Notes: This is a WIP. I don't really know where this is going to go, but there will NOT be any major character death or anything like that. It's gonna be a cliche happy fic. Sorry not sorry.

I am sorry for the lack of title, but it's almost 2 AM and I am weak and I can't think of one but when I do I'll change it.

It was nights like these that really made Dean Winchester wish he'd taken that work-study position at the university fitness center when it had been offered to him back in September rather than this catering gig. But the pay was better here and he basically chose his own schedule; nights like these were rare anyway – attendees were usually friendlier, or at least more polite, than the man who was currently screaming at Dean from his seat. Admittedly, most guests didn't end up with cocktail sauce all over their tailored suits. This particular suit was designer; it was Italian – two facts the man seemed intent on permanently drilling into Dean's brain.

Though generally not too great with apologies, Dean had done his best to assure the man that he was truly sorry, but that only further agitated the man in front of him ("Sorry?! You're sorry? Words aren't going to fix my designer, Italian suit jacket!"). Without any other options, Dean stood quietly with downcast eyes while the tirade continued, mouth set in a hard line. Suddenly, the individual quieted and another voice filled the silence.

"Calm down. We'll have it cleaned. It's only the jacket, after all," Dean looked up and found that the new voice belonged to a man with long brown hair. He didn't know the man, but his playful and slightly mocking tone put Dean off a bit. However, Dean was in no position to decline his assistance, so he remained silent. He took the break in the verbal assault to scan the room, relieved to see his boss, Ellen, making her way towards the table. By this point, they had managed to draw quite a bit of attention to themselves, ranging from quick, nervous glances to open-mouthed stares. Ellen wasn't going to be particularly happy with him, but at least she would understand. The martini glasses weren't very stable to begin with, and with shrimp-lined edges and arranged on trays of ten, at least one drop was guaranteed for the night. It just so happened that Dean had the misfortune of being that one.

"'Only the jacket?' Don't be ridiculous." The man was speaking at an almost-normal volume at this point, though the bite in his tone was still clearly present, indicating that his rage had not been bated by the comment.

"Michael, let it go. He apologized. There clearly isn't much else that can be done to fix it. Your yelling is doing nothing but attracting attention to us – negative attention. So please, do everyone here a favor and shut up," The long-haired man was, again, coming to Dean's aid. Ellen reached the table then, making quick work of introducing herself and inquiring after the problem. Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by yet a third voice before he could even make a sound.

"It is taken care of. Our brother here seems unable to encounter and deal with a problem without throwing a much unneeded fit. We are very sorry to have caused such a disturbance this evening." The speaker looked directly at Dean the entire time he spoke, and Dean was mesmerized by the vividness of his blue eyes. Dean didn't even bother to try and fight the urge to give the man a once-over: his hair was tousled in a manner which could only be described as sex hair, his skin was pale (though this seemed natural rather than unhealthy), and dark stubble covered his jaw. His voice was gravelly, almost too deep to fit his looks, but Dean only thought it made him more attractive. Too soon, the man was finished speaking and Dean's thoughts were cut off by Ellen's reply.

"Well, alright then. I'm very sorry about the spill. If there's anything we can do to make up for this, please let me know," Then, quietly to Dean, "Come with me. The mess will be taken care of by Bobby. I don't want you guys cleaning up all that broken glass since we're already short on servers this evening. We can't afford to have you or another server cut yourself on that. We don't have any extras to cover for you." Dean obeyed, and they made their way to the plating area in the back. Dean's partner, Jo, had already re-plated and served the appetizer to the table while Michael and the other two, his brothers, apparently, were sorting out the issue, so he had some time to regroup while the guests were eating.

"I figure I already have an idea, but wanna explain to me exactly what happened out there?" Ellen's voice was quiet, as noise traveled easily and she did not want their conversation to be overheard by the guests, but commanding at the same time. Ellen had no trouble at all gaining the respect of her employees and co-workers; they loved her, but were terrified of her all the same. An angry Ellen Harvelle was something Dean wouldn't wish upon his very worst enemies.

"The martini glasses are unstable and not too great for serving such top-heavy dishes. I should've been more careful. I'm sorry." There wasn't much else to say. Dean had served the same appetizer many times, as he had been working at KU's dining service even while in high school, seeing as he lived in the area and they were perpetually short on wait staff. Shrimp cocktail looked best when served in the martini glasses and was frequently requested by event coordinators. Ellen and Bobby were aware of how difficult it was to serve, but they couldn't exactly tell a potential client 'no', so onto the menu it went. But Dean could serve with his eyes closed and had no further explanation for the accident.

"You work hard, Dean. You're one of our best. This is the first issue we've had with you, so I can let it slide this time. Just please be careful with them for the rest of the evening – he doesn't exactly seem like the forgiving type." Dean nodded and exited to the event floor to check his tables – refilling water glasses, bussing empty or abandoned appetizer dishes, answering questions – this part was easy, routine even, and he could use the peace after the earlier pandemonium. After that, dinner was ready to be served. Dean just hoped this course would go more smoothly than the first.

As he was placing Michael's dish on the table, he heard the long-haired guest say, "Careful. Wouldn't want to spill another," and Dean glared at him before he could think to stop himself. "Oh come on, just a little joke," the man supplied with a smirk, as if he knew just how much his commentary was bothering Dean.

"Gabe, please refrain from antagonizing our server. I am sure he has had enough of this family's antics to last a lifetime." The blue-eyed brother was speaking again, and Dean would be damned if he wasn't the most distracting being ever to walk the Earth. He wasn't about to let his stupid, tween-girl-esque thoughts cause him to spill more food, however, so he focused on getting the dishes to each individual before practically rushing off the floor and back into the catering area. He could feel the attractive stranger's eyes on him the whole way, and despite the man's good looks Dean couldn't help but find his staring slightly creepy.

Now that dinner was served, Dean had quite a bit of time to kill before he had to go back onto the floor. He went to the kitchen to grab some food – there was always extra food and he wasn't about to turn down a free meal, especially one that was of much higher quality than the food served to students. After making himself a plate, he headed to the back hallway to relax with the other servers.

Upon entering the hall, Dean was greeted by Ash, another server, who simply said, "sucks, dude." Everyone else nodded in agreement. Friggin' Jo.

"Hope you don't mind I told them. I was serving with you after all, and I figured you wouldn't want to talk about it anymore," It wasn't as though his accident was going to be a secret in the first place, what with all of Michael's screaming, so he supposed being mad at Jo for telling them was fruitless. He could never stay mad at her long enough for it to mean anything anyway, but that was probably a good thing considering she was his best friend. Aside from Sammy, Jo was one of two people he talked about his feelings with at all, the other being Charlie, but she wasn't working that night.

"Nah. Whatever," He wasn't necessarily thrilled that everyone had heard the story of him getting bitched out by some asshole, but he was too hungry to care, so he just dug into his dinner.

After he finished eating, he excused himself to go check on his tables again. It seemed everyone was happy enough; no one insisted that he or she was in dire need of anything, so he started making his way back to his friends. He would've made it, too, but as he reached out to pull back the curtain to enter the plating area, he felt a light pressure on his shoulder. He turned around expecting some stuffy guest to start demanding ridiculous tasks of him, but was instead found himself looking at Michael's blue-eyed sibling. Said sibling was much too close to Dean for comfort, so Dean took a step back from the man before smiling and asking what he could do for him.

"Oh, um," The stranger seemed at a loss for words for a brief moment, but quickly found his voice, "I do not require anything of you. I merely wish to apologize for my both of my brothers' behavior earlier. Michael can be quite spoiled when things do not go exactly his way, and Gabriel unfortunately never seems to care when he crosses the line between being mischievous and, well, being an ass," Dean blinked at that, and then started cracking up. He knew it was unprofessional and that if Ellen were here at the moment he'd be getting a stern look, but he couldn't stop himself. The man just looked at him and said, "I do not understand why you find my apology so amusing."

"Well, not to be rude, but you talk like a robot. And I wasn't expecting you to call your brother an ass. I assumed you to be too proper to use any, uh, curse words I guess," Dean was a little embarrassed now. The man was definitely his age at the youngest, so why would it be strange for him to use curse words? Sometimes Dean wished he could just keep his mouth shut.

"Gabriel has made similar remarks regarding my language. However I have found that infrequent usage of such terminology makes them seem much more powerful than if they are used on a whim." That made sense, but Dean was set in his ways, and no amount of logic from a stranger was going to get him to change the way he spoke. He looked up and saw Ellen eyeing him from the floor and took that as his cue to start bussing the dinner plates.

"Makes sense. Hate to have to cut our conversation short, but I've gotta go take care of some stuff now so I guess I'll see ya around, uh…"

"Castiel,"

"Yeah. Ok. I'm Dean. See ya, Castiel."

"Bye, Dean."

Dean bussed the dinner plates and served dessert, which Gabriel claimed was the only reason he bothered attending, a comment at which Castiel dramatically rolled his eyes, causing Dean to smirk a little. Castiel's more common gestures offered a break from his formal manner of speaking and over the course of the night, Dean found himself enjoying their table provided Gabriel wasn't doing anything too insane. Michael did not speak to him after the spill, so Dean did what was necessary to keep him placated and instead focused on talking to Cas and Gabriel. Eventually, the event drew to a close, and Dean found himself bidding goodbye to the two brothers in a much better mood than he had been in at the beginning of the event.

"Later, Castiel," Dean gave a small wave. Cas merely nodded in response, a half-smile gracing his face as he turned to leave.

As Dean was clearing the leftover napkins from his tables, he couldn't help but notice that the slip of paper he'd left with his phone number was no longer on the table. What he did find was a small pink slip of paper sitting on Cas's seat. It read, "Dean, please excuse this terrible paper. I did not have any of my own and had to borrow some from another woman at our table. Gabriel says that when given a phone number in a manner such as that in which yours was provided it is commonplace to reciprocate. I cannot tell if he is being truthful or if this is another one of his tricks. If he is indeed fooling me, feel free to ignore the ten digits on the other side of this Post-It Note. – Castiel"

Dean had no idea how Cas managed to write small enough for that novel of a note to fit on one side of a sticky note, but he decided not to question it as he pocketed the slip of paper.

That night, back in his dorm room, Dean dreamt of blue eyes.

Okay so thanks for reading and if you have any title ideas feel free to PM me or leave a suggestion in a review. This is my first multi-chapter so I don't see it being a particularly long fic.