Dean felt like a douche every time his brother sent him on a grocery run with those damn tree-hugger bags.
But it got Sam off his back and let him get some decent food (not healthy crap) without a disgusted look. And he could get out a lot faster without Sam groping all of the produce.
Still, Dean couldn't help but feel like a jerk as he pushed the cart into the short line at the only open register. Of course, it was virtually the middle of the night and he'd only seen a few people, most of them in the grocery store's uniform. Insomnia was at least good for making him go shopping during the least crowded times of day.
The man behind the register was head and shoulders above the teenagers in front of him. His dark hair was a mess and Dean wanted to tangle his fingers in it to see if it was as soft as it looked.
Then he spoke. Dean swallowed as the deep gravelly bass did things to him that he shouldn't think about so close to minors.
The cashier handed the teenagers back their change and looked at Dean for the first time. The ex-marine bit back a groan as he handed him the hippie bags.
"How are you doing tonight?" he asked as he took the bags and opened one. He began scanning the groceries on the belt.
"Planning fratricide, so it's like any normal night," Dean replied. He glanced down at the man's nametag.
Cas glanced up at him with a quick smile. "Your secret's safe with me."
Dean laughed and leaned against the cart. Cas was about as tall as him, but the top of the bags he was filling nearly reached his shoulders. "Let me help," he said, pulling an empty bag to him and Cas handed him more of his groceries.
"Do you like working here?" Dean asked.
Cas shrugged, the movement awkward as if he was unused to it. "The people who come in are generally pretty nice, but it's not my main job."
"Oh?" Dean asked. "What else do you do?"
"I'm an accountant for my families firm," he glanced around, seeing no one else and focused his intense gaze on Dean. "I started this job so that I wouldn't always be under their thumbs."
Dean nodded and lifted a full bag into his cart. He avoided the other man's eyes, afraid to get caught. "That's why I went to college before joining the Marines. Wanted to get away from home for a little while before I followed in my dad's footsteps."
"What did you study?"
It was Dean's turn to shrug. "I started out with engineering, because I'm good with cars, but I found out that I'm not good enough with math. But a friend convinced me to take a military history class and I aced it. So I went with that.
Cas nodded and scanned the last item. He handed it to Dean and rang up the total. Dean started to consider putting Nair in Sam's shampoo again. It was his organic, all-natural, flavorless food that was so expensive.
Dean took his credit card out and slid it through the machine.
"Credit or debit?" Cas asked, hand poised to press whichever button he needed to.
"Credit," Dean replied. He finished with the transaction and the receipt began to print.
Cas took it from the machine and handed the smaller slip of paper and a pen to Dean to get his signature. He quickly scrawled out his mess of a signature and handed back both the slip and pen. Cas handed him his folded receipt.
Dean was tempted to stay and keep talking to the man, but he had no actual reason to and a person wearing the store's uniform was walking towards them.
Dean nodded to him goodbye and walked out of the building. He loaded the groceries into the trunk of the Impala and put his cart away. As he unlocked his door, he took out his receipt to look it over.
At the bottom of the paper, in neat handwriting, was the name Castiel Novak and a number. Dean glanced back at the window, through which he could just barely see the man and smiled.
'He still had it,' he thought, as he started the car with a loud purr of the engine.