"Whatever, Dean! I'll expect your crap out of my house by tomorrow, or so help me..."
Dean Winchester palmed his forehead, working the worry line that creased in the center of his forehead. He'd heard the threat a million times before, but there was something different about Lisa's tone this time. She was getting so demanding and crabby lately, and he still had college to think about and his jobs. Did he mention that was plural?
"Dean, did you hear me?"
Dean fought back the urge to groan into the mobile. "Yes, Lisa," he grumbled, now rubbing at his eyes. He'd gotten almost no sleep last night. Their fights were always long and often violent, but Dean had never hurt her, not once. It was mostly her throwing things at him and he occasionally knocked a priceless lamp or something on the floor to make his point. "I'll get out by tomorrow, don't worry your pretty little fucking head about it."
He heard Lisa near-growl at him over the phone, and he grinned into the receiver. He loved it when he got that reaction out of her. She was angry past the point of words. That would mean he would be spared from another mind-numbing rant about how selfish he was, or about how he never took care of himself or never paid any attention to her.
Did he fail to mention he had two jobs and college?
Not to mention an apartment he basically paid for, with absolutely no help from her whatsoever. The only thing she really did was blow his money away. Which was pretty damn whorish of her, all things considering.
Dean didn't even notice the dial tone on the other end. Sighing, he brought the phone away from his ear and decidedly hung up, smacking his phone face-down on the table. Exhaustion washing over him, he brought both hands to his head and leaned heavily into his palms, slumping in his seat.
He was in a coffee shop he normally stopped into on his way back from job number two (cashier at the local supermarket). It was late when he usually came in and it was late now. Lisa had decided to dump the whole "I hate you and you need to get out of my house right now" thing that she had annoyingly thought did the trick right after he got out of work. He'd nearly crashed the Impala while he was having a shouting match with her on his way to the coffee shop. If he survived that crash, he'd haul his ass out of the hospital and destroy "her" beloved apartment until it was unrecognizable.
No one touched Dean's Impala, much less made him crash it.
He didn't notice the presence of another human being until he heard the soft sound of a coffee cup being placed on the table. Dean looked up in surprise to see the barista that was always working when he came in, a dark-haired guy that looked to be about Dean's age. He had the largest and prettiest blue eyes Dean had ever seen, and his nametag read Castiel in a scrawl that closely resembled chickenscratch.
"I didn't order a coffee." Dean's voice was thick and tired. He knew he probably looked how he sounded; dark circles shadowing tired eyes, a five o'clock shadow and mussed brown hair. But by the way Angel Eyes (that's what Dean had called him in his head, he couldn't decipher the scrawl at first) was ogling at him, it wasn't a bad look on him.
Castiel smiled shyly, his voice hesitant, "I thought you needed it. It's on the house," he mumbled, and Dean couldn't say that the voice wasn't unpleasant. It was nice to hear a familiar voice that wasn't screeching at him like a bat outta Hell.
"Thanks," Dean said with his rare candlepower smile. Satisfaction curled inside his stomach when Angel Eyes blushed. It suited him; he was so pale otherwise. Especially dressed in a dark, long-sleeved uniform shirt that was topped with a dark green apron. Poor guy. Dean would have liked to see something on him that made his bright blue eyes come out more.
When Castiel stuttered out a "y-y-you're welcome" and retreated, Dean found himself staring at the drink. With a smile, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. Now, why didn't it surprise him that Castiel had remembered his exact order without him having to be reminded?
Cas was still blushing as he tinkered with the coffee machine in the back. It was only Dean, Gabriel and that one college student, Erica, who often stayed until closing working on paper after paper for one of her classes. It was like this most nights he worked, and he had become accustomed to working the late hours with Gabriel as his supervisor.
Gabriel owned the little coffee place named Felice, and had run a rather humble and yet rewarding business. It was downtown, which made everything a bit less grand and a little more "authentic," as Gabriel liked to put it. Everything food-related in Felice was made by the brothers, but Gabriel was the one who technically owned the business. Castiel was merely helping out when he wasn't at university. But, seeing as he had absolutely no social life, this meant more time studying and staying at the café and less time in his actual apartment.
Gabriel was watching him, Cas knew. He knew that Gabe would eventually sidle up to him and grin, maybe even tease him about it. Gabriel knew about Cas' (unfortunate) fascination with Dean Winchester, the regular who ordered the same coffee every time he came in. It wasn't his fault Dean had the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.
"You just gave away a free coffee, Castiel," came his older brother's voice. He hated how he could hear the grin in that tone. It was the most infuriating thing about Gabriel.
Cas pretended that he didn't know what he was talking about. "Huh? Oh, Dean Winchester," he said, very badly trying to cover up his nerves. "Yeah, he... He just looked like he needed it, that's all." Damn. He needed to refine his lying skills. But it wasn't actually a lie, a little voice inside Cas' head soothed. He looked really exhausted. Don't listen to Gabe.
It was then that Castiel decided he seriously needed to get his head checked.
"That's unlike you, s'all," Gabriel said conversationally, leaning up against the bar where Cas was hiding against. Cas caught a glimpse of his brother's twinkling brown eyes and mentally shot himself. "How did Mr. Winchester take it?" Gabe asked with a smirk.
Cas blushed furiously at the not-so-distant memory. He could still see Dean's bright smile and the way those dark green eyes lit up at him. Jesus, that guy needed to wear sunglasses all the time, even at night, to keep people from staring at them. And he had the cutest spray of freckles over his cheekbones and nose, and the only thing Cas wanted was to get close enough and count them, one by one...
"Yo! Earth to Castiel, you still in there?" Gabe's voice snapped Castiel out of his reverie, blinking hard to erase the captivating image of Dean's face from his mind.
"Oh, um, sorry," Castiel stammered, continuing to flame up as Gabriel laughed quietly at his scatterbrained state. "He–he, uh, he took it. And he thanked me." In the absolute cutest way possible. Damn it, damn him.
Gabriel snorted, unimpressed. "You didn't get his number or anything? He didn't ask you to come home with him? You even wore your best shirt today." He said it just a bit too loudly. Cas was fully prepared to hit him when he heard the scrape of a chair against the tile floor.
"Shut up Gabe," Cas hissed, jerking away from the machine and stalking into the back room, his brother hot on his heels. So what if he wore one of his good shirts today? He has more than one, and he was not trying to make himself look nice just for Dean Winchester!
"Cassie, there's someone at the register."
"You go get it!" Cas snapped, fumbling to put away a tray in the proper place. "I'm busy."
"Stop sounding like a kid who got his lollipop taken away from him and get the freakin' register," Gabe commanded, snatching the tray out of his brother's hand.
Cas squeaked in indignation and tried to snatch it back, but Gabriel held the tray out of reach and pierced him with light brown eyes. His expression plainly read: "Go get the register you little shit or I'll smash this tray over your head." So, with a long-suffering sigh, Cas walks over to the register, already resigned to who it is. It wasn't closing time yet.
Dean Winchester was waiting at the register with a smile. He still looked tired, but the misery had significantly lowered in intensity. It was a nice sight, to see Dean smile so easily at him.
"Why are you at the register?" Cas asked in a hesitant voice, hating how he sounded so small in the quiet café. He shifted and tilted his head inquisitively, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Your drink was on the house."
Dean dragged a hand through his hair and chuckled. "Well, I thought I should thank you again," he said, grinning sheepishly at him. "I really needed that. It was nice of you."
Cas' heart swelled with fondness and pride. It wasn't any secret that Dean had been having relationship troubles with his girlfriend. When Dean was in a talking mood, he'd grumble something about a Lisa who was being a bitch. But, mostly, it was through the angry phone calls that often happened while he was at the coffee shop, and sometimes through deduction. Cas noticed things like his wrinkled clothes, his weary eyes, the heavy dark circles, and sometimes his lip would curl when he thought about something unpleasant when his phone rang.
"It was no trouble," Cas said with an answering smile, tucking his hands in his apron pocket. Dean was still looking at him, examining him up and down with those green eyes. They were close enough that Cas could see the faint speckle of freckles on his tan skin...
"I was wondering..." Dean said quietly, picking absently at his leather jacket. "Maybe you and I could go out sometime? And not get coffee, since you work at a coffee shop." Dean was smiling at him still, but he was more hesitant. Cas could barely believe his ears.
"You want to go out... with me?" he asked, feeling terribly inadequate in this situation. When Dean chuckled again, albeit he was reddening, and when he said, "Yeah, I am," it was all Castiel could do but blush profusely and smile. "Um... Sure. Yeah. That'd be great."
Dean's triumph shone in his eyes, and Cas felt like laughing out loud when his tactful, sultry grin was replaced with a goofy smile. "Awesome. Do you work tomorrow? I can come pick you up whenever you get off...?" the question hung in the air, and Castiel faltered before catching it.
"Yeah, I work until five. You can come get me then." He smiled at him, feeling ridiculously elated over something so small. But, Hell, it was Dean Winchester asking him out on a date. It was momentous, monolithic, grand–everything he'd wanted for the past six months. He should be feeling pretty elated over this.
"Cool. I'll see you then," Dean said cheerily, in a much better mood than he was when he walked in. And as Dean exited, Cas found it absolutely amazing that he was the one who uplifted Dean Winchester's foul demeanor.