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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

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elexica · 3 years

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Give & Toke

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069568

Happy 4/20 Yugihoes,

Please accept a humble posting of my puppyshipping/violetshipping weedfic.

Joey showed up at Kaiba's shiny new dispensary for the sole purpose of kicking Kaiba's ass.

It does not go as planned.

A gift for @sky-kaijou / @sky-kaijou-writes in honor of the 2020 New Zealand Cannabis Reefer-endum. TW: Marijuana use and sale.

Title by @auroraXborealis <3 For the Professional Rivals prompt of AU-Gust. . . . (context for this fic) Marijuana is decriminalized currently in Domino City, and stores can be licensed through a regulatory scheme similar to that of California.

Full story under the cut

Joey stomped into the new cannabis shop in the neighborhood. It looked like an Apple store: white walls, smooth white tables, iPads and clerks in matching polos. Gentrification had taken his neighborhood by storm, spinning the older apartment complexes into glamorous condos, replacing the older styled homes with sleek modern imitations, and leaving everyone who couldn’t keep up forced to either move away or to the streets.

Joey’s own rent was soaring, and so was his bitterness towards the invaders to his territory. And especially this cursed-ass pot shop. The shiny new dispensary hadn’t made a terrible dent in his sales, but he couldn’t keep up with the variety, the quality, or the convenience.

It was a travesty to his profession, is what it was. Joey had been dealing for years—he’d never gotten an allowance from his father and passing a little pot along had made up the difference. Once he graduated high school, it morphed into something of a full-time gig. That hadn’t been his intention. It wasn’t like he was trying to move up the distribution ladder or become the next gang lord. But he’d built a good network, and in an industry that ran on relationships and reputation, it was really going pretty well for him.

And this bastard had the gall to move into his territory! Sell his soulless, corporate product to his loyal customers. With this robotic, inhuman, unfeeling mockery of everything that weed is.

Joey spotted a mustachioed blue-polo wearing corporate shill and waved him over. “I’m here ta talk ta yer manager. Give him ‘a piece of my mind.”

“If you intend to make threats against Mr. Kaiba in some sort of gang turf nonsense, you have no idea the true power that you are—” the goon responded, placid energy souring. Joey’s fists clenched tighter, body preparing for a fight.

“I’m not sure a piece of your mind would get you very far.” While Joey was attempting to intimidate the soulless bud-tender, a tall brunet in a white suit with a light blue oxford shirt had stalked up behind him and interrupted.

Joey spun on the toe of his well-worn red Nike’s. “An’ who do ya think you are?”

The brunet crossed his arms over his chest. “Seto Kaiba, the license-holder for this establishment.”

Joey nervously ran a hand through his messy blond hair. He hadn’t expected the shop owner to be so young. Or attractive. All of his fight drained from him. In Joey’s decade of experience, rival dealers were rarely so… professional and polished. Joey felt instantly underdressed in his varsity jacket and jeans.

“Uh… well, yer in territory that doesn’t belong ta ya!” Joey stammered.

“Is that so? I assure you, I have all required state and local permits,” Kaiba answered, blue eyes narrowing. The taller man let a stray glance to Joey’s old, green Jansport backpack. “Perhaps if you had a better view of my inventory, we could have a more amiable business relationship. I’m not trying to alienate everyone in my industry.”

It was insane, the way the taller man could knock the fight out of him without even trying. Joey had never considered that his enemy would possibly seek to de-escalate the situation. Joey nodded and followed the taller man to the back, hypnotized. He maybe shouldn’t have smoked a bowl before raiding the enemy facility.

Inside an equally pristine office, Kaiba lit a pre-rolled joint and took a long inhale. He passed it across the desk, the rolling papers poised delicately between his forefinger and middle finger.

Joey accepted the joint and took a hit. After an impressive pause, Kaiba released smoke rings from his lips slowly, in that perfect practiced way. The smoke dissipated softly, fading from tight circles and clouding the air. With no windows in the room, it seemed that his intent was to hot box it. Joey wondered idly how the white marble of the desk was so free from dust or ash if Kaiba took to smoking here.

Joey passed back the joint before releasing his breath in a round of hacking coughs.

While Joey was gasping for air and trying to gather his bearings, Kaiba produced a glass of water and a plain white ashtray. He gently rested the joint on the edge.

“That was a proprietary strain—Blue Eyes White Dragon. It’s Sativa. I’m working on a hybrid model that has a significantly greater THC content. But the current Blue Eyes plant has the highest percentage of CBD for Sativa plants currently on the market in Domino. Thoughts?” Kaiba unbuttoned his white blazer.

Joey’s eyes watered, and he managed to take a few sips from the glass. “It tastes… unique. Kinda minty?”

Kaiba nodded, raising the joint to take another hit.

“So, y’know, I came here to talk about ya encroaching on my business. I’ve built up a book ‘a business in this part ‘a Domino, and I’m not gonna give up that easy!” Joey said, straightening his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if he was sitting up properly. The world was already starting to feel a little warmer, fuzzier. His forehead sort of tingled like he had a third eye.

Once again, Kaiba blew out a series of flawless rings, staring into space. The blue irises of his eyes were framed by smoke-induced redness. “Yes, well, I have no intention of cowing to any threats. I took this corrupt pharmaceutical company from my dead father, and I am turning it into something that can actually improve people’s lives. And no puny street punk will stand in my way.”

“Oof. Sorry for ya loss.” Joey elected to ignore the last comment, as a gentleman. And because, for the first time, he spotted a white holster tucked under the newly opened sport jacket.

“Don’t be, he was a bastard,” Kaiba said with a satisfied smirk.

Joey laughed at the insinuation. He might’ve had more to say, under other circumstances, but Kaiba had shared the good shit. Instead, the room felt a few degrees warmer than when he had entered and he removed his letterman jacket, revealing his toned biceps.

Kaiba was constructing another round of rings when his eyes met Joey’s sculpted arms. His focus was completely dashed, and he ended up exhaling the rest of the smoke from his nose, like a dragon.

“Ha, ya see something ya like, rich boy?” Joey said with a signature grin, picking up the joint again. It was already almost half-way spent.

Kaiba looked away dismissively. “Irrelevant. Mr. Wheeler, it was a matter of time before you paid my enterprise a visit. As you have most likely noticed, there are certain elements of the trade in which I excel. I am a gifted scientist, an expert businessman, and—”

“A robot? You’ve had double the hits I have and ya won’t even crack a smile! I dunno what yer tolerance has ta be, but ya ain’t human anymore.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes, tapping the joint against the ash tray to release some of the built-up cinders. “There is a certain social element to this business that I have no interest in participating in.”

Joey leaned over a little in his chair. “Is that so?” He meant to have an interrogator’s pose and expression, but he was worried he just looked high as balls.

Kaiba passed the still burning joint across the table, little red ember barely emanating light in the bright white office.

“I would like to absorb your book of business and employ you as a bud-tender.”

Joey rejected the joint and cracked his knuckles, knowing that the action flexed his arm muscles. An almost-imperceptible blush flashed across Kaiba’s cheeks. “I’ve been my own boss, mostly, for a little while now. Why should I be a glorified store clerk for ya?”

“You can’t possibly see this career continuing to serve you indefinitely. You’ll need to go legit or go to jail.” Kaiba lazily released one more puff of smoke before butting the joint. “But, I am amenable to other arrangements. What do you propose?”

Joey smiled at the suggestion. “Partner. It doesn’t haveta be fifty-fifty or anything, but I’ve built somethin’ up, and I know what I’m worth. I gotta be making at least five g’s a month.”

Kaiba finally broke. He laughed almost hysterically at the suggestion, doubling over and taking a full minute to get his breathing to settle. “Yeah, ok. That would be, maybe, a five percent share of the retail business.”

Joey stretched, resting his arms behind his head, giving Kaiba an eyeful of his tight white t-shirt and strong pectorals underneath. “Ten percent of the retail company.”

Kaiba nodded, picked up his phone and typed away. “The contract will be prepared presently.”

“Neato,” Joey said with a lecherous smile. Everything felt soft, warm, comfortable—even if the room looked so sterile it could be used for a surgery. “Now, what should we do with this time?”

Kaiba shifted in his seat and adjusted his light blue tie.

Joey leaned forward, planting an elbow on the desk. “I got some ideas I think you’ll like, partner…”

Kaiba leaned over the desk as well, a small smile budding on his lips. “Oh, already?”

“Yeah. In this business, yer supposed to seal a contract with a kiss.”

“I do not think that’s custom—”

Joey closed the remaining distance and captured his lips in a searing kiss. Kaiba relaxed into the kiss almost instantly. It was softer than Joey had expected. Sweet and hot, with the flavors of mint, smoke, and cannabis on his partner’s lips.

Joey only broke it to walk over and climb into the brunet’s lap.

The contract was respectfully slid under the door.

FIN

#seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #puppyshipping #Violetshipping #my fic #crossposted on ao3 #tw: drug use #tw: marijuana use

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giftcityproperty23 · 18 days

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Office Space in GIFT City for Lease

Under such circumstances, the renting of office space in GIFT City is highly recommended for those companies. A start-up and established company alike benefits by getting prime locations without long-term commitments through commercial office space for rent..

Flexibility: It provides one with the option to rent and upgrade or downsize according to operations. This option has become very beneficial for an expanding business and that requires a temporary office setup. It is cost-effective since firms are not willing to invest in property on a long-term basis find renting cost-effective. As such, they can operate from a prime location without incurring upfront costs of acquiring the property. Conclusion GIFT City epitomizes the rise of India as a financial and IT destination, among other world-class infrastructures. GIFT City Property caters to the varied needs of a business, from buying to selling to renting office space. Not strategically located but also with all that modern infrastructure, coupled with regulatory incentives, GIFT City is much more than just a destination to work at; it's a place where businesses will want to grow out of. Now, if you are considering office space in this vibrant city, is really a good time to explore the possibilities. Connect with the service provider today for all the minute details associated with the office space of GIFT City Property.

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positivlyfocused · 3 years

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How I Easily Created An Awesome Job-Free Life

This is part three of a three part series on how I created a life where I no longer have to work a job. It began when my wife gave me an ultimatum. What came after that was a wonderful unfolding culminating in where I am today: no longer working a job, money coming in easily with little effort on my part and a life filled with joyful moments of clarity, peace, and joy.

In this post I’m going to describe what happened after starting work at the bridging job I created. I described how I created that job in part two.

A job let me live job-free

I went to work for this company. It was a wonderful time where I explored working for a very large successful Corporation again after working at Intel many years ago. This job was much more manual labor focused. I delivered packages around town in a truck.

I enjoyed this work. And I enjoyed working with people who typically take these kinds of jobs. I worked mostly in white-collar executive positions, wearing snazzy clothes in large offices. This opportunity opened my eyes to a different type of people. I had not had the opportunity to work alongside laborers, people who traded their labor for income. What I learned surprised me.

^^A picture of me at the wheel of my delivery vehicle while on my “bridging job.”

I wrote about many of these eye-opening experiences in this blog. Most fascinating is, when I look back on that job remembering how much fun I had, I also see how that job filled its purpose exactly as I designed it: as the bridging job that would take me from earning a living through a job, to having money flow easily into my life experience without working for it.

While working there, I changed old beliefs that had me tied to wanting jobs. Beliefs such as “a job says a lot about your self worth”, and, “working for a big company carries a lot of status”, and “making money says a lot about who you are”. Using the Positively Focused approach I soothed these old beliefs so the reality I wanted as my life became the life I have: one where none of these beliefs exist and I live job-free.

Happiness creates opportunity

So it was no surprise to me that shortly after the start of 2020, rumblings among the permanent staff indicated there might likely be layoffs coming. Our jobs were seasonal, but the permanent staff suggested here and there that our jobs might become permanent.

The rumors caused tremendous upset among my fellow drivers. For many, this job was all they had. Others hoped this delivery jobs were ground-floor opportunities to better, permanent jobs.

I was eager for whatever was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen would serve me best. I was not at the whim of this company: I was creating my reality. Not them.

So during my time delivering packages, I reveled in the experience. I immersed myself in the process. I figured out ways to improve and make more efficient the process. I gave that information to my manager who forwarded it to her manager. The management team was excited about what I had written. They gave me kudos for doing so.

I found myself really enjoying this work. I enjoyed the physicality of it. I enjoyed being out on my own. I enjoyed exploring parts of the city I hadn’t explored before. All in all, I enjoyed this job. I did not see it as a job, because it wasn’t a job for me. Instead it was a “bridging opportunity“ toward the reality I was creating.

Finally, just after the new year, rumors intensified that layoffs were coming. Instead of coming in the following week, I decided to take all the sick leave I accumulated. While on leave, I turned my attention toward my desires: to move through the rest of 2020 with money flowing into my life without me working a job.

The week I took off, the company terminated all seasonal driver positions. Everyone arrived at their shift and got their termination letter. My fellow drivers wrote me text messages upset about how they felt the company treated them.

They were really frustrated and annoyed and feeling disrespected that they showed up for work only to be dismissed.

Not me.

I was at home luxuriating in my bed, reveling in the future that was flowing into my life.

^^Me again in the delivery driver vehicle compound.

Then it happened

Several days later, I received a letter notifying me that I have been laid off. But that was no concern because I was enjoying my life.

That’s because, just before receiving the letter that I was laid off, A person who follows my passion project called Copiosis wrote me a message on WhatsApp. He said he wanted me to be able to put more time on that project, and was sending me cryptocurrency in an amount sufficient to pay for my living expenses for the rest of the year.

I was not expecting this specifically. The message floored me. I knew something like this would happen. I just didn’t know what the details of the happening would looked like.

You can imagine my delight upon receiving that message. But what really excited me was how much Bitcoin he gave me. True to this person’s word, the money in cryptocurrency he sent me paid my rent and living expenses for the rest of the year.

In other words, the universe coordinated the cooperative components – leaving my wife, creating a job, an apartment (which I may write about), and this easy transition to a jobless life – consistent with my desires: living without a job, and, having money come in without me having to do anything for it.

What’s interesting is, the same person gave me another cryptocurrency gift at the end of 2020. That particular gift came just as Bitcoin took off on a months-long rally. Every month thereafter, the rally increased the value of the amount he gave me by 1/3. That was enough to generate enough cash to last me throughout 2021.

Meanwhile, more Positively Focused clients came, eager to learn how to create their reality. Today my basic living expenses are covered by the cryptocurrency gift combined with the amount of money my clients gift me in return for the transformed lives they get.

Wait a minute…

You may ask: aren’t you working when you serve these clients or when you do things for Copiosis? My answer: not at all.

Because when I’m giving time to my clients, I’m Positively Focused. Being Positively Focused, especially being Positively Focused with another person, doesn’t feel at all like “working”. It’s play, it’s joyful and it’s fun.

It is filled with laughter, with epiphanies, insights and realizations, all of which lead to more and better, not only for my clients, but for me too.

Copiosis is a fun, joyful adventure. It’s not a job. I see it as a playground where I get to practice what I preach in Positively Focused.

So by serving my clients I am creating a more and better life for myself. That’s not working. That’s enjoying the reality I am creating, realities I am co-creating alongside my clients. Copiosis is like that too.

Today, as I sit in bed dictating this blog post, all my expenses, including enough for entertainment and pleasure expenses, are covered without me having to do anything that looks and feels like a “job”. I created exactly the reality that I had intended as I was leaving my wife.

I should add, that anyone can have this life. Anyone can create any reality they want. This is what I show my clients how to do. This is how life is meant to be.

We all came into the world not to mimic what other people are doing. We’re here to make real worlds of our own design matching our wildest desires.

Nothing else feels as satisfying as that. The more I live my life consistent with my wildest desires, the better I feel and the better life gets.

There’s more to come. And I’m eager for all of it.

#positive thinking #positivevibes #positivity #positiveattitude #positive affirmations #positiveapproach #spiritualcoach #spiritualgrowth #spiritualconnection #spiritualawakening #spiritualteacher #spiritualguidance #spiritualenlightenment #happiness #youcreateyourownreality

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visaservicesindelhi · 3 years

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11 LOW TAX COUNTRIES FOR LIVING IN EUROPE

Ever dreamed of living in Europe?

Many of us have.

However, Europe’s stereotypically high tax rates have turned many successful entrepreneurs and investors away from the idea in search of zero-tax countries in the Caribbean, Middle East, or the Pacific Ocean.

Here’s the deal: while living in Europe and paying zero income tax is a rare feat, it is possible for almost anyone to live in Europe full-time and pay low taxes on their income… even if they’re not a millionaire.

I’m not talking about living like a digital nomad. Sure, it’s possible to spend three months in the summer living in Europe, then spending another few months further south in a country like Serbia. So long as you don’t establish tax ties in any one country, your only concern is making sure you aren’t on the hook for taxes in your home country.

However, as I increasingly work with seven- and eight-figure business owners, one recurring theme I hear is the desire for a home. For many successful people, dragging a suitcase around the world just isn’t their thing. They want a (nearly) full-time home AND the benefits of minimal taxation.

That’s where low tax countries come in.

The good news is that you don’t have to move to the Bahamas or Dubai to enjoy low tax countries rates so long as you’re able to invest some of your money in Europe. While some countries like France will always be off-limits to those seeking excellent tax planning, We’ve made a list of nearly a dozen European countries with favorable tax rates.

1. ANDORRA

Nestled into the mountainside, this medieval village shows the beauty of the Andorran countryside.

Pressure from the European Union caused Andorra to implement its first ever income tax in 2015, but Andorra still remains a low tax haven conveniently nestled between high-tax Spain and France.

Long known as a destination for duty-free shopping, Andorra is an idyllic mountainous country that also happens to offer residence permits to investors and business owners. Fortunately, Andorra has positioned itself to attract those of more average means than other low tax countries like Monaco.

Andorra is perfect for those with capital gains or generational wealth; it has no wealth tax, no gift tax, no inheritance tax and the only capital gains tax is assessed on most sales of Andorra real estate.

The only tax is an income tax, of which a generous 24,000 euros is exempt, and the top rate of 10% takes effect at the 40,000 euro level.

Unless you’re well-noted in your field, there are two ways to qualify for residence: make an investment or start a company. Either way, you’ll need to pledge to spend 90 days per year living in Andorra, rent or own a property, maintain a bond, and maintain health insurance; many residents are exempt from the already low tax rates depending on how their income is earned.

To start a company, you will need to present your CV and a business plan, as well as deposit a 50,000 euro bond for a single applicant. This route requires far less upfront capital but you do need to actually run a business, which means living in Andorra should be part of your overall corporate and tax planning. If you prefer to be a passive resident, you may invest 400,000 euros in Andorra, which can include an investment in real estate.

2. BULGARIA

Bulgaria offers Eastern European city charm, plenty of beach resorts on the Black Sea… and a flat 10% tax rate with no minimum.

At a flat 10%, Bulgaria has the European Union’s lowest personal income tax rates. Corporate income tax rates are the same flat rate of 10% (tied with Cyprus), and Bulgaria maintains tax treaties with many countries that could allow for special tax treatment for some international entrepreneurs.

Basically, Bulgaria’s tax system is simple: live there and pay 10%. You can become a fiscal resident by living in Bulgaria for at least 183 days in a year, or by convincing the tax office that Bulgaria is your “center of life”. While merely staying in the country is often easier, the “center of life” test gives you more flexibility and involves a number of factors.

Eastern Europe is one of the world’s most underrated places for living in my opinion, although out of the Balkan countries I would personally prefer living in Serbia or Romania. That said, Bulgaria has the advantage of being a rather open place to operate, with bank accounts being easy to open and a substantial low-tax offshore company industry attracting plenty of entrepreneurs and capital.

3. CZECH REPUBLIC

Despite being a top tourist destination in Europe, Prague has one of the cheapest costs of living in central Europe.

The Czech Republic is often ignored as a low tax jurisdiction despite the fact that it has streamlined both personal and corporate income tax rate to reasonable levels. Considering that Prague is one of the most cooed-over cities in Europe, the idea of living in the Czech Republic is worth considering.

As a low-tax residency, the Czech Republic (or Czechia, as they prefer) is best suited for European Union citizens. That’s because self-employed Europeans can not only avail themselves of Czechia’s 15% flat tax rate but may also apply a lump sum tax deduction in lieu of actual expenses. For most business owners, the lump sum can reduce the flat tax by 40% or 60%, leaving an effective tax rate of 6% or 9% on self-employed entrepreneurs.

Like Portugal and other European Union countries, real tax planning is required if you choose to live in Czechia. For one thing, you will need to rent or own an actual home; the good news is that the cost of living in Prague is surprisingly low given how popular the city is for tourists and digital nomads.

4. GEORGIA

Georgia has a diverse tourism landscape. For instance, Mtskheta, Georgia is home to a UNESCO world heritage site.

While Georgia may not be in the center of Europe, its position in the Caucasus places it squarely between eastern Europe and Asia. Fun fact: Georgia also happens to be the only European country with a largely territorial tax system, meaning properly structured foreign source income is not taxed in most circumstances.

For non-US citizens, it is easy to create an international structure and pay zero tax on profits while being a legal resident of Georgia. It is also possible to maintain a part-time home base in Georgia without incurring tax obligations. You can even become tax resident without living in Georgia if you can prove wealth or high income.

While Georgia’s capital of Tbilisi is not Paris, Georgia is one of the safest countries in the world and a favorite of ours here at Nomad Capitalist. The cost of living is extremely low, and activities like smoking and gambling are extremely cheap compared to the highly over-regulated European Union.

5. GIBRALTAR

Gibraltar offers residence visas to wealthy investors willing to pay an annual flat tax.

Gibraltar has long been a popular tax residence for British citizens, but Gibraltar’s benefits as a low-tax residence are available to anyone. Nestled at the southern tip of Spain, Gibraltar is a British Overseas Territory and not a sovereign country, but is able to set its own tax policies.

There are two ways to become resident in Gibraltar: start a company or demonstrate a high net worth. As is usually the case with these programs, it is easier for entrepreneurs to qualify by forming a company but proving wealth is easier in the long run.

The High Executive Possessing Specialist Skills method, or HEPSS, allows entrepreneurs with Gibraltar companies to pay a maximum tax on their salary. You must earn more than £120,000 per year, but will only be taxed on £120,000. That essentially translates to a flat tax of £29,940, although you must also consider any Gibraltar corporate tax. You will need to own or lease a home in Gibraltar.

The Category 2 visa program is also appealing but requires a £2 million – roughly $2.5 million – net worth to qualify. There are few requirements besides proving this level of wealth; the main requirement is to purchase or lease a “qualifying” home.

Other than that, you may not carry out almost any business within the territory of Gibraltar. You will pay a minimum annual tax of £22,000, and a maximum annual tax of £28,360 based on Gibraltar’s oddly progressive-but-then-regressive income tax rates ranging from 10% to 29%.

6. MALTA

Malta allows foreign citizens to pay an annual flat fee and exempt their foreign income from Malta tax.

Malta is one of only four countries on this list that are part of the Schengen Area, and one of only three that are also part of the European Union. Malta has developed some of the EU’s most tax-friendly programs for both individual residents and corporations, with corporate tax rates as low as 5% possible for non-resident companies.

Malta has long had a flat-fee residence program available, but as I have discussed in the recent post the newer Global Residence Program has become the second residency of choice. Unlike Andorra and Monaco, Malta does not require any physical presence on its two Mediterranean islands, meaning you can establish residency but not live there at all. Furthermore, they have prided themselves on reducing bureaucracy and even allowing residents to include domestic staff on their applications (similar to Malaysia’s MM2H program).

Maltese residents are not subject to tax in Malta on foreign sourced income that is kept outside of the country. What’s more, they are not subject to tax on foreign capital gains even if those gains are sent to a Malta bank account. Other income, including pensions, can be taxed once at a flat 15% thanks to Malta’s tax treaty network.

The cost of maintaining the residence in Malta is a flat 15,000 euro “minimum tax” payable each year. With proper planning, this should also be the maximum tax. It is also possible to obtain a tax residence certificate.

7. MONACO

Monaco eliminated income taxes entirely in 1869, making it the only sovereign zero-tax jurisdiction in Europe.

While Monaco is not a full member of the European Union, it is a de facto participant in the borderless Schengen Area, offering excellent mobility. Monaco’s exclusivity and proximity to France and the rest of Europe make it a more serious tax residency than some tiny island in the middle of the ocean.

According to the tiny principality, it is not a tax haven. It does allow foreigners to establish residence in Monaco merely by proving their wealth. Doing this generally requires a 500,000 euro bank deposit and purchase (or in some cases, rental) of a property there.

Seeing that parking spaces can often sell for up to 1 million euros, residence in Monaco is reserved for the wealthiest entrepreneurs and investors. It’s also reserved for those actually willing to live there; you must spend three months per year for the first nine years, at which point you can obtain what is effectively permanent residence but requires 183 days of stay per year.

If you’re interested in getting a residency or second passport in Monaco, we have just published our Ultimate Guide where you can get all the details.

8. MONTENEGRO

Montenegro has low corporate taxes and is one of the least expensive countries in Europe to start a company.

Montenegro boasts the lowest headline personal income tax and corporate income tax rates in Europe, both pegged at a flat 9%.

Like many of its western Balkan neighbors, Montenegro has sought to attract business to its small country – population: 620,000 – by lowering tax rates. While almost all of eastern Europe offers rather reasonable tax rates in the teens, Montenegro offers the lowest tax rates and the benefit of a country you might actually want to live in.

Locals know Montenegro as Crna Gora, meaning “black mountain”, but the Italian name stuck and gives the country an air of sexiness by sounding similar to Monaco. Personally, I believe it is a completely stunning place to visit during the summer season, which is why I purchased my beach house for holiday getaway right there, where I relax, do some writing and enjoy the sunsets and Mediterranean cuisine.

Montenegro’s government seems to have played to that notion, inviting foreign investors to develop luxury resorts on its pristine coastline in a bid to be the jewel of the Adriatic Sea. It was enough to attract me to buy a home in Montenegro.

Montenegro allows foreigners who buy residential property to obtain a temporary residence card, renewable yearly. If you spend fewer than 183 days in Montenegro, you will generally not be taxed. If you live in Montenegro the majority of the time, you will become tax resident and be liable to pay the flat 9% rate on your income.

While Montenegro isn’t a zero-tax country for full-time residents, it is a very attractive home base primarily for Europeans seeking a legitimate low-tax residency to appease their home government.

9. PORTUGAL

Even though Portugal is a high tax country, foreigners can take advantage of a ten-year Non-Habitual Resident Tax exemption that exempts up to 100% of their income from Portuguese tax.

Most people don’t associate Portugal with low tax countries.

In most cases, they’re right; Portugal is hardly a tax rate favorable place for the average resident. However, foreigners can take advantage of a ten-year Non-Habitual Resident Tax exemption that exempts up to 100% of their income from Portuguese tax.

While this exemption doesn’t allow you to live in Portugal tax-free forever, it is long enough to allow you to claim Portugal citizenship if you meet the rather lenient physical stay requirements.

The first step to living in Portugal is to obtain Portugal residency; this can be done by purchasing real estate through the well-known Golden Visa program, but can be done more easily by hiring people or by merely proving you have rental income overseas.

There is a catch, though: the most tax-optimized structures won’t qualify for Portugal’s tax exemption. Income from blacklisted tax countries is not subject to exemption, meaning your offshore company in the BVI or Hong Kong won’t work. Substantial tax planning is needed to ensure that all of your business and passive income is structured to eliminate taxes while you live in Portugal.

10. SWITZERLAND

Switzerland was one of the first countries to allow wealthy taxpayers to negotiate a flat annual tax with its cantons

There is no doubt that Switzerland has become less friendly both for immigration and banking in recent years. That said, it is still one of the safest and most respected countries in the world with a location at the heart of Europe. Swiss residency offers an air of legitimacy that many other low-tax residencies can’t match. Foreigners have two residency options to choose from.

The first is to form a new company in Switzerland and hire local employees. This company will pay corporate income tax based on which canton (region) it is incorporated in, and you as the manager will pay Swiss income tax.

The more common and lower tax method to living in Switzerland is the Lump Sum Taxation method, also known as “taxation according to expenditure”. Under this method, a family may move to Switzerland and pay a flat annual tax based on their cost of living rather than their actual income. This has often been described as negotiating a flat tax, and each canton has their own policies.

Generally speaking, expect to pay at least $150,000 and up to $1 million in flat tax each year depending on which canton you want to live in. You will also not be able to legally reside in Zurich. If your income exceeds $1 million each year, maintaining your home and tax residency in Switzerland would give you a moderate tax rate. If your income is in the millions, Switzerland could reduce your tax rate below 10%. While Switzerland is hardly a cheap place to live, it has one of the highest standards of living in the world.

11. UNITED KINGDOM

The UKis far from a tax haven, but there are certain exemptions from the rule when it comes to tax rates, which you can take advantage of if you’re a wealthy entrepreneur.

Like Portugal, the United Kingdom isn’t exactly a haven in terms of low tax countries for all… but it is for a select group of wealthy individuals. By exploiting the difference between domicile and residence, certain foreign citizens can live in London and pay an annual flat tax.

This “non-dom” system has been popularized thanks to Middle Eastern and Russian billionaires who take up residence in the United Kingdom yet claim they are not running their businesses from Kensington. Because their income is a foreign source, it is eligible to be taxed on a remittance basis; keep the income out of the UK and it is not taxed.

Obtaining residency in Britain requires a substantial investment, but for the right person, the tax benefits outweigh the initial costs. Claiming non-dom tax benefits may be free for up to six years, after which the remittance basis charge is anywhere from £30,000 to £90,000 depending on how long you’ve been a resident.

Tax residence in the UK is a highly complicated topic and always worth discussing at length with a tax professional before claiming any benefits, particularly as some non-dom benefits must be claimed in advance.

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silverdaddyrdj · 5 years

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Imagine: Veteran lawyer Hank Palmer wants to spoil you rotten but you’re unsure about the idea. But, he’s persistent and can put up a very good argument.

Rating: Explicit/18+ (you shouldn’t be on this blog if you’re below 18, anyway)

Request your imagine headcanons and we will write a little something for you. And you get a bonus silver daddy picture to go with it. :)

"Anything you want, sweetheart. And I mean anything."

His voice is silky, playful, and he knows you're caught, like prey, in the carefully spun webs of his charm.

It started three weeks ago at the local café, where you stood waiting for your morning coffee. You checked and rechecked your watch, and willed for the line to move faster, but it didn't budge. If looks could kill, the cashier and the four people in front of you would've died on the spot.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you picked up your coffee and prepared to dash to your office across the street. If you timed it right, you could slide into the conference room just before the San Francisco office dialled in. You prepared to sprint, but, clearly, fate had other plans. Just as you were about to run out of the café, you bumped into a solid mass of designer suit and expensive cologne that reminded you of spotless sandy beaches and calm, clear ocean hundreds of miles away from the busy morning rush of Chicago. That's when you felt the warm dampness spreading down your front — the content of your cup was mostly on the ground, but it was also staining the beige top you wore, primed and ironed for the meeting.

"Fucking asshole," you said before you could stop yourself, and the hand holding out a silk napkin before you froze.

"I'm so sorry."

You looked up, ready to give the offender a piece of your mind for ruining your morning. But, you caught yourself in time and the words froze at the tip of your tongue. Later that night, you swore to your sister that you had seen the most beautiful pair of eyes ever known to man — and its owner, the apologetic culprit who spoilt the start of your day, wasn't all that bad. After all, he had graciously accepted your apology for the caffeine-deprived outburst and offered to pay for the dry cleaning bill.

That's how you agreed to meet him for a drink. You had gone to the pub intending to make up for your lack of manners and end the encounter on a friendly note because Chicago has an uncanny ability to appear very small sometimes. In your line of work — you’re a corporate lawyer at an investment bank — you deal with jocular finance bros all day, and almost everyone knows everyone else. And judging by the man's outward appearance — hand-cut suit, leather shoes, silver-dotted wavy hair that begged for your fingers — you had assumed he was someone important. But all of your strategic calculations went out the door that night, when, after three drinks, you tumbled into your queen-sized bed with him, your fingers in his hair, his lips on your thighs.

***

You shift in bed, a solid mass pressing into your back. He traces a finger along the side of your ear, down the column of your neck, coming to rest on your bare chest. You're pleasantly sore and aching all over, and there are at least a handful of bruises on your skin — he's an attentive lover; last night, he broke down your defenses with methodical precision, tearing away at your sense of propriety as he left you squirming under the firm weight of his body, awash with such overwhelming pleasure that you didn't give a single fuck if your next-door neighbours heard you as you screamed, begged and urged him, your voice straining, to go harder, to push deeper, to take his pleasure from the dripping warmth between your legs. And, he obliged.

"Well?" he nudges, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands drawing circles around your navel. "You've gone quiet."

You try to pull away from him, but only half-heartedly, and he doesn't appear to be in a hurry to let you go. The two of you stay entangled in a heap of limbs and skin, in need of a shower and some concealer to cover up the secret you've chosen to keep from your friends.

It's complicated, you've argued, as you debated telling them the truth after he had left at the crack of dawn on your first night together. He's an influential man, you've got your own career ambitions; he's almost twice your age, never married, and avoids the topic of past dalliances. He isn't even interested in your history of failed or mismatched relationships, and yours lean more towards physical gratification.

You've been meeting him whenever work lets you both escape for a brief time. It’s one of the upsides of having your office be less than a block from his. He takes you to lunch, you flirt with him over texts when you’re back at your desk, you both grab quick dinners from nearby restaurants. The nights end like clockwork: With him in your bed, climbing on top of you, or sometimes you’re straddling him, or he’s bending you over the chaise, pressing you into the wall, taking you against the floor-length window or by the door; he’s all over you, inside you, rocking your world, like clockwork. You enjoy the routine and he's adaptive enough that it doesn't feel monotonous.

But you've still been wary about where this ends up — as much as the two of you connect physically, you've noticed his aloofness when he isn’t in bed trying to make love to you. Both of you roam in different social circles; he likes rock concerts, you prefer off-Broadway theatre; he plays golf on weekends, you're at Wrigley Field screaming your lungs out; he knows every Michelin star chef in town, you love Chinese takeaway from the shop three blocks from your apartment.

***

You sigh. He's waiting for an answer. "I think it's a little weird," you say, finally, and it earns a soft-bellied chuckle from him. He looks cute when he laughs, it brings out the dimples on his cheeks. "Look," you say, gesturing around, "all this is great. The sex is definitely amazing but I can't accept gifts like this. It's too much."

"Can't a man spoil his lover?" he asks, and there's such an infuriating innocence in his tone, you can't bring yourself to call him out on the hint of cockiness in his statement.

Instead, you shake your head and this time, when he leans in for a kiss, you pull away and turn sideways so that you're both facing each other directly. You press a palm against his cheek and say, "As much as anyone in my place would be thrilled to have someone pamper them, I can't just spend your money so recklessly because you're telling me to." You hold up a hand when he looks like he's about to protest. "Let's do a trade-off. I'll let you buy me something nice like you want just this once if you let me take you out to a fancy dinner tomorrow like I’ve been wanting to. It’s only fair I get to spoil you rotten too once in a while."

He considers the proposal and smirks. "Deal."

It takes you another hour to get dressed, after both of you get carried away in the shower, where he has you pressed against the glass, your legs quivering as the pleasure drags on, setting your nerves on fire. He doesn’t stop moving when your body tenses up for the second time and it knocks the breath out of your body; you hold him like both of your lives depend on it. You clench down hard around him and he moans, his thrusts finally faltering and pushing him over the edge.

***

You end up spending the afternoon along the Magnificent Mile and you're impressed — for years, you've walked past the glass facades and fancy storefronts, admiring the catalogue of colourful designer bags, shoes and clothes on display, straight off the runway, sometimes, but you have always known any one of those items can do some serious damage to your bank balance. He seems to know every store attendant by name and they appear almost reverential in his presence. As the afternoon progresses, your resolve starts to crumble and every time you give in, he triumphantly, and with genuine delight, hands over his credit cards.

After your seventh purchase of the day, having spent at least a year's worth of rent in the city, you call it quits. He looks disappointed, like a kid who's just been told no, but at least he offers to put the bags in the car. That evening, you insist on taking him to the best pizzeria in the city. It's dirty, greasy, smelly and exactly why it's a fan-favourite. Watching him, the same man who wines and dines in the country's most elite fine-dining establishments, devour a large slice of pepperoni without a care in the world is perhaps, you think, the greatest present he could’ve ever given you. It makes you grin from ear to ear after as you walk back to the car, your hands entwined.

He looks pleased with himself. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun," he says as you get in the car and you can see there's a tinge of regret in his eyes. Perhaps with time, you can uncover the mystery behind those brown orbs that look like they have seen the world a hundred times over — if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve fallen for them. Just a bit. You look forward to learning more about him and think, maybe, just maybe you might tell your friends the truth tomorrow. For now, you smirk and unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing over onto his lap, and the shocked look on his face is worth it. The indoor parking lot is pretty empty at this time of the evening. You think back on how he spent the entire week rocking your world, seven ways to Sunday, and, as you reach down for his zipper, you reckon it's time someone shakes up his world a little.

"If you thought that was fun, you're gonna love what I have in mind."

Fortunately for you, and maybe it's the added experience that comes with his age, he catches on quickly and the sudden smoulder in his eyes almost dares you to do your best. Never one to shrink from an honest challenge, you grin and crash your lips together.

#hank palmer #rdjedit #robert downey jr #rdj #the judge #rdjgifsdaily #dailyrdjposts #actoredit #fic #silverdaddyrdj #silverfoxrdj

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casbeanwrites · 6 years

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part 2 of the Dick Pick AU - read part 1 here

dean/cas, 14k, explicit - established relationship, age difference, past boss/employee relationship, angst with a happy ending, bottom dean/top cas, dean in lingerie, multiple prostate orgasms

Dean isn't worried. He isn't jealous. He just... Cas has been working a lot. And he misses him.

you can also read it on AO3

Dean wakes up to soft kisses on his neck and the oh, so missed feeling of strong arms around his shoulders. His boyfriend's scent surrounds him, familiar and reassuring, and he grins at the hello, love, murmured in his ear.

It's not the first time Dean tries to wait for Cas and ends up falling asleep at the dinner table. Or in front of the TV. Or on the balcony. Or naked in bed.

It's been happening a lot lately.

He tries to move, stretching his spine up from the awkward way he fell asleep, hunched over on his books. His neck hurts something awful and his textbook's page is sticked to his cheek. Great.

Cas helps him up and kisses him all the way to their bedroom, holding his weight up because Dean's legs are still mostly asleep.

"What time is it?" Dean groans as he stumbles out of his jeans and onto the bed.

"Two a.m."

It's that damn promotion that Cas has been chasing for months. He basically lives at the office now. Dean hates it.

"Who the hell keeps you in the office until two a.m.? Talking to China or sumthin?"

Castiel joins him under the covers in nothing but his boxers and presses himself against Dean's back, arms strong and secure around his waist.

"Japan, actually," Castiel yawns. He kisses the back of Dean's neck and nuzzles there.

"Sure it wasn't your assistant?"

Another thing that Dean hates about Cas' job. His young, cute, and perky new assistant. Who gets to spend a lot more time with Cas than Dean does these days.

"Alfie?" Cas mumbles, already falling asleep. "I sent him home at eight. I'm not a monster."

He yawns again and then hums contentedly. Dean says nothing. He can’t complain. Cas is here, his thighs pressed up against Dean's, stomach on the small of his back. He can feel him breathe and their fingers are laced over his chest. It's warm, it's safe. He knows he'll sleep well tonight.

Usually Castiel manages to slip out of the office around nine or ten p.m., but always brings a pile of paperwork with him, or has a thousand emails to reply to, or schedules to fill out, or reports to write, and Dean has to go to bed alone while Cas sits at the kitchen table in front of his laptop, the mug of tea Dean has made for him left untouched by his side.

Dean doesn't like to fall asleep alone, without the weight and warmth of Castiel against him, without his slow breaths on his skin. He doesn't like going to bed alone, and likes even less waking up alone, with Castiel already gone for his 6 o'clock meeting, the sheets cold and not even the memory of lips on his cheek.

Dean tries to be understanding. This is a big deal - a big promotion, a chance for Cas to get out of "middle management" and make his way up. Way up.

And maybe Dean should be more patient. Maybe it shouldn't bother him this much that he barely sees his boyfriend at all. After a year of living together and almost two years of dating, maybe he shouldn't miss him this much when he's not there. He should be able to tough it out for a couple of months while Cas gets his big break. It shouldn't feel like claws in his chest and a big twisted hole in his stomach every fucking night when he walks in their empty condo and eats dinner alone.

But it does. Cas is not there and Dean misses him.

He misses his warmth in their bed. He misses his smile at the dinner table, his fingers on Dean's waist while they cook (well, while he cooks and Cas attempts to help). He misses talking to him about his day, about stupid things that don't even matter except when he gets to tell Cas about them. He misses watching TV with Cas or reading next to him while Cas plays a dumb game on his phone, he misses Cas stroking his hair distractedly while Dean falls asleep on his lap. He misses lazy Sundays in bed, he misses late night showers and early mornings, he misses kisses that taste like coffee and toast. He misses missing the end of movies because Cas got bored and decided that distracting Dean would be so much more fun.

He misses sex that isn't rushed, or tired, or says I'm sorry I came home so late again. He misses even the stupidest things, like grocery shopping or buying toilet paper or going to the mall to buy ice cream in the middle of winter and letting Cas drag him to three different pet shops. He misses Cas smiling, and laughing, and not looking so goddamn exhausted all the time.

Because that's the worst thing - watching Castiel be miserable. Watching him drag himself out of bed every morning, grumble around his cup of coffee, huff as he puts on his tie. Feeling the tension in his shoulder when Dean tries to massage the knots out of them. He hates that "long" is the only answer he gets when he asks Cas how his day was. He hates that Cas apparently hates this as much as he does, even if he doesn't say it.

But Dean can’t complain, he can't add to how miserable Castiel already is. At least tonight Castiel is here, and that has to be enough.

Things hit a new rock bottom when Castiel announces that he's going away on a business trip. He'll be leaving town for three days - Friday night to Monday night - which is longer than they've been apart ever since they started dating. Since they've met, actually.

And it shouldn't be a big deal, because they're adults and they can handle being in two different cities for a few days, but Cas' mood goes from bad to abysmal in the weeks preceding the trip. He still keeps repeating that he doesn't have a choice, that he needs to go make his pitch to corporate if he wants a chance in the running.

Castiel sighs and grumbles about it for the tenth time tonight and Dean can't keep his mouth shut anymore. He takes out his earbud, stops the movie and turns towards Cas, sitting next to him on the couch.

"You don't have to."

"Do you think I have a choice?" Cas frowns, looking up from his paperwork. "If I don't go, I lose this promotion, Dean. I lose everything I've been working toward for fifteen years."

Dean gets up. He grabs his laptop and starts to walk away.

"Everything that's been making you miserable for fifteen years, but whatever."

"And exactly what else am I supposed to do? Be a VP for the rest of my life?"

Dean turns around when he reaches the door. Cas' cheeks have heated up, but he still looks so goddamn tired, his hair sticking out in tufts and his eyes bleak. He sees no issue to this, that's obvious. Now Dean just feels guilty for bringing it up.

"No. 'S not what I'm saying."

"Not everyone gets to do what they love," Cas calls out. "We can't all have that luxury."

Dean doesn't answer and goes to take a long, hot shower. The water burns his skin and it hurts. But not as much as Cas' words. He gets it - he's lucky to be studying in a field he's passionate about. But it's not like he didn't sacrifice a lot for it. He took a lot of his classes online, and worked full time on top of school even when he went on campus. He took jobs he wishes he hadn't.

And yeah. Now he lives in his boyfriend's luxurious condo and pays a rent that probably barely cover the hot water. But Cas was the one who asked him to move in. Cas was the one who insisted he quit his job at the firm to focus on school. Cas was the one who said: "I don't need your money, Dean. I need you. I want you." Cas was the one who hated the fact that they were apart so much and wanted Dean in his bed every night.

Dean drops on his back in said bed, rubs his eyes, and lets out a long sigh. Fighting with Cas is the worst. It doesn't happen often, but these past few months have been... Just, bad, on all accounts.

His gaze falls on the framed HR contract hanging on the wall above his head. Castiel's gift to him when he moved in. A reminder. A promise.

Cas didn't just want Dean in his bed. He wanted Dean in his life.

Now it doesn't seem to matter as much.

The floorboards creak. Castiel is standing in the doorframe. He looks so tired. And old. Their age gap has never been an obstacle between them, never been more than something they tease each other about from time to time, but tonight Cas really looks... he looks ancient, he looks hundred and hundred of years old, and as tired as if he'd spent millennia doing paperwork and wasn't even halfway through.

"I'm sorry," he says. The crinkles around his eyes droop down. His blue irises are dark, the light extinguished. "What I said was unfair. I-"

"It's fine, Cas."

"It's not. You work so hard and-"

"Just c'mere."

Dean can't stand him looking so fucking sad and sorry so he stretches out his arm and gestures until Cas takes his hand. He almost falls on top of Dean and Dean embraces him, hugging him tight, until he's tucked under his chin and their bodies are tangled.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you said that."

Cas kisses him. Dean sighs into it. It feels like it's been a million years, even though he kissed him yesterday. Probably. Or was it Monday? Fuck. He doesn't even know.

His fingers card through Cas’ hair, who sighs happily. It's one a.m. and Cas' hands venture under Dean's shirt.

"Cas," Dean murmurs. He kisses the bolt of his jaw. "You should sleep. You're exhausted."

"Don't wanna sleep. Wanna be with you."

He's already slurring though, eyes closed and face smushed between the pillow and Dean's neck.

"I'm right here. I ain't going anywhere."

Cas' body goes lax at those words, like it's all he needed to hear.

"I love you," Cas murmurs, right before he falls asleep.

Cas is more careful around him for the rest of the week, and Dean doesn't bring up the subject again.

And what would Dean push for anyway? It's not like he has any fucking idea of what Cas would rather be doing. He's never talked about it. Maybe Cas doesn't know himself. Maybe that's what's so scary. Dean knows things that Cas likes - long walks in the forest to search for mushrooms (that he doesn't know how to cook to save his life, but that he enjoys picking anyway), going into libraries and looking at books, going into pet shops and looking at guinea pigs and rabbits and fishes, going to the farmer's market and smelling all the homemade soaps.

Doing any kind of shopping with him is endless, because he loves to just contemplate, to look at everything, to talk to the vendors, he loves to explore every last corner of every store - "maybe they got something new, Dean."

"S'not like you ever buy anything," Dean complains, every time. The guy never even treats himself to the things he likes. Dean's the one who goes back to buy him that soap that smelled "so lovely", that mug he held for a really long time before setting it back down with a sigh. Cas loves to look at plants, and has a couple in his office that he prunes and cherishes, but with the time he spends at home lately, it'd be useless to get him some for here. But Dean would've loved to buy him that orchid he spent half an hour admiring in that little shop they went by a few months ago.

Dean feels like maybe he should know. He should know what Cas' dreams are. Or if he has any.

Cas is set to leave on Friday afternoon, but still needs to go to the office in the morning. As usual, he leaves before Dean even wakes up. Dean had asked Cas to make an exception this time, but Cas doesn't, and writes him an apology note instead.

You seemed too peaceful. I hate waking you up. Have a good weekend, I love you.

Dean will be in class all afternoon, which means that he'll miss Cas when he comes home to pack.

He hates this.

He hates that he didn't get a goodbye kiss, and he should love Cas for caring so much, for this tenderness - but he hates him for not wanting to kiss him enough to wake him up instead.

By some miracle, Dean's afternoon class gets cancelled. Giddy, he decides to call Cas' office. Maybe they can have dinner when he comes home to pack. Maybe they can have a little down time at home, take a nap together before Cas gets on a plane to the other side of the country.

Alfie answers the phone, chirpy as always.

“Mr Novak's office - Oh, hi Dean! Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Novak’s in a meeting.”

Dean grits his teeth at the faked sadness of Alfie's tone.

“Right. Of course he is.”

“I’m sure he’d rather be with you,” Alfie offers.

Dean closes his eyes. Sometimes, when Cas is at the office until ungodly hours, he wonders. He wonders if it's really China, or Japan, or meetings, or reports, or that fucking promotion, or if maybe - maybe it's the cute ass of his new assistant that keeps him there.

It's dumb and petty, given the fact that Cas has never given him a reason to doubt him. But he just can't help it. After all, Cas fell for his cute assistant once. Could happen again.

“It’s fine - just, uh, can you just tell him I got off early? So I'll be home when he comes to pack. He can call me if he wants to.”

"Oh." Something in Alfie's tone ticks Dean off. That boy always sounds like he's guilty of something. "Okay. Um, I'll make sure he calls you."

“Just tell him I'm home.”

The phone rings about an hour later.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“You didn’t have to call.”

“My meeting is over. Finally.”

Dean hears the deep, exhausted sigh on the other end of the line. For the hundredth time, he wonders why Cas is working so hard for that promotion. If he does get to higher management, meetings like this are all he’s going to be doing. All day, every day. And he knows it.

“Right. Well, my class this afternoon got cancelled. I'm home, so, when you come to pack, maybe we could grab dinner or-"

"Oh." The silence that follows is like a blog to Dean's gut. "I - I'm already packed. My suitcase is here."

"You're not coming back?"

Dean only realizes he had hope when it all comes crashing down at his feet.

"I'm sorry. I won't have time, we're leaving earlier than I originally thought. I didn't think it mattered since you'd be in class..."

"Right."

Dean breathes out through his nose. Closes his eyes.

"D'you have any time until you leave? I could come by."

"I'm afraid I'm buried in paperwork."

Or buried in your assistant's ass.

"Okay. Well, uh. Have a good trip, then."

Dean hears Cas saying something through the speaker as he hangs up. It's rude, he knows. He should have said more - I love you, I'll miss you . But he couldn't. And it's not because he started crying. His eyes are wet and his throat is closed up because he's allergic to phone calls. That's all.

Cas had warned Dean that he was going to be busy this weekend. That he'd be in and out of meetings and conferences, preparing for his pitch, making contacts and probably spending his slim free time catching up on sleep.

Still, Dean grows increasingly frustrated on Friday night and Saturday morning as Castiel takes hours to respond to his texts with short, monosyllabic answers. Cas told him not to do the thing they usually do because he'd constantly be surrounded by colleagues, and accidentally opening dick pics during a meeting would definitely cost him the promotion. So he could at least reward Dean's efforts at PG texting by something else besides fine , ;) , or you too.

On Saturday night, Dean decides that he's done sulking around. The bed is cold, the house is empty. And there's no else that Dean really wants to talk to, but obviously Cas has better things to do. More important things to do. Work things, colleague things. Naughty skype calls to his assistant, who the fuck knows. Whatever it is, it matters more than answering Dean's texts, that's obvious.

It's been a while since Dean has gone out. "Going out" may be a bit much for just dinner with his brother and Jessica, but it's something, at least, it's getting him out of the condo where the scent of their empty home stifles him. Dean turns off his phone to avoid the temptation of checking for notifications.

He has a life too. The chair next to his at the dinner table feels empty, but since when has he become the kind of guy who needs someone else to feel complete? He doesn't even know when it happened.

When Sam suggests going out for drinks with some of his college friends, Dean says yes. He doesn't actually want to but it beats going home alone. He loves his brother to death, but his friends are young, and loud, and Dean doesn't know them or care to. He just needs to do something besides think about the fact that Cas is probably too busy to think about him.

Dean collapses on the bed at two a.m., not drunk enough, mildly sobered by a tall glass of water.

He turns his phone back on.

He has five missed calls.

From Cas.

"Hello?"

Cas' voice is slurred with sleep. Shit. Dean didn't think about anything before pressing the call button, he just -

"Cas? You okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." He hears shuffling, a sigh, a groan. "What's going on?"

"You - you called me five times."

"Oh. Yes. I was trying to catch you before you went to bed. Didn't you get my messages?"

"Oh. Um. No." Dean rubs his face with his fingers. Presses them into his eyes. "Sorry. I was out with Sam, my phone was off," Dean attempts to explain, an excuse for waking up his boyfriend at two a.m. when he probably has to be awake again in a few hours to do very boring and important things.

"That's good," Castiel says. "I'm glad you had some fun. How is Sam?"

"He's fine, I - shit. 'M sorry I woke you."

Dean should have undressed. His clothes stick to his skin, heavy, uncomfortable. He's not really drunk anymore, he drank slowly and without a point, not really keeping up with the others. The result is a not-quite headache and just... heaviness. Tiredness.

"I'll let you sleep," he mumbles, because Cas is probably even more exhausted than he is.

"No, please. It's fine," Cas says, and somehow it really seems to be. His voice sounds more upbeat, Dean can almost hear the smile through it. "It's really good to hear your voice."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Warmth spreads through Dean's chest and he breathes a little better.

"I feel like we've been apart forever already."

"Yeah," Dean murmurs. "I know."

He puts the phone on speaker and wiggles out of his jeans, and then slides under the covers with a sigh. That's much better. All he's missing is Cas, and the way his arm curls around Dean's chest, the weight of his thighs between his own.

"I didn't remember how lonely and cold it is to fall asleep alone."

"Yeah," Dean scoffs. "I know."

He didn't mean for it to sound like that - like a reproach. But it does, a little bit.

"I'm sorry," Castiel says. "I-"

"I didn't mean..." Dean inhales deeply.

Maybe he did. Maybe he did mean it like that.

"Hopefully, it will be over soon."

Dean's very tired. And an idiot. And he's in love, and he's lonely, and he has always wanted more, more than what he deserves, more than what's given. More than he should ever get.

"What will, Cas? Meetings that run long, video-calls to Japan until midnight, business trips to the other side of the country? That - if you get this promotion, that's all you'll be doing. Forever."

All that Dean can hear is you're such an asshole on a loop in his mind.

"There will be a very nice salary compensation," Cas explains, slowly. "And after your diploma, we could relocate, anywhere you'd like, anywhere you get a job. With this promotion I can move easily, corporate has offices all over the country. This opens many so doors for us. I could buy us a house, and you wouldn't have to worry about anything-"

"Buy us a house?" Dean's voice comes out as a croak. "We don't - why the Hell do we need a house?"

"Because you want one," Cas replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I - when did I - I never asked for a house!"

"When we took that walk down to the river bank a few months ago, we saw those gorgeous houses and we stopped and you... You said you'd always dreamed of a victorian house with a tower for a reading nook."

"I - Cas -"

"And whenever we drive to the farmer's market, you always look at the houses on Peach Lane. The tall yellow one with the white window shutters. And the blue one with the balcony with all the flowers. I see how you look at them. We don't even have a yard. Our balcony is too small for a table. We could have a back porch, so you could hang a hammock and read during the summer, and we could grow some vegetables in the garden."

Dean is speechless.

"Cas, I never asked you to buy me a fucking house."

Dean can hear Castiel frown on the other end of the line.

"I know. I-"

"It was just talks. Dreams. One day, I - maybe, but not now. And not - I didn't mean - I never meant-"

I never meant buy me a fucking house, idiot.

"I just want you to have everything you need. Everything you want."

"I do. For fuck's sake, I already do, Cas."

All that Dean can hear is Cas breathing.

"Look," Dean says, because Cas isn't saying a damn word. "If this is really what you want - if this job is what's gonna make you happy, if you - if you want this, then do it. Go get 'em, and all that. And I promise I'm-"

Dean closes his eyes. He can do this. If the asshole can plan his whole life around buying Dean a house, because he thought it was his dream, then Dean can support him no matter what.

"I'm not gonna sulk anymore. And I'm not gonna complain about the hours and the business trips and the paperwork and- I promise, I'll be good. I'm with you all the way, I-"

"Dean, you've been extraordinary the past few months. You've endured me in a state that I can't even begin to apologize for."

"Don't. Just promise me you're doing this for yourself, alright? 'Cause you deserve to be happy. I just - I want you to be happy. And I don't need a freaking house."

"Alright."

Dean’s whole body sags in relief.

"Do you really think we can do this?" Cas asks after a short silence. "If I take this promotion, do you really - think we can make it work?"

"Yeah," Dean lies. "We'll make it work. I'll fly out to surprise you in your hotel rooms with the sluttiest underwear. I'll bring you dinner at work and we'll eat at your desk and you'll complain that we're making a mess." Dean hears Cas let out a little scoff. "I'll sneak into your office and give you blowjobs during conference calls and I'll be your really hot date to all those super elite black tie things business people go to. And you'll fuck me in the bathroom and I'll lose my bowtie and everyone'll know, but we won't care. How's that sound?"

Cas laughs. It's deep and warm, unretained, and it's been a long time since Dean's heard that noise.

"We'll make it work," he repeats, and he's starting to believe it himself.

Cas falls silent again, but Dean can picture him, smiling to himself.

"And what if I don't take it?"

"Cas, as long as you do what you wanna do, and as long as it makes you happy, we'll be fine."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Thank you, Dean."

Dean would give anything to see him right now. To touch him, run his fingers through Cas' hair, kiss the worried lines on his forehead. Feel him shiver as he'd let himself drift to sleep.

"I love you," Cas murmurs. "It doesn't feel like quite enough right now, but I guess it'll have to do."

"Good enough. I love you too."

Dean hears shuffling - probably Cas moving around in his bed. Dean does the same, getting comfortable.

"Time to sleep, maybe?" Dean yawns. "You gotta be getting up early tomorrow."

"Yes. What are you wearing right now?"

"Jesus, Cas, you serious?"

"Very."

Dean chuckles, but indulges him anyway.

"Hey, babe," Dean smiles, phone tucked against his shoulder.

He's been feeling giddy all morning, despite the fact that Cas is still not going to be home for two days. A weight has been lifted off his shoulders since their conversation last night and he woke up this morning without even the whiff of a headache.

He doesn't know what Cas plans to do about the promotion but it doesn't matter. For the first time in months, Dean feels like things are going be okay.

"What are you doing today?" Castiel asks. His voice is pleasant, teasing almost - he has something in mind, obviously.

"Nothing much. Might try 'n write a little. You? Lots of meetings?"

"I was actually thinking about coming home early. Catching a flight this afternoon."

Dean's heart leaps in his chest. He presses the phone against his ear. "Yeah? What about your pitch tomorrow?"

"I moved some things around."

Dean bites his lip to refrain the wide smile splitting his face in half. "That means I'll be seeing you today?"

"Yes. In just a few hours, if I play my cards right."

"Awesome." That's an understatement. Dean's heart is fluttering wildly in his chest. "Can't wait."

The bedroom isn't cold, per se, but Dean's been laying on the bed wearing nothing but very delicate panties, garters, thigh-highs and a lacy bra for hours, and he's starting to shiver.

Cas is late. His plane was supposed to have landed hours ago.

It’s getting dark out. Dean could move under the covers or put on a hoodie, but it would feel like giving up. He had this planned out. Cas was supposed to come home to this perfect surprise to end this shitty couple of months they've been having, but now... it's getting ruined. Again.

He's texted Cas a few times, but Cas hasn't answered. Dean even called, once. Castiel's phone is off. Either he's still on the plane, or he ran out of battery.

Or he turned off his phone. On purpose.

Dean shouldn’t be mad. Has no reason to. Cas moved everything around on his big important weekend to come back earlier, for him. For them.

He was delayed, that’s all. Maybe a meeting ran long. Maybe he decided that he needed to stay a little longer after all and didn’t have time to text Dean. It’s probably just something at the airport, and Dean’s an idiot for doubting him.

Cas loves him. He loves him, he's proved it to him over and over and over and Dean’s an idiot for laying in this bed in frilly, overpriced lingerie and getting cold but not wanting to put on something in case Cas miraculously gets here.

It’s just, if Cas was delayed at the airport, he would find a way to call, right? Or text.

And if he did push back his flight because of a meeting, he should have told him. Should have known that Dean would be waiting. Unless he didn't have time, unless he didn't think-

Or unless he's somewhere else, right now. In a motel somewhere between here and the airport, with the cute perky little assistant he missed so much after so many days apart...

Cas isn’t fucking his assistant. Well, he did. He used to. When Dean was the assistant. But he's not anymore. That’s stupid. That’s Dean’s stupid brain working on not enough sleep and three months of derailment.

It’s just that Dean would've thought he'd have texted by now, that’s all.

Dean startles out his half-sleep when the bedroom door slowly creaks open.

“Dean?”

His voice. Low rumble, hushed, testing whether or not he’s asleep.

"Hey. C'mon in."

“I am so sorry," Castiel says as his socked feet pad on the wooden floor. "We landed an hour late because of the weather, then it took two more hours before we could get out of the plane because other flights had gotten delayed, and then going through security took another hour and my phone was dead and I forgot my charger at the hotel and - oh.”

Dean stirs, opening his eyes to find his boyfriend at the foot of the bed, haloed by the yellow light of the hallway. His hair is sticking out like a paintbrush and his suit is wrinkled and rumpled, like he's been on a plane for - well, hours. He looks exhausted, but different than when he left. Softer around the edges.

His blue eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Dean sprawled out on their bed, the magenta lace clinging to his skin like it was made for it.

“Oh,” he breathes out again.

“Hey, Cas.”

Dean rolls onto his stomach, hugging the pillow under his head and grinding his hips once, lazily, just to accentuate the way the lace curves around his ass and how fucking nice garters look around his thighs.

“Oh. I - I didn’t think you were… waiting for me.”

‘Course I fucking was, Dean thinks. Instead, he shrugs. He’s too happy to see Cas, too relieved that he’s finally here, to start another squabble.

“Wasn’t. Just chillin’”

He hears a ruffle of fabric, a blazer falling to the floor.

“Can I…?”

“Yeah, get in here, c’mon.”

Dean tries not to shiver when Castiel’s body covers his own, firm, warm, here , finally. Cas' lips find the bend of his shoulder, pressing a long kiss there, his hands splay out and roam over the expense of skin underneath him.

“Dean…”

Dean hums, baring his neck for Castiel's teeth, pressing up against the taunt body above him, enjoying the stiffness he can already feel growing against his ass. Castiel smells like hotel soap and too much deodorant, but days away still haven’t washed off his scent of vanilla and pomegranate shampoo. It’s Cas, and he’s back, pushing Dean into the mattress as he slowly grinds down on him. His mouth is leaving sloppy, wet kisses on a path from one shoulder to another, and his hands part Dean’s thighs to settle between them, fingers hooking under the hem of his panties as they make their way up.

“Christ, Dean,” Cas growls. His teeth catch on the lobe of his ear.

“Missed me?”

Castiel stops moving. His nose brushes on the back of Dean’s neck. His lips too. He moves forward, until he can press warm, deliberate kisses on Dean’s cheeks, tender and soft, as his fingers find Dean’s hands. He squeezes tight.

“Yes. Very much so.”

Dean laughs a little bit, silently, fingers grazing through Cas’ hair. He’s here. He’s back. And he missed him.

“Looks like you missed me too, giving the welcome I’m getting.”

Cas gently coaxes Dean to turn around with firm hands on his hips, and Dean can’t but go willingly.

His heart skips a beat when their eyes meet, when he falls into the swirl of ocean blue above him. It's sparkling with something Dean hasn't seen in a while. Joy. He wraps his arms around Cas' neck and hooks his legs around his waist, brings him down for a long-awaited kiss.

It's a little sad, maybe, a little I'm sorry and I've missed you as Cas presses into Dean's lips with long, warm, insistent touches. But it's happy, too. It's I'm so glad you're here as Dean playfully nibbles on Cas' lower lip, as he opens up and meets Cas' tongue, hesitant but eager. It's welcome home as they both moan into it, deepening the kiss and panting into each other's mouth.

“Just thought you’d like the surprise,” Dean finally says when they pull apart, both out of breath.

He begins unbuttoning Cas’ shirt, his relief growing with every button being pushed out of its hole. Cas mouth at his throat, nibbling and suckling, leaving behind a red trail that will soon fade. Dean feels like he can’t pull at Cas’ shirt fast enough, can’t push it past his shoulders and off of him quickly enough.

He breathes in relief when he can palm at the warm muscles of Cas’ shoulders, slide his hands down the curve of his spine, settle down on the small of his back.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just. Get naked.”

“I will,” Cas smiles, white and a little blinding, entirely breathtaking. “I’m savouring.”

Dean whimpers as Cas’ tongue trails down his chest, leaving his wet skin too cool for the air around it. He arches when Cas latches on his right nipple, sucking it into his mouth through the lace. He wets the fabric, rubs his lips over and over on the hardening flesh. Dean grabs a fistful of Cas’ hair, bucks, whines. Cas bites through it and Dean almost loses it. His nails dig into the meat of Cas' shoulder, he grinds up, his cock leaking, still trapped in his panties.

Castiel moves to the left, giving the same treatment to his other nipple, until Dean's legs shake and he's desperately rubbing his cock on Cas' thigh.

"Babe, babe, c'mon, c'mon, please."

"You look so good in lace."

Cas' voice is wrecked with arousal and Dean groans. Both of his nipples are dark, stiff. Matching the ensemble.

Cas' cheeks are pink, too, his mouth swollen and flushed. His eyes are limpid, like a pool on a hot summer day.

He's gorgeous. He kisses Dean's skin reverently.

Dean wants to say something. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you so much that I-

But Castiel's palm presses down on his cock, giving him some much needed friction, and he moans instead. Cas strokes him through the satiny fabric and the wet spot grows twice as big.

"Babe, please, c'mon."

Dean tugs at Castiel's belt, attempts to slip it of out its loop. But Castiel's kisses on his neck, on his cheeks, on his mouth, the nibbles on his jaw, the fucking hickey right below his ear, are making it hard to focus.

The best he can do is unzip him and sink his hand down, awkwardly trying to wrap around his length. Cas' cock brushes against his wrist, smears precum on his skin. He's so hard but his skin is soft, and Dean knows what he tastes like, what he feels like, in his mouth, in his ass, against his stomach or between his thighs.

Cas is hard and it's for him, just for him, just for Dean - because of Dean. This is his . Cas’ palm on his cheeks, thumb on his jaw, tilting his head up to kiss up and down his neck like he’s so hungry for it. For him. Dean nuzzles into the soft locks of Cas' hair and inhales the perfume of his conditioner, pomegranate and vanilla, the shampoo he knows because he sees it every day in the shower. Their shower, their home, their life. This is his.

Dean doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. Why, when Cas kisses him again, Dean grabs him by the back of the neck and kisses back hard, surging up to meet him. He bites into Cas' lower lip, tugs, soothes with his tongue before licking into his mouth. He meets Cas hungry and demanding, leaving them both out of breath with swollen lips.

“Baby,” Cas growls against his mouth. His chest heaves, his fingers dig in Dean’s skin, pulling, gripping. His cock smears in Dean’s hand.

His teeth sink in Dean’s shoulders, his hands part Dean’s thighs around his waist. He moves down Dean’s body, mouth ghosting around the shape of his cock, wetting the tented fabric.

“Cas.” Dean’s nails graze his skin, pull at his hair. "Please."

"So beautiful," Cas pants. His lips are moving right above the head of Dean's cock, brushing on the lace. Dean makes a wanton sound and his hips would stutter if both of Cas' hands weren't pining him down to the mattress. "Looks so good on you, Dean. I can't wait to watch you ruin them."

Dean doesn't want to pause, but he does anyway.

"They were kinda expensive. Maybe we should try to be careful. So I can wear them again?"

Cas' eyes turn a shade darker. He leans over, trailing kisses up from Dean's navel to his sternum.

"No," he says when he finally meets Dean's gaze again. There's a challenge in his eyes. "I want to see them ruined by your pleasure. I want them soaking in it."

Dean whimpers. Fuck. Cas was always awesome at dirty talk - and fuck he's got the voice designed for it - but he keeps one-upping himself.

"I'll buy you a new set," Cas promises, kissing the uncertainty off Dean’s lips. Then he kisses his cheek, his jaw, his temple. "I'll buy you one for each day of the week. You deserve nothing less."

Dean's skin flushes under the attention. Cas' weight is warm on his cock, and his words are even warmer in his ears.

"You know," Cas murmurs, pensively, pulling back a little. "If I'd taken that promotion, I could have bought you a set of expensive, silk lingerie for every single day of the year."

Dean frowns.

"If?"

Cas looks down at him, uncertain. "I didn't... move things around. I just left. I'm not pitching for the promotion."

Dean chews his lower lip and tries not to smile too wide. He doesn't want to look too pleased.

"Okay," he murmurs. "How d'you feel?"

Cas tilts his head to the side, like he does when he ponders. He considers Dean, considers the question, as if he hadn't even thought about it before.

"Good, I think."

Dean's fingers caress the hair on the nape of his neck. "Good."

Cas turns a little, catches his wrist with his hand. Then kisses each finger, one by one. "Yes. good."

This time the kiss on Dean's lips is everything sweet. So is the kiss much further down, when Cas parts his legs and moves the slip of silk to the side. Then it's everything wet and warm and soft, and Dean surrenders. He always does, with Cas.

"Do you want-?"

"Yes, please."

The lube is uncapped, squeezed onto Castiel's fingers.

The way he looks at Dean - the reverence, the adoration. How could Dean ever doubt him?

Dean stifles his moan into the pillow as Cas pushes a finger inside. He cants his hips, needy, already wanting more than what is given. But who can blame him, when his boyfriend's got the most gorgeous hands in the world, sinful fingers that render him weak and helpless and aching with every single touch? Nothing is ever enough.

Cas' mouth ghosts over his cock again. His breath wets the fabric. He sucks at the taste Dean's leaked.

"Fuck, Cas-"

"More?"

Dean nods frantically. He pushes back against both fingers, rolls his hips to get them deeper. He barely remembers the last time Castiel touched him. Really touched him.

Quick blowjobs in the shower on the night before he left. Barely feels like it counts. They both just wanted to go to sleep.

The sound Castiel lets out vibrates against Dean's pelvis, warm gush of hair wrapping around his cock. His fingers slip in out and easily, in a quick, wet sound, as Dean slams back against them.

"P-please, Cas."

Dean's eyes roll back at the stretch of three.

He has dildos, he has toys. Brought them over when he moved in. They use them sometimes. Dean uses them on his own also. But recently, it just felt wrong.

It only reminded him that Cas wasn't there, that Cas was choosing not to be there. Dean feels selfish now, as his boyfriend lays adoring kisses on his skin, as he grips his thighs and encourages him to move, murmuring endless praises as Dean rocks his hips back against the fingers creating such a bliss inside of him.

Dean was selfish, to think he had to be the number one priority in Cas' life. That Cas didn't love him if he wasn't thinking about him constantly, if he had other things on his mind, other goals, other - that just because he put work first, for a few months, it meant that-

Dean's breath hitches. His eyes water. Fuck. Fuck.

"Cas-"

"Dean?"

Cas' fingers slip out and he wipes them on the sheets. He moves up, his body covers Dean's, cradles him.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah-"

Dean cups Cas' cheek, rubs his palm on the stubble Cas didn't shave this morning. Cas' lips press on his eyelids, on his cheeks, on the corner of his mouth. Dean helps him out of his pants, finally.

He shouldn't be shaking like this. Cas grabs his hand, squeezes it between his fingers. brings it to his mouth. Frowns.

"Dean?"

Dean tucks his head into the warm, soft skin where Cas' neck meets his shoulder.

"'m okay."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No-" Dean wraps his palm around Cas' neck and strokes. Somehow that relaxes him, to have him like this. Their ankles hook around each others, chests and stomachs pressed warm.

"What is it?"

It takes Dean a moment, a moment of Cas' hand moving up and down his spine, gently catching at the bristle hair behind his neck. A moment to push past the swelling in his throat.

"Did you not get the promotion because of me? Is it my fault?"

"Your fault?" Cas creases his eyes. Tilts his head. His lips find Dean's neck while he ponders his answer. "How could it be your fault?"

"'Cause I didn't want you to take it."

"That's not what you told me. Quite the opposite, actually." He pulls back a little, is thumb brushes on Dean's lower lip. He considers him with curiosity. "You told me that I should, if I wanted to."

"Yeah but - you didn't. You were going to, and we talked, and then you didn't."

"Dean." Cas smiles, of a little, secret smile, like he understands things Dean doesn't. "The only reason I was after that promotion was because I thought it was what I ought to do. I thought that.it was expected of me. By me, and by... you. Even though I shouldn't have, because we'd never talked about it, and obviously you didn't. But I thought you might want... certain things, one day, and that that promotion was the only sure way of giving those to you. Of assuring, in a certain way, a selfish way, I suppose, that you might be tempted to stay."

Dean's mouth falls open.

Dozens of emotions battle through him - surprise, disbelief, hurt, anger, a bubbly kind of laughter. Does Cas - did Cas - did he think-? Dean struggles a little out of Castiel's embrace.

"Cas, do you think I'm a gold digger?"

Cas' cheeks turn pink. Very pink.

"No. Not - I know you have feelings for me. I know you love me," Cas adds quickly as Dean lets out a huff of indignation. "But I - when you moved in, to this bigger home, and quit working full time to focus on school, and could afford to actually let yourself relax and enjoy your life, I saw... I saw a change in you. You seemed..." Cas smiles, thoughtful, soft. "-happier. And I want to make you happy like that, always. I want to provide for you so that you can do what truly makes you happiest in life. And I wanted that promotion because I wanted to know that I'd always be able to give you everything you'd need."

"You're such an idiot."

The words come out of Dean's mouth before he can think to stop them.

"Excuse me?"

Well, too late now. Cas deserves to know anyway.

"It was you."

Castiel’s face creases in confusion.

"The reason I was so damn happy when we moved in. The reason I've been so fucking happy since. It was you, Cas, it was being with you, being around you. Being in love with you. I've never been this fucking happy in my entire life but it's not because of your goddamn condo or your goddamn money. Idiot. It's you."

"Oh."

Dean moves into Castiel's arms again, kissing the frown off his lips. "You're such an idiot," he mumbles for the third time. "Y'know, Kant's never been the one making me sing and dance during breakfast. Think my face hurts from smiling because of fucking Rousseau, Cas? Think he's the one giving me all the butterflies?"

"I-" Cas' face flushes red. He hides in the pillow, his hand keeping Dean pressed against him. "I suppose I never considered that I was..."

Dean searches for Castiel's eyes. "Enough?"

Cas looks down. "Yes."

"Jesus, Cas. You're..."

You're the love of my life.

"You're really an idiot."

Cas huffs and rolls his eyes. Dean's not good at this. Not good at emotions in the first place, not good at talking about this. He's never done this before. And he's the one who's freaking out, here. He's the one who is in way over his head, who's in love with a guy who's so fucking beyond his station that obviously, obviously at some point he's gonna realize it.

This wasn't supposed to happen. But then again, given the way their relationship started, he really shouldn't wonder about Cas surprising him anymore.

Cas, who's smiling and more beautiful than anything Dean's ever seen. Some heat has fallen, but the slow way Castiel's fingers are running on Dean's skin is awakening it again. The caress of his lips is deliberate. Cas looks so happy, Dean thinks, as he runs a hand through his hair, and arches a little bit against him. He doesn't remember the last time Cas looked like this, the last time he smiled like this, with those little wrinkles around his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks. The smile that makes his eyes gleam in the darkness like jewels in the light.

How could you think you weren't enough, Dean wants to scream. You're everything.

All it takes for Dean to get hard again is Castiel's body moving above him, his mouth on his neck, fingers grazing through his hair. He hears the faster, deeper breaths Castiel takes as their cocks line up, rubbing together a few times. He feels Cas' chest heave underneath his fingers. Then he moves, parting Dean's legs again.

"I'm sorry for doubting you," Cas murmurs as he hooks his fingers on the lace again to push it out of the way.

He slides his cock between Dean's cheeks, where it catches again and again on his hole. Dean whines, squirms. His mind is fuzzy, his body clenches around the emptiness.

"Cas- c'mon."

"I should have never doubted your love for me. Or your motivations."

"'s fin- ah, please, just -" Dean arches, lets out a breathy moan of relief when Cas' cock finally fills him up. He was was stretched a little too quickly and it burns in the most delicious way. "Fuck."

"Sometimes I'm just..." Cas bottoms down and Dean's mind spins around it. "Scared that I'm not enough for you."

Cas' mouth latches on his neck, stomach resting hot on his lace-clad dick.

"That's fucking ironic," Dean mumbles, a little dizzy with relief and pleasure, as Cas begins moving with slow thrusts.

It feels so good, so fucking good to finally get this - not just Cas inside of him, but Cas touching him, kissing him, taking care of him in that slow, sweet way he does sometimes, that makes Dean want to cry. His thighs open loosely around Cas' waist, his fingers slip on the sweaty skin of Cas back.

"Ironic?"

Dean can hear the beginning of a strain in Cas’ voice, possibly coming from the way Dean clenches around him every time he thrusts in deeper.

"Y-yeah."

Dean doesn't elaborate. He makes a keening sound and grips tighter into Cas' shoulders, fucking his hips back against him, mouth slack at the bend of his neck. Fuck, feels so good. So fucking good. To be here, with him, again. His love, again.

"Why?"

Dean doesn't answer. He shouldn't have said anything. He doesn't know why he did, how come that thought escaped his lips. He tries kissing Cas to distract him but it doesn't work for long, and suddenly Castiel stops moving, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He's frowning.

"Tell me."

Dean rolls his eyes and his hips, looking for a friction that isn't there anymore.

"C'mon, Cas-"

"Finish your thought. Please."

"'Cause, you're-" Jesus, now it's Dean who's flushed red from head to toe. He bites into his lip. Avoids Cas' inquiring gaze. He really should've kept his mouth shut, but Cas' cock doesn't just shove open his ass, apparently. "You're everything to me," he finally mumbles. Right there against the shell of Castiel's hear, a secret he's held in too long. Maybe Cas won't understand what it means, exactly. What Dean means when he says those words. "And I'm - I'm your fucking midlife crisis. So it's really fucking ironic that you - that you're scared you're not enough for me, or whatever."

Dean tries to brush it off, but it's hard with Cas looking at him like that, with his eyes so dark like freezing oceans.

He tries to move again, but Castiel won't budge. He's a bit shorter than Dean but he's larger and heavier, and he's got him pinned down.

"Cas-"

"You think you're my midlife crisis?"

Dean tries to shrug. He knows that Cas loves him, he just-

"Dean. The circumstances in which we met were... maybe a bit cliché, I'll grant you, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to be at least forty for this to qualify as a midlife crisis."

"Third of a life crisis, then," Dean attempts. He gives Cas a smile, tries to lighten the mood.

"That's not a thing."

Dean rolls his eyes. Castiel's frown turns into a smile and leans over to kiss Dean, very softly. His hips move again, waking up sensations inside of Dean that he'd almost forgotten. Oh, right, they were doing that.

"How about third of a life bliss?"

Dean huffs, both because of that statement and from the breath being fucked out of him a little bit.

"That ain't a thing either, but fine."

Cas' pace is slow, barely a warm up, but it drags his cock in and out of Dean deliciously, catching at his rim, sending shivers like ripples underneath his skin.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you?"

Dean lifts his hips, moving with Cas. He used to hate slow rhythms like this, the intimacy it created. Cas was the first person he really allowed this kind of lovemaking with. Now he misses it when they don't have time. When they don't make time.

"'Cause I sent you really good dick pics?"

Cas huffs, his hips giving a little punishing snap. "No," he growls. "You know I had noticed you long before that."

"Right. You did say that. Something about me being cute and having good references."

Cas' fingers tug at his hair, Dean hisses a little bit at the sting. It makes him squeeze so hard around Cas' cock that he arches and groans.

"Actually," Cas says, delighted to be finally telling this story, and of the effect his little game is having on Dean, "I fell in love with you on a day during which I was quite irritated with you." He grinds his hips deep inside of Dean until Dean shudders, parting his thighs wide and letting out a sigh. "You were slacking off. You weren't filling out the forms you were supposed to, were giving me my messages thirty minutes late. Took you an hour to get me coffee, and you got the order wrong."

Dean can't reply for a minute, too lost in the way Cas' tongue explores his mouth thoroughly.

"So, usual day." Dean attempts to sound breezy, but it's difficult with Cas' cock aiming for his prostate at every thrust.

The next one is harsher, the bed creaking under them as Cas drives them both into the mattress. His stomach rolls on Dean's cock, trapping it tightly into the precum soaked lace, and Dean whines in Castiel's mouth.

"No. You were a good assistant, most of the time. But not that day. So I did something..." Cas worries his lower lip. He bends down to kiss Dean, pondering. "Iffy?"

"You, the guy who made me sign a twelve pages HR contract before you fucked me, did something iffy?"

"Yes. I have a device in my computer that allows me to see everything my assistant does on their desktop. Kind of like what some parents use to violate their children's privacy."

"Damn, Cas."

Cas thrusts into him, slow, lazy. He sucks a hickey on Dean's neck.

"It turns out that the thing that was so distracting for you that day was a very heated argument on the internet with someone called PissMyTaterTot69 about politics, and, well, philosophy."

Dean groans, and this time the heat on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cock driving slowly inside of him. "Oh. Yeah. I remember him. Should've never engaged with that asshole. Wasted a whole fucking day-"

Cas's laughter shakes them both.

"Did you read all of it?" Dean groans.

"Yes. It was riveting."

Dean tries to hide his face in the pillow. Cas kisses his cheeks, his neck.

"You destroyed him. You quoted philosophers from Aristotle to Scanlon without pausing to breathe or drink coffee. You handed him his entire ass. In pieces."

Dean's chest shakes a little bit. "Kind of, yeah."

"I spent the whole day following that debate. And realizing that you might just be the most brilliant, hilarious, witty, thoughtful, intelligent, persistent, and determined person I'd ever seen."

Dean doesn't answer. He swallows thickly.

"Cas. Only a very peculiar type of idiot gets into political arguments with people called PissMyTaterTot69 on a meme forum."

"Yes, well. That may be true, but you also had such a cute ass."

Dean shoves him, but only a little bit. Cas is being very serious, and he kisses him, and it's entirely too soft, and it's not fair, because Dean is pinned down under 180 pounds of this and he can't escape.

"You were never just my assistant, Dean. You were someone I greatly admired and never thought I'd get. I'm an old, boring, middle management drone, and you're... the smartest, brightest, warmest person I've ever met. You've never not made me smile since the day I've met you, even if it was just a stupid pun about coffee or Mondays. You're... so much more than I deserve."

"S'not true."

Cas kisses him, and Dean clings, opens his mouth, asks for more. His legs are shaking. Cas is still inside of him, somehow, somehow he's managed to stay through all of that, all this insane, completely insane crazy talking.

Sometimes I love you so much I can't breathe, Dean thinks.

He looks at Cas, as his bitten lips, at the wild, adoring look in his eyes. Maybe Cas deserves to know some of the crazy stuff he thinks about, too. Maybe he can say it. Maybe it's okay.

"Sometimes I love you so much I-" he begins. It's harder than it looks.

"You what?" Cas' smile is soft. He gently nudges a finger under Dean's shin.

"S'like the wind gets knocked out of me."

There's that smile again. Breathtaking.

The roll of Cas' hips starts once more, slowly building up. Dean lets himself go, throws his head back.

"Dean," Cas pants. "Do you - can I-"

"Anything."

Dean didn't think that anything would mean Castiel slipping out of him, the emptiness and cold surrounding him. He finds Cas standing next to their dresser, rummaging in a drawer.

"What-"

Dean's question falls short when he watches Cas stretch out a rubber cock ring around his erection, nudging it right under his balls, where it tightens. Cas' eyes are full of fire as he climbs back into bed and spreads Dean's legs again.

"We're going to really make this beautiful underwear dirty."

Dean has only seen this look on Cas' face a handful of times, and he understands. But Cas still asks.

"You want to-?"

"Fuck yeah."

Cas knows exactly what to do. Knows how to bend Dean's legs up, how to seat himself inside of him at just the right angle. They lock eyes. Dean nods ever so slightly. Cas rocks his hips, slowly at first, shallow thrusts in and out. Breathy moans escape Dean's lips. He closes his eyes, the fireworks already starting to burst behind his eyelids.

Holy shit. Holy shit. This always makes him lose it - his arms start flailing, his mouth letting out insanely high-pitched moans, like he's getting murdered and not fucked into high heavens.

Which he is.

One day, Cas found a way he could fuck directly at Dean's prostate with his cock. And realized that he could, with a few skillful pounds, make him come apart entirely. He also found out that Dean's prostate could be stimulated over and over again and that he could come dry, barely spurting, his cock soft on his stomach, many times in a row.

It kind of made Castiel go crazy, especially when he saw how much Dean loved it.

They don't do it often. It has to precise and it's exhausting for both of them. But when Cas gets the idea in his mind, he becomes somewhat obsessed with pushing it further and further and... further.

Dean comes with a shout, two minutes and thirty seconds into Cas' steady aim at his prostate. Come gushes into his underwear, staining, sticking. It's gross and it's amazing. Cas keeps moving inside of him slowly, kissing his neck, his shoulder, his cheek.

He fucks him deeper now, just brushing over his prostate, letting him recover. He kisses Dean's lips, nibbles, and asks for permission again. Dean nods.

Cas fucks him hard. Fast. He's like a machine when he goes like this, his eyes are so focused, his mouth opened slack, his hair falling on his forehead. His chest glistens with sweat and his stomach rolls with effort.

He's so fucking beautiful Dean almost comes just from looking up at him, but the incessant pound at the most sensitive part of him is what does it. He's not even hard again yet but the pleasure comes from within, from Cas' cock ramming into his ass so hard and fast, from the slap of skin against the back of his thigh, from hitting that place inside of him so good - he cries out, a long whining haul, and curls up on himself.

He spurts a little, barely.

Cas' face strains. He breathes. Pauses.

They take a minute.

"How are you feeling?"

"'m okay," Dean mumbles.

Two (very powerful) orgasms in under fifteen minutes, Dean's doing fucking stellar, actually.

"Cas?"

"Yes, my love?"

"You know I'd love you just as much even if we were living in a shitty apartment, and all we could afford were ramen and boxed mac'n'cheese, right?"

Cas kisses the crook of his shoulder. Dean can feel his smile. "Yes. I do."

"Kay. Good."

The third time, Dean's nails leave bloody claw marks down the curve of Cas' back. He’s starting to get hard again but hasn't even had time to get there before the orgasm wave crashes through him, the strength of it taking him by surprise. He whines, huffs, lifting off the bed as he cling desperately to Cas.

Castiel doesn't give him any respite. He keeps fucking him, eager, hungry for his own pleasure. His kisses are bruising now and he bends Dean's legs for far back it almost hurts. Dean lets him. He wants to feel him deep, take anything Cas will give him.

He can feel his own come sticky and wet on his skin, on the lace, leaking around his cock and balls, still frustratingly trapped in fabric. He grows harder with every deep thrust of Cas’ cock inside of him. The head of his cock is oversensitive, rubbing against the hem of his panties. Cas teases it with his fingers, looking down at Dean with dark, half-lidded eyes.

Dean comes. He comes on Cas' fingers, smears them in a white coat, that Cas spreads all over the front of his panties as he squirms in an attempt to escape the oversensitivity. He comes shaking all over because it's starting to be a little bit too much, a little bit too good.

Cas' hips drive lazily into him. His grip on Dean's chest keeps him pinned on the mattress. His head is thrown back, he looks in pure bliss. That's what Dean is to him - pure bliss.

Third of a life bliss.

Dean could do this forever if it meant making Cas feel like this.

Cas changes his angle, nailing his prostate for the fifth time. He looks at Dean, watches him come apart. Dean whines, can't form words. Claws at the sheets. It's starting to be too much. He can hear himself saying things, begging and pleading and whimpering. He comes mumbling nonsense. He manages to spill, somehow, to stain again. Cas praises him, his fingers finally slipping under the hem of his panties, into the sloppy mess he's made.

Dean shudders. He always loves Cas' fingers, always craves his touch, but it's so much right now. His whole body hurts of too much. Cas kisses him. Warm. Slow. Soft.

"So good," he murmurs. "So good for me, baby."

Dean could die right there.

He's wide open for Castiel now, fucked out, gloriously fucked out. On cloud fucking nine. This is the absolute fucking best thing in the world. He’s riding the high of... what, five orgasms? Wave after wave still rippling softly through him, and in such a short time that his ass isn't even sore yet. Still feels so fucking good to feel Cas stretching him wide, his hands touching him everywhere, his mouth, his voice.

You feel so good, my love. So perfect for me.

And now Cas is gonna fuck him, slow, slow, slow, and then fast, and then he's going to come, and it's gonna feel so good-

Cas pulls Dean's legs up again, pushes them back against his stomach. Dean frowns, blinks back into full awareness.

"Cas-"

He lets out a high-pitched whine as Cas' cock drives into his prostate. It hurts, almost, he's not sure which one is it, pleasure or pain, he's threading a fine fucking line here.

"Cas, shit, wait, I-"

"What?"

"I don't think I can-"

Cas' thumb caresses Dean's lower lip, which always has the effect of disabling his brain.

"I think you can."

He can. It takes three minutes and a half, with the added bonus of being able to suck on Cas' fingers for the first sixty seconds. That always leaves him in a good kind of high. Cas' cock and the very precise angle do the rest. He comes dry and it's fucking amazing.

"Breathe," Castiel tells him, because his chest won't stop heaving.

Dean can feel Cas' exhaustion, too. His thighs are shaking against Dean's very unstable ones.

"Cas, fucking Hell-"

Cas wipes the sweat from his brow and shoots his a devilish grin.

"No, Cas, I can't, I can't, no more, no-"

But Cas ignores him, and Dean wants to say stop it hurts it hurts stop but he doesn't, and it does hurt but also it feels so - and he can't talk anyway, he can't fucking talk when he's being fucked into the mattress to an inch of his life, and pleasure rips his soul right out of his body. He bounces him off the bed, screaming, flailing, tears streaming down his face.

He only passes out for a second.

"Are you okay?"

Dean manages to mumble something along the lines of: "Mmmggng."

Cas chuckles. "I see. One last?"

"Jesusfnngchrisss, no."

"It hurts?"

"S'too much."

Cas licks at the sweat beading on Dean's neck. "Too much what?"

"Too much."

Dean weakly tries to pull at Cas' hair to make him feel a little bit of what he means by too much, but his muscles are devoid of any strength or tone and his arm falls back against the bedspread.

"Mgngn."

"That was seven. Last time we did six... I think we can go for eight."

"Please," Dean hears himself say. "Please, please. Please. Cas."

"Am I hurting you? Like this?" Cas moves slowly inside of him. Deep.

Dean shakes his head. His eyelids are heavy, stodgy like caramels.

"Do you want to use our safe word?"

Dean thinks, for a second, before he shakes his head.

"Okay. Well I still need to come. Is it okay if I keep fucking you?"

"Yeah, please. Do that."

Cas' lips are distracting. So is his tongue. His arms, solid around Dean's face, his fingers grazing and stroking through his hair as he slowly explores his mouth. The length of his body, all warm and solid and heavy on top of him now that he's not holding his legs up anymore.

It’s all so distracting that Dean can just melt into him and focus on the burn of Cas' scruff against his neck, on the very gentle and slow rolls of his hips... Dean came too many times to get back on the roller coaster but he's on a nice plane of everything feels so fucking nice now and he fully plans on enjoying every last second of it.

He runs his hand on Cas' heated skin and catches drops of sweat as Cas begins to move faster. Dean can't do much to encourage him besides mumbling "yeah, baby, so good," and give him his best smile, his best kiss.

He expects to feel Cas spilling inside of him, hot and full and maybe biting in Dean's neck like he likes to do.

He doesn't expect his fingers pulling, folding over his legs again - "Cas" - and his prostate being under assault for the eighth fucking time. And Dean would protest if he could talk, or if Cas didn't look so fucking gone on him, if he didn't look like fucking Dean was the absolute best thing in the entire world. And once the head of Cas' cock has rammed into his prostate three more times, Dean's absolutely lost for words, for thoughts, for existence.

He's pretty sure Cas is about to break him and he's going to let him.

Dean's eighth orgasm obliterates him. He rips out some of Cas' hair, probably ends up with some flesh under his nails. Doesn't matter. For a second there he's in Heaven meeting God, having a fucking tea party with The Creator and then he's back down on Earth, body so taut with pleasure he's shaking all over. His throat hurts something awful but he can't stop making broken sounds.

He feels a sudden emptiness where Cas used to be, a bruising kiss on his lips, his lungs finally fill up with air.

A steel-like grip on his hip. Dean finally opens his eyes to find Cas above him. His gorgeous features are slack with pleasure. His blue are are looking down where he spills all over Dean's expensive, ruined panties with a shuddering groan.

There's come everywhere.

On Dean's stomach, on his thighs, soaking the red lace still trapping his softened cock. It's a fucking disgusting mess.

"Fuck."

Cas is beaming, the asshole. Dean's on the verge of unconsciousness, his whole body is both sore and numb, his face is wet with tears and his throat is raw. And Cas is grinning.

His fingers dip in the pool of their combined spill. Even goes as far as slipping between Dean's thighs, pushing some of it back inside of Dean.

"C'mon, babe," Dean groans.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself. How do you feel?"

"Gross. Thirsty. Fucking incredible."

Cas offers him a smile and kisses the inside of his knee before slipping out of bed. Dean blinks awake again a minute later, to his underwear finally being taken off - very gently - and a warm cloth rubbed on his skin. He wraps his fingers around the water bottle Cas hands him and downs it in three big gulps before falling back into the bed.

Fuck.

They should definitely shower. A towel can't rid them of everything they've just done, but Dean needs a night of sleep (or three) before he can walk again.

He forces himself to at least stay conscious as Cas pulls them both under the covers and ready for bed.

"Sleep," Cas murmurs as Dean presses himself into his arms.

"No. Not yet."

"I think you need it."

"No. Wanna be with you. Missed you."

Cas’ fingers knead in the back of his neck and Dean bites back a moan.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Tomorrow you are. If I sleep I'll wake up and you won't be here."

There's a moment; Dean doesn't even realize what he said before the warm shape in his arms slips out of reach. His eyes bat open to find Cas standing on the other side of the bed, phone in his hand.

His thumb hover the green icon right next to-

"You're seriously calling the office right now?" Dean calls out, suddenly very awake. He cringes at the effort it takes to pull himself up to a seating position.

Cas extends a finger toward him to shush him, frowning. Dean hears the message faintly through the speaker.

Castiel Novak's office this is Alfie -

"You're calling your fucking assistant? Is that who you think about when you fuck me, seriously?"

He knew it. He fucking knew it-

"Hi, Alfie, it's Mr Novak. I'm calling to say that I won't be able to come in tomorrow. You will already be at work when you hear this, so you can catch up on paperwork and then head home early. Please cancel my appointments, we will reschedule them when I come back."

Cas turns his phone off - all the way off, not just on silent - and Dean falls face first into the bed, hiding his shame in the pillow. Well. That was embarrassing.

He feels a weight. Cas sits next to him and gently rubs his shoulder. Dean can tell he's smiling, even though he's still buried so deep into his pillow he can't really breathe.

"Dean?"

A kiss on the small of his back, right where the sheet meets his skin.

"Are you jealous of my assistant?"

Still no answer, but Dean needs to move if he wants oxygen to reach his lungs. He turns his head and faces away from Cas.

"No."

"You're lying."

It's not a reproach, just a remark. Cas stretches out next to Dean, slides under the covers to wrap around him.

"I obviously overreacted," Dean mumbles.

"Yes. Obviously. But you've been dropping comments for a while now. I thought you were teasing, but now I think you're actually insecure about this."

Dean turns to look at him.

"You took the day off tomorrow?"

"Don't try to change the subject. And yes. I know you don't have classes on Mondays so I thought we could spend the day together."

"That's nice," Dean murmurs. Warmth and giddiness spread through him at the thought, and he nudges himself back into Cas' embrace. He still feels like an idiot - or rather, a fucking asshole. Cas keeps proving to him over and over how much he fucking loves him and Dean just... doubts him. Constantly.

"Dean, I have absolutely no interest in Alfie. Romantic, sexual, or otherwise."

"Why not?" Dean asks, honestly.

Cas squints at him from the other pillow.

"Why would I?"

"Because he's basically a new and improved version of me."

Well. That came out. Like that.

"A new and -" Cas' frown deepens. "Dean, he's nothing like you."

"He's a hot grad student with big wide eyes and a pretty mouth and he's always in a good mood, so, he's basically me, but better."

"You think he's hot?"

"You don't?"

Cas has never looked more confused.

"I don't - I don't know, Dean. I never really paid attention to what he looks like. He's good at remembering my coffee orders and at taking my calls, which is what I pay him for."

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed he's got eyes grey like a Seattle sky and lips made to su-"

"His eyes are grey?"

Dean huffs. "Seriously?"

Cas has got to be kidding with this.

"Dean, I-"

But he looks so honest. And so very lost, right now.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it's wrong, but I don't pay much attention to him. I've been very busy."

"What's his major?"

Cas squints at Dean and God bless him, he truly doesn't fucking know. "Something in science, I believe."

"That's all you got?"

"Robots?"

"Evolutionary biology, Cas. The guy talks about it every time I fucking call. He must have bored you to death with it."

"I..." A faint blush spreads on Cas' cheeks. "Honestly, I don't listen to much of what he says, unless it directly relates to the matter at hand."

Dean bites on his lower lip. He's not sure if he wants to scream or laugh or... cry. "You kept asking me questions about school. Kept me in your office for twenty minutes every time I brought you coffee."

"Yes, Dean. But we've already established that I had quite a huge crush on you."

"Yeah, but why? I mean, even before the PissMyTaterTot69 incident, you already knew more about me than... I mean, pretty sure you knew the color of my eyes. You sure liked staring in them."

"Yes, I did. I noticed your eyes the moment you walked into my office."

Dean gives a tentative smile. "Really?"

This time, it's Cas who exhales loudly. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"How unprofessional I've been with you from the very start? That from the moment you walked in I-"

Cas sighs and refuses to go further. He's crossed his arms on his chest over the covers and looks bothered.

"You what?"

Dean pokes his stomach.

"I was enthralled," Cas finally admits. "By your beauty, your intelligence, and your wit. I never should have even hired you, Dean. It was beyond unethical."

Oh. Oh. And Dean always thought that Cas was so professional, with his HR contracts and constantly, constantly worrying about Dean's well-being before anything else. To know that he wasn't, that he - long before he saw those pictures, that he had a weakness, for Dean, is...

"I never thought I would act on it. I foolishly let myself believe it was safe, because I never imagined you would ever feel the same way about me. That it would ever be... dangerous, in any way."

Dean shimmers closer, until he noses at the nook of Cas' shoulder and neck.

"Didn't work out too well."

"No."

Dean smiles.

"D'you regret it?"

Cas gently, gently touches his cheeks. "Sometimes, I..." Oh. Oh, no. "Sometimes I wish we'd met in different circumstances. I hate that you ever, ever feel like I thought less of you because you were my assistant. Because I was your insufferable boss who made you get coffee in the rain and kept you late in the office..."

"Never heard me complain."

Cas gives him a small smile. "But you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Dean. So I certainly cannot regret making a mistake that day and hiring you, if it led to this."

Dean buries himself in Cas' arms. His heart is so... full. He's not sure how to handle this. Because there were the I love you's, of course, and the let's move in together, and sure they meant that Cas felt for him, and they were so much more than Dean ever got before - but what he feels for Castiel goes so fucking far beyond anything that - sometimes, all the times, nothing feels quite enough, nothing feels enough for this thing inside of him.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Doubting you."

"It's okay. I thought you were a gold digger."

"Shut up."

Cas' lips press on his forehead. "Dean. I am sorry if I've ever made you feel like you weren't... well. Everything. To me."

God. That’s. A lot. Dean doesn't know how to answer, and they lay in silence for a few minutes until Castiel speaks again.

“Can I ask you why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you doubt so much of how I feel about you. Is it something I do? Or not do? Because-”

“No, Cas. It’s not, it’s - it’s me.”

Dean pulls back a little. He likes looking at Cas when they talk, likes the way his heart flutters a little every time Cas does his trademark frown of confusion. This isn't easy to say, but he owes it to Cas, and owes it to him to not shy away while he says it.

“We’ve been together for two years. No one’s ever stuck around me this long before. I’m a boy toy and you’ve had me in every way imaginable, so -- I guess I don’t know why you still want me. I mean, I live here on a ridiculous rent that we both know isn’t covering anything, I’m doing a PhD in a domain for which they keep cutting funds - I’m never gonna be someone, I’m never gonna - I’m never gonna have a huge important job and - and you have a much cuter, younger, perkier assistant who you could fuck in your office since you spend most of your time there anyway, not that it’s your fault, it’s just-"

Dean wants to punch himself in the face. Instead he hides in the pillow, his voice muffled. So much for being brave.

"I’m getting lost here - I just - I guess I don’t - I don’t get it. And, uh, I think - I know it’s been work that's been keeping you, I know that, but - but maybe it’s also me, maybe you’re also tired of me, so…”

Well, that’s a lot more than Dean ever intended to say. He can go die now. That'd be nice.

“Dean,” Cas states calmly, in the deep, gravelly voice that had Dean hooked from the moment they met.

Dean shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He feels like an idiot. But everything he said… it’s true. Castiel is older, smarter, richer, and the most delightful, gentle, amazing person Dean has ever met. What the hell is he doing with Dean?

Apparently, what he's doing is reaching with his fingers under Dean's chin to force him to look up into his calm, slightly amused gaze. And then he kisses him, soft, and slow.

“In a way, you are right," Cas murmurs. "We have been together for a while now. And I have had you in... many, many wonderful ways. But it’s never been about… having you. It’s about being with you. What we have, this intimacy, this profound understanding of each other, I have never felt it with anyone else before. And it never seems to stop getting better and better. At least, for me. You need to know that.”

Dean bats his eyelashes to chase away the tears threatening to pour over.

“Alfie is a fine functioning assistant but I don’t see him. I don’t see people, they’re not - ever since you came into my life, everyone else is… feels, neutral. Bonds of friendships, yes, shared interests, yes. But you eclipse everyone else, Dean. I can’t even imagine someone else in my heart, in my home... or in my bed." Castiel frowns, his mouth twitches like he’s retaining a scowl. "It’s unthinkable. You are everything to me.”

Dean blinks, he doesn’t know what to say - he feels too full. It’s too much.

Cas has a slow, sad smile.

“And now I realize that I may be scaring you.”

“No! No, Cas-” Dean pulls at him until Cas has rolled on top of him again. There's very little as relieving as feeling him weight on him. “Same. With you. I really fucking love you, okay? Like, crazy, all I do all day is think about you when I should be working on my stupid thesis, and think about everything that’s wrong and right and everything I want and my dreams and it’s all - It’s all you.”

“Well. I’m sorry I’m keeping you from your thesis.”

He doesn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he's grinning from ear to ear, and it's so beautiful Dean is melting like ice cream during a heat wave. He kisses a path underneath Castiel’s jaw. “It's worth it.”

“Hopefully." Cas nuzzles in Dean's neck, sighs against his skin. "And things… will get better, I promise. I’m thinking about making changes.”

Dean tenses. “Changes?”

“My work. As you know it’s… it’s good for my bank account. It’s not good for my happiness.”

“Oh," Dean smiles, relieved. He shrugs. "Then maybe you shouldn’t do it anymore.”

Cas pulls back and looks at Dean, like he’s evaluating something.

“Yes, well. I also have other projects that… that are also extremely important to me and my happiness. And I don’t know - it’s not the kind of thing one usually does while throwing the rest of their lives away.”

“Changing jobs doesn’t mean throwing your life away.”

“I don’t want to just go sit in a different office tower. I - I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to do something… for me. Own my own business, maybe. A shop of some kind. But that would mean even more time invested, and probably a much higher level of stress. You need to make profit, to make money…”

Dean’s lips curl into a smile. He had no idea Cas had thought about this - that Cas had started dreaming about this kind of thing. But it fits. And it would be awesome.

"Is that what you'd like to do? Your own little shop?"

Cas' fingers tense in Dean's hair.

"Maybe. I'm not sure which kind yet, though."

“Hey, Cas. Hey… it’s gonna be okay. If it’s something you love, something you’re passionate about, the stress is different. Alright?”

Cas nods.

“Those other projects… what’s that about?”

Cas grins and cocks his head down.

“It’s about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

There's a blush on Cas' cheek, a blush that makes Dean's heart pound a little too hard.

“How - how’s that-”

“Well, it starts with… a question, that I ask, and that you answer, yes or no…”

“Oh. Shit. Fuck, you wanna - wait.”

Cas pulls back on his hands, worried.

“Is it bad? Should I not?”

“No, shit, I mean - yes, I mean," Dean grabs Cas' face and kisses him, because he needs to make it clear, that yes, it's going to be yes if Cas ever asks that crazy fucking question. "I - you - um, you - you’re gonna - you're thinking about… doing that?”

“Eventually, yes. Soon… if possible.”

“You’ve - so you’ve thought about it? Like-?”

“Yes. I have… thought about a lot of things. I want… a lot of things. With you.”

Dean feels a tsunami size wave of tears about to pour out. Shit. Shit, he was not expecting that tonight. Is he wiping his cheek?

“It’s not happening right now, Dean, I don’t have a ring yet.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles, voice choked up.

Cas kisses his cheek, laughing softly.

“I have looked at some, though…”

“Please stop.”

Castiel uses his thumb to dry Dean's cheek.

“Is it too much? Are you not-?”

“No. Of course I - Jesus, of course I want -" It's hard to speak between wet, shaky kisses to Cas' lips. "I just… ‘m not used to being this happy? I guess. I mean. I should be. Been pretty fucking happy since I met you, but you keep like. Blowing up the roof every time.”

“Well, you might take that back when we move in a tiny studio over my failing joke shop.”

“Maybe I can actually pay my part of the rent for a change. Maybe I’ll be a college professor and I’ll be supporting my husband’s cute little library slash bring-your-cat coffee shop.”

Cas gasps.

“Dean, that is such a good idea.”

“You should quit tomorrow, then,” Dean murmurs, kissing Cas’ nose.

Cas drops back on the mattress next to Dean and gathers him into his arms again.

“Are you sure you don’t want Alfie? He’s much more age appropriate for you. And he’s only just starting his master's degree in biology, but I know he’s dreaming of being a college professor. You have so much in common.”

“So you have been listening to him,” Dean teases. “He talks a lot, some things do end up getting through.”

Dean laughs and then pretends to think about it.

“Mmmh. Yeah, I see it. Few years down the road, nice greying peach fuzz on those cheeks, a shitload of money.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Eh, I guess," Dean shrugs.

“Better prospect than me.”

“Mmh, yeah, broke fifty years old dude who always smells so weird -”

“I smell weird?”

“You will, because of your failed soap shop. You come up with the weirdest, most awful soaps and no one wants them.”

“Of course.”

“So you stink, and you have a beer gut-”

“I don’t run marathons anymore?”

“Nah, too depressed because of your failed business. You drink instead.”

“That is not a pretty picture.”

“Mmh,” Dean hums. He looks over at Cas, at their laced fingers, at his face smushed into the pillow and his eyes so full of light. “Eh. I still choose you.”

“Over the millionaire biologist giving conferences all over the world?”

“Hell yes,” Dean kisses him, and his heart almost gives out right there. “Any fucking day.”

The smile that Cas gives him then could brighten up the world.

Dean turns off the light and Cas turns around. Dean wraps his arms around him, tucking Cas into his embrace. Cas doesn't say it a lot, but Dean knows how much he loves being a little spoon.

“I don’t think we should let people bring their own cats,” Dean mumbles a few minutes later.

“Bring their own cats?”

“Yeah. To the coffee shop. We should have rescues or something but not like, clients’ cats and stuff. I feel like we'd have to mediate a lot of cat fights."

There’s a short silence.

"We?"

"Yeah. You don't think I'm gonna leave you alone with that, right? Plus I'm graduating with a PhD in philosophy soon, I'm gonna need a barista job or something."

Cas laughs. They should be asleep -- hell, Dean should have been asleep eons ago -- but Dean can feel that Cas is thinking. Can almost hear the gears working in his brain. He tightens his arms around him before he speaks.

“Hey, Cas. I know I teased you about your failed shops and stuff but… you know I don’t believe that, right? Whatever you choose to do, I know you’re gonna be fucking brilliant at it. If you open a little shop, or if you go back to school and pick a different career, I know you’re gonna be fucking amazing. And, uh, I feel really lucky that you chose me to be by your side for that.”

“I know,” Cas murmurs, fingers stroking over Dean's arms. “And it is going to happen, just so you know."

“What is?”

“I’m going to propose. It’s going to happen. I mean it.”

“Well I think I've made it pretty clear what my answer's going to be.”

“Yes, I suppose the surprise is blown now.”

"Can we even surprise each other anymore?" Dean moans in a dramatic tone. "Maybe I should say no, just to keep our relationship spicy."

Cas kicks him.

"I'm kidding, Jeez."

Another silence.

"Hey, Cas? I'm really fucking happy right now."

"Me too."

"Guess we better get used to it."

"Yes. I guess we do."

#destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #m writing #m #smuttie fic #established relationship

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alanlpoland32 · 5 years

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badchoosey · 5 years

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BloodBound, Book One. Chapter 1: The Interview

New York City.

Raines Corporation Headquarters, downtown Manhattan.

You sit in the sleek modern lobby, waiting for your job interview to begin. Men and women in expensive suits bustle by.

Amazon: (Everyone looks so serious and professional… do I even have a shot? I really need this job…)

A pair of doors slide open, and a stunning woman with an icy demeanor approaches.

Nicole Anderson: Amazon?

Amazon: Yes, that’s me.

Nicole Anderson: I’m Nicole Anderson, VP of Operations at Raines Corp. I’m ready to interview you now.

Amazon: Oh! Uh, sure… absolutely…

Nicole Anderson: You sound surprised.

Amazon: I just wasn’t expecting to be interviewed by someone so high up in the company…

Nicole Anderson: You’re applying to be the executive assistant of our CEO, Adrian Raines himself, one of the most powerful and influential men in the world. We take our hiring process very seriously.

Amazon: Of course! I totally understand!

Trying to keep up a confident look, you follow Nicole into a sterile conference room.

Nicole Anderson: Now then. The Raines Corporation is a global leader in technology and innovation. Why exactly are you interested in being the executive assistant to our CEO?

Amazon: Look, I’m not going to lie. The pay here is through the roof, and I need the money bad. I’m drowning in student loans, I still owe my roommate half of last month’s rent, and I’m a little worried I’m going to get scurvy from living off expired ramen. No one in the city is offering the kind of money you are. And I’ll do anything for it.

Nicole Anderson: An unusually candid answer. I suppose there’s something to be said for that…

Just then, the door at the back of the room swings open, and a handsome man in a perfectly-tailored suit strolls in. His eyes sparkle with a cold intelligence as he assesses you.

Nicole Anderson: Adrian. I wasn’t expecting you…

Adrian Raines: I had a free minute. Is this the candidate?

Nicole Anderson: Yes… but I’ve just started the interview and--

Adrian Raines: I’ll take over from here.

Nicole Anderson: … Of course, sir. Go right ahead.

Adrian pulls up a seat opposite you. It’s like his eyes are burning right through you.

Adrian Raines: Amazon, is it?

Amazon: That’s right.

Adrian Raines: Tell me, Amazon. What do you desire?

Amazon: You mean… why do I want this job? Because I--

Adrian Raines: I didn’t ask why you want this job. I asked what you desire.

Amazon: I desire power.

Adrian cocks an eyebrow.

Adrian Raines: Really?

Amazon: I want control over my life. I want to make my own choices. I want the power to do what I want, when I want, how I want.

Adrian Raines: I’m impressed with your honesty.

Amazon: Hey, you asked, right?

He looks down at your resume.

Adrian Raines: Let’s see here. Graduated college a year ago… Bachelor’s in Communications… interned at Mannon Financial… Volunteered in San Trobida abroad for a year.

Amazon: Yep. That’s right.

Adrian Raines: And how was that? Tell me in three words.

Amazon: Difficult. Enlightening. Rewarding.

Adrian Raines: Good. This job can be challenging and unpredictable. Are you comfortable running unusual errands?

Amazon: Absolutely.

Adrian Raines: Handling confidential information?

Amazon: I can keep a secret.

Adrian Raines: Working nights?

Amazon: Always been a night owl.

Adrian Raines: Good. Anything else I should know about you?

Amazon: I have a great memory.

Adrian Raines: Oh? What was the first thing I said when I walked in?

Amazon: Look, I’m Adrian. Howdy howdy howdy.

Adrian Raines: I definitely did not say ‘howdy’.

Amazon: Okay, so my memory’s not great… but I’m hilarious, right?

Adrian Raines: I’ll give you that. One last question.

He leans forward, hands folded together on the table. His expression is intense, impenetrable.

Adrian Raines: A long time ago, there lived a man in a distant village. He had a good enough life… a wife, three kids, a village of friends, a plot of land to call his own. But one day, while plowing his field, he found a buried lamp. And when he rubbed it, a genie appeared and gave him three wishes. For the first wish, he asked for great wealth. A pile of gold appeared all around him. But the rest of the village suffered instantly. Their crops withered, wells dried, larders went empty.

Amazon: Mmhmm..

Adrian Raines: Next, the man wished for immortality. The genie granted it… but when he ran into his house, his wife and children were all dead.

Amazon: Okay…

Adrian pauses, stares into your eyes, searching, intense…

Adrian Raines: Tell me, Amazon. What should the man ask for, for his third and final wish?

Amazon: He should choose to undo his last two wishes.

Adrian Raines: Because…?

Amazon: Because he’d already had all he really wanted or needed. It’s a story about greed and temptation. There’s no way for the man to win, because he should never have played this game. All he can hope for is to bring things back to the way they were.

Adrian nods thoughtfully, momentarily far away… He pauses, deep in thought, fingers steepled… and grins.

Adrian Raines: You’re hired.

Amazon: Wh… what? Seriously?

Adrian extends his hand, and you take it. His grip is firm, his skin impossibly smooth.

Adrian Raines: Welcome to the Raines Corporation.

Nicole Anderson: But… we have fifteen more candidates! We haven’t even--

Adrian Raines: This is the one.

Nicole Anderson: … Of course. Understood.

Amazon: Mr. Raines, sir, I--

Adrian Raines: Call me Adrian.

Amazon: Adrian, I’m just… so honored for this opportunity! I promise I won’t let you down.

Adrian Raines: Good. Because I take promises very seriously.

Amazon: When do I start?

Adrian Raines: Right now.

Nicole leaves to process your paperwork, and Adrian escorts you towards a glistening, shiny elevator… You step inside, and Adrian presses his keycard to a scanner to make a display with buttons appear. He presses one labeled ‘Executive Office’.

Amazon: So… is this your own private elevator?

Adrian Raines: Yes.

Amazon: Wow…

Adrian Raines: It’s not as pretentious as you might think. Sometimes it’s necessary for me to get around the building quickly.

Amazon: Oh, I didn’t mean… I understand you’re a busy person.

Adrian Raines: One of your jobs is to help me be more efficient so I can get more done. My previous assistant… she didn’t understand that.

Amazon: Is that why she’s no longer… with the company?

Something unexpected passes in Adrian’s eyes. Guilt?

Adrian Raines: … Among other reasons.

Adrian turns his steely eyes to yours, studying you almost clinically, without a word…

Amazon: (His eyes… like stars in a night sky…) I’ll do my best, sir… I mean, Adrian.

Adrian Raines: I have no doubt you will. That’s why I hired you.

Amazon: I’m ready to hit the ground running. What’s on the agenda for today?

Adrian Raines: My schedule for the rest of the day is packed. Right now, I need to prepare for a meeting with some very important partners.

Amazon: Got it. I’ll be sure to meet them as they arrive.

Adrian Raines: Don’t worry about that. They’re longtime associates of mine. They’ve been here before and know where they’re going.

Amazon: How many of them are coming?

Adrian Raines: Just two.

Amazon: Would you like me to order some dinner for the three of you?

Adrian Raines: That won’t be necessary. But there is one thing I’d like for you to do.

Amazon: Of course.

Adrian Raines: My guests are formidable people, at the height of power in their fields. And I’m conducting some delicate negotiations… So I wanted to welcome them with some memorable gifts.

Amazon: No problem. Would you like me to run out and shop for some special items? I can shop like nobody’s business. Especially with someone else’s money. I’m seriously like, semi-pro.

Adrian Raines: I’ve actually already personally selected a few… unique things. All you need to do is pick them up for me.

Amazon: Absolutely.

The elevator stops at the top floor and the doors open to reveal the lobby outside Adrian’s office.

Adrian Raines: This’ll be your desk.

Amazon: Wow.

You step towards it, but Adrian stops you.

Adrian Raines: You’ll be going back down. All the way down… to the basement archives.

Amazon: Is… that where the gifts are?

Adrian Raines: Yes. They should have everything ready for you. Afterwards, come find me on the 75th floor conference center. Just be prepared… The archive clerk can be a bit… unusual.

Adrian reaches into the elevator and pushes ‘B’ for basement…

Amazon: ‘Unusual’? Wait, is this some kind of test?

Adrian doesn’t answer, just steps back out and smiles faintly as the doors close… The elevator descends, down, down, down…

You exit the elevator and find yourself in the basement archives.

Amazon: Um… okay… not what I expected…

Archive Clerk: What are you doing here?

Amazon: Whoa!

You’re startled by an old clerk with a deep scowl and an old-fashioned suit. You gather your composure and offer your hand. He doesn’t shake it.

Amazon: This is a test, right? This has to be a test.

Archive Clerk: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Amazon: Right. I’m here to pick up some items for Mr. Raines…. Some gifts he requested for his guests?

Archive Clerk: Do you have an authorization form?

Amazon: Authorization? No, I…

He turns on his heel and hunches away…

Amazon: Wait! I’m so sorry, sir! Please, just give me a moment.

The clerk stops and turns around.

Archive Clerk: You’ve got one moment.

Amazon: I’m Mr. Raines’ new assistant. I just started today. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed an authorization form, but Mr. Raines himself requested that I come speak to you directly. Thank you for letting me know the proper procedure. I’ll be sure to follow it next time, but Mr. Raines is expecting these items. I don’t want to get fired before I even get a chance to prove myself.

The clerk doesn’t answer. He just grunts and disappears down a dark aisle of shelves.

Amazon: (Please, please, please let that have worked… Maybe I should’ve cried a little?)

A few moments later, the clerk reappears with a carved wooden box in his hands.

Amazon: Is that… everything?

Archive Clerk: It contains three things. Do not get it wrong.

Amazon: Get what wrong?

He reaches into the box and pulls out an elaborately engraved silver dagger.

Amazon: Um.

Archive Clerk: The dagger is for Mr. Castellanos. It’s from the 14th century.

Amazon: Like… the for real 14th century?

Archive Clerk: Do I look like I play jokes?

Amazon: No. I was just expecting like… a fancy pen with a Raines Corp logo or something.

He carefully places the dagger back in the box, and next takes out a gold Egyptian scarab beetle, encrusted with precious stones.

Amazon: That’s… beautiful.

Archive Clerk: This scarab is 2100 years old.

Amazon: Like…

Archive Clerk: For real 2100 years.

Amazon: Holy… I studied these in a history class…

Archive Clerk: It is intended for Ms. Sayeed.

Amazon: Got it. Anything else?

The clerk pulls one last item from the box: a tiny glass vial filled with a red powder and sealed with a tiny cork.

Archive Clerk: Mandrake extract. That is something Mr. Raines requested for himself.

Amazon: Dagger, scarab, mandrake… I’ve got it.

The clerk nods and hands you the box.

Archive Clerk: Godspeed.

He turns and disappears down a dark corridor.

Amazon: Okay… Thank you, bye…

From down the corridor, you hear him muttering…

Amazon: (Well, that was incredibly weird. What is the deal with this place?)

You get back in the elevator, carefully cradling the box and its precious contents. As you ride up in the elevator, you pull your phone out of your pocket with one hand and search ‘mandrake extract’.

Phone:

Mandrake extract is hallucinogenic and narcotic. It was historically used to treat melancholy. In large doses, however, it can induce delirium or unconsciousness.

Amazon: (Okay, like… at what point do I get alarmed?)

You slide the phone in your pocket and pull out the mandrake vial. You hold it up to the light, examining it. The red powder is refined, silky, mysterious…

The elevator arrives. You tuck the vial into your pocket and knock on the door of the conference room. Adrian lets you in.

Adrian Raines: Excellent, Amazon. Come in please…

You see two other people seated at the massive table. A stunningly elegant woman with an intense gaze and a sweaty, older man who looks you up and down with hungry eyes…

Adrian Raines: This is Amazon, my new assistant.

Kamilah Sayeed: You do go through them rather quickly…

Adrian Raines: Amazon, this is Kamilah Sayeed, CEO of Ahmanet Financial.

You reach over to shake Kamilah’s hand, but she dismisses it with a curt nod.

Adrian Raines: Kamilah is a brilliant and fascinating woman, but warmth is not her forte.

Kamilah rolls her eyes at him.

Lester Castellanos: I, on the other hand, would be more than happy to shake your hand, gorgeous…

Adrian Raines: … And this is Lester Castellanos, of Castellanos Meats.

Lester rises and grasps your hand in his. With his other hand, he reaches out and strokes your forearm gently…

Lester Castellanos: What a beautiful, beautiful girl…

Amazon: Whooo… Um… Adrian….?

You look over to Adrian, alarm in your eyes…

Fast, impossibly fast, Adrian crosses the room, grabs Lester’s wrist, and slams his hand into the table with a crack.

Adrian Raines: Hands to yourself, Lester.

Kamilah Sayeed: Lester, please, come join us in the 21st century. This sort of conduct is so tiresome.

With a scowl, Lester jerks his hand back and cradles it.

Adrian Raines: Amazon, I apologize for Lester’s behaviour, since he doesn’t have the manners to do it himself. Are you okay?

Amazon: Yes, thank you.

Adrian Raines: Back to business. To commemorate our partnership, I have chosen some small gifts for you. Amazon, can you do the honors?

Amazon: Absolutely…

You reach into the wooden box and pull out the bejeweled scarab.

Amazon: This scarab is for Lester Castellanos.

Adrian Raines: Ahem…

You look to Adrian, he subtly tilts his head towards Kamilah.

Amazon: So sorry. My mistake. This is actually meant for Kamilah.

Lester Castellanos: What a tease you are, Amazon…

Amazon: So sorry. (sorrynotsorry.)

You hand the scarab to Kamilah. Kamilah turns it over in her hands, admiring it.

Kamilah Sayeed: Ptolemaic Dynasty. Very nice, Adrian.

Adrian Raines: I thought you’d appreciate it.

Amazon: The scarab is a symbol of rebirth, if I’m recalling my college class correctly?

Kamilah glances up at you, as if really noticing you for the first time. Your eyes meet. Hers are brown, the deepest, most beautiful brown you’ve seen… like you could lose yourself in them…

Amazon: (What…)

Lester loudly clears his throat, pulling you out of the moment.

Lester Castellanos: Lovely. Poetic. But what do I get?

You pull the dagger from the wooden box.

Lester Castellanos: Ooo… angel with a switchblade! I’m in love.

Kamilah Sayeed: For god’s sake…

Amazon: Actually, it’s an antiquity from the 14th century… and it’s for you, Mr. Castellanos.

Lester Castellanos: Please, call me Lester. Or Daddy. Whichever you prefer.

He takes the dagger, facetiously making a point not to touch your hand as he does.

Lester Castellanos: Thank you, Adrian. And did you see, I minded my manners!

Adrian Raines: Congratulations, Lester. You did the bare minimum not to be walking slime. Thank you, Amazon. You may go.

Amazon: Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be at my desk.

You leave the room.

Amazon: (Blech, what a creep. Though Kamilah seems pretty cool… I’m just glad I made it through that without being fired!)

You head to your desk and wait for the meeting to be over, and text your roommate Lily.

Amazon - It’s getting late and they’re still in there. This = weird. Do I stay or come home?

Lily Spencer - It’s your first day. Stay. It’s not like you have plans.

Amazon - Yeah… I guess he did say I’d have to work some nights…

Lily Spencer - Careful w/ that. Been more weird attacks all over the city…

Amazon - More?

Lily Spencer - Yeah…

Amazon - Ugh, so creepy. What are you up to tonight?

Lily Spencer - Date night w/ Melanie

Amazon - Sexay…. Have fun, you be safe too. Gotta go! Later!

You hear the door to the conference room opening, and hear Adrian saying goodbye to Kamilah and Lester. You tuck your phone back in your bag as Adrian approaches your desk.

Adrian Raines: You’re still here?

Amazon: Well, I wasn’t sure if you still needed me, so… How was the meeting?

Adrian Raines: … Satisfactory.

Amazon: Fair… enough. So… is there anything else I can do for you, or…

Adrian Raines: No, you’re welcome to go home. I don’t want to keep you any later. But…

Amazon: But?

He hesitates for once… as if thinking it carefully over…

Adrian Raines: I make it a point to get to know my new employees. Especially those I’ll be working closely with. There’s a restaurant I was planning to go to tonight. One of the finest in the city. Perhaps you’d care to join me for dinner? If you’re not busy that is.

Amazon: I… have other plans.

Adrian Raines: Ah, I understand. That’s too bad… Another time, perhaps. Thank you very much for your help today. Have a good night, Amazon.

He smiles, and there’s a surprising kindness to him, for just a second.

Adrian Raines: I look forward to working with you.

Amazon: Yeah. Me too.

You grab your bag and head out. A little while later, you arrive back at your apartment. Your roommate Lily is there, hanging out on the couch playing a videogame…

Lily Spencer: Gold medal for kills… gold medal for damage done. Play of the game…. The real Play of the Game would be getting McCree and Hanzo to kiss…

Amazon: Happy as I am to see you crushing it, didn’t you have a date with Melanie tonight?

Lily Spencer: Still waiting for her to text me…

Amazon: Oh…

Lily Spencer: Forget it! Tell me all about the new job!

Amazon: It was good.

Lily Spencer: Awesome! Overly Excited Roommate High-Five!

You emphatically high-five Lily.

Lily Spencer: Dude, no one deserves a break more than you.

Amazon: Yeah, yeah. You’re just happy I can make rent.

Lily Spencer: Not gonna lie, that’s a perk. Well, let’s toast to you being gainfully employed, and… wait, what’s your actual job anyway?

Amazon: I’m assistant to the CEO.

Lily Spencer: Wait, the CEO? Like Adrian Raines?

Amazon: Yeah.

Lily Spencer: Oh snapaloosa! Tell me all about him!

Amazon: I’ll tell you everything… if you have a drink with me.

Lily Spencer: Sure thing. Just know that Melanie is supposed to text me any minute.

Amazon: She flakes on you all the time…

Lily Spencer: No, she doesn’t… Okay, she does…

Amazon: Why do you put up with it?

Lily Spencer: I don’t know. Honestly.

Amazon: Give her the benefit of the doubt. You wouldn’t want to mess this up if she’s innocent, right?

Lily Spencer: Yeah. Right. You’re the best bestie. I love you.

Lily hugs you.

Lily Spencer: Now, where’s that bottle of the good stuff we were saving for a rainy day?

Amazon: Or an employed day!

Lily pulls a bottle of red wine out of the back of the cupboard and opens it.

Lily Spencer: A toast to Adrian Raines!

You laugh and grab two wine glasses from the cabinet.

Lily Spencer: What’s he like?

Amazon: He’s super hot.

Lily Spencer: Now that’s what I’m talking about. Dish! DISH!

Lily pours the wine into the glasses, and it flows like a red waterfall… Something about the color jars your memory..

Amazon: Oh no… wait!

Lily Spencer: What?!

Amazon: The red mandrake!

Lily Spencer: Red mandrake? Are you into magic now? Because I am always down for a Buffy marathon…

You pull the small glass vial of red powder out of your pocket.

Amazon: I forgot to give it to Adrian!

You throw your jacket on and grab your bag.

Amazon: Sorry, sorry, I have to go!

You rush out into the night, leaving Lily alone.

Lily Spencer: So… I realize I poured this for us to drink together… but some poor grapes gave their lives for this wine and it would be a tragedy to waste it…

Lily drinks her wine. And yours.

You dash back to the office, begging the security guard to let you in, and take the elevator back to your desk. You see a crack of faint light under the door to Adrian’s office, just beyond…

Amazon: (Phew, he’s still here…)

You push his office door open…

Amazon: Adrian… Oh my god!

Adrian cranes his head up from the body of his VP, staring at you…

Amazon: AHHHHHHHH!

#bloodbound #choices bloodbound #choices bb #choices #playchoices #bad choices

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