Chapter Text
Cas felt like a goddamn pervert.
All he’d wanted was to not have to mow his lawn. Maybe have someone else trim the hedges. That’s all he had actually wanted. There had been nothing untoward in his decision to hire someone to do those things. He was busy - he had manuscripts to edit, and phone meetings to sit in on, and other business to attend to - and he’d worked hard and had earned the right to not have to do everything himself, hadn’t he? Of course he had.
But then Dean Winchester had shown up - with his dimples and freckles and lips and...that...body...and…
Cas wiped his forehead and took a sip of his iced tea.
Everything had gone to hell when Dean Winchester had shown up.
Literally, the only thing that made Cas feel even the slightest bit better about the situation was knowing that Dean was 19 and therefore not a full decade younger than him. (Not to mention more than of legal age, Cas thought, before really feeling like a pervert.) Otherwise, he’d have to fire him and the thought of having to explain why he would no longer require Dean’s services… Well, that wouldn’t do. Especially since Dean lived in the neighborhood so it wasn’t as if Cas could just hire someone else and Dean be none the wiser.
Cas tried to focus on the manuscript in his lap, but it was no good. It was just ink on paper and the words wouldn’t form in his mind. He glanced up again.
He’d been able to ignore that Dean was out trimming the hedges that grew across from the screened in porch where Cas sat, on the other side of the pool. He’d noticed when Dean had been stretching to pull away a dead branch from a tree, and his shirt had risen up to reveal those notches by his hipbone, but he had managed to look away.
Then Dean had waved at him, and he’d had to acknowledge his presence with a wave back and a smile and all hope of paying attention to work had been lost. Cas clenched his jaw and looked back up. Just in time to see a sweat-slicked Dean take off his loose tshirt before bending at the waist to start up the lawnmower engine.
Fuck, it was hot this summer. Cas’ eyes shot back down to the pages in front of him. He pushed up the already rolled up sleeves of his button down shirt, and undid another button at his neckline. He would swear it hadn’t been this warm just a little while ago.
Cas’ head stayed tilted towards his lap and the manuscript in front of him. Cas’ eyes, however, wandered slowly back up to to man outside. God, Dean Winchester was beautiful. He was fair, but not pale, and small freckles dotted his skin. No doubt from all the time he spent in the sun. All the time he spent working very hard in the sun, if the muscles in of his back were anything to go by.
Dean had the a body of a worker, not a model. His hipbones grooved in a point, practically begging eyes to look lower, but his stomach was a little soft. It was defined, and trim, but not with abs that were obviously created in a gym. Somehow that was even sexier, even more frustrating.
What usually drew Cas’ gaze, though, were the broad shoulders that seemed like they’d been drawn by an overzealous superhero cartoonist. Then there were Dean’s arms. Oh good grief, there were Dean’s arms. With biceps that...
‘Focus,’ Cas chastised himself aloud. He cleared his throat, his mouth dry, and took yet another sip of his iced tea, his eyes once again returning to the pages before him. It wasn't even June yet. This was going to be a long, long summer.