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White-Collar Contract

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He can’t believe he’s resorting to this.

Dean sits in the dark Impala, staring across the street at the looming office building. Looking at his phone, he checks the GPS signal to be sure it’s right. He’s parked in downtown Lawrence and his dad is somewhere in that building. He rubs at his stomach, trying to ease the dull ache still lingering there. His heat ended a few days ago, but it’d been intense and wore him out. Having presented omega at sixteen, he’s had four years to learn to deal with his heats…and yet they’re just as difficult now as they were back then.

He checks his phone again to read the message. It’s just coordinates and a 9-1-1 message. He had tracked his dad’s phone—not trusting the coordinates—and he still can’t understand why he’s parked outside an office building and not some shady bar or alley.

Dabbing on an extra dose of blocker spray to cover his scent, he takes a final deep breath before tucking a knife in his boot and heading in. It’s a cool spring night, the warm air of the day long gone. He hurries in the front revolving door, feeling his nerves tingle as he tries to assess his surroundings. The lobby seems relatively empty except for a brunette sitting behind the reception desk. He slowly approaches her as dark, round eyes lift to meet his.

“Hello there, how can I help you?” she asks in an unnervingly innocent voice. His hackles rise though as the scent of alpha hits his nose.

He fights the internal scowl and puts on his brightest, megawatt smile. “Well hello yourself, beautiful.” He grins at her, hoping his height and blockers work to conceal his orientation. He finds enough bravado can convince most people he’s a beta, or even an alpha on a good day. She raises a skeptical manicured brow at him and he leans on the counter, tipping his head toward her. “I’m actually here to meet someone. He gave me the address, but you know, he forgot to tell me what floor.” He gives her his best embarrassed smile, and for a second he thinks she’s eating it up.

“Hmmm, likely story, handsome,” she cooes before her sweet smile suddenly drops to a frown. Her voice has gone cold. “Your dad’s upstairs on the eleventh.” She nods toward the elevator before she returns to her computer screen, ignoring him now. He stands a moment, mouth hanging open before he shakes himself and pulls away from the counter.

What kind of shit did his dad get into now? Dean’s used to pulling his dad out of the fire, but something feels incredibly wrong here. They’re expecting him? His dad would never text him if he was walking into some kind of trap, right? He can’t back down now, not till he lays eyes on his dad.

“Eve, this him?” a stiff male voice breaks his racing train of thought. He turns to see dark hair and assessing, sharp eyes. The alpha scent rolling off of this guy is at nauseating levels. His heart gives a little twist—being caught between two powerful alpha scents is messing with his mind, still addled from his recent heat. 

“Edgar,” the woman greets, and then nods. “This is the one and only. Now be a good little pet and show our friend here to his father?” She bats her lashes at the man in a snide, mocking way before going back to her computer. The man scowls at her before stalking closer to Dean.

Dean’s heart hammers in his chest, but he stands his ground. He’s never been so happy for his height as he is now. “Where’s my dad?” he growls out with all the authority he can muster.

The man smirks at him. “He’s in a bit of trouble, son, but maybe his prayers have been answered.” The man’s eyes rake over him and it makes his stomach drop. He’s looking at him like a piece of meat, but he shouldn’t be able to tell what he is. Not unless someone told him...not unless his dad told him. A cold chill runs down his spine, and everything in him is itching to break this guy’s nose and run.

“Where is he?” He steps a bit closer, showing this asshole he doesn’t back down. His father may have let him down a time or two, but he didn’t raise a coward.

“Waiting for you, of course. Follow me.” The man turns, heading for the elevator. The idea of sharing a tight space with this man makes his skin crawl, but he can’t exactly climb eleven flights of stairs. The asshole leans against the door, holding it open for him. This is it—his chance to leave, to let his dad deal with his own fucking problems for once. He can almost imagine it: walking away, getting in his car and going home to Sam, grabbing some ice-cream and relaxing on the couch while watching reruns. Spending his night safe in his bed.

The thought is a fleeting one. A fantasy, because Dean would never leave his family, even if John is a useless drunk. Even if he’s been in this situation before and knows he will be here again, he still walks into the elevator with his head held high. He never really had a choice.

Edgar presses the number eleven and Dean feels his stomach drop as they begin racing upward. He feels off-balance and wishes he had thought to put a knife in his coat, not just one in his boot, when he came here. He’s glad the elevator isn’t glass, at least. With how scared he is of heights, he’d rather stay oblivious to how high up they are. He feels the guys eyes on him, and it sets off all kinds of alarm bells. There’s a quiet kind of contained violence about the man, and Dean seriously hopes he doesn’t have to try and take the guy on to get out of here.

Finally the elevator dings and Dean rushes out into a long corridor of opaque glass walls. Edgar chuckles before moving past Dean and heading down the long hallway, toward voices. Dean scowls—he can’t let this fucker get under his skin—but the alpha scent is making his stomach turn. His instincts are telling him to run or submit. Luckily Dean is a pro at suppressing his instincts, or he wouldn’t have made it as a free man as long as he has.

Edgar swings open a heavy glass door and waves Dean inside. Dean’s hit with a nearly nauseating level of alpha pheromones before he even makes it over the threshold, and he focuses all his energy on standing tall and assessing the room best he can. He counts six people in the room and he’s fairly certain most of them are alphas. There’s a large conference table, and at the far end sit two men across from each other. Both are flanked by people standing behind them.


He whips his head around to find his dad standing across the room from him. He moves quickly to his dad’s side as Edgar shuts the door, blocking the exit.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean hisses out to his father. He can smell the stale alcohol on him, although his eyes look fairly clear.

“Ah, is this him?” One of the men at the table swivels in his chair, with slick hair and a white-toothed, feral grin on his face.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, when he feels his father’s heavy hand fall on his shoulder, giving a slightly painful squeeze. “This is my boy, Dean. Dean, this is Mister Roman.” Dean grits his teeth at the word “boy” seeing as he’s twenty freaking years old.

“Well, come on now. Let me get a look at you.” Roman stands, waving for Dean to come closer.

“What the hell is this?” Dean scowls at his father, ignoring the Armani-suit-wearing douchebag.

“Play nice and behave yourself,” John all but growls at him. Dean knows his father though, and he can hear the twinge of fear in his voice. Something is seriously not right with this picture.

“Listen to your father, son.” The man flashes him another sharp white smile and his dad pushes him slightly toward the man. He grudgingly goes, but stops a few feet away. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Roman says in a patronizing tone. “Omegas are naturally obedient when you use a firm hand with them.”

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but I want nothing to do with it. I’m taking my dad and we’re leaving.” He stares the man square in the eye. Something dark and dangerous passes over Roman’s calm, cool exterior before his smile snaps back into place. Dean hears a small snort and glances over at the other man, still seated at the table. Blue eyes watch him, obviously amused by something.

“Roman, I don’t have all day.” The man with the dark hair and surprising blue eyes sighs in a deep, rough voice.

“This won’t take long, Novak. I know you want to read over that contract with a fine-tooth comb,” Roman retorts. The other man glares at him before returning to the pile of papers in front of him. “Now Dean, as you can see, I am in the middle of some very important negotiations tonight, so I’m hoping we can make this brief.”

He nods, glancing back at his dad who’s just standing still as stone with his arms crossed. Roman clears his throat and Dean’s snaps his eyes back to the man. “Good boy. So, I’ll be frank with you Dean, your father here has gotten himself into quite a lot of debt with me. I’m afraid he’s going to have to forfeit over his house and auto shop to me by the end of the week.”

“You can’t take our house!” Dean’s eyes go wide in shock, and he looks at his dad, praying he’ll see denial there. Instead, his dad just stares at his shoes.

“I assure you, Dean, I can and will take what’s owed to me.” Roman sighs with a mock look of pity on his face. “There is, however, another option.” 

Dean swallows hard and tries to calm his racing heart. He knows what comes next here—his worst freaking nightmare since the day he presented with the wrong goddamn gender. “Your father tells me you have yet to sign a contract with an alpha? Fairly uncommon for a young, healthy omega like yourself. Now you’re of age, so your father cannot sign a contract for you…so this needs to be just between us.”

“You want my contract.” Dean wishes it was a question, but deep down he can’t fool himself. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, you know that?” Dean laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of the prospect.

Roman is on him in two quick strides, hand clenched around Dean’s neck. Dean gasps for breath, hands clutching at the man’s arm. “You, little omega, will need to learn some manners. I am making you a very fair offer—two years of service to me, and in return I clear your family's substantial debt.”

“Dick!” a sharp voice rings out in the room. Dean feels the grip lighten on his throat and he pulls in a deep breath. “Let the boy go. If this is how you do business, I’ll take mine elsewhere.” There’s a cold steel in the voice from the man sitting at the far end of the table. Dean’s too distracted by the shark in front of him to look away.

Roman’s hand loosens and shifts to Dean’s shoulder, soft but no less threatening. “Never knew you for a softie, Castiel.” Roman winks at Dean, and he refrains from spitting in the guy’s face. “I have all the papers right here. The terms are non-negotiable, but you’ll find it’s a fairly standard omega contract.”

He hands Dean a small stack of papers and he pulls away, out of Roman’s grasp, eyes scanning down the pages. So far, he’d managed not to have to do this. Few family alphas turned the papers over to the omega when they came of age. Most just sold their contract to the highest bidding alpha. There were some more progressive families who signed contracts over to the omega themselves, just like his dad had done on his eighteenth birthday. How was that the same man standing behind him now?

Dean reads the contract quickly, stomach dropping at words like leash and collar, sexual service, manual labor, corporal punishment. If he signs this he’s basically signing up to be this guy’s bitch for two whole years. “There’s no way, I am not gonna be your omega whore,” Dean growls, slamming the papers onto the table.

“No one is forcing your hand, Dean. If you don’t want to sign, then I will proceed with repossessing the house and business first thing in the morning,” Roman replies, almost cheerily.

“Dean,” John hisses at him, and pulls on his arm. Dean can barely bring himself to even look at his father right now, much less talk to him. “We can’t afford to lose the house or the shop. How am I gonna take care of Sam without a job to put food on the table, or a roof over our heads? They’ll take Sam away, Dean, you know they will. And those group homes are no picnic. He hasn’t even presented yet. It’s only two years…and I promise I will find a way to buy back the contract sooner than that.”

“Did you even read this?” Dean grabs the papers, shaking them in his dad’s face.

John doesn’t even wince, face set now, and Dean knows that look. He’s made up his mind that this is what they should do, and he couldn’t give two shits about what that means for Dean. He drops his voice to low hiss and adds, “And how am I supposed to trust you with Sam, huh? Who do think watches out for that kid, keeps groceries in the kitchen, checks his homework, pays the bills?” Dean runs a hand over his face, the exhaustion from this whole thing starting to set in. “I can’t leave him.” His voice comes out smaller than he intended, and it’s taking all his strength to stay standing tall when all he wants to do is curl up and hide till this all goes away.

“I can take care of my own son,” John grunts in reply.

“Yeah, you’re doing a bang-up job,” Dean responds in a low rumble as he stares down at the papers. He never should have come here. His dad is right, he knows he is. He can’t let them end up on the street, not if there’s a way for him to stop it. 

“What’s it gonna be, Winchester? I have business to conclude here.” Roman’s voice is completely devoid of any emotion or interest. Like this is just normal business and not Dean signing his goddamn life away.

“Fine,” he snaps, flipping to the last page of the contract and snatching up a pen. His hand hovers over the paper, breathing in his last few seconds of freedom—praying for something to stop this, anything.

A cool, gravely voice breaks the silence in the room, and the buzzing in his head. “Just a moment, omega. I may have another option.”


Castiel leans into the padded office chair, watching the omega’s eyes widen with hope. They stare at each other for a moment, the young man evidently trying to size him up, before he huffs out, “Well? The other option—what is it?”

Castiel conceals an amused smile. It’s been a while since someone has had the power to surprise him, to pull anything out of him beyond a blank stare and nod in a business meeting. He’s been working far too hard, he realizes with unsettling clarity. It’s been too long since he’s even wanted to smile, much less had to suppress the urge. 

“Come work for me instead,” Castiel says airily, hands rubbing absently on his suit trousers. “I have a large estate in Kansas City. I require an assistant to help me with my affairs, both in business and day-to-day life. Like Mr. Roman suggested, I believe a two-year commitment is fair. You’ll be compensated for the work you do, of course.” Castiel wants to add because I advocate against omega slave labor, but thinks that might be a bit too overt a criticism of Roman. Not that he cares what Dick thinks of him—he’s perhaps the least trustworthy man Castiel does business with, and that’s saying a lot. 

“What’s the catch?” the omega says dubiously, shoulders tense and thrown back.

“Dean,” the omega’s father hisses, squeezing his shoulder tight. Oh, yes, that was the young man’s name. Dean. “There’s no need to be rude. Mr. Novak is offering us a good deal.”

“Not you, Dad, me,” Dean points out, crossing his arms over his chest, tight lipped. Behind him, his father’s face is flushed red. The fact that he’d been willing to sell his son to the highest bidder to settle up on his own debts reminds Castiel of the disdain he has for his own parents. He’s thirty-two years old, so those wounds are a decade old by now, but he’s never quite gotten over the things Chuck and Naomi had allowed to happen to…

He clears his throat, trying to regain focus on the task at hand. “Call me Castiel,” he corrects, with a nonchalant wave of his hand. 

“That is a good deal,” Dick says, voice wavering even as he flashes his signature toothy smile, “but one you can’t make. You can’t settle my debts for me, Castiel. This situation is a separate transaction from the one we’re negotiating.”

“It was, but I’ve changed my mind. Now ‘this situation’ is an element of my counter offer,” Castiel says smoothly. “Try and keep up, Dick. Or shall I call in your receptionist to take minutes for you?”

Dick chuckles darkly. “Eve has better things to do, I can assure you.”

“Do you have ‘better things to do’ as well? Or is there a reason you don’t want to close this deal?” Castiel makes a show of unbuttoning his suit jacket buttons and playing with his tie, looking every bit the indifferent businessman he is.

A moment of tension passes around the room. For all intents and purposes, this is a good deal for Castiel. SucroCorp is offering him a generous portion of equity if he invests in their food corporation. It’s a large amount of cash that he’ll earn back tenfold within a few months, and afterwards, he’ll be an investor in the most popular high fructose corn syrup corporation in the midwest. Still, now he wants more than the profits. He wants to help this self-righteous omega with a chip on his shoulder, to protect him from an alpha like Dick Roman.

“I’m waiting patiently for your counter offer,” Dick says curtly.

Castiel inhales a large breath. “Five hundred thousand dollars, five percent equity, and you consider the omega’s employment with me an absolution of his father’s debt.”

“The original offer was only three percent equity,” Dick points out. “And I’m losing out on a two-year omega contract. Just look at the boy—those lips… He’s worth even more if he’s a virgin.” The sudden scent of alpha arousal seeps into the room, and Dean shifts around uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking fidgety. Dick’s eyes settle on the omega, searching his face hungrily. “Are you a virgin, beautiful? Ever been knotted before?”

“None of your fucking business,” Dean snaps, though even with the blocker’s Castiel can smell the waves of omega panic in the air. 

Dick smirks at him, his gaze practically feral. “That means you are a virgin. Imagine, Castiel, the feeling of a tight virgin hole catching on your knot…”

“I have no interest in that,” Castiel says evenly, trying to look bored by Dick’s obvious and explicit attempts to rile up both him and Dean.

“What, uh…” Dean is looking at Castiel again, that same careful expression masked beneath layers of skepticism. “You saying, your job offer wouldn’t include me ass up on your bed every night?”

Castiel chokes out a laugh. If he hasn’t smiled much lately, he certainly hasn’t laughed. There’s something about Dean that’s fascinating to him—he’s an enigma, a puzzle in a world where most people are incredibly easy for Castiel to figure out. 

“No, it would not,” Castiel tells him, though internally, the image of Dean naked and waiting on his bed is much more enticing than it should be. Perhaps he’s going into a rut soon… He should check his calendar. That would be the only reason this omega is affecting him. “I can assure you of that. This would strictly be a white-collar contract."

In fact, Castiel would never consider anything other than a white-collar contract—a business-only agreement. Men like Roman favored the other end of the spectrum, red-collar contracts with omegas that centered around sexual servitude. 

"White-collar?" Dick casts him a knowing look and scoffs. "Just look at him, Castiel. What a waste."

There's a beat of silence before Dean looks at Castiel and mutters, “You mated?”

Before Castiel can answer, Dick snorts loudly. “Novak? God no. He’s a perpetual bachelor.” He drops his voice down low, as if he’s releasing a scandalous bit of gossip even though Castiel is sitting right next to him. “Don’t you read The Daily Kansasan? He famously refuses to fuck omegas. Doubt he’s ever had the pleasure.”

Castiel feels his shoulders tighten, his heart rate speeding up as the embarrassment settles in. “I’m surprised that you believe everything you see printed in tabloids,” he says icily. The fact that all the rumors are true often gets under Castiel’s skin. No, he’s never been with an omega, not even during his ruts. He has his reasons, but they’re personal and no one’s business but his own. “Perhaps I should go into business with someone a bit more discerning and level-headed.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that Castiel. I wasn’t telling the boy anything he couldn’t google himself.” Dick straightens up in his chair, his demeanor changing suddenly, perhaps realizing he’s close to losing the deal Castiel’s offering. “Five hundred thousand dollars and three percent equity.”

“Four,” Castiel says instantly, and Dick narrows his eyes. 



A long pause, and then, “Fine. Four.”

Castiel’s mood raises—there’s nothing as invigorating as a potential deal closed. He looks at Dean with a casual gaze. “And him?”

“Yeah, hey, Dean would like to have a freaking say in the next two years of his life, thanks,” the omega says angrily, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“The omega?” Dick says, ignoring Dean completely and attempting to sound disinterested. “Well, I suppose you can have him, Castiel. There’s plenty of fine omega ass walking around…though I admit, none as tempting as this one.” He sighs, as if he’s clearly suffering. “It’s a shame he’ll be with an alpha who won’t give him the knot he so clearly needs. But I can’t solve all the world’s problems, can I?”

“Apologies, Dick. I’m afraid your philanthropic efforts have be thwarted today,” Castiel says dryly, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Then he turns back to the omega, spreads his hands out wide, and says, “The floor is yours, Dean.”

“Well, uh, first of all…what do you even do?” the omega spits out, tone still full of suspicion. Castiel’s inner alpha stirs in his chest, feeling slightly aggravated at the insolent tone, while also wanting to shelter this omega, to lead him to a safer place. It’s a bizarre feeling—Castiel doesn’t allow himself to work with omegas for this very reason. If Dean agrees to this arrangement, he would be the only omega he’s ever employed. Having to explain to Missouri, his head of staff, why he made an exception with this man will be difficult to explain.

“I own a business conglomerate called Novak Industries, with branches in Kansas, Michigan, and Illinois. I don’t spend much time on the ground with them anymore—each company is well-staffed and self-sufficient,” Castiel explains, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. He’s a successful man who’s given up any form of a social life in order to rise above the rest. “Now what I do is mostly what you see here—investing, consulting. Offering my time, money, and expertise to other businesses.”

The omega is impressed, Castiel can tell by the slight raise in his eyebrows. But as quickly as it comes, the look passes, replaced by something cagey and apprehensive. “If you’re so rich, then why don’t you wanna hire somebody more qualified?”

“Dean,” his father grunts with disapproval, but Castiel ignores him. He’s too busy staring at Dean, transfixed by something he sees there. Castiel isn’t one to appreciate or even notice someone’s outward appearance—he gave up on pursuing romantic relationships ten years ago—but even he can’t deny that the omega’s appearance is quite pleasing. He’s tall, taller than an omega should be, and certainly sturdier with wider shoulders. He looks strong and durable, an outward aspect that evidently matches the man’s rough interior. But the rest of his features are delicate, beautiful even—the vibrant green eyes, the long and fluttering eyelashes, the trail of freckles dusting his cheekbones. It’s no wonder, really, that Dick attempted to coerce the omega into an outrageously antiquated sex contract. And just with that thought, there’s Castiel’s inner alpha again, provoked for some unknown reason.

“I would require your resume, of course, and any academic transcripts,” Castiel says matter-of-factly. “This is a job offer, Dean. Everything will be done above board. Are you in college now?” 

“Not in college,” Dean says gruffly, “and don’t have a resume, really. Got my GED and I’ve been workin’ at the family business since I could hold a wrench.”

“An uneducated grease monkey? Huh, sounds like you picked a real winner,” Dick mumbles out haughtily. 

Castiel’s patience for alphas like Dick is seriously wearing thin today. It’s a necessary evil, doing business with men like him, but never an aspect of his career that Castiel’s enjoyed. “My brother, Gabriel, never finished high school and he owns the most successful casino in Nevada,” he points out, while Dick just looks blankly back at him. 

Castiel’s eyes find Dean’s again, trying again to ignore how distracting his beauty is. “Though I have no doubt you can rise to the challenge, this arrangement will include a ninety-day trial. I want to be sure you’re trainable and equipped to handle all aspects that my assistant is required to manage.”

“And after ninety days?” Dean asks, his voice sounding unusually small. His gaze travels over to Dick, cheeks losing their color. “You’ll just hand me over to him if, what? I don’t fold your laundry the way you like it?”

“No, we’ll just find a better position for you, that’s all,” Castiel answers, wanting to ease Dean’s fears with a surprising amount of urgency. I’ll never let him hurt you, Castiel thinks with a burst of conviction, and it’s so strong that it takes his breath away. Castiel is a cutthroat businessman, an intentional loner, a closed book. Why should he care so much about protecting one omega?

“Okay,” Dean says finally, hands sliding into his back pockets. “Anything else?”

“You’ll have to move to my estate, obviously. All my staff lives on the property,” Castiel says, thinking this is a small detail as Dean’s face breaks into horrified shock.

“Leave Lawrence? Live with you?” He turns to his dad, his frown set deep. “Sammy’s, he’s not even sixteen yet… He depends on me. He needs me.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Dean. I’ve already told you—I’m more than capable of raising my own son without you,” his dad says with a mixture of annoyance and false bravado. Dean snorts, shaking his head, clearly choosing not to argue.

“I dunno if this’ll work,” he mutters, looking at Castiel again. “Do I get any nights off? Is this like a twenty-four hour gig?”

“It is a hefty time commitment,” Castiel admits, figuring it’ll do neither of them good to beat around the bush. “But everyone requests certain days or evenings off, particularly on the weekends. Lawrence is only forty miles away, so I imagine you could still see your brother often, if you wish.”

Dean bites his lip, staring down at the carpet as he thinks. “Could he come and visit me sometimes?”

“If he doesn’t distract you from your work, I see no issue with it,” Castiel says tactfully.

The omega pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a nervous huff before his eyes search again for Castiel. “Okay. Okay, I guess I’ll do it.”

Castiel feels pleased with this arrangement, and nods while he offers a small smile. The next half-hour passes quickly, with a new contract written up and signed by all parties involved. Dean’s father is looking nervously at Dick’s employee, Edgar, as if the man might pull a knife on him at any moment. Knowing the alpha, that’s not a totally illogical fear to have. 

Castiel pulls Dean aside to discuss the more minute details of his employment. Casual dress is fine on most days, but he’ll be required to wear business attire if he accompanies Castiel to a business meeting. He’ll be given prescription strength scent blockers to wear daily, since the brand he’s wearing doesn’t seem to be strong enough. Castiel writes down his address and tells Dean he has the weekend to pack up his belongings and settle in, and then his first day of work will be on Monday.

“You’ll report primarily to Missouri, my head of staff,” Castiel explains to Dean, as he packs up his briefcase. Dean is beginning immediately, and will meet a lot of people in the coming days—Charlie, Kevin, Uriel, Joshua, Ellen, Jo… He has a solid staff working at Novak Estates, and a peculiar faith that they’ll all enjoy Dean’s personality as much as he does.

“Aren’t you there?” Dean asks quietly. Now that they have some semblance of privacy, Castiel can see the omega’s hard exterior begin to chip away a little. He’s nervous, tired, scared.

“I am, and you’ll be with me sometimes. Other days, you won’t see me at all.” Castiel gives a little shrug. “My schedule varies, as you’ll see.”

Dean nods, looking down at his feet, head hung heavy with the responsibility placed on his shoulders. It’s a heartbreaking sight—at least, it would be for anyone with a shred of empathy. But Castiel locked away his emotions long ago, putting aside those things in order to focus on climbing the corporate ladder. Things like love, true mates, and alpha and omega relationships have only ever brought the Novak family pain. 

Which is why it feels totally out of character when he brings his hand up, touching Dean’s elbow. The omega seems startled for a minute before settling into the touch, eyes wide and trained on Castiel’s face, his eyes, his lips.


Dean clears his throat, a gorgeous blush falling on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you Monday.” Castiel forces himself to step backwards, to leave Dean in the conference room with a group of alphas—none of which he trusts. It’s much harder than it should be. “Don’t be late.”