Spelling Mistakes.

Dean's exasperation was wearing him down and it was only a few minutes until his lunch break. Everyday was a repeat of itself and he knew that something as uninteresting as being a barista was slowly starting to annoy him. Dean needed to be doing something else, something active. Being confined to the space of a small counter surrounded by other people was not his idea of a good job. At least it gave him money, until he could try and actually get somewhere with his music. He wished his life was back on the road, in his precious Impala with his brother, Sam. Their band had gotten them kicks, chicks and gigs but it had all accounted to nothing. So here he was now, a failed musician making coffee's for lazy customers. At least Sam had actually done something worthwhile. Settling down in a family home with a dog no less, loving the simple life. Dean had no interest at finding someone to "settle down" with. It would be almost as bad as cleaning cups for a living. He looked around, staring at the few customers scattered around the area with newspapers and phones, sipping their coffees like they had no intention of ever leaving. Some were regulars, but aside from them business was slow today. It had been slow for the majority of the week, actually. Lost in thought, his senses finally awoke when he heard the scraping of the door opening and a man standing at the entrance as if confused by what he had found. Nonetheless surprised, Dean studied the man carefully and when his eyes turned to his he gave what looked like a smile and walked gingerly up to the counter. He wore a suit and tie under a baggy trench coat, his eyes a captivating blue that Dean couldn't quite make himself tear away from. Along with delicate features and mussed black hair his appearance lead him to believe he was a businessman, but something about his face said the complete opposite.

'Hello.' He said, a tone almost as delicate as his face. Dean was a little flustered, especially as he stood there with a serene smile without giving further detail.

'Do you want a coffee?' He asked finally, tearing him away from his thoughts.

'Yes, please.'

He looked spaced out, and despite the fact it was probably rude, he snapped his fingers at the customer, trying to get his attention.

'What would you like, sir?'

'Sir?' The man echoed, confused at the title he had given him. Dean was starting to believe that he was more likely a homeless man than a businessman. He looked out of place, maybe lost. Did he even know where he was right now?

'Do you want a coffee?' He asked again, his own tone almost becoming impatient. Calm down, Dean. He's only a customer.

'Iced chocolate latte.' He said, seemingly squinting at the first thing he saw on the menu behind him.

'Okay. Name?' He asked, holding a pen and plastic cup. He was interested more so than he was with others to find out his name.

'Castiel.'

Dean gave a double take, staring for a moment straight into his eyes as he tried to process what he'd said. He'd never came across a Castiel before. For some reason it fit his layabout appearance well.

He quickly wrote the name on it and handed it to Bennie. Although there was no reason to talk further Castiel still stood there.

'Thank you.' He said politely, eyes still studying him intently. Dean didn't know what to do with the force of his gaze upon him.

'Uh, no problem.'

Castiel smiled again, looking at Dean until it made him feel uncomfortable. Bennie called his name but he didn't move.

'Your coffee.' He reminded him, jerking his head to the side where the cup was standing on the counter. Castiel inclined his head, ultimately turning away and inspecting his coffee. After a few moments he confronted him again.

'My name,' he said, looking almost offended, 'it isn't spelt with two l's.'

Dean sighed. 'What do you want me to do about it, get you a new cup?' He asked, his tone turning slightly angry.

'Dean!' Bennie scolded him, but he only rolled his eyes.

'I'm sorry, okay? Next time tell me how to spell it if you care so much.'

'Okay.' He accepted, walking away to sit down on one of the chairs, contemplatively staring through the window at the crowd of people outside. Dean studied him the rest of the while, wondering why he was so awkward, so strange. He didn't speak, look or act like he was part of the city, or part of the world, for that matter. It was like he hadn't properly engaged in a human interaction for a number of years. Even his speech sounded too formal.

Dean shook his head. Why he was thinking about a customer so much he didn't know. It unnerved him that he couldn't think of anything else for the next passing minutes until Castiel finally walked gracefully out of the coffee shop. Dean watched his exit, staring outside at the trench coat looking from left to right until he disappeared into the throng of people. As he looked up at the clock he abandoned his apron and sighed relievedly when he left for his lunch break.

Dean looked up to see the same face enter the coffee shop the next day. He was kind of amazed he even wanted to visit the shop again after Dean was probably rude enough to him. But sure enough he walked up to the counter and smiled again at him.

'Iced chocolate latte.' He said.

Dean looked suspiciously at him and grabbed a cup.

'Name?'

He was testing him, he knew. Apparently it didn't cross the customer's mind at all.

'Castiel. With one l.'

Dean smirked at him, but got no reply. He wrote his name down on the cup and passed it along.

'You know you can wait over there.' He said.

'Why?'

'There are customers behind you.' He pointed out. Castiel looked back at the queue and shuffled along regretfully. Dean's eyes followed him even when occupied with the other customer's. He was wondering whether he had noticed or not. With a triumphant smile Castiel came back up to him.

'You spelt my name wrong again.' He said disappointedly, 'it isn't spelt with two e's.'

Dean shrugged, inside smiling at the frustration he'd brought him. He just wasn't appreciative of people who were too picky.

'I'm sorry.' He said unapologetically, and Castiel retreated to the same spot as before.

'Castiel. C-A-S-T-I-E-L.'

Dean scribbled his name down, smiling wickedly at him. He wondered how upset he would be this time.

'I thought you understood English.' He said, genuinely disappointedly.

'I do.'

'Why can't you get my name right?' He asked, confused, like he was oblivious to the fact he might just be playing a joke on him.

Dean raised his eyebrows when he saw him enter the coffee shop again. He didn't understand why he kept returning if he was upset by the way he teased him with the misspelling of his name.

'The same?' He asked, tired of hearing his voice utter the same order over and over again one more time.

He nodded. Dean grabbed a cup without even bothering to ask his name. Castiel looked confused at the perversion he'd made from the usual procedure. In truth, Dean was tired as it was, and certainly tired of playing the same games with Castiel. Passing his cup along, the trench-coated man looked at him oddly, a sense of sadness in his face at the lack of usual conversation and reciprocative teasing.

Castiel receded to his spot, sipping his coffee tentatively. Dean glanced up at the clock moments later, sighing relievedly at the promises of his lunch break.

Taking off his apron, he proceeded to the door leading outback when a hand reached out to his shoulder and spun him around. It was Castiel. Dean sighed audibly, uncaring if he found it rude or not.

'What is it this time?'

'You spelt my name...differently.'

'I don't really care.'

'I like it.'

'What?'

He showed him his cup, the words 'Cas' written in Dean's scrawly script in bold. Dean couldn't even remember writing Cas, or anything else different.

'I didn't even realise...'

'I like Cas.' He smiled.

'Okay.'

Something about him had fascinated him over the last few days for reasons unknown. But all he did know was that he liked him, even though he couldn't identify why. He had annoyed him immensely, and yet he had put up with it. Because...he liked him.

'Cas...do you wanna go for a drink?'

'But we are in a coffee shop.'

Dean rolled his eyes slightly. He found his innocence quite adorably remarkable.

'An actual drink? In an actual pub?'

Dean was waiting for the rejection, but it never came. Instead Castiel nodded and smiled, 'that would be nice.'

He shook his head slightly at his formality, ushering him out the door and onto the streets. It was nice to be with someone for a change, and get away from the coffee shop.