The Bodyguard (is the Omega)

15.

While the heat whispered beneath his skin, Castiel got on with his day. Sparring with Jack in the gym gave his body enough physical preoccupation so that his brain could function. That is until Dean came in from the pool, shyly spreading his towel over the seat of the spin cycle next to Castiel's and started his work out. Castiel wasn't going to leave just because Dean came in, that would be suspicious. Charlie had done a drug store run for him as soon as he confided in her. Now covered in suppressant laced deodorant, body spray and with the oral over the counter medication kicking in Castiel thought that maybe his scent was blanked out enough for polite society. At least Jack and Ketch didn't comment on it. Dean still looked at him with wide blown pupils but Castiel had to admit Dean looked at him like that most of the time anyway.

So Dean spun his exercise bike and Castiel spun his. They sat looking ahead at the pool through the glass wall of the gym, not saying anything. Dean rotated his legs faster, his scent wafted over like thick heavy cream. Castiel bowed his head and pushed the peddles. Dean panted as he picked up more speed, the wheels whirring with a metallic sound. Castiel matched Dean's speed and then some, the speedometer flashing red. Dean gasped, sweat dripping off his forehead, running down his chin. Castiel grabbed his water bottle and squirted it over his own upturned face, trying to cool his feverish skin. Dean grunted and peddled with all his might, the speedometer gave up and blacked out. Castiel fell into the rhythm of the movement, watching Dean's toe on the foot mount next to his, pumping his legs twice as fast. As he rose on his thighs and punished the machine with a final round of hip slamming rotations, Dean gave a groan and lifted his feet off his peddles. The wheels kept spinning in a blur with the momentum. Dean slumped over his exercise bike, turning his head to gasp at Castiel. Castiel fixed his eyes ahead and gave it mercilessly to the exercise bike, his mouth twisting in a satisfied grin as the whole thing shuddered and with a loud click of gears breaking apart ground to a shaking halt. The front wheel fell off and rolled, comically, into a wall. Dean looked at Castiel in silent, savouring shock.

Castiel picked up his own towel and dabbed it over his face. While Dean sat watching in exhaustion and awe, he walked over to the rowing machine.

* * *

Crowley's face was grave when Castiel called him into Sam's office.

"I know we haven't been getting on but Dean has a job to do. Just like you Castiel, putting himself out there in front of the cameras is his job. You do yours and let him do his."

Sam shook his head. "We didn't ask you to come in to fight. Castiel has come by some information that made us concerned. About you."

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

"I chased a car the other day, an old chevy, I've seen it hanging out in the places Dean frequents. The number plates came back registered in your name."

"I... I'm not ..."

"We know you're not the stalker Crowley," Sam said quickly. "The plates were reported missing from your personal garage by your PA six weeks ago. We've spoken to him, we think your house has been infiltrated."

Crowley was silent for a few minutes. He looked up at Castiel with pleading eyes. "Tell me he didn't, did you DNA test the mattress?"

Castiel squinted at Crowley.

"I'm throwing the whole fucking thing out," Crowley crowed. "Fucker comes into MY house and soils MY bed, I'm going to use his guts for garters. I didn't grow up on the streets of Liverpool, swindle my way to America, become a publicist to the stars and wrap the academy around my little finger to have scum invade my personal sanctuary putting their paws all over my delicates. Some of those are vintage! Rumour is a royal princess used to own that piece of early Victorian medical implement ..."