#may-darling

Dean smiles. “Hey, Cas. Small black coffee in a medium cup, right?”

“Not this time.” 

“Oh.” 

Dean scratches the back of his neck. He’s gonna have to write down his number on another cup, then. A small hitch in his plan; he really didn’t want Cas to see him writing it down, just in case he wasn’t interested. But maybe it’s better this way, now Dean will know for sure that Cas has noticed the number.

“Then what’ll you have?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says instead of answering.

Sorry about what, Dean doesn’t get a chance to ask, because then he’s reaching into his waistband, pulling out a gun and aiming it at Dean. He’s holding it close to his body, hiding it from anyone who might happen to pass by with practiced ease. 

“Please show me to the back.”

Dean licks his lips, heart hammering. If Cas has been casing out the joint for this long, then chances are good he knows exactly what’s hiding back there. He also knows that Dean is alone in the shop this time of day, that the actual business doesn’t get going until in the afternoon. 

“Come on, man, you don’t have to do this,” Dean still pleads, hoping Cas is just a regular robber who picked a really bad target.

“I’m afraid I do.” 

Cas at least has the good grace to look genuinely sorry, though that isn’t worth much. Was all that flirting just a front, too? Has he been stringing Dean along, buttering him up with flattery just to make him an easier target?

Maybe John had it right. Maybe Dean’s not ready to be in this life. 

“Fine,” Dean says stonily. 

He waits until Cas has joined him behind the counter before moving, keeping him at his side rather than behind him as they enter the back room. He pretends to stub his toe on the threshold, stumbling across it and as Cas reaches out to steady him, elbowing him in the gut hard enough to loosen his grip on the gun.

It goes flying and Dean darts after it but Cas is quicker, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and sending him sprawling to the ground. The gun lands with a clatter somewhere further away, out of reach, and Cas is pinning Dean down to the ground, holding him by both wrists and straddling his thighs.

Dean lets himself go limp, considering his options but having a difficult time thinking. Cas is warm and heavy and he smells so fucking good, and Dean hates that he’s noticing that, because Cas just had a fucking gun pointed at him a few seconds ago. That should be enough to erase any interest he has for the man, and yet.

Cas shifts and it hits Dean then that he’s blushing. Looks like he might not be the only one affected by their current situation.

“You know, Cas, if you wanted to get on top of me that bad, you only had to ask.”

Cas turns even redder. “I don’t want to hurt you, Dean. Just give me what I want and I’ll be on my way.”

Dean flexes his fingers experimentally, heart skipping a beat when Cas tightens his grip around his wrists. 

“Pretty sure my boss wouldn’t like that,” he drawls.

“I could give you protection,” Cas offers immediately. “I have connections to the higher-ups in my organization, we could hide you.”

Dean blinks. He’s grown up in this life, knows the kind of trouble Cas would be taking on to ensure his safety, but he looks completely sincere about his offer. 

He also seems to have no clue about who Dean actually is.

“I can’t betray the family like that,” Dean says slowly, testing that theory.

“I admire your loyalty to your employer but the Winchesters aren’t your family.” Yep, no clue. “Is staying true to them worth risking your life?”

“Is going up against them to protect me worth risking yours?”

Cas hesitates. Then, seeming to have made his mind up about something, “It wouldn’t be as great of a risk for me. I don’t just have connections to the higher-ups, I’m Chuck Shurley’s son.”

Dean’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. “Chuck, as in head of the Shurley family Chuck?”

Dean had figured Cas was working for them; the Shurleys are the only ones comparable in power to the Winchesters on the East Coast. The two families have been rivals for decades. The last few years have been marked by an uneasy peace but clearly, Chuck Shurley’s looking to change that.

“If you know who he is, then you know the kind of power he has.” Castiel gazes at him imploringly. It’s almost sweet, the way he’s so intent on protecting Dean. "The Winchesters could never lay a hand on you.”

Dean can use this. “You’d do that for me?”

For a moment, he’s worried he laid it on too thick, his voice too soft with feigned disbelief. Then Cas is nodding, painfully sincere.

“Of course.”

The relief that floods Dean is genuine and he lets it show. Then, to seal the deal, he cranes his neck upwards, closing the scant few inches between them. Cas kisses him back immediately, letting go of one wrist to cup his cheek, and Dean takes his chance. 

He plants his feet on the floor, twisting his hips and rolling them around. Cas makes a surprised noise against his lips but isn’t quick enough on the uptake, and then Dean’s got him pinned, reaching out with his now free hand to grab the gun taped underneath the counter to his right.

He points it at Cas, brutally stomping down the guilt that flickers in his chest at the betrayed look on his face.

“Let go off me,” he commands calmly and after a beat Cas obeys, releasing his grip on Dean’s other wrist.

Dean gets to his feet, gesturing with his gun for Cas to do the same.

“You’re going to walk out of here,” he tells him, “and you’re going to tell your dad that whatever plan he’s got against the Winchesters, he can forget it.”

Cas says nothing. Dean raises his eyebrows, cocking his gun, and finally he nods. 

“Good.” Dean tilts his head, giving Cas a teasing grin. “And just for the record, I never needed your protection. You’re not the only one with connections to the higher-ups.”

Dean can pin-point the exact moment it hits Cas. 

“You’re-”

“Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.”

Cas stares at him, his expression inscrutable. 

“This isn’t over.”

Dean licks his lips. Cas’ eyes follow the movement and he smiles.