I remember you. Category
Characters: Dean, Castiel
Pairing: Destiel, Dean/Impala(hahahano, but seriously)
Rating: Safe
Spoilers: Season 4
Word Count: ~2,100 (so far)
Summary: Dean is a bartender who works at a local bar where Castiel is a regular customer and a bit of an enigma. Both have had their eye on each other for a while. But Dean doesn't know he's much closer to Castiel than he thinks.
A/U: Dean had his memories erased and replaced with fake ones. He doesn't remember Cas, but Cas remembers everything. It takes place in modern day Lawrence, Kansas where nothing supernatural is happening…that Dean knows of.
A/N: This isn't the most creative AU, I'm planning to write some post-apocalyptic fics soon. Also yes, Dean has Baby in this fic. Because I don't have the heart to break up him and his car3
It was a normal evening in Lawrence, Kansas. Things were slow moving in the city, people were headed home from the late shifts as all the shops closed down.
The setting sun painted the sky a deep bloody red and cast the town in an eerie dusk. Neon signs began to flicker on, creating a low, resonant hum that traveled up and down the streets as the bars began to open.
On a side street near the edge of town, the Crosstown Tavern sat with its doors open to the cool evening air. The sound of glasses clinking and low music wafted out the front door and into the evening air.
A man with short brown hair and shocking green eyes stood behind the counter, the sleeves of his dark green shirt pushed up to his elbows. He scrubbed at the dark wood of the bar, his muscles standing out against his shirt. He seemed very casual to be working the bar, but no one dared confront him about it. He was very particular about what he wore. Jeans, a dark t-shirt, a button up shirt, jeans and work boots made up his wardrobe of choice.
The owner had tried to coax him into wearing the normal apron and plain black top with the words Moe's Crosstown Tavern scrawled in the top right corner countless times. But to no avail.
"Hey, Dean." A scruffy voice called.
The man turned, tossing the rag on the counter, "What'll it be, Russ?" He asked.
"Martini. Shaken."
Dean shook the mixer, making yet another martini. Doesn't anyone have just a good old cold one anymore? His thoughts were disgruntled. It had been a really long shift so far and it was only 11pm. It was a Tuesday so not many people were coming in except the drunks and people who were going through mid-life crises.
But there was one face that Dean had yet to see today. Someone who was a regular at the bar, yet curiously he was not a drunk nor was his life wasn't falling apart.
Dean absentmindedly shook the drink he was concocting, staring at the back of the bar. The bell on the front door jingled. Dean felt his heart jump slightly. He shouldn't be this excited every time the damn door opened. He turned casually, his eyes expectant.
It was just another guy in his 40's, still dressed in his work clothes. He decided to just sit at a table, staring at the neon signs advertising beer in the windows.
Dean felt his heart sink slightly. He poured the over-shaken martini into a glass and gave it to Russ who grunted his thanks.
The bartender sighed softly and turned, bending down to grab a few glasses. The door jingled again and Dean felt his ears involuntarily perk to the sound.
"I'll take a pint." Said a low, husky voice. Dean's heartbeat quickened and he slowly stood and turned around, glasses in hand.
Before Dean sat the man he had been waiting for.
He wore, as usual, a pair of black slacks and a formal white shirt with a thin blue tie. A tan, perfectly clean trench coat was draped over the stool next to him and he was leaning on his elbows on the bar. Tousled black hair brushed gently against the man's smooth, pale forehead and striking blue eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes were looking straight back at Dean.
"Hey, Castiel." Dean said, surprised by his own casual greeting.
Castiel's lips twitched, "Hey." He said wryly.
Dean turned quickly, feeling his chest tighten slightly. Castiel didn't seem to be aware of how attractive he was, and that bothered Dean. He wished there was some way to bring it to his attention subtly. The bartender brainstormed how to tell Castiel what he was thinking while he filled a pint with the man's usual choice of ale.
The golden drink swirled, the foam lapping at the sides of the glass, until it was perfectly aligned with the top of the mug. Dean placed the drink in front of the other man.
"Cheers." Dean said casually, looking at Castiel's eyes momentarily before dodging his gaze. It was too easy for Dean to forget he was staring at the other man, and he usually ended up making things awkward when he couldn't look away from Castiel's electric blue orbs.
Dean hastily went back to scrubbing the already pristine counter top.
He began to idly think about how strange of a name Castiel was. Castiel… he mused, throwing the name around in his head. Besides the 3 years of Spanish he had faked his way through in high school, he didn't know much about any language. But he was sure that Castiel was not a normal name.
"What's up with your name?" He asked on a whim, his eyes focused on the rag in his hand.
"My name?" Came the deliciously deep voice from behind him. It resonated through Dean and made him want to shiver but he resisted.
"Yeah. It's pretty unusual. What's the story behind it?"
There was a pause as Castiel took a drink. The mug clanked to the bar and Castiel took a deep breath, "It's supposedly the name of an angel." His voice sounded strange.
Dean turned when he heard this, studying the other man's face. Castiel swirled the remaining beer around in his glass. Dean stood where he was, waiting for more of an explanation.
"And?" He prompted.
"And…that's all I suppose." Castiel studied his drink intently, almost intentionally avoiding the other's gaze.
Dean's curiosity peaked. He walked over so he was about a foot to the right of the other man and leaned on the bar with his elbows, "That's all? What did the angel do? Why were you named it?" The questions tumbled out faster than Dean intended. He cleared his throat to prevent himself from ranting and looked expectantly at the man next to him.
"Him." Castiel corrected immediately. He tensed for a moment before continuing, "Honestly, I don't know." Castiel looked up for the first time, his intense gaze finding Dean's. Dean froze, unable to look away, "Why are you asking?"
"Like I said, it's unusual. I was curious."
Castiel looked up at the man next to him for a moment, not saying a word. Dean stared back, examining the man across the bar. He was so odd. He didn't act normal at all, almost like he was an alien. This intrigued Dean and he couldn't leave him alone.
While they had been talking the bar had cleared out so it was only the two of them left. Dean doubted anyone else would be coming in tonight and he poured himself a pint. He took a long drink, feeling the alcohol collect coolly in his stomach.
It was silent for a few minutes as the men drank, staring in opposite directions. Dean could sense that Castiel seemed tense, his shoulders were rigid and his hands gripped the mug tightly, his tendons standing out against his normally smooth skin.
"Why are you so curious about me?" Castiel asked, his voice guarded as he slowly looked up to Dean.
"Why…? I dunno, I guess you're different. There aren't too many people in this city that aren't 9 to 5 Average Joes."
"How do you know I'm not an average Joe?" Castiel rumbled, his voice seemed strained and he turned his eyes back down to his glass.
"Uh….your name I guess. And you come in here everyday…" Castiel's frame got even more rigid and Dean backtracked in his mind. What had he said wrong?
"So you feel it too…"Castiel whispered so softly Dean only heard part of it.
"Feel? Feel what?"
Castiel looked up at Dean suddenly, "When do you get off of your shift?"
Dean was slightly surprised by the suddenness of Castiel's question, "Um…well it doesn't look like anyone else is coming in tonight. Let me clean up and close." He chugged the rest of his beer and sighed contentedly.
He grabbed the empty glasses off the bar and began to wash them, "Why do you ask?" he questioned absentmindedly. There was silence. Dean turned, looking at Castiel.
The man was bent over the bar, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing labored.
"Cas?" Dean shouted then paused. Cas? Why did I say Cas? He was snapped quickly out of his thoughts when Castiel fell forward, his head landing on the bar. Dean placed his hand firmly on the bar and vaulted over. He paused again, How the hell did I do that?
Castiel began to fall sideways and Dean moved quickly, grabbing the man around the shoulders, "Hey, what's wrong with you?" Dean's voice was panicked.
Castiel's head lolled against Dean's shoulder, his eyes glazed over.
Shit…this is bad. Dean looked at the catatonic Castiel in his arms and made a snap decision. He grabbed the other man's coat and threw his arm over his shoulder. The keys to the bar were in his pocket and he slowly walked to the front door, Castiel in tow.
He locked the thick oak doors with a low click. He glanced down at the man next to him again, his eyes searching for blood or anything else that might explain why he was acting this way.
The pair made their way slowly to the parking lot behind the bar, Dean dragging and Castiel half walking. The lot was empty except for one car. It was a jet black, pristinely polished 1967 Chevy Impala.
When they reached the car Dean held onto Castiel while fumbling for his keys. It was a battle to open the car door and slide Castiel inside without dropping him, but he somehow managed. The man's body was slumped against the old leather seat that smelled pleasantly like must, cigarettes, and mint.
Dean slid in, grabbing Castiel and pulling him closer so he could lean on him while he drove. He didn't want him flopping around in the car. The engine started with a fierce growl and Dean couldn't help but smile a little bit. The sound was so sexy, and Dean could feel the power through the steering wheel. He could feel the rev of the hundreds of horse power underneath the hood. He had poured his life and soul into this car and it had served him well...
Right as he was about to start driving, Castiel moved. Dean looked down, placing his hand under the other man's chin to tip his head back and examine him.
Castiel blinked, disoriented. The first thing he saw was the stunning green of Dean's eyes. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and he winced.
"What? What is it? What hurts?" Dean asked, his voice desperate.
This concern only hurt Cas more. He wished that he had never gone into that bar and that he had never come to Lawrence. He felt his chest tighten and found it hard to breathe.
"I'm taking you to the hospital." Dean said, throwing the Impala into reverse.
"No!" Cas's response was instant. Dean turned to look at him, confused.
"I'm fine. I just need to rest."
Dean clearly didn't believe him. His eyes were reproachful. His foot pressed the gas lightly and Cas grabbed his leg, "Please…don't. Just let me rest for a while."
Cas knew the best thing right now would be to get the hell out of here before he ruined the carefully constructed reality in Dean's head.
But he couldn't, he was so close to him. He could smell Dean's distinct musk, an scent that was warm and cloying. Even though he now worked in a bar, he smelled no different than he used to. Cas couldn't stop himself from taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.
His head fell to Dean's shoulder which was firm with muscle but more comfortable than any pillow. He felt his throat tighten and his heart give an uncomfortable lurch. But he couldn't move even if he wanted to. He was so comfortable.
Dean had tensed up when Castiel put his head on his shoulder but didn't feel an urge to shake him off. His arm was still around Castiel's shoulders so he pulled him closer and slowly pulled out of the bar parking lot, his mind a flurry of questions and emotions.