"Are you sure about him?"
Hannah's words pulled Castiel's attention away from the document from Congress he was signing. The Vice President was looking at him with slight concern etched in her eyes.
"Who?" Castiel asked, his mind still on the work, and running at half-capacity as it was an hour past when he was supposed to be getting to sleep.
"The new agent, Dean Winchester," she clarified.
Castiel put down his pen, all focus on the document lost now. "Yes," he said, simply.
"Castiel," Hannah began, "Are you sure? His behavior has been… weird, to say the least, and there have been at least two incidents, at your speech, and today with the cake, that have been less than satisfactory…"
"I know," Castiel sighed, sitting back in his chair and considering his next words carefully. "…. But I think that is not necessarily a bad thing, Hannah… He has shown great enthusiasm and I can see that he genuinely cares and he is not afraid to act upon these instincts."
Hannah furrowed her brows at him. "Of course, but, these instincts have led him to make a fool of himself and you twice, and none have been legitimate defenses. I am not doubting your judgement of him, but I might suggest that this is not the job for him… Mr. Winchester just may not be the best choice for you, and I think you should take the utmost care in ensuring your safety."
Castiel frowned, picturing Dean's large smile when he greets Castiel and his look of deep concentration that he dons when a matter becomes serious. "I respect your opinion, Hannah, as I always do, but I must disagree. The fact that Dean has been willing to defend me, no matter the end result, when no one else has, shows his sincere commitment and I feel that I am safer with him around… I believe that he is just the man I need protecting me, and I will continue to have him do so."
Hannah nodded at him, and stared for a moment at the papers on his desk. "I am simply worried about you, Castiel, and I think that you need to take more concern for yourself at times than you do with others. I think that your…" She paused a moment, "Defense of Dean Winchester should not be a priority."
Castiel crossed his arms. Hannah was often supportive of him, but not afraid to point out flaws or disagree with him, which is why he chose to run with her. "Thank you for your concern, but I am the President of the United States, and I must concern myself with others; that is my duty."
"Of course, it is mime as well, but you could allow yourself some sleep; you have not slept a full night for weeks now. If you are not well, how can you expect to help others?" Hannah crossed her arms in defense back at him.
Castiel rubbed his eyes warily at the truth in her words, and stared at the documents waiting for him on his desk. "Alright," he conceded, "I'll go to sleep now, try to get more sleep… but do not tell Dean Winchester of your concerns; as far as I am concerned he has been an excellent agent so far."
Hannah sighed. "Okay, Castiel, perhaps by morning you will see my point of view."
Castiel grabbed his coat and stood up from his desk. "Perhaps. Goodnight, Hannah."
As Castiel went to lay in his bed that night earlier than he had for such a long time and exhausted, he found his thoughts straying to the conversation with Hannah, about Dean. He had been so quick to dismiss everything she had said and to defend the man that he had just met a few weeks ago. He could not regret any of his words, nor accept her view, as he did truly believe that Dean was one of the best agents that he had ever had the pleasure of giving over his safety and life to, truly ideal for the job.
This was not what kept him staring into the darkness of his bedroom when he could probably sleep for days due to his lack of a healthy schedule and overworking; it was that Dean seemed like so much more than that. Castiel thought that Dean seemed to develop loyalty so quickly, and cared about others in a genuine way. He was so quick to act upon these beliefs, to protect. Though when Castiel told him these praises, he would brush it off, like it was nothing, like he wasn't anything special, like everyone was as wonderful as him, but they weren't.
Then, Castiel thought about how Dean's smile reached all the way to the crinkles in his eyes, how he loved that weird vanilla creamer, how he became all flustered and apologetic after an awkward situation, how he gave Castiel coffee earlier that day and knew just how he liked it, how his bright green eyes sparkled when Castiel gazed into them…
He broke that train of thought abruptly, putting his hand over his face to drive the thoughts away. Dean is your Secret Service Agent, and you are the President of the United States, get it together Castiel. Just because he is super amazing, and it is not fair to you that is the status quo, it doesn't mean you should think these things; this cannot be a thing, he thought to himself, adjusting his pillow under his head and going to sleep.
Castiel couldn't help but smile as Dean Winchester made his coffee that morning, like he always did. Castiel always loved to visit the coffee shop across the street from his apartment to see him, before he went to his classes at University. He stared at the other man's face for a moment before he realized Dean was asking him something. About vanilla creamer?
"Of course I'd love to try the vanilla creamer, Dean, I'd love anything you made," he said.
Den smiled at him gorgeously. "Awesome, I'm so glad you some in here every morning. I always like seeing you."
Castiel blushed profusely. "And I you."
"Hey, would you like to get a coffee with me sometime?" Dean asked.
Castiel stared at him.
"I mean, not here, obviously, but somewhere else?"
"I'd have a coffee with you anywhere, Dean," Castiel mumbled into his pillow, jumping up from it with a start when he realized his alarm was beeping. The clock beeped relentlessly and Castiel realized that it was 9:00 A.M., very late. He must have hit the snooze button multiple times but failed to actually wake up.
Cursing Dean Winchester and the end of his pleasant dreams Castiel reluctantly disentangled himself from his sheets and slumped over to his closet, blearily retrieving a set of his standard suit-and-slacks combo from it. In his tiredness and attempted hurry, Castiel nearly tripped over his pants leg as he tried to put them on while walking to the bathroom. When he reached that destination, he buttoned the white shirt and brushed his teeth quickly, regarding his appearance in the mirror and resigning his sticking-up hair that refused to be tamed to its doomed fate.
As Castiel threw a blue tie around his neck, a sudden loud banging stopped his attempt to tie it, and he groaned. It was undoubtedly someone telling him how late he was or that he needed to get up now.
Castiel heard the knock again, far too loud for him just getting up, and he threw his suit jacket in the direction of his bed, unsuccessfully tucked half his shirt into his pants, and walked brusquely over to the door.
Castiel thrust the door open. "I know, I'm coming—" he began angrily, but stopped when he recognized the person at the door, who was holding two cups of coffee and another container.
"Dean…" he said, more quietly.
"Hey," Dean replied, looking at Castiel and surely taking in his ruffled appearance. "Sorry if I've bothered you… Benny told me you'd probably still be here, so I just wanted to make sure, and get you some coffee… but you seem busy—I don't want to intrude, so I'll just—"
"It's fine," Castiel stated, running a hand through his hair nervously, but surely failing to help it. "I'm just about to leave, you can come in." In what he would like to blame on tiredness, the words were out of Castiel's mouth before he could think over them.
"Okay," Dean replied, slowly walking into Castiel's room, and Castiel wondered how the awkward man could suddenly become so serious at times. "I got you some coffee, and, umm… some of that creamer if you wanted to try it."
Thoughts of his dream filled Castiel's memories. "Err, yes I would like to try some, thank you, Dean."
"No problem." Dean poured some creamer into a coffee cup, and Castiel graciously accepted it, drinking some.
"It's delicious, I see why you like it," Castiel said.
Dean's smile sent a warm feeling spreading through Castiel's chest. He frowned and quickly turned away from Dean, walking over to place the suit he had thrown onto the floor onto his bed. "Sorry for the delay," he said, putting down the coffee and fumbling to tie his tie. "I had one too many late nights working and it seems I overslept."
"No problem," Dean replied, "Not a morning person?"
"Unfortunately not." The knot in his tie seemed to suddenly become as difficult as reducing unemployment.
"Hey, Cas, I—" Dean began, then stopped himself abruptly.
"Cas?" Castiel repeated, his hands suddenly frozen, and unable to continue attempting to work on the tie. Cas. Dean had called him Cas.
"I—I mean Castiel, I am sorry, I didn't mean to, that's not…" Dean stammered.
"Cas is good," Castiel decided, "I do not mind the nickname." The warm feeling returned, filling up and constricting in his chest. Dean thought of him as Cas.
"Cool," Dean said simply, awkwardly standing in place. "Cas…"
The nickname sounded better when Dean said it, Castiel decided.
"…what I was trying to ask is, do you need help?" Dean looked at the floor when he spoke.
"Hmm?" Castiel murmured, "I do not understand? Why would I need help?"
Castiel followed Dean's gaze as it moved to his tie. "Your tie, you… are having problems with it?"
"Yes, sorry…" Castiel said, "It… It happens sometimes, it has been an off morning." Castiel's fingers worked with it for a moment and then quickly aborted the movement, such to the dismay of Castiel's rational thoughts. "I could use assistance."
"I'm pretty good at ties," Dean's voice was saying, and before Castiel could breathe properly, Dean had invaded his personal space and either of his hands grasped at the blue fabric around Castiel's neck. "I—I used to have to tie my brother's all the time. He wasn't really happy about it though."
Dean was so close to him, though not as close as he had been before, when he had tackled Castiel. Still, Castiel knew that he should have listened to his rational thoughts and fixed the tie himself because Dean's bright green eyes were concentrated on watching his hands, which were warm where they brushed briefly across Castiel's neck with a stray movement, and Castiel could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he felt Dean's breath tickle his face.
Dean must have noticed their proximity as well because Castiel could see the shades of pink outlining Dean's face, and Castiel noticed that his blush brought out the freckles dotted all around his face—and this was a very not good situation, but Castiel was stuck in the situation until Dean finished the tie. "I'm sure Sam appreciates your help now as I assume he has learned well."
Dean hummed affirmatively in response and the moment stretched on too long, but too quickly at the same time before Dean's hands tightened the tie around Castiel's neck and returned to his sides, though he did not step back from Castiel. "There," Dean said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Hope that's good."
Castiel realized he had been staring at Dean's face the entire time, but he continued because Dean's eyes had met his. "Thank you," Castiel managed at last, "It is very good."
Then they both froze as a sudden loud alarm blared. Castiel's mind was not able to process the meaning of it due to sleepiness and because his close proximity to Dean still lingered. So, before Castiel knew it, Dean's eyes had widened and his jaw set firm, and his arms reached out and shoved Castiel backwards into his spacious closet, and he landed backwards against the floor of it.
"Stay there," Castiel heard Dean say to him from outside the door once he had shut it, "Don't move!" A loud click informed Castiel that Dean had prepared his gun.
Castiel's heart rate increased rapidly as he tried to think of the meaning of the alarm. It meant a breach in security, lockdown, perhaps an intruder, unless…
"Dean!" Castiel stood up from the floor, and attempted to open the closet door, but it was locked.
"Stay there, Cas, it's not safe!"
Castiel sighed. Dean must not have been informed of this. "Dean! Dean, listen to me, it's a drill! Can you hear me?"
"Cas?" Dean's voice said.
Castiel heard shuffling and then Dean's voice was closer. "What!? A drill?"
"Yes, Dean, it isn't real, everything is alright! We have a drill every second Friday of the month, I forgot to tell you."
"Oh." A few more moments and the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Dean, his gun now holstered.
"Sorry about that, Cas." Dean took a step forward. "And sorry about the… umm, closet thing, I didn't want you to get out, I thought it wasn't safe."
Castiel shook his head. "It's fine, I should apologize, I should have warned you of the drills. Technically, you did well in this drill, I suppose."
Dean nodded awkwardly, standing in the doorway of the closet.
"Well…" Castiel said, "Can we get out of the closet now?"
"Oh!" Dean stepped out of the doorway and Castiel followed. "I—uhh—I thought we already did."
Dean was looking at Castiel expectantly when he emerged. Castiel felt his eyebrows come together in confusion. "What?"
Dean's face turned redder again. "I—it was meant to be a joke. I mean, we had already come out of the closet… you know… we talked after your speech."
Oh. "Yes, I understand the joke now, Dean."
Dean nodded. "Awesome."
Castiel walked over to his bed and picked up his suit, putting it on, as the alarm sounds finally stopped. "We should get my office, now. I am very late, and they'll be wondering about the drill."
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Dean agreed, "Lead the way."
Castiel ran one last hand through his hair, grabbed his coffee, and walked out the door, Dean following behind him. He sighed deeply, trying to push down the reoccurring memory of the morning without much success.
Though Castiel had much work to do that day, he smiled whenever he sipped his coffee, vanilla creamer flavor on his tongue, and Dean standing a few feet away from him, protecting him as always.
A/N: Thank you so much to all who have read/reviewed/faved/followed! I love you all!