The Footman

0.7

Dean sat down at one of the smudged benches and smiled. He could look up and see the sky. It wasn't overcast any longer and was now brilliant and blue. He pulled his glasses from his pocket and slid them on. Dean never let anyone see him in his glasses. He only used them for study and to see something clearly.

The Winchester pulled out his sketch book and pencil, sketching the sky and the ivy in the corners along the walls. His smile was freckle dotted as he found himself sketching a face into the open space of the sky. It was the footman, the second one he supposed, Castiel.

He couldn't exactly remember every feature and bone structure in the face of he footman, but he did remember Castiel's ocean eyes and black hair. Dean blinked noticing from memory that Castiel's eyes weren't the same color of the ocean nor the sky. They were their own shade of blue other than the regular ones. They were deep but light and soothing but intense.

Dean kept sketching different bodies and different plants, but mainly Castiel. Castiel was so beautiful, he was dangerous. Dean sketched what he thought the angelic man might look like working in the garden, taking his shirt off and sweat dripping down his back. His hands pushing back his dark bangs and the twinkle in his eye of the sun as it caught his blue. His thoughts wandered to the footman's chest and his imagination constructed a muscular torso with flat planes of tanned skinned from the sun beat summer. He thought about Castiel smiling at Dean sitting on the patio watching him, walking to him. Castiel climbing the stairs up into the shade and leaning over Dean's chair, his hands on each armrest and his breath on his skin. He imagined Castiel pressing his lips to Dean neck and-

"Sir? Oh uh, Dean?" Castiel said in a wary voice. Dean looked up quickly and his face went hot. His eyes fell on the footman, peering around the corner of the entrance.

Dean was at a loss for words, "Wha-what? What is it?"

Castiel smiles lightly and exhaled, "Dinner is ready, s-sir."

"Ah, is it?" Dean swallowed anxiously and closed his sketchbook very fast and very hard. He stood up and straightened his clothes. Castiel watched him until they met gazes, when Castiel looked away.

"I like your glasses, sir."

"Wha-what?" Dean asked very confused until he remembered. He snatched them from his nose, "Oh, shit."

Castiel smiled politely and walked out of the ivy room with Dean behind him. Dean followed Castiel all the way back to the mansion.

"Wait, Cas," Dean corrected himself immediately, "I mean Castiel, uhm, how did you find me? I was walking and got lost to find that room."

"I just had a feeling you'd be there. I know this garden top to bottom, Mr. Zachariah showed me." Castiel turned and glanced back at the freckled Winchester. "And it's alright if you call me Cas. It's unprofessional so you shan't say it in front of my uncle or your father, yeah?"

"You're quiet queer for a British fellow." Dean smiled and followed in pursuit.

They finally were at the steps up to the house and Dean glanced at the patio where his daydream had taken place.

"Shall you need my assurance any longer, sir?" Castiel turned to face the other man.

The green eyed man shook his head, "I think I'll just put these in my room, maybe change my shirt and then be off to dinner."

"Very well, sir."

"You-you are dismissed."