Just a a quick story I wrote for a friend who was feeling down.

The coffee shop was small and quaint with a very welcoming atmosphere. It wasn't very often when Jessica managed to nestle herself into one of its cozy little nooks. Between work and school (and of course her budding life as a freelance artist) there wasn't much time to just toss her feet up and relax.

Of course, the prices of some of the drinks may also have something to do with it. Nearly five dollars for a blended coffee? This was ridiculous! But every once in a while she'd cough over the money for one of the delicious beverages and spend the majority of the day occupying a small table pushed off in an isolated corner.

Sipping on her chosen drink she dug through her bag for a sketchbook and a pencil. Never knowing when inspiration would strike, she learned early on to always pack supplies. Flipping to a fresh page she let her mind wander and the graphite glide over the paper. Recently, between commissions and art classes, it seems all she'd been doing lately was drawing. It was beginning to feel like work. But sitting there, the warm morning sunlight falling over her form, she felt no pressure, no deadlines or need of perfection, just a release.

People streamed in and out in an even flow as the morning progressed and before she knew it the page was filled. They were rough sketches, nothing too fancy or intricate, but each one depicted a different character she had seen walk through that door. There was the old lady in the sequined sun hat, different pins sticking out every which way, the irritable man with two mismatched shoes, and many, many more. She looked over them all, fixing a few lines here and there, adjusting the size of one woman's purse, before sitting back and taking a slow swig from her straw.

Movement nearby caught her attention and she glanced over to see a man taking a seat at one of the closer tables. He immediately caught her attention. He wore a neat suit complete with matching shoes and a clean haircut which suggested some sort of business man but this early on a Tuesday morning (thank god for cancelled classes) he should have been at work. Even more curious was the heavy trench coat he wore over top. Even with October quickly approaching she was perfectly comfortable in a simple t-shirt and long shorts. How was this man not sweating bullets?

Quickly deciding she had found yet another oddball to add to her collection she turned to a new page and began tracing light lines. Unlike the other doodles, she realized this one would take time (and the entirety of the page). There was something in his serious yet slightly perplexed expression that drew her in and she found herself sparing more and more glances the odd stranger's way. She had almost gotten his jawline right when he caught her eye.

Her face must have been as red as a tomato because she felt like she could spontaneously combust at any moment. That was definitely NOT supposed to happen. Staring was rude and fascinating and attractive men were NOT supposed to catch you watching them. Or memorizing their facial features. Oh god, what if he asked to see her sketchbook? Or caused a scene? Through the thick veil of hair she had covered her face with, she carefully risked a peak at the man.

He appeared completely oblivious to her suffering and carried on reading his newspaper and sipping his coffee. Maybe he hadn't realized she had been looking for more than a second? Of course, for all he knew she had just happened to look his way as he looked hers. It became harder to convince herself of these lies once she noticed the slightly upturned corners of his mouth.

The next hour or so was spent in the same general manner. She tried desperately to look anywhere BUT the one person she desperately wanted to study before caving in only to meet his eye a few seconds later. It wasn't long before those slightly smiling lips were spread in a full on smirk and she felt mortified, but she couldn't stop herself. It felt like nicotine, that first taste was all it took before she started craving more. How embarrassing.

On the bright side she had made great progress on the picture of her mystery man. It still needed to be cleaned up, a few bolder lines and the finer details, but there was no denying it was him. Which is why it would be a horrible, terrible thing if he just hsppened to walk up to her table, snatch up the pad, only to take in his image on the page. So, of course, that's exactly what happened.

Her heart was bound to beat right out of her chest, just burst through her rib age and ricochet off the walls, at the rate it was pounding. Not wanting to possibly upset the man further, she sat back and silently took in every move he made as he looked over the drawing with a critical eye. It felt like centuries before he handed it back.

"You are very talented." His voice was much deeper than expected, a low baritone that shook her already frayed nerves. How humiliating would it be for her to pass out right at his feet? Probably only slightly more than the choked squeak that escaped her in an attempt at a reply.

"Thank you..." she responded after clearing her throat. Well he didn't seem too freaked out.

"Next time," he continued, "you could always just say 'hi'."

"Yeah, well... That would be too easy." She wasn't sure when she suddenly found her voice again but the half smile he responded with was worth it.

"Well, it was nice meeting you..."

"Jessica," she supplied.

"Jessica. I am Castiel. Sorry to rush out like this but I'm actually very late for some important business, but I hope I can see you again in the future." He nodded to her in farewell almost awkwardly, as if whatever bout of confidence he had been coasting on had finally worn off, but she was too busy on her own little cloud of euphoria that she barely noticed.

"Oh, yeah, no, bye..." As her heart settled down she felt the butterflies in her stomach starting up. She was really looking forward to seeing Castiel again. Maybe she would fork over some more cash soon and hope the man in the trenchcoat showed up again.