Chapter Text
Dean was an idiot. He had to be. Why else would he be fifteen minutes outside of Manhattan right now, driving at approximately 2.5 miles per hour in rush hour traffic in a car that got 14 miles to the gallon to ambush a guy he had a crush on in the 11th grade. That is the sort of thing a total crazy person does, therefore, Dean Winchester must be a completely off his damn rocker. Nuttier than a fruitcake. Two beers short of a six pack.
And yet, here he was.
And Christ, could it be any hotter? The city air was about as pleasant as a wet blanket and between the humidity and the nerves, Dean was a sweaty wreck. When he'd left Lawrence he'd been so sure that this was the right choice, but all of a sudden those cold, familiar tendrils of doubt were winding their way around Dean's ribcage. Did he imagine the look of desperate longing and affection in Cas' eyes right before his dick brother, Gabriel, interrupted and sent the guy of Dean's dreams scurrying for the door? In that moment, he had been certain Cas meant to stay, that it would take nothing more than a gentle coaxing to get that skittish man Dean found so utterly impossible to forget to linger just a little longer. Like the total sucker Dean is, he hoped that maybe Cas would still find him as charming as he did when they were kids and fall for him. Which, when Dean thought about it for more than a few seconds, was fucking ridiculous. Cas' life was in New York City and Dean's was in Lawrence. The fact that they'd encountered each other by chance was unbelievable enough and there was no way they'd be able to make it anything serious. And what the hell made him think Cas would even want to see him? Maybe Dean was just some small-town yokel that Cas liked to fuck just to tell stories to his friends or...
"Jesus, Dean, if you keep thinking so hard you'll pop a blood vessel."
"What?" Dean snapped his attention to his brother in the passenger seat, who was watching him warily with a heavy crease between his brows.
"I can practically hear you second guessing yourself," Sam said, laying one monstrous hand on Dean's shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. "Just relax. Cas will be thrilled to see you. I'm sure of it."
Dean snorted. "What makes you think I'd be worried about that? Totally not worried, like, not at all," Dean said, but the words sounded too thin and there was no question as to whether or not Sam was on to him. He was giving Dean the signature puppy-dog-eyed, "I'm worried about you" look that Dean hated.
Dean leveled Sam with a glare and watched as his brother deflated, settling with the fact that Dean wasn't going to talk about it.
"Okay, Talbot & Turner is on 47th and 5th , that's me. Adler, MacLeod & Masters, that's Cas' firm, is on 50th and 7th. That's about seven blocks away," Sam said, studying the little GPS map of the city on his phone.
"Fantastic. So it'll only take another two and a half fucking hours to get there," Dean grumbled.
"It better not. My meeting is in thirty minutes."
"Don't worry, princess. We'll get you there in plenty of time to comb your hair and put on your lipstick."
Jokes aside, Dean was stupidly proud of his little brother. He'd always known Sammy was the smart one, that he would make something of himself. And here he was, interviewing with a major firm in New York City and, if everything went as planned, would have an offer from the environmental law department before he even graduated in the fall. Sam would have a good life, a secure life, and it made all the struggle, the double shifts, the cutting corners over the years, worth it for Dean. He could consider it Life Mission: Accomplished. So, what now?
Dean was struggling with that exact conundrum when Sam came home to Lawrence two weeks ago and told Dean about the interview. He was floundering between beaming with pride and confronting the horrifying concept that his baby brother was a grown ass man and it left him unsettled, on edge. All he wanted to do was have a couple beers and a few laughs with his brother and their friends like old times. Of course, that was the moment Castiel Novak decided to drop out of the sky and into his bar.
And where does that guy even come from? Seriously, the dude has this unreal ability to appear out of nowhere when Dean least expects to see him, like a harbinger of teenage nostalgia with sex hair and a voice that's been dragged through gravel. And Dean was drawn to him like a magnet every goddamn time. Just thinking about the man made Dean's blood run cold and then hot again, which was precisely the reason he was here, in New York, under the pretense that he was here to see Sammy through his interview. He just couldn't stop thinking about Cas.
So, they hooked up, a few times. That was a process with which Dean was intimately familiar. He liked sex and disliked emotional attachments, therefore a series of one night stands was pretty much par for the course. But Cas? Cas was different. He had a way of getting under Dean's skin and ever since he literally stumbled his way into Dean's life some fifteen plus years ago, well, it got Dean thinking that maybe more than one night wouldn't be so bad. Of course, normal, sane people didn't drive nineteen hours in two days on the off-chance that some guy you had a tumble with a time or two would want to have dinner.
And that was the horrible truth of the thing, all Dean wanted was to see Cas. He just wanted to sit across from him at a table and watch him eat a hamburger or drink a beer and talk with him for a little while. If they fell into bed after that, then he'd consider that a bonus. And if Cas said no and called Dean a stalker and a psychopath? Well, then at least Dean might finally be able to get those piercing blue eyes and soft lips out of his damn mind.
"Just drop me here Dean, I'll walk the rest of the way," Sam said anxiously, jarring Dean from his thoughts once again.
"Alright. Good luck, Sammy. You got this," Dean reassured his brother, giving him a slap on his massive shoulder and a smile.
"Thanks, Dean. Good luck to you too. Try not to fuck it up, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Like anyone could say no to this face," Dean quipped with a wink.
Sam was giving him that damn look again, but Dean ignored him. He couldn't stand it if Sam got all mushy on him again and luckily Sam kept whatever girly thoughts he had to himself this time. He gave Dean a resolute nod and stepped out of the car and disappeared into the chaos of the New York City streets.
________________________
It took Dean an inordinate amount of time to reach Adler, MacLeod & Masters LLP, which was located on the top floors of an impressive skyscraper in the middle of downtown Manhattan. Dean thanked his lucky stars for the valet service at the entrance (until they swindled $16 fucking dollars from him to take his baby away into some scummy underground lot). The towering building shimmered in the summer sun as the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped around it reflected the patches of blue sky that was visible above the skyline and Dean couldn't help but wonder how people could stand living in this city.
Dean lived in New York for a brief period in his mid-twenties. He fell in love with a girl named Lisa and moved to Brooklyn to be with her. But the crush of the city around him and the constant racket made Dean claustrophobic and edgy and despite the way his heart ached leaving Lisa and the son he almost considered his own behind, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief upon his escape. It was as if he'd been holding his breath for over a year and suddenly released the all tension in one massive exhale.
While living in Brooklyn, Dean avoided midtown Manhattan like the plague, particularly buildings like this one. Dean assessed the rotating glass doors warily before darting in and ducking out again, avoiding the push and shove of a bunch of dicks in suits swinging their briefcases around like personal space wasn't even a thing. Inside was all hard surfaces, tall ceilings and wide open spaces. The click of high heels on marble floors, the trilling of cell phones and the din of voices was deafening and Dean quickly made his way to the elevator bay, for once anxious for the silence of a tiny steel box on strings to hurtle him hundreds of feet in the air while listening to smooth jazz, because that sounded a hell of a lot more relaxing than standing the lobby.
Dean quickly entered a mirror-lined elevator with a handful of dudes wearing too much cologne and expensive haircuts and took a calming breath as the elevator moved silently upwards. Thanks to all the reflective surfaces and twelve hundred dollar suits around him, Dean was suddenly self-conscious in his t-shirt and jeans. It wasn't often that Dean thought about his style choices, and today was no exception, other than the fact that he'd worn the green shirt because Jo said it brought out his eyes.
When the doors opened, there was a press of bodies urgently exiting and entering the elevator simultaneously and Dean tried not to get knocked around. He took another deep breath and stepped into the reception area of Cas' firm. Everything around him was shades of gray from the fog-colored walls to the chrome hardware. A woman with bright red hair sat behind an imposing slate-colored desk typing primly on a keyboard. Dean approached the desk and the woman gave him a tight-lipped smile.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I'm looking for Castiel Novak? He, uh, he works here."
Dean cringed at his own nervous idiocy and the receptionist gave him a skeptical look.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, clasping her bony hands together in front of her in a way that reminded Dean of his third grade teacher, Mrs. Thomas, who was prone to giving Dean similar looks when he misbehaved.
"Um, no. He's a friend."
"So, he's not expecting you?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Well, no. But I only need to see him for like, five minutes," Dean said.
"Sir, our partners at the firm do not meet with clients or...friends without appointments. I can put you in touch with his secretary and you can schedule an opportunity to meet with him at another time," she said stiffly.
Who the hell did this bitch think she was, the god damn gate keeper? And wait, did she say partner? Cas had neglected to mention that tidbit of information at their last encounter. Then again, there hadn't been a huge amount of talking.
Clearly, the asking politely route was not getting him anywhere so Dean plastered on his most charming smile and glanced surreptitiously at the plaque sitting on the receptionist's desk. "Listen, Jennifer, I know it's your job to keep the riff-raff on the street away from your employers and I don't want to cause you any trouble, but if you could just, I dunno, get him on the phone? Maybe ask if he'll see me? I'd be eternally grateful. And if not, you're free to kick me out." He gave her a little wink for good measure and he saw the tightness around her mouth lessen slightly. Victory was his.
Jennifer heaved a put upon sigh and picked up the phone on her desk. "Your name, sir?"
"Dean Winchester."
She punched a couple numbers on the keypad. "Pamela, there is a gentleman by the name of Dean Winchester here to see Mr. Novak. He doesn't have an appointment." She gave Dean a nasty glare over the delicate rims of her glasses but Dean just smiled back.
Jennifer hung up the phone and just stared at Dean with a look on her face like she smelled something rank and Dean almost had the urge to sniff his t-shirt before he decided that's just what her face looked like. After an awkward couple seconds, a very pretty woman in a tight black dress, chestnut hair and legs for days strode into the lobby. She approached the reception desk and Jennifer nodded her head in Dean's direction and the babe in black turned her attention to Dean. She gave Dean the once over and didn't even bother to hide the smirk or the arch of her left eyebrow as she approached him.
"Mr. Winchester?"
"Yeah, hi. I'm here to see Cas. Er, Mr. Novak," Dean said sheepishly. He was not expecting so many obstacles between him and Cas, who was apparently secured away like he was the goddamn Queen of England.
"Uh huh," the woman said, throwing Dean a knowing smile. "I'm his secretary, Pam. Mr. Novak is very busy. May I ask what this is regarding?"
Dean visibly deflated. "I understand. I am a friend of his. I guess. From Kansas."
The woman's right eyebrow shot up to join the left. "From Kansas, huh?"
Dean nodded dumbly.
"Right this way, Mr. Winchester." She turned on her heel and walked very briskly past the partition and into the main of the office far too quickly for a woman in heels that high and Dean stumbled after her, giving Jennifer at the reception desk a triumphant look.
It was early afternoon and the office was buzzing. Men and women in dark suits and shiny shoes flitted around the room yelling into expensive cell phones and heaving file folders this way and that. Dean followed after the woman's trim frame like a lost puppy as she expertly dodged flinging arms and jogging interns. She directed him past a series of glass-walled conference rooms and rows of cubicles until they were standing in front of a corner office with a closed door and a sign that said:
Castiel Novak
Partner
Dean's stomach swooped nervously and he wasn't sure whether to blame the terrifying distance between himself and the ground (which he was made acutely aware of now that he was standing in front of a bay of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city), or the fact that Cas was on the other side of that suddenly intimidating door. Pamela shot him one last smirk before knocking sharply on the door and swinging it open wide without waiting for a response. Dean hovered just outside the office, shifting from foot to foot with a lump in his throat the size of Texas. From his obscured location, he could hear Pamela's warm but professional tone followed by the deep rumble of Cas' voice, though he couldn't make out the words. A few moments later, Pamela returned to Dean and gestured him toward the open door. It was now or never and Dean took a hesitant step inside.
Cas' office was something else. It was practically the size of Dean's living room and was eighty percent windows. The remaining walls were lined with massive, overstuffed bookshelves and slick, dark file cabinets topped with framed photographs. In the center of the room was an imposing wooden desk heaped with towering stacks of papers, behind which was Cas.
Cas was bent over his desk with a pair of dark framed glasses pushed up into his mess of dark hair. He heaved a heavy sigh and straightened his tie before lifting his eyes to Dean. Cas froze halfway out of his chair.
"Uh, hey Cas," Dean said, unable to control the awkward smile that was spreading across his face.
Despite the deer-in-the-headlights expression he was wearing, Cas looked good. Like, criminally good. Like, Dean wanted to go shake the hand of his tailor because the slim-cut gray suit he was wearing with a narrow tie and white button down shirt made the bottom drop out of Dean's stomach and the blood rush rapidly south.
"Dean?" Cas croaked.
Dean couldn't decide whether Cas looked horrified or simply surprised and he nearly went sprinting for the elevators, but when he glanced back at the doorway Pamela gave Dean a reassuring wink and disappeared from his line of sight. So, before he lost his gumption, Dean took a bold step into Cas' office and barreled ahead.
"Sorry to barge in here. I know you’re busy and I meant to call beforehand but, um, to be honest, I kept losing my nerve." Dean flushed at the admission, but it was the truth. He nearly called Cas a number of times during the drive, his finger hovering over the call button, but he kept chickening out. At one point, Sam got so irritated with Dean's lack of balls that he snatched the phone away and pressed the button, which resulted in a tussle at 80 miles per hour that nearly landed them in a ditch alongside the highway. Dean managed to end the call before Cas picked up and Sam pouted for the next hour, rubbing the shoulder where Dean had clocked him.
“So, you just looked me up and showed up at my office mid-day?’ Cas asked.
And shit, that wasn't what people said when they were happy to see you.
“I’m not some kind of stalker, I swear. Sammy had an interview with a firm in town and he asked me to come with him, moral support, you know? Unlike you, I look people up when I’m in the vicinity.”
At that, Cas smiled and Dean felt his heart dislodge slightly from where it had made its home in Dean's throat.
“I’m not going to live that one down, am I?” Cas asked, his eyes softening.
“Nope, sorry man. But, uh, if you aren’t too annoyed about me showing up uninvited, maybe you could make it up to me?” Even Dean could hear the edge of hope in his voice and prayed to whatever god might be listening to give him what he wanted, just this once.
“Oh? What did you have in mind?” Cas asked with the tilt of his head and an arch of his brow.
God, if that wasn't the sexiest look Dean had ever seen he didn't know what was. "I was thinking dinner, maybe?"
“I don’t know, Dean. You’re about ten years early, by my count.”
Dean almost laughed outright. There was no way in hell he was going to wait another ten years for the chance to maybe, possibly bump into Cas unexpectedly. It was unlikely that fate would be so generous and anyway, Jo and Ellen had blatantly accused him of "pining" the week after Cas returned to New York. Which was bullshit. Just because he was drinking whiskey at 2pm and listening to Foreigner’s "I Want to Know What Love Is" on repeat on the jukebox didn't mean he was pining. He just really liked that song, okay?
“Yeah, well, I’ve decided I can’t wait that long, not this time," Dean admitted, never one to mince words. "So, what do you say? Burger and a beer? Maybe a slice of pie?”
Cas smile lost its snarky edge and appeared almost shy. “Yes, of course. I’d like that Dean,” he replied. “Where are you staying? I’ll meet you there."
“Oh, Sammy and I are crashing at a buddy’s place in Brooklyn,” Dean explained. Sam's friend Adam from Stanford had graciously offered up his couch and floor for the weekend to save the brothers from spending their entire life savings on a couple nights in a New York City hotel. It was pretty cramped and Adam didn't have much to spare, but he insisted it was payback for spending all those Christmases at Dean's house in Lawrence to avoid his less than stellar parents.
“You came all the way to my office in midtown from Brooklyn on the chance that I’d be here to ask if I want to have dinner?” Cas sounded surprised.
Dean shrugged. “More like all the way from Kansas, but yeah. Something like that.”
Cas flushed crimson and Dean felt something in his chest stutter in response. "Well, I'm flattered."
It was as easy as that. They finalized plans for dinner at eight o'clock that night while Dean struggled to stifle the cheek-aching grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. The conversation lasted only a few minutes but Dean still placed the meeting firmly the category of Worth It. Worth the two days of driving, the seemingly endless traffic, the $16 parking, the crippling self-doubt. Yeah, definitely worth it because Cas was smiling and blushing and Dean was enamored. Infatuated. Head over goddamn heels.
After all was said and done, Dean turned to leave, but couldn't resist the urge to turn back once more.
"Hey, Cas?"
"Yes?"
"I'm liking the suit. A helluva lot." And because he just couldn't help himself, he shot Cas a saucy wink and watched the guy fall all over himself. It worked every time.
As soon as Dean was out of Cas' line of sight he felt a surge of joyous triumph. He fist-pumped the air, high-fived an unsuspecting paralegal and gave Jennifer's desk a nice, loud slap on his way out the door. He restrained himself from hugging the mailman in the elevator and the valet who brought Baby around. After being wound so tight for so many days, Dean was giddy with the relief. Because he had a date with a hot ass lawyer who was smarter than hell, wore a sexy suit, was dynamite in bed and blushed like a Catholic school girl.
Yep, Dean was the luckiest guy in Manhattan.