The coffee shop smelled like beans and sugar and old books, and though Castiel would never admit it, it was his favorite smell in the world. As much as he would complain to Gabriel about picking up yet another shift, cutting deeply into what would have been his social life, had he possessed one, there really weren't many other places where he would prefer to be on any given afternoon. The atmosphere in the cozy shop calmed him, the repetitive motions of the espresso machine that took him so long to learn how to use now second nature, mindless. The regulars would walk in and order their usual, he would smile and call them by their name without having to ask, and he could tell that it made them feel good to know that he remembered them. The look on a customer's face when he gave them a perfectly-made coffee… It was nice, knowing that he could do some small thing right.
It was a slow day, and Castiel was engaging in his favorite working pastime: people watching. He was subtle about it, of course. He knew that people tended to not like being stared at, but he couldn't help that he just found humans fascinating. He leaned forward on the counter, bracing himself with his elbows against the cool stone surface. There was a couple sitting at a window table, chatting animatedly as they sipped their lattes and the girl nibbled on a scone. Suddenly she burst out into peals of laughter at something that the boy had said, giggles shaking her shoulders and a light blush shining on her cheeks. When she regained her composure, she shook her head, and leant forwards to give the boy a chaste peck on the lips, and now it was his turn to blush. Castiel sighed lightly and looked away. He had no strong urge for a romantic partner at the moment, but seeing happy couples on coffee dates nearly every day did make him wonder what he was missing out on.
He had been in a relationship before, years ago, but he didn't think it really counted. Hannah, a girl from his high school, a friend of his. They had been working together on a school project. One day, out of nowhere, she leaned over the poster they had been decorating and kissed him. He had had an awareness that she might have harbored affections for him, but had tried to keep their focus on the project in hopes that either he would eventually develop feelings back, or, preferably, she would lose interest. Neither of those hopes came true. He had sat, completely still, as she kissed him, counting the seconds it took for her to pull away. One, two, three, four, five… It took ten seconds for her to take her mouth off his. She had blushed and smiled, eyes bright, somehow not noticing that he hadn't reciprocated her actions. He couldn't bring himself to tell her, hadn't known what to do, except to smile back. She had taken it as a sign that he also wanted to pursue a more-than-friends relationship, and before he knew it, he had a girlfriend. It lasted a month, ending one day, when the guilt of allowing her to think that he liked her became too much for him. He had apologized profusely, and she had taken it well, considering the circumstances. Still, the project only received a B, and their friendship was irreparably damaged.
He was aware that it was sad, but he didn't much mind that he hadn't had a relationship yet. So what if he was a college graduate who had never been (voluntarily) kissed? He was content to watch other people live their lives, buzzing to and fro like the bees he kept in his backyard. He didn't care about his own dull life as long as he could see interesting ones, even looking from the outside in. Why else would he have become a literature major? Reading about adventures and romances was just as good as firsthand experience, and it required much less emotional vulnerability.
The bell rang and Cas looked up from his pathetic reverie. He brought his customer service smile to his face just as his eyes fell upon the man who had just passed through the door. He felt the expression fade as he took in the features approaching him, replaced with something that he couldn't identify, but was sure made him look like a lovestruck sixth-grader. His eyes followed the face as the man made his way from the door to the counter, and those seconds felt much longer.
He was gorgeous.
In Castiel's mind, a narration began against his will, dictating in prose just how attractive this man was. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a 16th-century sonnet. Golden skin, dusted with freckles, bottle-green eyes so vibrant they practically shone as they swept the shop for the counter. Finding it, his full lips curved into a warm, easy smile that revealed perfect, pearly teeth. He moved with a confidence and swagger that was impossible to learn; you have to be born with it. 'Stunning,' Castiel thought to himself, 'he's stunning.'
He didn't have time, however, to run through the mile-long list of words that he could have called the man, running from modern to Shakespearean. He could have gone through a thesaurus' worth of synonyms for beauty, but he realized, with a jolt of embarrassment, that the man was almost to the counter, and that now he had to talk to him. He scrambled to remember what he said to customers when they came to the counter, and was sure that he had the exact expression of a deer caught in a car's headlights when the man stopped across the counter from him and he finally remembered the basic sentence that he had spoken fifty times that day alone:
"Hello, what can I get for you?"
He smiled, but his voice sounded strained to his ears, and he mentally brought his hand to his face in self-exasperation, even as his real hands stayed motionless on the stone. He needed to get a grip. Cute guys had come into the shop before, and he'd hardly blinked an eye, let alone fallen over himself like a middle-schooler with a crush.
"Americano, please," The man responded, not seemingly having noticed that his barista was in the process of ceasing to be right before his eyes, and smiled again, and now his eyes were close and his voice was just as gorgeous as his face and-
Castiel cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was closer to its normal deep tone, though not quite there. "Coming right up. Is that all?" His brain function had returned, at least partially, and he could make it through this exchange as long as the man just ordered his coffee, took it to go, and swaggered out of his life immediately, never to return.
"Actually, now you mention it…" he drawled as his (enchanting) eyes swept again across the menu above Castiel's head, "Are the pies here any good?" As he asked, his (gorgeous) eyes lit up slightly, his entire expression seeming to perk up. Castiel gulped. It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.
"Yes, actually. The owner makes them fresh in-house, and I've received quite good reviews. Personally, I think they're fantastic."
"Alright, then, I'll take your word for it. Serve me up a slice of the apple with that Americano and I'll be good to go."
"Great," Castiel nodded and began to turn around to prepare the order when he realized he had forgotten to ask, "and, uh, what name should I put the order under?" he sincerely hoped that the heat he could feel rushing to his face wasn't visible. The man smirked slightly, and Castiel feared for the worst, but the expression looked so innate on his face that he thought it might just be its natural state.
"Dean," he replied, and even though he'd known this 'Dean' for all of 30 seconds, the name seemed to Castiel as if it fit perfectly.
"Right." Castiel ducked his head, scribbling the newly-discovered name onto the cup in his hand and turning his back to face the coffee machine. He felt, more than saw or heard, Dean move away to wait, and as the giddy warmth that had filled him started to recede with distance, Castiel cringed at himself. Since when did he fanboy over some dude with a nice face and a charming drawl? A thousand customers had come and gone, some of them just as handsome, without eliciting so much as a tenth of the response that this 'Dean' had. He shook his head quickly and tried to shake it off, resolving that he would have time to unpack his current embarrassment and sink into the earth to his heart's content later, once he was safe at home. For now, he had work to attend to, and a gorgeous man to try not to humiliate himself in front of. His fingers automatically pressed the relevant buttons on the machine, and while it whirred and worked, he grabbed a hearty slice of the still-warm apple pie that his brother had brought out only a few minutes ago. When the last drop of water had fallen, he brought both to the counter, making a concerted effort to keep his breath steady when he was once again within direct eyesight of Dean.
"Here you go, one Americano and one slice of apple pie. That comes to six dollars." Castiel had to physically restrain himself from offering it up on the house as he glanced up to take the offered money, flashing his eyes lightning-fast in hopes that they wouldn't have time to catch.
"Thanks," Dean smiled, and Castiel wasn't sure if it was directed more at him or the pie, but it made his heart flutter nonetheless.
"No problem. Have a nice day." Castiel forced himself to make eye contact for just a second as he wished the man goodbye.
"Yeah, you, too," the lazy smile was now fully focused on Cas, and it was all he could do to nod politely and sharply turn himself to face away so that he could catch his breath without those verdant retinas boring into him. As he heard the easy gait begin to recede, he let out a sigh and leaned forward, tapping his forehead against the cool metal of the coffee machine and resting it there. He took a second to go over the encounter in his mind, hoping that he hadn't done what he usually does when talking to people he found attractive, and made some grievous social error without ever noticing that anything was out of the ordinary. Unable to find any such misstep, Castiel contented himself in the knowledge that he had made it through the encounter without humiliating himself, and that now, 'Dean' was gone, and he could now return to his work day in peace. He was about to turn back to the counter to wait for the next guest, when a realization zapped through his mind and he froze:
Dean hadn't gotten his order to go.