It was evaluation day at Adler's company and Dean was feeling the ' I'm-gonna-get-fired-zies'.
He was sipping coffee outside with the secretary, Castiel, who was smoking his own rolled cigarette. Castiel was a slacker, a pain in the ass, on top of it all he was Russian, which Dean saw as an excuse for his rudeness and demeanor.
Still, though he put up with Dean and his constant bitching which was always a plus in his book.
"Aren't you worried about today, Cas?" –He tried to ask nonchalantly, but his voice stilled quivered.
"You Americans, and your worry..." –Castiel murmured with a chuckle. He always laid the 'you Americans' on Dean because he knew it pissed him off.
"You're probably first to go you know? You're always late, you're always arguing with Zachariah, and just, humor me, how the fuck do you answer the phone with your language?"-Dean was feeling pretty antsy about the whole day, so he saw in Castiel a good way to vent out his frustration.
"I tolk." –Castiel growled out and took a deep drag of his cigarette.
"You can barely talk." –Dean gave him his don't bullshit me face and took a sip from his scalding hot coffee.
"Tolk enough."-Castiel seemed to dismiss him with this statement.
"Whatever." –Dean glanced away from Castiel and his big oversized wool coat, to sip in quit.
"You want smoke?" –Castiel spoke after a while, his tone somewhat softer.
"What? I don't smoke, you know that." –Dean replied puzzled, chancing a glance back at Castiel's hand grasped in the offered cigarette.
"Relieve stress. Calm you." –Castiel tried explaining, though poorly. Even so, Dean felt a surprising urge to smile at the clumsy language, though stopped himself.
"Don't need it. Actually, give it to me." –Dean suddenly remembered something as he held out his hand to snatch the cigarette away from Castiel, along his lighter.
He took the cigarette between his lips, and for a second, examined the zippo and the engraved 'russian federation' written on it. He chuckled as he flicked it open to light up his bone.
However inexperienced he was, he inhaled sharply, coughing through the first drag.
"Damn."- He huffed, as he inhaled once, twice, and let the cigarette lay between his fingers, watching the gushing smoke trail slowly from his lips, into the stormy winter's sky.
"Why change of heart?" –Castiel asked somewhat tentatively, like he was flicking through an in-brain dictionary.
"Hell of an idiom you got there, Cas." –Dean huffed a chuckle as he took another burning deep drag.
"Answer." –Castiel deadpanned, his 'Russian assassin' glare on.
Dean huffed, yet again, feeling uncomfortable to answer.
"Smoking makes you thinner..." –Dean mumbled, chancing a glance to Castiel's wiry frame.
This seemed to surprise Castiel, which was very rare to see. Dean turned his gaze away from his, feeling slightly pathetic.
"Bullshit. Smoking kill muscle. Not fat. Bad for helth."-Castiel said calmly, slapping away Dean's cigarette and stubbing it away with his heavy boots.
"Hey!" –Dean exclaimed in an irksome manner, looking bewilderedly to the stubbed cigarette and Castiel's calm gaze.
"What the fuck dude? I've gave up fucking PIE for this life, and now I cant even smoke in peace? You see these Cas?" –Dean yelled as he grabbed onto his waist. –"These are called spare tires,Cas! And I have them! I have spare tires! – he grabbed onto his hips;- And you see these! THUNDER THIGHS! Yeah, that's right, it's thunder thighs, remember those words, because it's the best way to describe them! And the whole word for this! – he said as he gestured to his body;- Is fat! I am fat! And I will be getting fired, because of this! " –Dean's voice boomed across the empty parking lot filled with anger and frustration.
He panted, catching his breath, staring at Castiel, who looked as calm as ever.
"Love handles."
"What?" –Dean paused his anger to work through Castiel's words.
"Correct term." –Castiel explained as he stepped towards Dean, putting his hands on his shoulders. then sliding them down his chest, and to his stomach, earning a gasp from Dean.
He looked into Castiel's deep blue eyes from their proximity.
"You're not fat. Fat is body type. Not bad word. You should not give up pie for this. Not worth it. You're beautiful. Strong. " –Castiel spoke gravely, in a hushed manner as he stared unblinkingly into Dean's green eyes.
Dean was at a loss of words. He was so lost in the situation, he could just nod his head.
"I make dinner tonight. Make pie. For you. And you come." – Castiel said decisively back to his usual stumbly talk.
"Cas, I-I really shouldn't..." –Dean was back to normal, reminding himself that this was CAS he was talking to, and that he had a life, and that... wait a minute. No he didn't?
"Yes. You should. I pick you up at 8, at night. " –Castiel finished, taking one last drag and stubbing it out with his toes.
"Good luck at evaluation." –Were his last words before, he turned on his heel to enter the building.
"Hey, Cas!"
"Yes?"
"Hope you pass!" –Dean exclaimed through the parking lot's silence, and watched as he ever frowning face of Castiel blossomed in a grateful, polite smile.
Maybe today wasn't gonna be so bad after all...
So uh, I've been watching a lot of youtube videos lately this is inspired by a particular one by barelypolitical, and to be honest I just wanted a bitchy/worried Dean x). I haven't been feeling inspired at all lately, but I promise that in the next few days I will update some of my stories.
Oh and this will probably be having a follow through. x)
Reviews are appreciated! :D