A/N: Ahhhh! Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! Seriously thank you sooo much. I had such fun writing it, and even more fun writing this chapter. I can already tell that this is going to be a pretty long fic, so hang in there!

Chapter 2

After the meeting, Dean barely got a glimpse at the blue-eyed man before he vanished back up the stairs. Dean's first job was to prepare the table and then serve lunch for Carver and his business friends, including Michael and Balthazar.

He decided to go ask the cook for some tips on what to do, as he was pretty new to this. He went into the kitchen to find two men cooking food. After asking them who the head chef was, they pointed him toward the freezer room. He walked in to see a red headed woman pulling various meats of the top shelves.

"Hey, need some help with that?" He asked, grabbing what was about to fall on her head.

"Oh, thanks." She turned around and smiled, eyes twinkling. "I'm Charlie, by the way. You're the new help, right?"

"Yeah, Dean." He shook her hand. "So, I'm still a little confused as to what I actually do here, except get annoyed by Gabriel." Charlie laughed, nodding her head in agreement.

"Well, I guess you mostly just go around serving them, doing random chores, helping at parties, you know."

"Don't they have a cleaning lady for chores?"

"Yeah, but she only works half the week. So, how good are you at cleaning?" Dean laughed.

"Not great. I should probably get out there and serve drinks, I think the guests are here." Dean sighed, hearing the front door, and lots of laughter.

"Well, good luck. Sucks to be you." Charlie teased. Dean grabbed the tray of drinks, and made his way to the living room, where the men sat around, before eating.

He passed out drinks to them all, until Carver told him to stand by the door and wait for instructions. This job is going to get pretty boring soon, Dean thought. He tuned out of their conversations, until one of them mentioned Castiel.

"So, Carver. Another boy following in your footsteps. Castiel is off to Harvard this September, correct." A man in a black suit with a British accent asked.

"Yes, quite right Crowley. He'll make a fine businessman." Carver said it almost like a promise.

"Where is he? I'd love to speak to him, give him some tips about Harvard. Although I'm sure Michael has already done that." Everyone politely laughed, while Dean tried not to gag.

"Dean, go fetch Castiel. Top floor. He should be conversing with us, making connections, getting used to the life." Carver commanded, not even looking at Dean, who couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

As he worked to find Castiel's room, his heart started racing. He'd never spoken to this man before, and he was pretty sure he was very secluded. Dean's heart dropped as he realised something. Of course. Castiel hadn't noticed him in the dining room earlier on because he was shy, but because Dean was the help. The man was probably just like his father, barely even registered Dean's existence. Dean sighed as he found the door that had to be Castiel's room.

He took a few seconds before he finally knocked, and then the door swung open. Dean inhaled sharply. He was even more gorgeous close up, those deep blue eyes, staring into his. Dean once again shook the thought from his mind. He worked for the man, for God's sake. His father at least. Castiel simply stared at him a few seconds before saying anything.

"Um...yes?" He asked questioningly.

"Uh, your, uh, your father wants you downstairs to talk to his company. He sent me to get you." Castiel stared at him a second, then blinked into action.

"Oh, um, okay, sure." He left the room, careful not to let Dean see inside. Dean got the sense that this was a special, private place for Castiel. Awkwardly, Dean moved to shut his door as Cas did, and their hands touched. As they did, Dean felt a spark, and then Cas jumped back quickly. The other man's face being blushed as Dean finished shutting the door.

They walked down the stairs together, in the same rhythm, neither saying a word. When they finally reached the living room, Castiel sighed and went in, Dean following.

Dean zoned out again as they talked, his eyes wandering over Castiel. The man was angelic. After a while, they got up to go to the dining room, but somehow Cas slipped away again, so Dean served them lunch in sombre silence, occasionally glancing at the ceiling, wandering what Cas was up to in his private room.

Later that evening, Dean was left alone in the house. Carver and his wife and gone out to dinner with friends. Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer and Balthazar all went to a party of one of Michaels Harvard friends. Anna was out partying somewhere with her friends.

Dean was given the job of sorting through all the files in the living room bookshelves, finding ones from a specific era and leaving them at Carvers desk for him to study when he got back. Dean was more relaxed. now that the infuriating presence of the Novaks (mostly Gabe) was gone.

He opened the living rooms doors and made his way to the bookshelves. He was halfway there before realising he wasn't alone. He turned to see Castiel sitting on the couch, open book in hand. They made eye contact, before Castiel smiled at Dean and returned to his book. As Dean got to work on the files, he thought about how more relaxed and not tense Castiel was without his family around. He even left the safety of his bedroom.

After too long of a silence, Dean got too curious and had to ask.

"What book are you reading?" Dean asked, cursing himself internally the second he asked. Castiel didn't answer for a few seconds before looking up and smiling again.

"A collection of short stories by Edgar Allen Poe." He said, but this time he didn't immediately return to the book.

"Oh, I've read some of those. My brother loves old books." Dean replied, remembering reading them too Sam when he was young.

"What's your favourite?" Castiel asked, keeping intense eye contact with Dean.

"Probably...the Tell-Tale Heart. One of the first ones I read." Dean smiled at the memory. Castiels smile turned into a huge grin.

"Really? That's my favourite too. I read it when I was twelve, it's amazing." They kept eye contact, before Dean coughed, and murmured something about the files, turning back to them. The silence was no longer forced and awkward, it was comfortable, and nice. Every so often Dean glanced over to the angel on the couch and smiled again.