and Dean already knows who it's from, the address label written in that same careful script. He takes it into his office, Morgan following behind, teasing Dean about his admirer.
He opens the box carefully and finds two books. One is an old Journal; the cover is leather, worn soft and smooth with age and handling. Dean slips on a pair of gloves and opens it slowly. The pages are thin, the handwriting spidery and almost illegible in places. But Dean can tell, it's a Hunter's Journal. He closes it and strokes it reverently. He lifts out the other book, still lying face down in the box. It's a copy of “On the Road”. Dean wonders why on earth Castiel would send him this. Morgan steals it from him, opens the cover and squeals.
“Oh my god, Dean! This is a first edition, this is like finding a vegan vampire. Oh, this is just so romantic.” Morgan's green eyes go misty as she stares off into the distance, book clutched to her chest.
“You have to do something for him. Go over right now, take him out for dinner.”
Dean blinks at Morgan as she rushes around him, finding his jacket and his keys.
“I'll finish up here, and lock up and stuff. Go on, go!”
---II---
Dean finds himself heading out to his car before he knows it. He slumps down in the seat, straightens up and drops his head on to the steering wheel and then slumps back again, head tilted back, eyes closed. Well, even if he doesn't invite Castiel out, he can at least go and say thank you for the gifts and ask him to stop sending things.
He drives over to the office building where he knows Castiel works. Security directs him up to the 7th floor after he writes Castiel's name on a piece of paper and shows the man his identification. The lift doors open and Dean blinks at the wide expanse of glass and sky that takes up the opposite wall. His eyes drop and he notices a desk, manned by a sleepy-looking red-haired woman. She perks up when she notices him, smiles wide and almost shark-like.
“Hello. How can I help you?” She looks Dean up and down again and Dean wants to cross his arms but he squashes down the urge to hide and swaggers over the desk. Best form of defence being a good offence and all that.
He lets his gaze flicker over her desk as he approaches and he spots a pen and a small post-it pad. He reaches out to take them and writes.
He turns the pad round and watches as the Receptionist's eyes widen and she looks again at him, this time with speculation. She turns the pad back to him and asks “And you are?” The tone of her voice makes Dean think she already has a pretty good idea as to his identity but he smiles tightly and scrawls
Her lips part in a soft 'Oh' and then she smiles, natural and bright and beautiful, before her face suddenly falls. “Oh, I'm sorry. Cas isn't in today. He's on special duties. I could call him....No actually, better idea.” She reaches for the post-its and pulls the top one off, crumpling it and throwing it to one side. She scrawls rapidly on the next one.
“Here. This is Cas's address. It's not too far from here. I'm sure it'll be fine if you just pop over. You can tell him I gave it to you and if he has a problem with that he can come see me.” Dean grins, the receptionist reminding him of Morgan. He wouldn't want to argue with her either. He nods his thanks and turns back to the elevator.
“It was really nice to see you, by the way. Hopefully, we'll see more of you here.” Dean gives an uncertain wave and dashes into the elevator as soon as the doors slide open. He darts another look up at the desk but the woman is on the phone, hands and face animated. Dean has the funny feeling the whole office will know about his visit before the elevator reaches the carpark.
However, she was right. It is only a short drive over to the address on the post-it. Dean stares up at the building, all old stone and wide windows. He heads towards the door looking down the list of names. He's just about to reach for the bell when the door swings open. The man coming out holds it open automatically and Dean smiles and slips past him. He heads up and finds the door to Castiel's apartment.
His hand stops, hovers in front of the door and Dean gives himself a mental shake and knocks firmly. The sound of muffled steps comes from inside and then the door swings open. Dean's breath stutters and his hands flail slightly before one of them makes a half-hearted 'Hello'. Castiel in a suit was nice in a slightly nerdy way but this Castiel is something completely different and Dean would be happy just to stand out in the hall and stare.
Castiel's hair tumbles in a dark sleep-mussed tangle and Dean feels the urge to brush away the strands that droop over one dark, almost sapphire eye. His jawline is shaded dark with stubble, lips pale and almost feminine against the dark masculinity. However, Dean has seen all that before, it is the extra expanses of pale skin that have him frozen in the doorway.
The suit and trench have been replaced by a white wife-beater, the ribbed cotton clinging to the smooth muscles of Castiel's chest, baring the curve of shoulder, firm length of arms. Some kind of grey sports pants sit low over his hips, the barest sliver of pale abdomen on show where the two materials don't quite meet. Dean drags his gaze back up to meet Castiel's equally bemused stare.
Eyes flicker up and down as they both search for something to say. Finally Dean jerks his hands up in front of himself and makes the sign for 'Thank You.' Once he starts, it seems to come a bit easier and he continues on, eyes fixed on Castiel's face to make sure he isn't going too fast.
/Yeah, you know for the flowers and the coffee and the books. You really... it wasn't...I mean...I'm just going to go, you're.../ Dean's hand waves up and down, indicating the length of Castiel's body, searching for the word /whatever you are doing./
He turns, just about ready to make a run for it when Castiel's arm snakes out, long fingers wrapping around Dean's wrist, halting Dean in his tracks. The grip is so sudden Dean swings around under his own momentum, coming up against Castiel, chest to chest, one hand planted firmly against Castiel's ribs. He feels them shudder as Castiel inhales sharply and Dean's eyes drop down to those lips, soft and parted in surprise. He watches as they tilt slightly and then his lashes flutter closed as warm, slightly chapped skin brushes feather-light against his own.
The contact is there and then gone and curved lashes open to reveal two sets of eyes, one dark indigo, the other bottle green, both wide with surprise and darkening with desire. “Dean...” The word is hesitant, barely there and the world seems to pause.
Dean's eyes drop to Castiel's mouth and he leans in almost involuntarily, causing skin to brush against skin, touch soft as moth wings, before he jerks backwards, pulls both his hands away from Cas and signs quickly, uncaring if Castiel misses words.
/Thanks, and you don't... you shouldn't send any more gifts. We're good. Friends that is. I'll see you later, yeah?/ And Dean disappears down the hall leaving Castiel to slump back against his door, bewildered but strangely happy.
On to Part Seven