Dean was back in the office the next day.

And everything would have been normal, should have been normal, except that...

Dean didn't mock him, didn't come on to him, didn't mess with his computer, nothing.

He brought him coffee in the morning and donuts on their lunch break. He even smiled as he did so, didn't smirk, didn't grin, full on smiled!

Castiel couldn't remember ever being so terrified.

He was on his guard the whole week as this went on.

He tried breaking down everything that had happened before Dean started acting... nice. He picked apart every moment trying to find something, anything that could make Dean start plotting against him.

He was left clueless.

Whatever it was, it was going to be big and he just knew it.

He just didn't realize exactly how big it was going to be.

-/-

"Hey, uh Cas, I'm just going to head out for some fresh air, ok?'

He should have known, dammit, he should have known something was up right then and there, right after those words, right after that door shut behind him, but nope. Clueless for life should be tattooed on his forehead.

Actually, he should have known right after Dean offered Gabriel that the both of them could stay up in the office and polish through the new program, make sure there were no bugs or glitches before it was up for shipping tomorrow.

He was typing away at his computer, headphones on his ears, dead of the night when it all started.

"Ah... Oh, fuck... Cas, Cas..."- Startled, his head jerked too fast and the headphones came off, the sound of moaning coming from his speakers instead.

"D-Dean?" –His voice rasped in the dead silence, disturbed by the soft noises of shuffling and huffing from his speakers.

"Cas... Fuck, I want you..."

His mouth came agape, eyes shifting around the room in panic, lost in the situation.

"Dean are you... Where are you?" – And just like that, his screen pops off, and there he was.

The country's Public Enemy No.1 with his shirt off, legs spread wide, hands burrowed in his crotch, face flushed, looking straight at him.

"Hey..."- And still, that stupid smirk somehow managed to appear.

"Dean, whatever you're doing, stop it, or-"

"I'm jacking off while watching you."- Dean cut in, his smirk spreading wide.

"And thinkin' about you... Thinking about things I could do with you..."

"Dean, I-"

"Fuck, say my name again. Love your voice, Cas..."- He gave a soft sigh, head lolling to the side as his hand gripped tighter.

"Dean, this is... I'm calling security, and-"

"And what? You gonna tell 'em there's a gorgeous man upstairs with his legs spread eagerly awaiting you?" Dean voiced softly, his hand still working on him.

Castiel stared at the screen and the man there, shamelessly calling for him.

That was it, wasn't it? Dean was calling for him , this was all for him.

But, it was never that simple, not in his life. Dean was after all, a criminal, head con-artist. He managed to get away from the feds, who knew what else he was capable to do? He might have devised a plan, to film them and then threaten him for the rest of his life into obeying his every order. There might be something about him he wants, his job, his money, or maybe just to play a cruel joke.

"Dean, don't do this to me..." He was beautiful. And Castiel knew he was going to fall for him. Which was an outcome that couldn't happen.

"Cas, what are you talking about?" Dean's hand actually stopped moving, thank God, and the man straightened up in the chair, his crotch no longer occupying half the screen.

"Whatever it is, Dean, take it. Just don't make me go through this." Castiel shook his head morosely as he spoke to the screen.

Dean was everything and everywhere, inescapable, unavoidable. What Dean wants, Dean gets.

There were just some things Castiel couldn't give. He knew once something was Dean's it was lost forever.

"Cas, man, what-" But Castiel didn't stay to hear, and instead got up and out the door, trench coat in hand. Dean was too much, Dean was everything he wasn't and Dean he couldn't take, couldn't tame.

The voice trailed after him as he locked the door behind him, and down the halls he went, to hopefully reach the exit without further obstacle. And hopefully, get Dean out of his life. And then he remembered that there was no removing Dean, that the only way to escape him was to remove himself.

And he thought he was doing good, before the whole... Obsession started. And with him, with Dean it only developed further.

Castiel squeezed a hand over his eyes, hoping to push back memories, emotions, thoughts.

How hopeful he used to be, how willing he used to be. How every time, every Goddamn time he was left used and abused. How he thought all he needed was faith.

Faith let him down, left him a mess, and now Dean was toying with things he should know better not to touch.

"Cas! Castiel!" The man in question didn't turn, only cringed at the voice and sped up his step. He didn't have the fight in him to face Dean.

"Cas, please man, I'm sorry, just please, stop!" Dean's voice gained proximity, but the elevator was this close, he was ahead of him, he knew it, he could reach it just in time.

"Cas. Cas, please, stop for me, please." He was stopped just a reach away from his destination by Dean's body, strong arms holding him in place by the shoulders.

Castiel kept his head slung down, feeling vulnerable and just so tired from Dean and everything that was Dean. He could see that yes, Dean was still shirtless with his fly still open, black briefs peaking beneath the denim.

He felt sick to his stomach.

"You scared the crap out of me, Cas, come on, dude! What's wrong, what-what did I do?" Dean's voice broke on the last sentence, and Castiel wished he didn't notice it.

"Cas... Cas, do you need me to call someone, take you somewhere? Get you something?" Dean sounded scared, Dean whose arrogance he carried as a trademark, who took shit from no-one, who got what he wanted when he wanted it.

Blue eyes met him levelly, and the only thing Castiel could do was shake his head. Dean looked so unlike his usual pain-in-the-ass self, it almost made him flinch.

"Cas, can we talk? I mean, I-I get that what I did was out of line, or something, but come on, I've done worse. I don't get it, just, talk to me, please." His voice quivered with the broken words.

"Dean..." Castiel searched the man's face, and he found only conflicting messages. Dean's mouth hung open, eyes searching and wide, brows upturned in worry. Worst was, it looked completely sincere.

"Dean, you are gorgeous, you know this. If this is some plot you have against me, tell me what you want now and I'll give it up, without a problem." Castiel gave his side, and no matter how vulnerable and pathetic he sounded, he found he couldn't bring it in himself to care.

"Cas, that's fucking messed up, man." Dean seemed to deflate, but his shoulders still stood hunched together.

"I-I honestly don't have any idea what you're talking about. Nothing, seriously, nothing makes sense. I don't know where you picked up these stupid conspiracy theories, but..." Dean stopped to lick his lips and measure Castiel with a solid and hard look.

"I want you. I haven't wanted in so long, and I seriously, totally want you. I've seen enough of you to be sure. If you don't want me, that's fine, but don't blame anyone or anything else. Just tell me outright. Stop scaring me." Dean tried keeping his voice a flat line, but Castiel was always a good observer and saw through that. He was obviously shaken, and Castiel was at a loss again. What then?

"Dean... You frustrate me. You really do. I don't know what to make of you." He said as much as he felt.

Dean licked his lips, voice a whisper that echoed through the empty hallway.

"Cas, I'm not asking you to elope. If you want this... Just reach for me."

Castiel hitched a breath at the spoken words. Dean was open territory, open for him. But he was afraid, so damn afraid, he could only stare wide-eyed at Dean, his chest, his neck, his shoulders... Until Dean made the decision for him and slammed their mouths together, making Castiel take a step back and hit his back on the wall.

Dean quickly removed his lips, though kept the proximity their bodies gained, and remained to breathe loudly against the other man's cheek, his breath hot and heavy. Castiel eyed Dean and all the opportunities he presented, and maybe, just maybe he could have him. Even if for just one night, he was going to give it his all, be it his last. He was going to give Dean everything he always kept reigned in, he was going to let loose all emotion and thought and love Dean's body like he wished he could love.

With the decision made, he pounced on him, trading places, making Dean hit the wall with a yelp, and set his mouth against his in a merciless kiss. He didn't leave Dean a moment to breathe, only kept going and going, his tongue darting against Dean's, exploring all that slick warmth he hid, and swallowed all moans and breathy groans.

Dean's hands grabbed onto Castiel's shoulders, nails digging in the coarse fabric, holding onto him for dear life. The sharp pain elicited a deep throaty moan from Castiel, which in return made Dean visibly shudder. In the moment, Castiel took a pause a just look at Dean estimate where this was going, and just then he was sure. Dean with his flushed skin, cheeks red and chest pink, mouth slack and spit-shined, thoroughly bitten, eyes wide and pupils blown. Dean might be a wildcat, stretch his legs and leave after his meal, but tonight, he was his to have and touch.

With his mind set straight he lunged at Dean, finding the strength and courage to let himself go. With his hands firmly grasped onto the other man's thighs, he wrapped up both of his legs around his waist. Dean followed the change with a surprised gasp and came to ease the situation, gripping Castiel tightly with his legs.

Castiel didn't let Dean a breath out of the kiss, the man against the wall following every wordless instruction with an eagerness Castiel hadn't experienced yet. The weight of his body was just a warm, welcoming mass, made to kiss and caress.

A poke at his stomach told him his next move.

"You want..." Castiel accented the statement with a role of his hips, his own bulge sliding against Dean.

"Door... Office..."-Dean breathed out in sighs, but the message was clear.

Unwilling to drop the warm weight that was Dean, Castiel kept the man onto him, Dean clenching ever tightly, as he found the nearest door to open and get on with it. The man straddling him kept kissing at his neck, licking beneath his ear, breathing heavily to add the effect.

He didn't have the mind to register his surrounding, only that they were alone and there was an empty table to lay Dean onto. He dropped him down onto the hard surface, and oh hell, was this a sight.

Propped onto his elbows, needing and ready for him, Dean with his feverish breath and glazed eyes looking at him as if the world was held into his hands. He'd have to keep this picture, catalogue it in his mind, for he was sure only the luckiest in life ever felt what it's like to be looked upon with utter adoration.

"Take your clothes off." Dean hushed, running hungry eyes over him.

Castiel didn't respond verbally, only kept his eyes on the sight before him and took to his shirt's buttons with a hurry. He didn't want to miss this, afraid even a slight stall might somehow send this whole deal in ruins.

Green eyes followed the undoing of every button, of every inch of skin that peeked out under the white shirt. Slipping it down his shoulders after a slight stumble with the cuffs, Dean's heaving breath hitched, tongue peeking out to lick his kiss-hungry lips.

Castiel continued, fumbling for the belt, not bothering with taking it off, instead focusing on getting his pants off, slipping the shoes and socks in one awkward tumble, until all that remained were his boxers which really didn't hide much.

"Take it all off." Dean demanded, his voice broken and so turned on, Castiel's hands begged to be on him.

"No. Not before getting you..." Castiel let the sentence drop, for he had more important matters to attend to, rather than fumble with his words.

"Yes..." Dean's voice dropped as Castiel took him by his ankle to drag him closer. He took to the man's jeans with a hurry. As he worked them down, Dean's hands got impatient and they were on him, hot skin grabbing onto anything he could reach, nails grazing his shoulders, fingers slipping from his chest to his stomach.

It felt so good to be touched, to feel want in another's fingers, he almost felt guilty. As if this was something reserved for better people, a reward.

But the lust was for him, and him only and he held onto that thought as soft words of praise raced his heartbeat on, and urged his hands on. Pulling down the jeans, boots and socks off he let himself indulge in all that skin, bared just for him.

His fingers glided through Dean's legs, light hairs catching between them, a meaty softness as he squeezed the sprawled man's thighs. Breathy sighs followed the movement, the frantic hands grabbing onto his neck and pushing him forward to meet Dean's lips.

Castiel returned the kiss with as much fervor as he got, and made the final move to get the man's boxers off. At this, the kiss broke, Dean staring wide-eyed and expectant, Castiel's eyes turning down to watch the bobbing erection that stood between them.

He must have lost himself staring, for the next thing he knew a hand was at his cock, squeezing until he finally registered that his own underwear was slipped down. And Dean's grip turning hesitant and slow, though not seizing to pump.

Castiel gave one last look at Dean's scorched red face before he pushed the hand off, and grabbed his legs, hoisting them over his shoulders which in turn made the man drop unceremoniously down onto the table.

"Fuck, man!" Dean voiced with a shout of pain.

Castiel gave an apologetic kiss at his ankle, and went for his main objective. His head diving down between the man's thighs and to his hairy middle, he kissed and mouthed with little finesse and a lot of passion. All his past imaginings and fantasies and petty musings about what rimming might feel like fell unneeded and ridiculous as his tongue ran across Dean. He tasted like sweat, like cock and balls, like Dean which was so much better than any misunderstanding he might still hold.

"Cas, Cas, man!" Dean yelped, followed by a long and guttural moan, his holy body twitching at the unexpected sensation.

"Do you wish me to stop?" Castiel emerged from bellow to give Dean a worried look.

His statement was followed by silence, only deep breaths and a longing gaze.

"No. Hell, no. Just... Lube's in the pocket. Condom too." Castiel allowed himself a smirk at Dean's disbelief.

He quickly reached for the discarded jeans, rummaging through pockets with impatience until he found what he was looking for. With the small, plain bottle in his hands, the other holding onto the package, he turned to Dean and the display between his legs.

He could have asked if Dean was sure, if this was what he wanted, if this felt right, but he wanted to hold on to this firmly, to leave no room for going back.

He popped the cap open and ran the liquid between his shaking fingers to warm it up. As he did, he regained his place between Dean and ran a finger where he was still wet from before. Dean shuddered with his whole body and let Castiel take lead him.

Preparing Dean felt like a whole hour of soft moans, needy yelps and rough directions. But Castiel listened and did as he was told, slower, to the left, harder, crook it right there, take it back, go for it and so on and so on, until Castiel felt like he was the one being opened and raw.

And after, after Dean was a sloppy mess of 'yes's and 'Oh fuck's, Castiel dropped the last of his clothing and allowed himself to indulge in the deeply satisfied hum coming from the other man, he slid the condom on and placed himself gingerly, awaiting the final 'yes'.

When it came, accompanied by a 'fuck', he slid in, all warmth and easiness and all encompassing tightness that came with the push. He stopped to breath and adjust, Dean already relaxed and urging him on with the heels of his feet, pushing at his back.

The push and pull was an easy, free movement that clutched at Castiel's heart as if pulling him in Dean with all his thought and emotion, letting it bury itself in there, to be freed by all. What captivated him most was the look, that satisfied, utterly content expression on Dean's face, teeth biting on his lips, green eyes half-lidded and unblinking, staring right back at him.

It was all his doing, at that moment, in that room, he owned Dean's pleasure and he brought it forth, thrusts turning frantic and faster, losing rhythm only feeling.

And the most remarkable moment, the one would hold onto as his most prized accomplishment, was seeing Dean shout his name, feeling his nails dig scars into his back as the man's cum dropped down on his chest and stomach. His own climax came shortly after seeing Dean's eyes open softly and sleepy, the tightness becoming unbearable, twitching and holding onto him.

With the last of his excited tension he slipped out, cold and suddenly so afraid, so frightened, panicked. He twisted the condom off with nervous fingers, wrapping it up and dropping it into a paper filled basket, conveniently close.

"Cas... " That was worry in Dean's voice, previously rich with passion.

He almost felt it like a slap, as he hurried for his clothing, grabbing onto anything that resembled his shirt, slipping it on backwards, inside-out, whatever, important thing was to get away, away before the predator lurched forward and got the last of him.

"Cas, dude, stop it." No, not that faux relaxed voice, nothing could make him come back. He was done, he was so afraid that Dean got it, that Dean knew.

"Cas, please." It was almost over by then. His hand on the door, trench coat in hand, he almost broke right there.

Without a reply he left, out the door and through the halls, trembling finger on the elevator and finally out the building, no one coming to stop him now.

With the cold night air hitting his heat wrecked body he stood to breath and let the panic wash over him in waves before it was finally gone.

He couldn't love Dean. And he had to tear out that building emotion before it was too late, he had to.

-/-

There was music...

Steady beat of drums and soft piano. Lulling and yet energetic. As if depicting nervousness. The nice kind of nervous, when you await something, when you're hopeful.

Something so familiar...

He blinked his eyes open with difficulty and heard it again. He was still unconvinced at his lucidity and snuggled deeper into the warmth. The music was still following him though, and somehow grew louder as if calling for him. He didn't want to go anywhere though, he was too relaxed. He was wasted, from the bone up, his whole body a liquid mass of relief.

But then the tension grabbed onto him, and instead of the welcoming music, humiliation brought him to wakefulness.

Last night...

He left him. Had him and left him. But Dean stayed with something much more valuable. He had his love. And Castiel wanted it back, wanted it back so bad.

A loud clank of something hitting the floor had him on alert.

He jerked up immediately, still not fully awake, head swimming with pain. With a hand on his forehead, he pushed the covers off, stood up with mild difficulty at the abruptness of movement.

There was muffled noise coming from somewhere down his apartment. And music, his music. Without much thought of looking decent when there was a burglar in his home, he looked for something, anything hard enough to land a fatal blow with. Books and books, only fucking books in his small bedroom, little money and less interest to spend it on something else.

He ended up grabbing a heavy 1000 and more so pages of a hardcover encyclopedia on world history. Careful not to make much noise, he clicked open the door and descended down the tight hall and to where he could hear the music and faint clinks and clanks. His living room/kitchen is where he or she was, and no matter how afraid he was, adrenaline told him he had the guts to do whatever was needed.

His steps thankfully unheard on the rug, he stopped at the corner, taking a horribly loud, shuddering breath before he turned the corner and- dropped the book on his feet, making him shout for God's mercy before dropping down on the floor to hold his injured foot.

"Cas, what happened?" Dean was on the floor, kneeling beside him, Dean who he hated, hated with a passion.

"You... You dropped the book on yourself, seriously? Wait up." Dean sighed tiredly, as if this was just something that happened to Castiel, his clumsy friend who he knew so well, and left for the bathroom.

Castiel sat on the floor, foot throbbing between his hands, and he hated the world so much, he wanted to yell and shout and curse, but was too lost to do anything. Dean made everything difficult, with his care-free attitude and easiness.

"Here... Let me see." Dean was back not a minute later, his hands taking the injured foot, and boy, did Castiel feel like a loser right then and there.

"It's just sore. Lemme just..." He took a small container of cream and applied it with gentle fingers.

"Says it should help with pain, or something... By, the way, love the boxer-briefs" Dean chuckled and Castiel took a moment to look at himself. He was wearing the bright orange ones Gabriel bought him. It was the first clean thing he grabbed onto after yesterday's shower.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Castiel finally got his voice, blunt and to the point as he always was.

"Well that's not quite the welcome is it?" Dean stopped massaging him, dropping the foot down, but remained kneeling.

"I didn't invite you in the first place Dean. I only hurt myself because I thought I had a criminal in my home, and I wasn't so wrong, now, was I? Now you tell me how you got in here and why you are here." Castiel used his deep voice and steel gaze, hoping it would cover up the whirlwind of thoughts.

"Ok then. Used a bobby pin. Turns out all that CSI watching did me some good-"

"And why are you here?" Castiel cut in before that smile let out a chuckle.

Dean took a stop and turned his eyes away, something like reigned fear glinting for a moment there. He stood up and went for the counter, and just then did Castiel noticed the numerous pans and cooking material lying around.

"Thought I'd make you some pancakes. Since, you know, you were in such a hurry last night, I figured you got the munchies and couldn't spare a glance at me in hunger." Dean spoke as he rummaged through some pans, looking indecisive and nervous.

Castiel gulped audibly, and made to stand up. What he had done was shameful, and now, clad only in his underwear and looking meek is where he felt most humiliated.

"That's not..." But he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to say what had actually happened.

"Take a shower, Cas." Dean said after an awkward pause, finally settling his hands around a bowl and spoon.

"Dean, you can't-"

"I said take a shower." He finally looked at him, setting his hands with a thump on the counter, and in those green eyes ran anger, those words were a command.

Castiel only nodded, ducked his head down and went to do as he was told.

-/-

After the shower, which was undeniably relaxing he was in his bedroom. He took his time with the clothing. He tried convincing himself that it was because he was really indecisive, but really, he wanted to prolong his meeting with Dean.

In the end, he decided on a plain, grey t-shirt and jeans. He was at his home, dammit, he could wear whatever he wanted, and he was going to send Dean off and away, because he was in charge here, this was his territory and Dean wasn't about to sully it.

With that thought set firmly, he descended to the kitchen, where he was struck with the most heavenly smell.

"Hey... You like maple syrup or jam?" Dean must have had the time to gather himself, because he looked back to his old self. Chirpy and smiling, as he was always meant to be.

On the counter sat a plate full of fluffy pancakes, like the ones they show on commercials. Castiel never really had anything cooked in this apartment. He'd tried, sure, but he'd also failed.

"Dean..."

"Or powdered sugar? I checked though, think you're out. Plus, this is prune jam I'm talking about, best thing ever." Dean spoke as he gathered two spoons and grabbed the plate with pancakes to take to the coffee table in front of the television.

If only the situation was different, this would have been heaven.

"You have no right to be here, Dean." It hurt to say it, hurt so badly his voice cracked.

Dean stopped as he went back for two plates. He gazed at nothing for a moment before he turned his eyes back to him, and there it was again. The anger. Only it wasn't so much reigned in as much as it was waiting to burst out.

"You had no right to leave me like that last night. Like I was just a fuck." He spit the words out, and boy, did it hurt to hear it. It was the truth though, in retrospect.

"I didn't do that." Castiel shook his head in remorse, afraid to look Dean in the eye. He wasn't that kind of person, never wanted to be, couldn't even handle hurting someone like that.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did ,Cas. Finished the job, threw the condom, and left! Not a word, not even a glance back at the man you were just in, and left! Left me to clean myself up, clean the office and go home, like a fucking hooker!" Dean hollered at him, getting in his face with every stomp he took. Castiel shed away under the intensity from the words.

"It wasn't my intention..." Castiel said lamely, and even he could hear how pathetic and not enough that was.

"Wasn't your intention? Then please, explain your fucking intention?" Dean's voice took a dangerous low. He had every right to be angry, hell, he had every right to punch him.

"Cas, I saw you back there. I felt you. And you, leaving like it was nothing, it's not... I know what I saw, and I know it wasn't nothing. It was everything, Cas, and you were-"

"I'm not in love with you, Dean." Castiel cut in before he could say it, before it was out on the open.

"I'm not saying you are. But last night, you fell for me." And there it was. Dean knew it and now, there was nothing he could do about it.

"You can't lie to me, Cas. So, please. Tell me what happened?" His voice softened with understanding, and it sickened Castiel, sickened how soft and good he was, even after that.

"I... I can't afford to... Dean, if I be with you, if I love you, you will... You will leave, dissatisfied and unfulfilled. It's happened too many times by now, and it's just... It would be wasting yours and mine time. I am uninteresting, dull, socially inept, sexually hesitant and possessive. While you... You are wild and handsome and so gorgeous. And smart, sexy and unforgiving. You will realize what a bore am I, and leave. And I wouldn't blame you, but I would blame myself for failing us." Castiel vomited out his thoughts and fears, and though he thought this would set him free, he only gave Dean the ammo to attack.

"Cas... That's fucking insane, man." Dean laughed, taking Castiel's head with both hands to give his cheek a kiss. Castiel didn't budge, only stood stock still awkward and shocked at the reaction he received.

"Dude, you have some issues." Dean laughed on and on, like he was the funniest joke anyone ever told, but his hands didn't leave his neck and face. There was warmth in his laugh, relief, perhaps.

"Dean, please..." He had to stop him sooner or later, for he didn't seem to winding down, his laughter only building up and up, until it finally turned to slow hiccups.

"Cas... You're setting us up for failure before we've even started." Dean took one last chuckle before he sobered up.

"I get that you've been hurt in the past, with all that self-demeaning bullshit, but I really don't care. Honestly" He shrugged before continuing.

"To be frank, you're kinda amazing, and kinda perfect for me. And I kinda really like you. Sort of." Castiel couldn't hold a chuckle at this which in turn made Dean smile.

"So... You know, if you want to be with me, then I'm up for it. And before you go on ranting about stupid shit no one cares about, let me just tell you that I would really, really want to have you as my boyfriend." Dean finished with a meek smile and a nervous look to his right.

"I'll... I accept."

"Good. So, you never told me, syrup or jam?"

There is going to be an epilogue to this, the whole truth about whatever the fuck happened with the feds and how their relationship is working out.

Hope you enjoyed this story, and hope it was satisfactory.

Thank you to everyone that has reviewed, you are all amazing and make me feel mushy inside and of course, make me want to write more.

Reviews are, as always, welcome. :)