So this is not only my first Supernatural fic, it's also my first completely AU fic! This was spawned off a prompt I saw on a tumblr search that basically had Cas getting hired to work at the same auto shop as Dean just because he was good a fixing things. I'd like to say this version of Dean is meant to be a relatively awkward average joe that has a huge crush on Cas who is more based on his crazy/hippie version.

FULL DISCLOSURE! Firstly, I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors! Secondly, I'm writing this as a whimsical first try at actually completing a (hopefully) somewhat lengthy story! I dream that one day some of you may reference this fic as your cuddle buddy after reading a partially heartbreaking one (Twist and Shout I'm looking at you). It's nice and fluffy with some possible smut in the near future! And if I'm lucky, it will at least get you to smile. Or laugh your face off. I'll take either.

Seeing as this is my first attempt at writing SPN I hope it isn't too awful, I did put a lot of hard work into this chapter. It's definitely the longest first chapter I've wrote so far. Anyway, I hope you and enjoy it and smile and I would love your faces if you would review to let me know how I did, what you think, and what you'd like to see happen!

And I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters~ Full credit goes to the rightful owners!

Haven't Met You Yet

Chapter One: It's Hip to be Square

# 2172: Why can't shampoo and conditioner ever run out at the same time?

Dean's shower was on the fritz that morning.

The first telltale sign of a fritz-y shower: turning the knob nearly all the way over and still getting one temperature. The second: the shower head spurting out droplets like a machine gun firing many, many frigid bullets.

He scratched the back of his head, squinting at the misbehaving appliance, but ultimately shrugged it off. That was one way to wake up in the morning. At least it took care of any morning risers. Heh.

"Hey Sammy, showers' broken," He called through the slosh of ice and soap, doubtful of being heard. Another sign of a faulty shower: making loud metallic creature noises every time it was in use.

As usual, Dean had forgotten to not let his brother forget to restock on supplies, so he was left to use soap as a makeshift shampoo and then to condition the crap out of his hair.

"And we're outta shampoo too!" Didn't make much of a difference since his body was beginning to go numb from the onslaught of cold anyway. Maybe that explained why he accidently slipped and ended up cracking his head against the pale tiles behind him. That was going to be sore later, he could already feel the headache setting in.

He skipped the usual grace of soaping himself properly after that and went for the monkey wash; tackling only the smelly areas vigorously and grazing over everything else before hopping out and quickly toweling himself off. Dean was jumping up and down to shimmy into his uniform, stubbing his toe in the process and yelling "Fuck's sake!" shortly after.

Sam's voice floated in from somewhere in the house. "You alright in there?"

"Shut up!"

There was a pause. "Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

Then there was the manhunt for his work boots.

Dean sauntered into the kitchen area, having turned over the regular spots; underneath his bed, hamper, bathroom. All the normal places people left their shoes.

His brother was looming over the kitchen table scarfing down a scrumptious looking plate of pancakes and reading some report that looked about as thick as the bible. Dean flicked Sam's ear as he passed, briefly peering under the table in search of his boots.

"One's in the couch, the other is in the pantry." Sam muttered around his mouthful of pancakes after he swatted Dean for the show brotherly affection.

"Chew with your mouth closed," Dean frowned. Surely Sam had to know better than that. "What kind of doctor are you?"

"Physician's assistant, not a doctor. And I told you, Mom- I have to be precise when I'm at work, so at home I can be as messy as I like." Statement served with a warm side of bitch face.

Dean was too busy fetching his boots to give an eye roll. "How the hell do they end up in such weird places?"

"Maybe because you have the attention span of a goldfish?"

Dean glowered.

Sam shrugged and caught sight of the time. "I gotta go, your breakfast is on the counter," Suddenly he was herding himself up, his giant stack of papers into his duffle bag, and was out the front door calling a quick, "See you tonight," as he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Dean pursed his lips, glancing around the house now that all was quiet. "This place is a fuckin' mess."

xXx

"I can't believe this! It's a fuckin' mess!"

"That's what I said."

They were both ducked under the hood of a van that quite frankly shouldn't still be running. A safety hazard at best.

"The term is 'that's what she said'' bro."

"There is no way in hell we can fix this." Dean turned from the horror show, pulling a clean rag out from his pocket to wipe his grease slicked hands.

"You wanna tell him?" Ash was talking around the huge wad of watermelon gum he was chewing. He glanced at the damage once more, blew a bubble, and then looked toward the driver's seat.

Dean sighed, shoulders sagging. "Not really."

"How is this thing even still alive?" The hood creaked all sorts of protest as it was eased shut. It was like getting cursed at by an old person. Or hearing nails scrape down a chalk board. Overall unpleasant.

"A freakin' miracle. That's how."

The monstrosity they were "working on" had rolled in this morning. Actually, it hadn't even rolled. The van had to be towed in on the account of the engine stalling and repeatedly cutting out. Just the thing Dean wanted after unceremoniously hitting his head in the shower, stubbing his toe, and hunting for his boots this morning.

But it was all hands on deck. Which as of right now included just Ash and Dean.

Dean liked Ash, they had been working together for six years now. Both employed by Bobby Singer, head of Singer Auto Repair. Bobby was about as ancient as the hills and about as pleasant as a punch to the face. So he was pretty much like every other old guy who stepped in for an absent father. He had known Dean and Sam since they were fleas-kids. Ash had come into the picture as soon as the boys entered middle school. Dean had befriended him on a whim at the sight of seeing his t-shirt. Nothing like a car logo and a mini mullet to break the ice.

Regardless, the guy had that mellowed out attitude that struck good cords with the Winchesters. Ash made Dean laugh with all his mannerisms and catchphrases, and that was good enough for him.

At the shop Ash was third in command, right behind Dean in second, with Bobby in first. Recently business had been good, but the boys didn't find themselves slowing down in the least. Bobby had them working like they could shut down at any moment.

Hence, the eyesore in front of them.

Ash looked downright disgusted, Dean was sure he mirrored the expression as the owner rounded the vehicle.

"So…can you fix it?" Skinny, unshaven, and a cowlick for a hairstyle. No wonder his car looked like crap. He couldn't even seem to take care of himself much less a vehicle.

The two mechanics exchanged a look.

Ash was the one to pipe up first. "The question, amigo, is not can we fix it. But will we fix it." He was like a modern forward speaking Yoda.

"Isn't that what you get paid for?" Smart ass.

Ash made a huge gesture of sighing. Dean smiled tightly, swiping a clipboard from the work table. "Look uh," He referenced the paper in front of him, "Andy, your van is-"

"A fucking mess. I've seen swamps more managed than this car."

The man called 'Andy' gave a grin that made him look high.

"Thank you, Ash." Dean shooed him away discreetly when Andy clasped his hands together.

"Look guys, it would be really awesome if you could work some sort of mechanic mojo here to get it at least running again. I mean, it would be so helpful and- you'd be doing me a HUGE favor." He made it sound so convincing.

Maybe Dean was stupid or maybe he liked a challenge or maybe Andy just had some sort of magical ability to make people do whatever he wanted, because the next words out of the Winchester's mouth were; "No problem, man!"

What?

xXx

Two hours later Dean was comfortably underneath a Chevy, squinting up at the filthy frame. It was like picking his way through a weed infested garden. Everything just looked like crap. "Jesus. It's called maintenance, man. Come on."

Ash was out getting lunch.

"Winchester!" And christ if Dean didn't nearly whack his forehead on that dirt encrusted underbelly.

Bobby's work boots appeared above his head. Dean rolled out forward from under the beast's belly to peer at the older man upside down. "Sup?"

"Got something I need you to take care of." His voice was gruff and blunt. That didn't sound good. A cryptic Bobby was not a Bobby Dean liked dealing with.

"What is it?"

"Get off your ass and come see." Was all he got before the old man turned and paced out of bay three.

If there was one thing Dean caught in all those afternoons from his childhood spent with Bobby fishing, camping, whatever, it was definitely that when the man walked away, you followed.

xXx

Dean had met a lot of people in his line of work. A lot of weird, interesting, unorthodox, odd people.

Odd, did not even begin to describe what walked into Singer Auto Repair that day.

The man stood at almost the exact same height as Dean, which would have been alright if he hadn't been so caught off guard by the absolute blue he encountered as the man turned around and faced forward. When he could manage to tear his eyes from those endless pools of blue situated right above a very full looking mouth-

Okay no.

That was so no happening. Dean was so not going to get attracted to this new guy.

Nope.

He wasn't interested in the tall, lean form a foot in front of him that was so alluring he could have been carved by a God that enjoyed torturing Dean by putting extremely hot guys in his immediate vicinity. Never mind that hair that made him look like he had just had sex. Really great sex by the look of it.

No one should be that hot.

Seriously.

No one.

Dean found himself forgetting what a handshake was, mouth dry, palms suddenly sweaty.

What the literal hell.

The new comer gazed back with equal silence. And fuck if it didn't unleash a barrage of butterflies stupidly fluttering around in Dean's stomach. Going all the way from his toes to the top of his head. Those eyes could pierce the soul. And honestly, it felt like they already were. Those were the kind of eyes that could strip you bare and see everything you had to offer without asking. Those were the kind of eyes Dean usually avoided.

His only solace was Bobby's awkward cough, followed by a gesture almost as awkward as the silence that had just fallen. "Dean, this is the new guy-"

"Cas." He blurted. Dean and Bobby stared. He made a face as if he just realized what he said made no sense. "-ietl. Castiel. Nice to meet you." He didn't offer his hand to shake.

Bobby coughed again and gave Dean a look that usually meant, "You can deal with this," before taking his exit.

Dean nodded, dumb founded. What was he supposed to do with the hot new guy? Grab him and make out?

He shook that idea right out of his head, as appealing as it sounded. Castiel kept right on staring. Intently. It sort of made Dean uncomfortable. "Uh, the shop is this way." He swung away to avoid looking into those piercing blue eyes, leading Castiel into the bay area.

Dean could tell right away that things were only going to get worse from here.

xXx

"I should apologize," He said suddenly.

They were in the break room. Dean was in the process of making a fresh pot of coffee, hand hovering over the cabinet of mugs. "Huh?"

Castiel was scrutinizing him. Legitimately scrutinizing. Like a detective. A smoking hot detective.

"You know Cas," His fingers drummed against the counter stiffly, adjusting to his spontaneous use of a nickname. "The last time somebody looked at me like that I got laid."

No.

He did not just-

Dear God.

Cas on the other hand suddenly looked very amused, lips stretching into a toothy grin that nearly split his face right in half. Dean shuffled his feet, smiling despite the severe amount of embarrassment bearing down on him right now like a spotlight on stage. He felt all tingly in the base of his spine. It sort of made him want to squirm. It also sort of made him feel incredibly stupid.

"Is that how you initiate the new guy?" Dean was really starting to like the low scrape of Cas' voice. That wasn't creepy. Right?

He shifted his weight again when the coffee pot failed to produce coffee. Dean groaned and looked to the heavens. "This thing is broken too? You gotta be kidding me."

Cas was suddenly at his flank, which should have been unnerving. Probably would have been if he didn't smell so-

Okay. Dean was stepping away now.

"Does it do this often?" Cas prodded at the contraption experimentally, lifting the pot away and examining the rest of the machine.

"Pretty much everything around here is broken except for the cars."

Cas chuckled, low and quiet. "Well, it might help if you actually put mix in." He lifted the empty paper cup.

Oh. Okay. That was embarrassing.

Truthfully Dean had been so distracted by Cas just standing there staring at him, that he had forgotten the most important ingredient in coffee making. Coffee.

"Right. That might help." He fumbled for the coffee mix and shooed the other man away.

xXx

Dean learned very quickly that Cas was definitely a very special kind of guy. He had traits. Really adorably awkward traits.

They made Dean want to giggle.

Then he remembered he was a guy with balls and a dick. He had no time to giggle. It was unmanly.

Cas' adorable-awkward traits went as follows:

Casism number one: when the going gets tough, get awkward

Example:

Tuesday

"You want a cleaning?" Cas was helping a woman named Bela Talbot with her car. He was sitting across from her at the front counter, scribbling away every little thing she said. It was impressive how fast he could write left handed. He was left handed? That explained a lot.

"That's what it says on the paper, doesn't it?" Bela had a tendency to come off a little cranky. Especially when she flipped her well maintained curly hair over her shoulder and tapped those fake nails on the counter right before she spoke. He wasn't fazed by the biting edge to her words.

"Should we be using any sort of deep stain removers?" Her perfectly manicured brow rose. Cas elaborated. "Well if you want to get those sex juices out we'll have to-"

She scoffed, suddenly flushing. Which really stood out against the incredible paleness of her otherwise flawless skin. "You're disgusting!"

Cas raised both eyebrows in return, then rolled his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. "So…that's a yes to the deep stain remover?"

"What is it that you imagine I do in my car?" She was leaning backward as if his presence appalled her. Cas deadpanned, glancing at the Ferrari to his right.

"Have a lot of sex?"

Dean slapped his hand to his forehead from the other side of the room.

Casism number two: always take the unconventional path.

Example:

Wednesday

Cas was digging through a box of tools for God only knows what. Dean was to his left, eyebrow twitching in slight annoyance. The constant rattling of tools clanking against a metal container got old pretty quickly. "There isn't a prize at the bottom of the box if that's what you were wondering."

That got him a gravelly chuckle. He really liked that chuckle.

"Winchester!"

"Sup?"

"Get your ass in here!"

"Alright, alright. Excuse me Cas-"

But it was too late, the other mechanic was already squeezing himself in between two work tables to make way for Dean to pass.

"Oh. Okay." Stepping aside would have been too easy. "Thanks?" He felt incredibly guilty as he walked passed the other man. No one that large should ever squeeze in such a tight space. Unless sex was involved. Then squeezing was perfectly-

"Winchester!"

"Right! Coming!"

Casism number three: cats are little balls of love and should be cared for.

Example:

Thursday

He was trying really hard to see Cas as a fully grown adult male who was his co-worker and a guy, and mature, and off limits and a GUY. But he was just so-

Precious.

Every day on his lunch break, Cas would mysteriously disappear.

It shouldn't have been surprising considering how unconventional the rest of the guy's behaviors were but still.

It didn't stop Dean from being infinitely curious.

One day his curiosity got the better of him and he discreetly followed- not stalked- the other man out of the shop to see where he went. It definitely wasn't because Dean had the suspicious jab of jealousy that Cas might be out having lunch with a girlfriend or whatever. Which wasn't even really his business. Can't a guy just follow another guy without it being creepy?

Apparently not.

To Dean's near undoing, Cas went down the street until he hit the corner, where he spent his lunch break caring for stray cats. By bringing them cat food and milk.

Just stop, he wanted to say. Stop being so freakin' adorable. Because I won't be able to control myself.

Casism number four: always keep your cool. Especially when you do something embarrassing.

Example:

Friday

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the crash of metal hitting concrete followed by a comical THUD come from inside bay two. Cas had been working on some big guy named Tiny's F150 in that bay. The guy had looked a lot like an ex-convict. So messing up his car was probably not the best idea.

Dean leapt to his feet and went running way faster than he should have, swinging into bay two, ready to go into full on mother hen panic mode in case there were any injures. Namely to Cas, not so much the truck. "What the hell was that?"

Cas was in a heap on the ground, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers as to why he had fallen. He rolled over and pushed himself up with a little hop. "It's cool." He said in that low nonchalant way of his.

Yes, that was very obvious by the way he had taken out an entire stack of cans on his way down. They were spread precariously about the floor, some still rocking back and forth from the fresh encounter. Cas started nudging the cans with his feet to get them gathered and relatively in order.

Dean squatted to help clean up the mess. "What happened? Did you trip over a can or something?"

Cas paused and looked at him very seriously. "I didn't trip, I was testing gravity. It still works."

The last time Dean laughed for twenty minutes straight, he had super glued Sam's gangly fingers to his keyboard.

And probably the most important habit to note, Casism number five: weirdness is a sign of a good friendship.

Example:

Saturday

The familiarly funky old tune drifted out from the office through the dust and sunny rays of a typical Saturday afternoon. It was Huey Lewis and the News.

And it was coming from bay two.

"I used to be a renegade, I used to fool around,"

Wait a second.

"But I couldn't take the punishment and had to settle down,"

Was that singing?

"Now I'm playing it real straight, and yes, I cut my hair,"

Was that Cas singing?

"You might think I'm crazy, but I don't even care,"

No freaking way.

Dean found himself being drawn in by that voice. That bizarrely tantalizing, low hum of a singing voice. He was like a fish on a hook. Like there was a rope around his waist, slowly reeling him in.

"Because I can tell what's going on,"

Seriously? It wasn't enough that Cas was insanely hot with just his looks? He had to have an insanely sexy singing voice too? Sweet baby Jesus. It was like getting a Christmas present in July.

Dean was pretty sure this guy was perfect. Socially awkward and a total klutz maybe but definitely perfect. At least, perfect for him. He was on the chorus when Dean paused in the doorway to watch the show, easing himself onto the door frame for support and crossing his arms. This ought to be interesting.

"It's hip to be square," Yes, yes it was. Cas' iPod was hooked up to a portable sound system. A miniature jukebox. Go figure.

Cas' dancing was very…Cas-like.

He moved really well for a tall guy with long limbs. Dean was almost lost in those lean, perfectly molded arms and legs as they swung around in some parody of dance moves.

Cas had a perfect pelvis, Dean noticed. And the control he had over those hips. Forget it.

He could picture fitting his hands to those angular hips, letting Cas wiggle around all he wanted. He was twisting his body in and out back and forth. It was hypnotic. Spellbinding even. Damn.

And that voice. Seriously.

All rough and edged just like the gradual curve of that mussed mass of dark waves on his head. Dean just wanted to rake his fingers through that ocean of dark hair and drag that moist looking mouth right onto his dry one.

Was he trying to drive Dean insane?

Splotches of grease stained his uniform, accompanied by blobs of soot. There were small black smudges along his cheek where Cas must have scratched his face.

He was cleaning up his area in between his version of dancing and singing. Plucking stray tools off the floor and setting them on the work table. His hips were always in motion. Even when his arms were busied with lifting empty boxes out of the way and stacking them against the wall. There was a rag hanging out of his back pocket. Dean just used it as an excuse to stare at his beautifully sculpted ass.

Then the music faded out, but Dean kept staring.

"You know Dean," Cas smirked, pulling him out of his daze, those cerulean gems were boring into his soul again. "The last time somebody looked at me like that I got laid."

Dean snorted. "Is that right?"

Cas nodded and pressed the pause button.

"So uh, what the hell was that?"

"I was dancing."

"You call that dancing?" Dean couldn't help the small lift of his lips.

Cas' face scrunched as he thought about it. Dean secretly found it adorable. On occasion, he'd purposely confuse the poor guy just to get him to make that face. That adorable, sweet face. Had he mentioned how adorable this man was? "Yeah, I thought it was alright."

"If you say so." An easy going shrug. Things were so simple, so comfortable and homey at the shop. Dean often let his guard slip in the company of the other mechanics without even noticing. It was nice to feel at home somewhere. He had lacked the feeling in his adolescent years.

"You don't agree?"

Dean lifted his shoulders again, "You just have a weird sense of dancing that's all."

The other man inhaled deeply, and puffed out the air in a great big sigh. "If I can't act weird around you Dean, then we can't be friends."

"Oh yeah?"

Cas smiled. Genuinely smiled, and it was brighter than pure sunshine on a beach horizon line. And three times more beautiful. It gave Dean that ridiculous feeling of bugs on the loose in his stomach, which he scratched at to distract himself from the huge rush of heat he felt in his face.

"Besides," Cas picked up his mini juke box from its happy little corner. "Weird is just as side effect of being awesome."

Dean wasn't going to lie. That time he blatantly checked out Cas' ass when he saw it pass by. And that time, he wasn't nearly as ashamed about it.

xXx

The first night Dean had come home after meeting Cas had been interesting. Mostly because Sam was already home. Which was a rarity.

The kid tended to work himself into a tizzy and then pass out on the couch with his dinner plate empty and his uniform still on. Then Dean would usually corral him up and into his room to clean up and to get into his bed so he that could sleep more comfortably. And somehow through the chaos of his day, Sam still found time to make himself and his brother all the important meals of the day.

That night Sam was up and talkative, beaming about his day at work. "We had surgery today, on a woman- her name was Alice."

The unscrupulous manner Dean pushed his vegetables around his plate didn't make them go away any faster.

Sam was still prattling on about how he had gotten to assist in his first major surgery, his brother had fallen into his "uh-huh" mode. Where he would occasionally nod and repeat "uh-huh" in reply to everything that was said. They called it flight mode. It was originally created for Dean's high school love affairs, where most of the girls involved didn't have much to offer beyond the physical. A shame really.

Sam could tell he was losing his brother in the conversion. "And then I threw a pie in her face."

"Uh-huh."

"Dean."

"Uh-huh?"

"You aren't listening to me at all are you?"

His brother glanced up and grinned around the large bite of garlic bread he had just taken. "Nope."

Sam returned the smile with his own twitch of lips, lifting his and Dean's plate to take into the kitchen. "Jerk."

"Bitch." He stood to help clean the dishes, only to have Sam shoo him away as soon as he approached.

Then the phone rang.

Dean picked up on the third ring, after a quick check of caller ID. "What's up buttercup?"

"Ah if it isn't my least favorite of the pair." A playful voice chuckled from the other side of the line.

"Shut up, Gabe. What do you want?" It was sort of ironic that Gabriel was calling. Dean had just been pondering where he had seen the similar awkwardness Cas exhibited before.

"Well I was just going to invite you and Sam to a dinner party to celebrate my own baby brother's arrival. But if you're going to be cheeky-"

"What time?"

Dean could practically hear Gabriel's smirk over the phone. The two went back far enough that Dean knew the guy's habits. Pranks, jokes, and quips were his style. That, and he knew how to make some ridiculously good desserts. The pies that man produced were nothing short of heavenly.

"Tomorrow, seven o' clock."