First time Dean saw him, he was part of a large group that had a party. The group had only caught his attention, because of the weird names. The list started out ok. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael. But then the names got weirder. Balthazar, Uriël, Zachariah, Castiël, Inias, Josiah, Samandriël. He guessed it must be a family outing, because the group was very diverse. Raphael and Uriël were both dark skinned, however the first was lanky and had a short cropped coupe, where the latter was big and burly with a bald, shiny head. Then there was Zachariah. An older man with grey hair and protuberant, cold, blue eyes. Gabriel was like a labrador puppy on speed. He was bouncy and quirky and not once in the entire evening did Dean see him without a sucker or a piece of candy in his mouth. Dean sort of knew Michael and Balthazar. They were regulars and not too shabby at the game. So when Michael came up to the bar and held his hand up to get Dean's attention, Dean smiled at him. "Hey there, Mike. Your regular lane?" The guy gave Dean a Look that said 'not tonight, please.' before telling him in an icy tone: "It's Michael and, yes, but the one next to it too. Novak party." Raising his eyebrows, Dean shrugged it off. Family... made some people act like dicks, some people cry. "Sure thing. Will you enter the names, or shall I?" A 5'7" guy with mischeivous, golden eyes and shoulder long, Samesque hair, nearly tripped over himself. "I'll do it!" Michael shot him a withering glance. "If you please. I'll have them come to you. Some want an abbreviation put up, some are difficult to spell." Annoyed that Michael would think he couldn't read or spell, Dean just nodded and began the list with 'Michael'. "Thank you." Michael said and walked off.
Dean filled the last glass of cola in his order and sighed. It had been a long evening. The group with Michael and Balthazar had been in his serving area and it was a rowdy group, but not a nuissance. The loudest, by far, was Gabriel, or Gabe as he wanted to be called on the list. He whooped and cussed, gave high fives and clapped people on the shoulder. "Dean-o! You're a gem, buddyboy! Hey guys! More drinks!" His polar opposite was Castiël. He had come up and calmly said, then spelled his name in a voice that sounded like silk over gravel, looking up at Dean with amazingly blue eyes. He spoke low and in level tones. Right now, it was his turn. He had shucked off the tan trenchcoat and his suit jacket, and Dean licked his lips at the sight of muscles playing under the white dress shirt that covered the lanky frame. Castiël picked up a ten ball, not bothered by its pink hue, and stepped up to the lane. From the moment he let go, Dean held his breath. Castiël had been rolling gutter balls most of the night, and ended bottom of the list in every game, but Dean had noticed some improvement as the night went on. Right now the ball teetered on the edge of the gutter, and Dean found himself willing it to stay on the lane. It tipped and ended in the gutter. "Awe, Cassie! We should get you the bumpers!" Gabriel called as Castiël stoïcly shrugged, ran a hand through his messy dark hair and walked back to the booth. "Don't bother, Gabriel. This game is not quite my sport, but I would rather loose everytime, than gain a few places by an unfair advantage. I am enjoying myself though." Dean smiled to himself. That was an admirable attitude. Michael was up next, and of course he threw a strike. "Whoa... seventh one tonight, big bro! You're on a roll!" Gabriel called. Samandriël, who'd shortened his name to Sam much to Dean's amusement, came up to Dean and took a drink from the table. "It would be nice for the others to consider rolling a bad one every now and then, just to allow Castiël to catch up." he said softly to Dean. Dean gave him a half smile. "I don't think he would appreciate it, to be honest. He knows his opponents, and I think he would notice a sudden decline in their game." Samandriël smiled warmly back. "You're right. He would, and he wouldn't like it." Dean went back to the bar, but he kept an eye on the group after that. The improvement in Castiël's game kept going, but he still lost every game that night.
Dean wiped the bar and collected the empty glasses and peanut bowls. When he came to the booth that had held the Novak party, he saw a suit jacket draped over the back of it. He picked it up, dusted it off a bit and smiled. "Well, Castiël, I think I will have to ring Mike up that you were too down to pick up your suit jacket." He chuckled when he realised that the guy had put on his trenchcoat, but totally forgot his suit jacket. He hung the jacket behind the bar and finished his chores. "Sammy!" He called to his brother. "I'm gonna roll a few. Wanna join me?" Sam stuck his head around the doorframe. "Naah, I'm going up. I have a test Monday." Dean shrugged. "Fine, egghead. See you later." He picked up his own ball from behind the bar and activated his favorite lane. The sound of the pins clattering down had him smile widely. That was the best perk of this job. He could practise his game for free after hours. After a few rolls, his score ran into triple digits and Dean felt all his muscles relax and the fatigue fade out. Another strike and Dean smirked to himself. "I bet that Mike would be surprised to see me roll like this." As he stepped up for the next roll, his brain supplied a mischeivous idea and he chuckled. "Or I could teach Castiël to roll, and have him bust Mike's ass next family meeting..." Dean watched as the ball wiped down nine pins. "If anyone could teach me, it would be you." Dean nearly tripped in surprise. "Crap! Dude! You startled me." Castiël came up to him. "My apologies. When I got home, I noticed I had forgotten my jacket. Have you found it?" Dean swallowed. Castiël had stepped up a little too close for comfort. "Yeah. Yeah I have, but dude... you mind stepping back a bit? Personal space." His gaze flicked to the chapped, pink lips and he moistened his own with his tongue. Castiël stepped back. "My apologies, again. Do continue your game. I would like to watch." Feeling a bit awkward, Dean picked up his ball and rolled again. "Is it customary to curtesy when rolling?" Dean wiped his hand over his mouth. "It's a preference, but a lot of bowlers use this move. It stabilises the momentum of your body, so your roll is more even." Castiël solemnly nodded, and Dean could almost hear him file that fact in his mind. "C'mere, Cas. Lemme see you roll. See if we can get your score to go up." Castiël blinked and was that a blush, rising on his cheeks? "Cas?" he rumbled, twining his slender fingers together. Dean bit his lip. "Yeah. Less of a mouthfull. Hope you don't mind.." Castiël looked up from under his lashes. "I don't mind. I like it. Less feminine or degrading than Cassie. I know Gabriel and Balthazar don't mean it like that, but that is how it comes through." Dean smiled at him. "Nothing feminine about you, buddy, except the lashes." Castiël's eyes crinkled at the sides and his mouth curled a bit. "Thank you, Dean. Are you sure you want to spend the time teaching me? It is rather late." Dean winked at him. "I'm cool. Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't. Now get your ass over here, so we can start."