"Dan?"
The name rings through the small, cramped coffee house, and no one responds. Again, "Dan?" Nothing.
Dean Winchester looks up at the confused barista, and after a few other names are called, Dean himself finally walks up to the counter. Why did these guys always have to screw up names? Dean was simple enough. Dean stared down the barista as he approached, before finally speaking, "Did you mean Dean, perhaps?" he inquires, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. As always.
"Uh, sure," The barista mumbles, looking down and pushing the cup of coffee toward Dean. Dean grabs it and turns, miffed over the fact they had yet again screwed up his name. There had been Sean, Dan, Ian, and some other oddballs here and there, and he'd had about enough. Maybe the coffee place a couple blocks over was better.
"Castiel?"
Dean pays no mind to the name at first, but his curiosity peaks when he realizes this name is probably screwed up, too. He turns, eyeing the crowd of waiting coffee-drinkers, looking for whoever this 'Castiel' may be. Dean was willing to bet it was actually a Cassie, or maybe even Gabrielle. Dean bites the inside of his lip to hide a smirk as he watches a dark haired man approach the counter. However, the contact the man makes with the barista is short and friendly. Dean scowls before tuning and leaving the coffee shop. Who in the as the name Castiel?
It's early autumn, but it's also still pretty chilly. Dean and Sam had made their way up to a remote, Minnesota town in search of some ghoul or ghost, but after it all turned out to be a hoax, Dean decided they needed a little vacation.
The town was nice enough. It had a friendly, north woods vibe. Everything was rustic and there were plenty of moose-related souvenirs Dean had wanted to buy for Sam. He had to fight the urge as he passed storefronts with his warm cup of coffee in hand. This was what Dean figured counted as down town, and it wasn't much at that. There was a strip of stores on either side, tall and with what one could assume were apartments above them. It was cozy, no one could deny that.
Dean was currently headed to the small park located a few blocks over from the coffee shop, and by a few, it was only about two. A chilly breeze kicked up crinkle leaves in a whirlwind across the sidewalk. Dean tugged the collar of his jacket tighter about his neck, shoving his free hand into a pocket after doing so. Maybe he did need a scarf; Sam had been nagging him to buy one. Dean sniffled, the tip of his nose chilled, as he approached the park.
The trees were like giant, round paintbrushes. They contrasted with the blue sky due to their warm shades of gold, red, orange, and brown. Their fallen leaves dusted the landscape, and the grass had faded from a bright, healthy green to a dried out, yellowed green in the week Sam and Dean had been in the town. Dean secretly admired autumn, and everything about it, though he was wary to admit this to anyone. It was the season of apples, cinnamon, and all the pie you could eat.
Dean made his way to an empty bench, ignoring the fact the whole park was empty at this time of day. It was just a little before 11:00 a.m., and Dean enjoyed the solitude of the park. He sipped at his coffee, cursing as he nearly burned his tongue, and then listened to the rustling of leaves and the creak of the old play ground behind him. It was extremely peaceful, so peaceful Dean didn't notice footsteps behind him.
"Is… this seat taken?"
Dean jumped, turning to look at the dark haired man who had asked the question. Dean was immediately wary; it was the guy from the coffee shop, the man named Castiel. Had he followed Dean? Dean gave him a good, quick look, from head to toe. He seemed a little exhausted, and his coat was wrinkled in a devil may care manner. Dean just could not stop going back to those dark, tired eyes, though.
"No, no," Dean finally said, snapping back to attention. He looked down at his coffee, his cheeks flushing slightly, "It's free," Dean said, looking back up at the man. His expression was unchanging. Dean now felt almost as though he were being examined. He brought his hand from his pocket, suddenly, offering it to the man.
"The name's Dean."
Castiel in return simply stared at the hand offered, and then, as if it slowly dawned on him, he grasped Dean's hand and shook it firmly, but still in some manner managed to have a tired, weak grip. All the same, he offered and obviously forced smile, and Dean smiled in the same manner in return.
"My name is Castiel," The dark haired man said, letting his hand drop from Dean's. He then lowered himself onto the bench, sitting stiffly. Dean looked him over, cocking an eyebrow curiously. Dean then scanned the park, only to find the two of them were alone. Dean let himself look over Castiel once again, but he did his best to do so discreetly. Was this guy a demon or something? Had he actually followed him here? Dean was not big on believing in coincidence. "Nice weather," Castiel said after Dean had studied him for a time. Dean nearly jumped at the voice, almost forgetting this man even had one.
"Ah, yeah, the weather is gorgeous," Dean said, turning to face the park completely. Yet he couldn't help but try and look at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. "I really love autumn," Dean added, glancing over at Castiel. "You?"
"This is a very nice season," Castiel confirmed, nodding his head stiffly. He sipped at his coffee, if it was coffee, tentatively. Dean did the same, not sure what to say to the man.
"What're you drinking?"
"Apple cider," Castiel stated, turning himself to better face Dean. Dean closed his eyes momentarily. Was he trying to shake off this guy already? Dean opened his eyes, doing his best to not seem suspicious. "What are you drinking?" Castiel asked when Dean said nothing.
"Ah, well," Dean lifted his cup a bit, "this is a mocha latte," he admitted, his cheeks growing a bit flushed. Sam always teased Dean about how much sugar, chocolate, milk, or caramel Dean would pour into his coffee. Dean had a bit of a sweet tooth, at least when it came to coffee. Black coffee just didn't do it.
"Is it any good?" Castiel asked, still focused, nearly unblinking, on Dean. Dean shrugged.
"I guess," Dean said, looking over and catching Castiel in his gaze. Castiel immediately looked a bit flustered and glanced away, now looking everywhere other than at Dean. Dean smirked in response to this action, until he mentally kicked himself for flirting. Was this flirting? Dean straightened up, sighing and inhaling the stale, autumn air. When he looked back at Castiel he found the man staring at him yet again.
"So, Castiel, what do you do?" Dean asked, turning his head towards Castiel. Castiel took another sip from his steaming cup and he appeared to be deep in thought.
"Stuff," Castiel finally confessed, quietly. Dean raised his eyebrows, a short, harsh bark of a laugh escaping his lips.
"Well, I do stuff, too," Dean said, shaking his head in amusement. He was still confused by what this man wanted with him. Upon looking back at Castiel, Dean found him staring yet again. Dean sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Quickly, Dean stood, turning to stare at Castiel.
"Look, why did you follow me here?" Dean demanded, his gaze intimidating and unrelenting. Castiel's eyes widened as he looked up at Dean in awe. Castiel himself stood, then, and looked Dean in the eyes as best as he could manage.
"I did follow you, Dean, but… but…" Castiel stammered, appearing as though he were searching for the right words, "not for the reasons you are thinking. I just… want to know you," Castiel explained, dropping his gaze and hoping his broken explanation made some sense. Dean knit his brows together in confusion, trying to make sense of it. Were they flirting?
"Okay, okay I appreciate what you're saying… I think, but I have… I just gotta go," Dean said, turning his back on Castiel abruptly. Castiel looked up now, distraught. This was not what he had planned on happening.
"Dean, please," Castiel said, still grappling for words. Dean halted for a moment. "Can we meet here tomorrow, at the same time, please? I would just like someone to talk to," Castiel said, his voice a soft monotone. Dean crammed his eyes closed, not sure if he would regret saying yes, or regret saying no. He slowly turned back to face Castiel, opening his eyes but not making eye contact right away.
"Fine, same time tomorrow," Dean said, fixing his gaze back on Castiel for a moment. Then, as suddenly as Castiel had appeared earlier, Dean vanished, with the same silence. A breeze blew and ruffled the fallen leaves as Castiel watched the retreating form of Dean, but all Castiel cared about was finally nailing down someone he could talk to. Even if it was just small talk.
