#athaclena

The apartment block Winchester lived in was slightly shabby but otherwise respectable, and Castiel made his way up to the second floor carrying the saucepan carefully. It was quite full; he might have overestimated Samuel Winchester’s appetite. If so, it would keep the Detective well nourished whilst he nursed his brother. Unaccountably satisfied with that thought, Castiel knocked on the door and waited patiently.

Detective Winchester, as it turned out, was very much more casual when he was off-duty. He opened the door forcefully, wearing a white undershirt with nothing on top, suspenders hanging at the sides of his trousers. His arms were, frankly, very fine specimens of arms, with well developed muscles, faint freckles, and fine golden hairs. His shoulders were broad and similarly well-shaped. All round, he made a very aesthetically pleasing specimen.

Castiel swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. “Detective Winchester. Forgive me for disturbing you after working hours, but I had some questions regarding our recent unfortunate experience, and thought I would bring your provisions for your brother.”

The Detective’s mouth hung open for a moment before he covered it with a strained smile. “Sure thing, come on in. I’m afraid the place is kinda messy right now, I haven’t been able to clean properly with Sam ill and the investigation. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, beer, barley water, whiskey?”

Castiel followed him inside the apartment. It was actually tidier than his own was, and his apartment block provided a maid; more evidence of Winchester’s tidy nature, in mind as well as body. One wall had a board of thin wood leaning against it, pine by the smell of it, which had a map of the city and numerous other papers attached; Castiel drifted towards it almost without thought. “Coffee would be lovely, thank you,” he said absently. “Just black is fine.”

The map had over two dozen pins in it, with red string leading from each of them to cards on the side. Each card held the details of two people - mated couples, he quickly realised - with pertinent details of their lives and deaths on them. Some of the pins also had thin strands of green linking them together; there was no overarching pattern there, no central point which the green thread connected to.

Castiel had read most of the cards on the side when he felt his hands being gently clasped around a cup of coffee. It was cool enough to sip, and he finished his reading whilst enjoying the cup. He turned round to find a fond but amused smile on Detective Winchester’s face; he had a great deal of experience of those from family members and could recognise them instantly.

He found himself blushing in response and ducked his head. “My apologies, I was engrossed in your research,” he said. “It’s very thorough. I had no idea there were so many cases.”

It started a long time ago.

[4. LookingForGroup] [The_Michaelsword]: LF Healer for Kara 2nd boss ours dropped out

[AngelofThursday] whispers: Healadin here, I'm in if you still need one

[The_Michaelsword] whispers: got gear? dont care if your not fully specced but we already got a couple of n00bs

[AngelofThursday] whispers: I'm good, and I've run Kara as primary healer a lot before

[The_Michaelsword] whispers: awesome lemme get you an inv

Dean met his best friend in WoW. TBC, specifically. Dean stopped playing a while ago when he opened Slice of Pi, not enough time to dedicate to raiding and if you're not raiding, what's the point? But they still hook up online for gaming, and they talk nearly every day.

Nine years of friendship makes AngelofThursday Dean's oldest friend, because Sam totally doesn't count, and that's pretty awesome. He's put down roots here in Pennsylvania, for the first time since Mom died really, but none of his earlier friendships survived the repeated moves and occasional flits in the night that required leaving everything behind.

But he's doing pretty well for himself now, got a shop with a tiny apartment above it where Dean can sleep, and enough money coming in to pay for anything Sam's scholarships can't cover. The shop was mostly paid for with the life insurance money from Dad, and while Dean misses his father sometimes he prefers his business. He's only admitted that to Sam and Thurs though.

Right now he's waiting on Thurs coming online. His hours are unpredictable and strange, so waiting on him is always a gamble. The guy never uses mobiles to talk, either; he's got a real bug up his ass about security for some reason.

Thurs is worth it though; dry humour, knows stuff about everything, cares passionately about things, and Dean's completely in love with him. Which is why he's currently drunk. Meg has the early start tomorrow which means Dean can pine in peace.