Ravish

The witness was a distinguished looking businessman.  It took all Castiel's strength to pry him away from the young man's body.  Now, He was slumped in a leather armchair, expensive scotch twinkling amber and gold in the glass in his hand.  Castiel could hear the clink of the ice as the man's hand tremoured ever so slightly.

The secretary, a sweet faced redhead, asked him if he would like a drink too.  Castiel declined the alcohol but consented to a coffee.  White, three sugars.  She brought it back within 5 minutes, a plate of dainty sweets accompanied the latte.  So Castiel ate cherry macaroons, whilst Dean Smith sipped a double shot, Kevin Tran's body cooling a couple of feet away, waiting for the police to arrive.

Dean seemed suspicious of Castiel from the outset.  Which told Castiel that he was more astute than his dapper suit and beautiful face let on. 

Dean's first question was: "How did the FBI know this was going to go down?"

Castiel knew from years of hunting that the best way to lie was to understate the truth. 

"We didn't know. I was sent to check up on him. Kevin Tran has been on our radar for years.  Protege like him, lots of online hacker friends.  We monitor him, recently there's been some unusual web searches from him."

He doesn't tell Dean that the searches Kevin did involved angels.  Or that Kevin had somehow tracked down Castiel's number.  Had sent him an SOS of sorts.  Had said that Castiel was the only Hunter who had the 'juice' to help him.  As if he had worked out what Castiel truly was.  He was a smart boy, but not smart enough it would seem.  It was enough to intrigue Castiel and he'd arrived.  A little too late. 

"Wow, you wouldn't guess to look at him.  He's a nice kid, was a nice kid.  I met his mom once, sweet, scary tiger mommy lady, man, she is going to be inconsolable," Dean talked a lot once he got started.  "He seemed more interested in his futile crush on my secretary, Charlie Bradbury, than you know, anarchism."

"It's always the quiet ones," Castiel said noncommittally. 

He was looking at Dean, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled chest beneath the tailor made shirt.  Dean had a fighter's body which he chose to shove into ridiculously genteel braces and iron pleated pants.  A gold Burberry tie noosed around his neck.  Suddenly, a vision of wrapping the length of silk around his wrist thrice over, pulling Dean forward and entangling their limbs together assaulted Castiel's imagination.  The hunter drank his coffee to cover the sudden heat in his cheeks.  He blamed his flight of fancy on that spark of recognition he felt immediately upon meeting Dean.  It was hard to name the feeling exactly.  Sameness perhaps.  A strange feeling of kinship.  A desire to look at Dean, take him in, bask in his presence, be with him.  Castiel had not felt like this before, ever, not in a thousand years. 

"I'm sorry, do you have any questions for me?" Dean asked, exhaling as he loosened his tie, eyes blinking rapidly.

Castiel lowered his eyes. He must have stared too long at the tie. The way Dean tugged at the knot there, his strong hand agitating against the fabric, funnily it made Castiel wonder if Dean could read his mind. The answer was of course not. That would be beyond the realms of reality. Castiel cleared his throat.

"Not really, Mr Smith. I am merely staying until the forensic team's arrival. To keep you company and to guard the evidence."

They both silently acknowledged the fact that the evidence Castiel referred to was Kevin's body. After a minute or so, Dean huffed, hands gripping onto his knees as he leaned forward, towards Castiel.

"Okay, I can't do this. I can't just sit here and pretend stoicism. My employee is dead, I found him dead. Cut to ribbons in fact. So I gotta ask you, agent, why? I have so many questions. Why did he slice himself all over like that?"