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Wanda: "I'll be right back, take your clothes off"

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Long Road to Ruin - Chapter One
wanda_thefish
Title: Long Road to Ruin
Author: wanda_thefish
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17 (For later Chapters)
Word Count: 1383 (WIP)
Summary: Dean Winchester is right-hand man to mafia boss Michael Di Angeles. Dean is unfailingly loyal to his boss and completely trustworthy… except maybe when it comes to Michael's blue-eyed lover.



"Winchester, could you come and join me for a moment please."

The softly spoken words may have sounded like a friendly invitation, but Dean knows as well as any, that a request from the lips of Michael Di Angeles carries as much weight as a command from a general.

Dean detaches himself from his post against the drawing room wall, a sick nervous feeling building in the pit of his stomach as he falls into step beside his boss. He doesn't think he'll ever get over his uneasiness around Di Angeles. But then he doubts many people are comfortable around a man with a reputation such as his.

There are few alive who know the true story of Michael Di Angeles' rise in the underworld of New York… or more accurately, few who know from first-hand experience which of the stories about the mafia lord are true and which are fiction.

Needless to say, Dean has certainly seen enough of the man to know that when he says "Jump", you ask "How high?"

"I have something of a… personal favour I would like to ask of you."

There he goes again, making requests.

"Of course, boss, whatever you need."

Michael smiles that indulgent fatherly smile. He's not as old as John Winchester would have been now, and John Winchester certainly didn't scare the crap out of Dean the way Michael does, but sometimes, Dean finds himself likening his boss to his dad. Maybe it's the irrational desire to do whatever it takes to make him proud. John Winchester died without ever giving his eldest son the approval he so badly craved; he was never the overly caring and sharing type. And whilst Michael isn't exactly warm and fuzzy, he's not above dropping a few words of praise where it's deserved, and so Dean finds himself constantly striving harder, pushing himself above and beyond to do whatever it takes to please the man. As a result, he's quickly become one of Di Angeles' most trusted men.

"It's about Castiel."

But there it is. The big fat reminder of why Dean certainly doesn't deserve that trust. He feels a warm rush followed by an icy stab of fear, as he does every time he hears Michael mention his partner's name. Dean swallows although his mouth has gone suddenly dry, and hopes that his ruffled composure does not show in his expression.

Of course it doesn't, he's been doing this far too long to make a mistake like that.

"I was supposed to be taking Castiel to the opera tonight, a surprise for his birthday. Unfortunately, something has come up and I have to go away for a few days."

Dean has an uneasy feeling he knows where this is going.

"I was hoping perhaps you would be able to take him, with my apologies."

So not a good idea.

"Sir, I really don't think Mr Novak would want to…"

"Dean, Castiel will be perfectly happy spending an evening with you… although I would wager he will not even realise you are there once you get him to his beloved opera."

Dean knows he cannot refuse, so instead, he takes a deep breath and asks, "When would you like me to pick Mr Novak up?"

(***)

Castiel eyes his reflection in the mirror as he slips on his dinner jacket and adjusts his bowtie. Despite loading it with gel, his dark hair is already beginning to stick up at odd angles, but he doesn't bother trying to tame it any more, he knows from past experience the more he fiddles the worse it will look.

He picks up the new bottle of aftershave Michael has sent him, along with a note telling him when to be ready. He removes the lid and takes an experimental sniff, but immediately recoils, screwing up his face. Replacing the lid swiftly, he pushes the bottle to the back of a drawer.

Ten years and Michael still knows nothing of his tastes. Or most likely he knows, he just doesn't care. Michael would much prefer to buy Castiel something for a thousand dollars that he hates, than go for a cheap alternative.

And more often than not, Castiel will wear it… it's safer than the alternative. Lately though, he's been tempted to push the boundaries a little, see how far he can get. Maybe he's losing his sense of self preservation, or discovering a masochistic side to himself he never knew he had.
Or maybe he's just growing tired of the feeling that he has no say in his own life… once happy to go along with anything to make Michael happy, grateful for the other man's care and protection, recently he's been plagued by discontent. And a dangerous desire for something more than he has, probably more than he deserves, but can't prevent himself from wanting all the same… something for himself.

Smiling self depreciatingly in the mirror, Castiel shakes his head to try and clear the cloud of melancholy. It's his birthday. Michael has a surprise planned for him. He should be excited.

Castiel hears the clock in the main hall chime seven- Michael will be downstairs waiting for him; the man despises tardiness. Taking a last glance at his reflection, Castiel arranges his features into… well, if not excitement, something at least denoting a certain enthusiasm.

Breathing deeply, Castiel retreats a little into himself, fake smile held in place with little conscious thought, and heads down the stairs to greet his lover.

(***)

"Are we leaving right away?" Castiel calls as he opens the hall closet to retrieve his overcoat. Michael is not in the entrance hall so Castiel presumes he is having a drink in the drawing room while he waits.

"Michael?" he calls. When there is no reply Castiel sticks his head into the drawing room, finding it dark and empty, and tilts his head in confusion.

"Hey Cas."

The voice that greets him comes from behind… and is certainly not the one he was expecting. He whirls around to find the owner of the voice leaning casually against the door frame, dressed in an expensive looking black tux that emphasises the breadth of his shoulders and the trimness of his waist. The smirk is casual, an openly friendly expression designed to reassure, but there is an unreadable glimmer behind the soft green eyes.

"Dean…" he breathes, raking his eyes over the other man, so unexpected he almost forgets himself. "What are you doing here?" he struggles to keep his tone nonchalant.

"Came to take you out for your birthday," Dean grins. "Mr Di Angeles' orders. I'm to look after you whilst he's…" Dean pauses for a second and lowers his eyelids, a slow smile spreading across his face. When he glances back to Castiel, the look he gives him makes the other man's breath catch and his heart speed, "…out of town."

Castiel catches his lip between his teeth, unable to prevent the blush heating his cheeks, or the warm rush of blood further south.

"Michael's not here?" Castiel breathes.

Dean shakes his head in confirmation, stepping forward to take Castiel's overcoat and hold it out for him.

Their gazes remain locked as Castiel slowly turns, slipping his arms into the sleeves and allowing Dean to slide the coat on.

"That's… unfortunate." He murmurs.

Dean breaks eye contact and turns his attention to adjusting the coat over Castiel's shoulders, taking his time smoothing the material down his arms before returning to fix the collar.

"It is indeed, Mr Novak," Dean's face is a picture of innocence, but he can't help but bite his lip when his fingers gently brush Castiel's neck and he feels the other man shiver. "But fortunately, I'm here, and my orders are to do whatever it takes to make sure you have the perfect birthday."

Dean carefully turns Castiel around so they are stood toe to toe, then slides his hands up to tweak the front of the already perfect overcoat. He's fully aware of the other man's swift breathing as he lets his eyes slowly caress his sharp jawline lingering for a moment on soft pink lips, before finally lifting to meet the wide blue gaze boring into him.

His lips curve into a lazily seductive smile.

"Whatever it takes."

(Next)

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lol, why do I have the feeling that Michael's definition of "whatever it takes' is a whole lot different than Dean's? Intriguing premise-I'm really interested in seeing how this story unfolds....

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