Puff Pastry
With so much going through his mind, all of the mental images clouded his other senses. Though he had so much to say, so much to convoy, he couldn't manage to type the words to describe it. It was almost as if trying to tell someone exactly every scene in a movie, whist watching it yourself. It felt so impossible. Wanting to cram every single detail, every emotion they were feeling onto the page, but at the same time wanting to just sit back and see how it all will play out. To give the reader the ability to see what he saw, the candy apple green eyes, the ripple of tanned skin stretched across muscle, the beads of sweat clinging to dirty blonde hair. All of it. He, himself, wanted to go back whenever he pleased and relive the scenes, never forgetting a single detail. But he just couldn't seem to get it out. Couldn't find the right transition. Couldn't find the right time. Always getting something mixed up with another, or hurtling uncontrollably in an entirely different direction.
Castiel rubbed his face in exasperation. He had been stuck on this novel for weeks. No matter what he tried, breaks, yoga, caffeine, and an array of other things, he couldn't seem to make any progress.
He snagged the Jack Daniels and tipped it to his lips, not caring to grab a glass. Maybe a bit of alcohol could make things clearer, well, that was always his excuse. After downing half within the hour, he put down the bottle and reluctantly pushed himself to bed.
When he awoke the next morning, he didn't bother to take the time to shower or change clothes before he was once again seated at his computer, staring at a blank document. He blinked twice, then shot up like a lightning bolt. He needed caffeine. Now.
He honestly didn't feel like changing clothes, but as soon as he caught sight of himself in the mirror he darted into his bedroom. Shimmying out of his sweat pants and t-shirt, he opened his wardrobe and snagged the first items he saw. He ended up wearing a pair of skinny jeans with a button up, blue tie, and a tan cardigan. He turned again to examine himself in the mirror, laughing at how much this outfit showed his nerdy side. He headed out the door, ready to barge into the first place that sold coffee he saw.
About a block over, he spotted a small café, not very busy or flashy, but still looked appealing with the various greenery in front and a stylish seating area. He walked over and he was immediately assaulted with the rich aromas of various coffee flavors. His mouth watered, and he hurriedly made his way to the bar.
When he came up to the bar, the barista had his back to him, and had seemingly not noticed a customer had stepped in. As he cleaned a mug and started it wipe off one of the brewing pots, Castiel let out a small cough to politely alert the man he needed to order. The other man turned around awkwardly, embarrassed that he didn't notice him.
The barista recovered in record time, clearing his voice and greeting him.
"I'm sorry. What'll it be?"
"Vanilla Biscotti with foam please." Castiel replied enthusiastically.
"Coming right up." The man smiled, loosening up a bit.
When he turned around to start preparing Castiel's coffee, Castiel ogled his backside, admiring his back muscles and thinking about his novel. This man seemed to have the build of one of the main characters in his story, and that made him chuckle internally. Just about everything was the same physically about this guy and his character, the candy apple green eyes, muscular build, and even the shade of his hair was similar to the character Castiel imagined. As for the personality, he had no idea about the either of them. His character seemed foggy still, as did the guy.
After the barista was finished preparing his coffee, topping it off with foam, he turned around and Castiel caught sight of the name on his name tag. Dean. He smiled a bit and accepted the coffee eagerly.
~~~~OxO~~~~
Dean was having a shit day. The power in his apartment went out while he was sleeping, causing his alarm clock to reset and not go off, resulting in him waking up an hour late. As he frantically pulled on his uniform and shoes, he checked his phone only to find out that his current partner had broken up with him in a lame text message. Dean knew he had been cheating on him, but chose to ignore it for the sake of blissful ignorance. In his mind he was a little happy, but mostly disappointed and depressed. This one had lasted for six months, his all-time record for relationships in this city.
Pushing this morning's events aside, he concentrated on the walk to work. Ever since he completed collage, gaining his bachelor's degree in Business Administration, he had been floating around, looking for a laid back job to occupy him. When he came across Choux à la Crème, he knew he had found the perfect place. When he was in high school he had a part time job as a barista at the local café in his hometown, Lawrence, Kansas.
When he arrived at the café, he immediately got to work serving the regulars and cleaning up here and there. Everything had settled down as it was approaching noon and he had been doing busy work, trying to occupy his thoughts, when he was startled by a customer. Embarrassed, he acted formal and on his guard, apologizing for not noticing him. The man didn't seem to care, and happily gave Dean his order. Skillfully, he prepared the man his coffee, topping it off with foam.
He placed the mug on the counter, careful to warn the guy, who he just noticed was really attractive, that it was very hot. When he accepted the coffee and smiled, Dean could feel his checks blaze, and looked the man in the eyes. They resembled the ocean, a blue he felt he could get lost in. He averted his eyes, embarrassed about staring. The man chuckled.
"I apologize if I was staring. It's just you remind me of someone." Said the stranger.
"I'm sorry too," dean smiled, "I may have also been staring. May I ask who I remind you of?"
This was weird. Dean was never that bold or open with flirting, but he seemed to be doing it with this stranger, some guy he knows nothing about. If he reminded him of someone, he was probably already taken. Shouldn't have said that. Damn it. Fail. Dean cursed himself.
"One of my characters. I write romance novels, and you remind me of one of the lead characters I'm working on right now."
Oh.
Dean smiled with hope, "Awesome! As far as I know we don't get many published Authors in here. It's cool to meet one."
"Castiel Novak." He held out his hand to shake Dean's and smiled.
"Dean Winchester." Dean took his hand and shook it with enthusiasm.
~~~~OxO~~~~
This is just what I need
They both thought in unison. They exchanged numbers, and Castiel left Dean with the promise of calling him when Dean's shift ended. Dean got back to work, serving two more guest who entered a few minutes after Castiel left, and Castiel walked back to his apartment to try and work on his novel, biding his time till Dean's shift was over.