Dean Winchester always caught himself staying too late at his garage on long summer days when it seemed the light would never fade from the sky. And after Benny and Garth and Kevin all left for the day, post-failing to convince their boss that he did, in fact, have a home to come back to and didn't live at the shop, Dean still remained under hoods with oil stains on his clothes and his fingers and smeared across his forehead, despite how he promised that he would be leaving early that night, instead working until he could only see by the lights that hung above the vehicles.
He never thought this was such a bad thing either; he couldn't think quite as well when he wasn't fixing something, whether that be a door frame that was coming unhinged at his apartment or an engine that refused to start, and when there was nothing left to fix at his home, the shop was the only place left to clear his head.
This, of course, didn't mean his life was that complicated, but it was nice to check out, to not have to worry about trying to keep the business afloat after a bad month or think about how he was possibly going to convince his sister-in-law, Jess, to stop setting him up on dates with guys he didn't care about and his brother, Sam, to quit nagging him about complaining about those dates because Jess was just trying to help.
In contrast, Castiel Novak's night was anything but his average. He had never in his adult life stayed up as late as he had then, driving down streets and highways and roads framed by tall lamps with signs he didn't read because he didn't care where he was going. In fact, when his car broke down on the side of one of those roads under that harsh light, he had to use the GPS in his phone to even know what state he was in. One can only imagine his surprise when he was informed that he was in town called Lawrence in Kansas.
"What the hell am I doing here?" He muttered into the darkness, a phrase that held more weight than he probably intended. The man scratched his head, looking at his car that was smoking: in all the movies he had seen, running away from one's life was supposed to be dramatic with intense music pounding in the background and fake I.D.'s and hot, sexy people with guns and certainly didn't include his fucking car breaking down.
Castiel figured this was only the universe's pay back though; his life certainly wasn't a movie, and he was foolish to think it could've been.
He covered his face with his hands, sighing into his palms as he slid down his car in the night. What was he thinking? He could just leave everything behind so simply? He could just get into his car and drive and drive and never look back? Hell, he had left in such a rush for the sake of a cinema escape that he didn't even know if he packed underwear or not.
He laughed at himself for this: it would be him who would forget underwear.
Dean was finishing up taking care of the oil in some of the cars that were scattered across the garage floor when his phone rang, causing the man to curse as he hit his head against the hood of a vehicle. He glanced at the clock that hung above his office door, annoyed and tired as the effects of staying up late began to take their toll.
"Who the fuck is calling me at one in the morning?!" He muttered to himself, grabbing a dirty rag from his back pocket and wiping off his hands before striding over to where his ancient landline sat, the high pitched shriek of the ring blaring in his ears, demanding his attention.
"Who are you, and what the hell do you want?" Dean demanded as soon as he picked up the phone, realizing a half a second too late that maybe that wasn't the best way to answer his business line.
The voice on the other end cleared its throat, "I-I'm sorry..." A man sputtered, obviously caught off guard at the crass greeting, "I didn't... Is this Winchester's & Co.? The mechanic? If I have the wrong number I apologize... It's just my car's broken down-"
Dean cut him off in a softer tone, "Look, we're closed. Come in tomorrow morning, and I'll see what I can do. But until then I can't help you."
"Please? I tried about four towing companies and three other mechanics, and you're the first to pick up. It honestly can't wait." Cas shifted his feet on the other end of the line, feeling desperate and growing colder as the nighttime air bit into his skin, his trench coat offering little warmth.
Dean sighed, "I really can't help, man. It's late, and I need to finish up my work so I can go home-"
"I'm begging you. I wouldn't have even tried to get someone out here tonight if it wasn't important: I'm stuck on the side of the road with absolutely no idea of where I am; I'm on the verge of having a panic attack; and it's getting cold. I'm not supposed to be here, and though I don't really know where I am meant to, I'm positive it's not Lawrence, Kansas." Castiel said, his voice desperate as he clutched the phone to his head, hoping, praying the man on the other end of the line would take pity on him, "Please?"
Dean put the phone to his chest as he leaned his head back: was this guy serious? The shop was closed. Everyone thinks their car is an emergency and can't wait; what makes him so different? That's right: nothing. Dean should've just hung up on him right then, not even taken the time to repeat that he, or any other mechanic, would not take in his car, at least not until the morning.
However, instead the man sighed again, running a hand through his short hair in frustration, "What's your name?"
"Castiel Novak- I'm actually from Colorado, and well, just kind of ended up here..." Castiel trailed off, shaking his head at his answer; saying it out loud made it sound even crazier than he thought.
"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester. What happened?" Dean couldn't believe himself.
Castiel, however, couldn't help a smile that crept onto his face at the prospect of possibly salvaging the night, "I was just driving, and the engine started smoking. I, uh, popped the hood, but I have no idea how to work cars, so it was a pretty useless venture."
"And what kind of car do you have?"
"A Prius."
Dean groaned, "Well no wonder." He muttered to himself, and Castiel pretended not to hear him, "Okay, so what does the engine look like? You said smoking? Is there anything else around it that looks shot? Can you make out any corrosion?"
Castiel scrambled over to the front of his car after ducking inside of the passenger seat to grab the flashlight he kept in the glove compartment, "Uh... Yeah. Yep. That is definitely corrosion. All the metal around it looks really bad, and it's still smoking, if that makes a difference."
"And that's what I was afraid of." The words made Castiel wince, "Can you try turning the thing on?"
Castiel nodded, forgetting that Dean couldn't see him, and hopped into the front seat, sticking in his keys and revving the engine before being met with a ghastly noise, "That can't be good."
"Did it make a gross sound?"
"Something along those lines."
Dean struggled to find words that wouldn't upset Castiel, an odd name he couldn't help making note of, "Well, I'm sorry to say it, but your Prius sounds - and excuse my French - pretty fucked."
Castiel's shoulders slumped, and he let his neck go slack, feeling the weight of the entire night fall upon him, "Are you sure there isn't anything you can do, or at least tell me to do?" He asked, his voice rather small as he sat alone, the open door of the car letting in the fumes of the engine and chill of the night.
Dean hesitated for a moment, scratching the back of his neck in contemplation, "I just... I don't know how much I'll be able to do at this point- usually anything smoking means there's a good chance that the car is in a bad spot, but with all that corrosion? I mean, I can take a look at it in the morning if you get someone to tow it out here, but I can't promise much."
Castiel groaned, "So there's absolutely nothing you can do tonight? Nothing that will get me back on the road, you know, right now?"
"I'm sorry, man. But hey," Dean glanced at the calendar that hung crookedly above the phone, running his finger along to the date, "come around tomorrow with the thing anytime after eight- I'll see if it's salvageable."
Castiel sighed, "Alright. I assume your address is on your website?"
"Yep. And there's a hotel just down the road from the shop if you need a place to stay. You said you were from Colorado-"
"Yes, thank you. I'll be up there around eight." And with that, Castiel hung up, suddenly very frustrated with not only Dean Winchester but with himself. He missed his bed. His old television. His cat who had been living with his sister Anna for too long.
"I should probably call a cab." He muttered to himself, using his phone to look up a taxi service to come pick him up.
And back at his shop, Dean shook his head as he hung up the phone. Castiel Novak. What a character.
A/N - So like wow first SPN fanfic. Later chapters will be longer, I just needed a meet cute! I update as much as I can, HOPEFULLY two to three times a week if I'm not too busy. So yeah thanks for reading :* You'd be really cool if you left a review!