Dean pulled out the short list of books that he wanted to get from the store, still undecided on which titles he was going to settle down and buy. He's already looked up the titles that he was interested in, but he was going to limit himself to one because it was an indulgence and he still needed to make rent and food and Sammy's pocket money, no matter if the kid says he could work part time.

While normally, Dean wouldn't waste his hard earned cash on something that could go to feeding Sam or gas, he had been saving up for Christmas gifts. Once he'd completed his list he saw, quite by surprise, that he had a bit left over.

Dean picked up his unlikely habit of reading when his dad left him and Sammy alone in one of those motels whose conditions were so appalling. The TV only had home shopping and standard pay-per-view. Dean had swiped Slaughterhouse-Five, which had been Sam's homework, to pass the time between cooking and whatever it was that passed for school then.

So here he was standing in front of the bookshelf list in front of him, but still indecisive. He opted then to check out which books were available in the store first, so he glances at the titles and searches for Vonnegut's work. The store was pretty large, so he found most of what he wanted. To help him with his choices, he picks one of the books up and snaps a picture of the little blurb at the back. He picks up Player Piano, The Sirens of Titan, Mother Night, Slaughterhouse-Five, and Jailbird one after the other while snapping their pictures and putting them back in their place, when he gets to Bluebeard, someone reaches for the volume at the same time as Dean does.

He looks up at the arm the offending hand belongs to and swallows. The guy looked slightly older than he was, dressed like a tax accountant with a trench coat, but that was easily dismissed as dean focused on blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and dark rumpled hair. Dean had found out way back in high school and a few experiments with Aaron at the locker room that maybe he wasn't all that straight. He appreciated the male form just as much as the female form quite well—he just didn't act on it. Picking up girls was way easier in Lawrence than it was trying to even get a date with a guy in this neck of the woods. And man, this guy was definitely Dean's type. If only they weren't in a bookstore in Dean's neighborhood.

The man raised an eyebrow, his eyes sliding to Dean's phone before looking at Dean again. Dean didn't quite get if the guy was looking at him like he was crazy or if the guy was just wondering what he was doing snapping pictures of back cover summaries. They held each other's gaze before a girl passing by their isle said, "excuse me" to get to the sci fi the next shelf over. Staring match broken, the man blinks before he placed Bluebeard back.

Dean snaps up the book to skim the summary and take the picture. Now that he was aware of the guy, Dean notices that he's been on the receiving end of several side eyes from him, which Dean ignores. They were both customers in a very large bookstore, they could get along. Besides, he wasn't the one wearing a flasher coat in the middle of Christmas season. He adds Soul Enchilada because what the heck? Charlie said that there were devil deals and cars involved, so he'd give it a try. He passes by the manga aisle and decides to skim through the offerings that were there, despite the fact that he probably wouldn't be picking any of those up. Manga gobbled up money too easily and translations came in too far apart for him to get invested in a story, he'd stick with the hentai.

Once done, he finds an isolated corner of the store and browses through his pictures reading through the blurbs. True, he could have done this at home, but he liked getting a feel of the book and seeing the covers that were available in store. Finally, he decides on Slaughterhouse-Five because time travel and aliens, and just really his first book ever. But when he walked back, he was frustrated to find said book missing. Dean moves the books nearby to check if there were any volumes hidden behind but hangs his head in dismay.

Dean sighs and moves on to his next pick, only to realize that none of the Vonnegut's books he'd been looking at were left in the shelves. He pinches the bridge of his nose against the headache that he feels was approaching before straightening from his slouch and moving towards the Customer Service section to ask if they had any stocks left before settling on buying Charlie's rec. Dean just wants to buy a book for Christmas, damnit, was that too much to ask for?

He's greeted by a smiling perky blond, her nametag proclaiming Becky. Before he could get a word in, he notices flashercoat dude with his armful of books in the Barnes and Noble plastic bag, the skull and crossbones of Slaughterhouse-five barely visible through the opaque plastic.

The dude bought out all Vonnegut. Dean gives the plastic bag a glare before turning to the expectant face of Becky. "D'you have any copies of Slaughterhouse-five left?"

"Excuse me?" the guy from the Vonnegut aisle has a low and gravely voice, and if the guy hadn't just bought out the entire reason Dean was here, Dean would have been more personable. As it was, he turned to give the guy a grunt.

The guy fumbles awkwardly before pushing the plastic bag with Slaughterhouse-five onto Dean. "I bought these for you." Dean narrows his eyes at the bag, then at the man, and the guy fidgets uncomfortably for a while. "Really, ask Becky here, I was just about to leave them for you."

Dean swivels his attention to Becky, who was nodding enthusiastically a big smile plastered across her face. "Yes, Mr. Novak did intend to give them to you."

Novak pushes the bag towards Dean and for the first time, Dean notices an identical bag that the man had been holding on to. "I'm about to be late with my meeting with my brother." He smiles apologetically before saying, "But enjoy the books and I hope we talk about Vonnegut over coffee someday."

With that Mr. Novak gives a small nod, turns around and walks briskly out of the store. Dean was too dumbfounded to even form a reply. When he opens the plastic full of books he grimaces, no wonder all the Vonnegut books were gone from the shelves, Mr. Novak bought them all out and handed them to Dean.

Then, written across the plastic in blocky letters were: CASTIEL NOVAK, followed by a cellphone number. He looked at Becky who shrugged and pushed the pile of books to him. "He does look dreamy doesn't he?"

"What just happened?" Dean asked in slight confusion.

"Probably the next installment of my fanfic, but who knows." Becky shrugs but gave him an encouraging smile. "You don't luck out and get someone with the same taste in books like that everyday."

"What?"

"Call him," Becky encourages looking pointedly at the number before giving the pile a push towards him again. "Have a good day sir!"

"What the—" Dean runs out of the store to check, only to find Novak disappearing inside the passenger's seat of a Tesla before it drove away. He took out his phone to dial Novak's number before he realized he didn't know it and he left said number with plastic bag in customer service. He turned around abruptly to get the bag when he found Becky unnaturally close and holding his bag out to him. "Fu—"

"You forgot your bag, sir."

"I'm not a charity case!" Dean said indignantly, swiping the bag with the hand that wasn't holding the phone. Becky just gave him a giggle. A giggle. What was this girl, twelve? Dean sighs and then looks at the bag, now that he actually has the number he looks at it indecisively. The look of Becky's eager face decides it for him though, and he shoves his cellphone back into his pocket and grumbles all the way to his car.

Author's Notes:

Based off a twitter post... whiiich I can't link here. user: EliseApilado

I've been in a fanfic rut recently, haven't been continuing my fic in the Avatar fandom (and it's been a year since that has last been updated.)

I have been slowly writing the sequel to Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron and have actually been on that since 2014 (when the big bang ended) the first time I wanted the sequel to come shortly after, and while I have written a short sequel, it's not nearly what I wanted with the fic to go.

So call this a writing exercise from all the things I get bombarded on in twitter.